Pride and Prejudice (Clandestine Classics) by Jane Austen, Amy Armstrong Page A

been making, and had even vouchsafed to suggest some herself—some shelves in the closet up stairs.”
    Elizabeth’s mind wandered throughout Mr Collins’ constant discourse, and though she tried to prevent it, her thoughts inevitably returned to Mr Darcy, and they were far from pure. Images of him removed of clothing, his firm, muscular body hot and sweaty, were her constant companions. It vexed her that he so persistently drew her attention, and so with some difficulty she endeavoured to concentrate on the conversation at hand.
    “That is all very proper and civil, I am sure,” said Mrs Bennet, “and I dare say she is a very agreeable woman. It is a pity that great ladies in general are not more like her. Does she live near you, sir?”
    “The garden in which stands my humble abode is separated only by a lane from Rosings Park, her ladyship’s residence.”
    “I think you said she was a widow, sir? Has she any family?”
    “She has only one daughter, the heiress of Rosings, and of very extensive property.”
    “Ah!” said Mrs Bennet, shaking her head, “then she is better off than many girls. And what sort of young lady is she? Is she handsome?”
    “She is a most charming young lady indeed. Lady Catherine herself says that, in point of true beauty, Miss de Bourgh is far superior to the handsomest of her sex, because there is that in her features which marks the young lady of distinguished birth. She is unfortunately of a sickly constitution, which has prevented her from making that progress in many accomplishments which she could not have otherwise failed of, as I am informed by the lady who superintended her education, and who still resides with them. But she is perfectly amiable, and often condescends to drive by my humble abode in her little phaeton and ponies.”
    “Has she been presented? I do not remember her name among the ladies at court.”
    “Her indifferent state of health unhappily prevents her being in town, and by that means, as I told Lady Catherine one day, has deprived the British court of its brightest ornament. Her ladyship seemed pleased with the idea, and you may imagine that I am happy on every occasion to offer those little delicate compliments which are always acceptable to ladies. I have more than once observed to Lady Catherine, that her charming daughter seemed born to be a duchess, and that the most elevated rank, instead of giving her consequence, would be adorned by her. These are the kind of little things which please her ladyship, and it is a sort of attention which I conceive myself peculiarly bound to pay.”
    “You judge very properly,” said Mr Bennet, “and it is happy for you that you possess the talent of flattering with delicacy. May I ask whether these pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the moment, or are the result of previous study?”
    “They arise chiefly from what is passing at the time, and though I sometimes amuse myself with suggesting and arranging such little elegant compliments as may be adapted to ordinary occasions, I always wish to give them as unstudied an air as possible.”
    Mr Bennet’s expectations were fully answered. His cousin was as absurd as he had hoped, and he listened to him with the keenest enjoyment, maintaining at the same time the most resolute composure of countenance, and, except in an occasional glance at Elizabeth, requiring no partner in his pleasure.
    By tea-time, however, the dose had been enough, and Mr Bennet was glad to take his guest into the drawing-room again, and, when tea was over, glad to invite him to read aloud to the ladies. Mr Collins readily assented, and a book was produced, but, on beholding it—for everything announced it to be from a circulating library—he started back, and begging pardon, protested that he never read novels. Kitty stared at him, and Lydia exclaimed. Other books were produced, and after some deliberation he chose Fordyce’s Sermons. Lydia gaped as he opened the volume, and