A Letter From Mr Collins

Peace?

The silence shattered after Mrs Collins stopped pacing, and spoke. "I will do you one favour, Mary. I shan't mention your flirtatious efforts and conduct to Lizzy. She doesn't deserve the embarrassment. However; in return, you will swear to cease your amorous practice under my roof."

"I vow to it, Mrs Collins." Mary asseverated with solemn eyes. "I expect you not to be proceeding for my benefit, still, allow me to be grateful, Charlotte. For concealing this matter between the two of us." By this point, all Mary desired was to run upstairs and pule away her mortification.

"I should hope it is only between the two of us, I shouldn't be surprised if the others have noticed your behaviour. But perhaps - if you continue by acting in a more courteous manner, all will be overlooked if you are lucky. And you assume correctly; though I care not for your appreciation, it does you some credit. I dare say your shame is to be expected."

"Be sure of my betterment. I hope, by time you find the will to pardon me." Mary asked dubiously. She felt so foolish.

Oh how foolish was she, and now so enfeebled. Her words held no potence, she was embarressed by her thoughts. How could her deprivation of academia at home, justify her motivation to make the most of another woman's husband. How could she come between matrimony all in the spirit of inexperienced fun.

It all looked so different in novels. Imprudent, fatuous, witless - inane. But experiencing it immediately was so contrary. Unexpected, so new, so exciting, electrifying - sensational.

Oh, how I encouraged myself.

"Forgive, perhaps. Forget - after my death, I am sorry to say." Charlotte replied, slicing through Mary's own castigations

She flinched.

Instead of running upstairs, Mary decided it would be wiser to follow Charlotte back to breakfast. To resume a conversation in a more unsuspecting respectful fashion

"I should like to know, what was the object of keeping you so long?" Mr Collins queried.

"A book, my dear." Charlotte returned softly, though her posture was still rigid, it was losing it's violence, her tone was thawing at a reasonable rate and her expression, was free of bleak reprimand.

"Of what title I wonder?" He enquired further, a gasping chortle of bemusion.

"The Seven Remedies For A Broken Heart. By Amadeus Capulet." Mary quipped before Charlotte needed think of a title. Who looked mildly grateful. "His sonnets are excellent! And these seven his finest." Mary added.

After half an hour of conversations, where Mary obliged to tread with respect, she found herself wondering at her invitation to Rosing's tonight.

"Cousin," she began. "You spoke earlier of dinner at Rosing's. I had a question yesterday I hadn't the chance to ask. Her Ladyship does not seem cheerful at new relations to my sister, in fact I would bet she detests the thought. However she cares to invite a Bennet to dine. I wonder why that be?"

"Ah, the generosity and benevolence of The Great Lady Catherine De Bourgh is unbounded! You speak correctly of her opinions, indeed she comes not even to the wedding. However you should see the thick line drawn between invitation to dine and invitation to marry. Her Ladyship sees this line with her fine eyes for principle."