A Letter From Mr Collins

Breakfast

"...With condolant regards, Cousin William Collins." Lizzy sighed humorously, as she finished reading.

"Why, the sheer saturation of that ghastly woman's name!" Moaned Lydia, dropping aside her butterknife. "Are you sure there's no more to hear?"

"Quite, I searched the back." Grinned Lizzy. "How unfortunate, I did hope he might just spare his cousin a selfless thought and lend some critically needed recommendations from The Great La-"

"Lizzy don't, I shan't hear that name once more."

"Why, we are in dire need of her fine tastes." Remarked Jane with laughing eyes.

"Indeed."

"I shall be infinitely content at the news; our tragically educated cousin shall not be joining us, let us thank the lord!" Sniggered Kitty.

"How that?" Mary chided. "An educated gentleman is very much welcome in my social unities. The academia a woman invites into her life is just important as it is vital, I say Charlotte is a favoured woman. And blessed with a clergyman at that." Then she muttered sourly to herself, yet audibly "Who indeed had his sights for any one of us, if only Lizzy hadn't abused his honor by unapologetic rejection!"

Which sent Lydia and Kitty into titters.

At this, Mary stood up and slammed her novel shut, scoffing hotly, then took to upstairs with a further slam of the door to the dining room.

"I say" remarked Mr Bennet casually from behind his paper. "It is an often occurrence for these doors to be heard slamming shut in such rhythmical synchrony these past few weeks, it is quite a musical affair. I am indeed the luckiest father in Hertfordshire." With a raise of his eyebrows as his eyes continued to scan the page from behind his spectacles.

The girls grinned at each other just as another slam was heard from the door to Mary's room upstairs.

Kitty fell off her chair red in the face with giggles and Lydia's fists were clenching the tablecloth as they both laughed themselves hoarse.

Lizzy and Jane proceeded to the next room where their Mamma was sitting in her rocking chair and chatting animatedly to Mrs Philips, and like usual, abandoning her embroidery as to free her hands to be able to gesture wildly.

Upstairs, Mary threw herself down at her desk and rummaged for some parchments and ink.

"Dearest Cousin William Collins... " She wrote.