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Authors: Shannon Winslow
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sequence. She knew the prescribed progression well and had performed it a
hundred times or more. Yet even this routine business, tedious to most, gave
her exquisite pleasure. For this brief interval of time, once every other week,
she could forget her responsibilities and become lost in the music. She could
set aside the duties of a teacher and become the student instead. She could
imagine herself a girl again – a talented and promising young lady with a
bright future ahead… if only for that one hour.
8
Arrival
It was a Sunday
when he first presented himself at Longbourn, and fortunately so, for thus Mary
was on hand to support her mother through the crisis. The two ladies had been
taking their ease after dinner when they heard a carriage approaching.
“It will only
be my sister Phillips,” said Mrs. Bennet, not bothering to lift her eyes from
the bit of lace she was mending. “She said at church that she might drive
over.”
Mary, her mind
alive to other possibilities, set aside her book at once. She knew very well
that over three weeks had elapsed since the arrival of the letter from America. So the time was right and the important moment might well be at hand. Then Mrs.
Hill corroborated what Mary’s intuition already told her; coming into the sitting
room, she announced the true identity of their visitor.
The effect on
Mrs. Bennet was both stunning and immediate. She froze stock still, momentarily
adopting both the color and character of a pillar of salt, before slowly coming
back to life. “Mr. Tristan Collins?” she repeated, evincing her astonishment at
the news. “He is here? Now?”
“Yes, ma’am,”
confirmed Mrs. Hill, “just this instant arrived all the way from America. Shall I show him in?”
“Are you mad,
woman? I must have a moment to think. Lord bless me, how is this possible,
Mary? We have had no card, no letter, no hint of his coming so soon.”
Mary busied
herself tidying the room, saying, “None of that matters now, Mama. He is come,
and we must make the best of it. Let us not keep him waiting, as if he were
unwelcome in his own house.”
“ His house?”
“Yes, for so it
is, as well you know. It became his house the moment poor Papa died.”
“I cannot bear
it! I simply cannot bear it, that I should be forced to make way for this… this
undeserving usurper!”
Mary hastened
to her mother’s side, urging her, “For heaven’s sake, madam, speak lower. What
advantage can it be to you to offend Mr. Collins? You will never recommend
yourself – or your daughter – to him by so doing. Remember your plan, Mama.”
“Yes, yes, the
plan,” said Mrs. Bennet with a little more composure and considerably less
volume. “That is the thing to think of now. Mr. Collins must marry Kitty. Oh!
But Kitty is gone off to her sisters. What bad luck! Well, she will be sent for
and made to come home at once. In the meantime, I suppose we shall have to
entertain Mr. Collins as well as may be. There was a time when Iwas
considered quite the charmer, and you shall simply have to do your best too,
Mary. I know this sort of thing is not really in your line. That cannot be
helped now. We must each play our part to see that things turn out as they
should.” Mrs. Bennet took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “Hill, please
show the gentleman in.”
Mary was more
prepared than her mother, and not nearly as surprised by so early an arrival of
their cousin from America. Yet she too felt the need to steady herself for the
first sight of this man whose person, situation, and manners had been the
conjecture in nearly every recent discussion at Longbourn. Then, all at once,
the suspense was over. Mrs. Hill opened the door, and the man so long
speculated about, so high in everybody’s interest, was actually before them.
Holding hat in
hand, the distinguished young gentleman walked into the room and made a neat bow,
saying, “Tristan Collins at your service.”
Mrs.
hundred times or more. Yet even this routine business, tedious to most, gave
her exquisite pleasure. For this brief interval of time, once every other week,
she could forget her responsibilities and become lost in the music. She could
set aside the duties of a teacher and become the student instead. She could
imagine herself a girl again – a talented and promising young lady with a
bright future ahead… if only for that one hour.
8
Arrival
It was a Sunday
when he first presented himself at Longbourn, and fortunately so, for thus Mary
was on hand to support her mother through the crisis. The two ladies had been
taking their ease after dinner when they heard a carriage approaching.
“It will only
be my sister Phillips,” said Mrs. Bennet, not bothering to lift her eyes from
the bit of lace she was mending. “She said at church that she might drive
over.”
Mary, her mind
alive to other possibilities, set aside her book at once. She knew very well
that over three weeks had elapsed since the arrival of the letter from America. So the time was right and the important moment might well be at hand. Then Mrs.
Hill corroborated what Mary’s intuition already told her; coming into the sitting
room, she announced the true identity of their visitor.
The effect on
Mrs. Bennet was both stunning and immediate. She froze stock still, momentarily
adopting both the color and character of a pillar of salt, before slowly coming
back to life. “Mr. Tristan Collins?” she repeated, evincing her astonishment at
the news. “He is here? Now?”
“Yes, ma’am,”
confirmed Mrs. Hill, “just this instant arrived all the way from America. Shall I show him in?”
“Are you mad,
woman? I must have a moment to think. Lord bless me, how is this possible,
Mary? We have had no card, no letter, no hint of his coming so soon.”
Mary busied
herself tidying the room, saying, “None of that matters now, Mama. He is come,
and we must make the best of it. Let us not keep him waiting, as if he were
unwelcome in his own house.”
“ His house?”
“Yes, for so it
is, as well you know. It became his house the moment poor Papa died.”
“I cannot bear
it! I simply cannot bear it, that I should be forced to make way for this… this
undeserving usurper!”
Mary hastened
to her mother’s side, urging her, “For heaven’s sake, madam, speak lower. What
advantage can it be to you to offend Mr. Collins? You will never recommend
yourself – or your daughter – to him by so doing. Remember your plan, Mama.”
“Yes, yes, the
plan,” said Mrs. Bennet with a little more composure and considerably less
volume. “That is the thing to think of now. Mr. Collins must marry Kitty. Oh!
But Kitty is gone off to her sisters. What bad luck! Well, she will be sent for
and made to come home at once. In the meantime, I suppose we shall have to
entertain Mr. Collins as well as may be. There was a time when Iwas
considered quite the charmer, and you shall simply have to do your best too,
Mary. I know this sort of thing is not really in your line. That cannot be
helped now. We must each play our part to see that things turn out as they
should.” Mrs. Bennet took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “Hill, please
show the gentleman in.”
Mary was more
prepared than her mother, and not nearly as surprised by so early an arrival of
their cousin from America. Yet she too felt the need to steady herself for the
first sight of this man whose person, situation, and manners had been the
conjecture in nearly every recent discussion at Longbourn. Then, all at once,
the suspense was over. Mrs. Hill opened the door, and the man so long
speculated about, so high in everybody’s interest, was actually before them.
Holding hat in
hand, the distinguished young gentleman walked into the room and made a neat bow,
saying, “Tristan Collins at your service.”
Mrs.
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