Mrs. Bennet Has Her Say by Jane Juska Page A

order to muddy my boots. Most unusual of all was my manner. My wife had never seen me in what she called a jovial mood; she had rarely seen me even cheerful. And she had never ever seen me welcome someone to Longbourn with such heartfelt sincerity as I displayed now. Even her own sister’s visit had not elicited the warmth shesaw now bestowed upon the young man who would steal her rightful home from under her and her children.
    Hildy, the new parlour maid, appeared from the vestibule. “Mr. and Mrs. Littleworth have arrived,” she said, dimpling in Mr. Collins’s direction and reddening when he grinned boldly at her. That girl will have to go, I thought. I looked anew at this cousin and marveled at the animal vigour he possessed, which I had never had, and now, the prisoner of middle age, never would. Alas.
    Mr. and Mrs. Littleworth, who lived not far from Longbourn, were the wealthiest, the oldest, and the fattest couple in the county. They were also the dullest, or so I thought then. They had been invited so that they, too, could act out their parts, in this case being themselves. They would surely bore young Collins back to Buddington. I and Collins rose from the settee.
    â€œWe came by cart,” bellowed Mr. Littleworth as best he could. “Don’t remember all those steps out front. Not so easy to make it up the lot of them,” he gasped.
    â€œAnd did you notice,” said Mrs. Bennet, “that they’re crumbling?” She glanced meaningfully at Collins, who was moving in the direction of Hildy.
    â€œWe came by cart, indeed we did,” said Mrs. Littleworth, bending her right ear in the direction of her husband’s voice. From this somewhat peculiar angle, she explained, “Mr. Littleworth wishes to save the carriage for more formal excursions; he prides himself on his thrift and insists that he can drive the cart without benefit of acoachman or a footman or any person who might make our journey comfortable. Isn’t that right, my dear?” she shouted. “And wouldn’t you say that your cart jolted us near to breaking our bones!”
    â€œYes, jolted us, keeps costs down,” Mr. Littleworth answered.
    â€œSuch a spring we’re having!” Mrs. Littleworth leaned into her husband, exposing the enormity of one breast, and added, “But it will no doubt be our last.” She poked him in the general area of his ribs with her elbow and winked, this time at Mrs. Bennet. “You’re a pretty little thing,” she said.
    â€œMost likely our last, yes,” Mr. Littleworth said; then he pulled himself upright and pronounced, “One certainty remains, however; we have not lost our appetites.” Clearly, Mr. Littleworth’s appetite had followed him all the days of his life, for his belly tormented the seams of his waistcoat, from which the buttons dangled uselessly. Mrs. Littleworth giggled and elbowed him again in the ribs. “Don’t do that, my dear,” he said. She poked him again and cackled. Mr. Littleworth raised his hand.
    Quickly Mrs. Bennet motioned toward Collins. “This is our cousin, Mr. Collins, visiting our county for a bit. It is his first visit, you see.” Mr. Collins held out his hand.
    â€œIt’s not getting any lighter out there,” said Mr. Littleworth, ignoring the hand and pointing his sausage-sized finger at the window. “Don’t like to eat by candlelight and then, well, we’ll have to gird our loins for the ride home.”
    â€œGirding our loins,” Mrs. Littleworth chortled. “Could be our last.” She made as if to elbow him again, but her husband held her off with, “How soon can we expect dinner?”
    Hildy, having been the object of handsome young Collins’s attention ever since his arrival, stood scarlet-faced and breathing heavily at the door to the dining room. “Dinner is served,” she said and rolled her eyes. With young Collins so