Mrs Collins' Lover

  Mrs. Collins’

  Lover

  Bronwen Chisholm

  and

  A Lady

  HARVESTDALE

  PRESS

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Some passages in this novel are paraphrased from the works of Jane Austen. This novel contains quotes from the King James Bible.

  Cover art by Sieck Photography.

  Copyright © 2019 by Bronwen Chisholm

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any format whatsoever.

  ISBN 9781075058677

  DEDICATION

  To my father, my spiritual leader, who laid a strong foundation which I was able to return to after trying things my own way. I still hear your voice when they sing the old hymns, Daddy.

  And to my Heavenly Father for loving me before I was, during faithful and rebellious times, and on until the day I stand before Him. Through gentle taps and guiding nudges, He leads me.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  As always, I must begin by acknowledging the muse herself, Jane Austen. The characters she created have touched so many over the years. I humbly offer my attempt in the hopes that it brings some joy.

  Thank you to my beta reader, MK Baxley, and the devoted readers at AustenUnderground.com. Katie, your assistance, as always, is indispensable. Thank you to my amazing friend, Trina, and her beautiful daughter and aspiring author, Cara, for persevering through a crazy windy day to get the cover shoot right. (Honestly, when we zoomed in on the pictures, the pollen flying around was insane!) And to Heather from Sieck Photography. Your patience and inspiration are boundless. I would also like to acknowledge my readers Amanda, Madalin, Sheria, and Jeane (who read multiple versions) for reading through one more time to catch those things I felt I was still missing. Thank you again for taking time out of your busy life schedules to help me out. You guys are the best.

  Last, but not least, thank you to my family who constantly puts up with Mom’s distractions, late dinners, and talk of Regency Era England, Jane Austen, and Pride and Prejudice. Big kudos to my daughter who actually attended a Regency dance with me … and danced!

  *CHAPTER ONE*

  The weight which had lifted during her walk settled once more upon Elizabeth Bennet’s shoulders as she stepped into her family’s garden. Her father had fallen ill at the end of summer and, in an instant, her innocence had been stripped from her. The entire family understood that when Mr. Bennet passed, their family home, Longbourn, would transfer to a distant cousin. Until her dear papa took to his bed for nearly a month, it had seemed like a far-off event. With her youthful indestructible view, Elizabeth was certain at least her eldest sister would be married and able to provide for the surviving Bennet ladies before anything should happen to their sire. After all, Mrs. Bennet regularly declared Jane could not be so lovely for nothing.

  With their father ill and their mother taking to her bed, her nerves in tatters as she convinced herself her husband would not rise again, Elizabeth and Jane had taken on the running of Longbourn. In truth, they had long done much of what was required, but it now felt as though each task was a loving goodbye as they readied the property for the next owner.

  Only her walks, though they included visits to the tenants, allowed her to escape back to a time when she believed her father would live forever and she would come and go from Longbourn her entire life, leaving only long enough to visit her aunt and uncle and her sisters once they married. Luckily, their father had recovered, and a gentleman had since been showing attention to Jane, so perhaps it was simply the change of seasons which now fed Elizabeth’s melancholy. She released a sigh and, feeling the wind tug against her bonnet, she lifted her head and closed her eyes to soak in what meager warmth was available from the weak autumn sun.

  A sound drew her attention and she glanced toward the house in time to see her father approach the window in his study. She smiled and waved drawing a return smile and nod from the dear man. A glimpse down at her appearance confirmed her hem was once more stained with mud, so she decided to enter the house through the back door nearest her father’s study. With a bright smile fixed upon her lips, Elizabeth made her way down the dark servant hallway and entered his domain without knocking.

  “Papa!” She placed a kiss upon his cheek. “It is a glorious day.” She crossed to the bell pull and tugged it before claiming her seat across from his desk. “I visited the Rodgers this morning. Little Betsy is growing so quickly. I believe Jane and I will make her a few new dresses as I fear she will outgrow those she has before winter.” Her lips twitched as she met his gaze. “Mrs. Rodgers mentioned the old maple again.”

  Mr. Bennet took his seat with a sigh. “I will have Mr. Carter take a look. Did any of the other tenants have any requests?”

  Elizabeth ran down a short list of complaints as her father noted them in his journal. While they spoke, Mrs. Hill entered and poured out a cup of tea for each of them. A plate of warm sweet rolls was set between them before the housekeeper gave a brief curtsey and left the room.

  “Mr. Renshaw sent his regards on your speedy recovery.” Elizabeth was unable to suppress a grin as she took up one of the rolls and pulled it apart. “I believe he was fishing for an invitation, but I simply thanked him and continued on my way. Were Jane with me, I am certain she would have invited him to tea and then we would never have gotten rid of him. I know he amuses you at times, but I was uncertain you were sufficiently healed to undergo an afternoon of such tediousness.”

  “Thank you for considering my health, Lizzy,” Mr. Bennet replied cynically.

  Elizabeth was pleased her father knew how Mr. Renshaw wore on her nerves with his tendency to repeat himself. “Of course, Papa.” She gave him a full smile. “I am ever mindful of your well-being.”

  A chuckle rumbled in Mr. Bennet’s chest, but quickly stopped and he muttered what sounded like, “As am I.”

  “What was that, Papa?” Elizabeth asked just before popping the last of her roll into her mouth. She reached for another.

  “You worked up an appetite this morning,” he commented instead of answering her.

  Elizabeth shrugged, not bothering to ask again. “I suppose I walked farther than I normally would. I was thinking over something Charlotte said last night.”

  “Miss Lucas is wise for her years. What éclat has she shared with you?” Mr. Bennet sat back in his seat, cradling his tea cup in his hands as though it were a small fire to warm him.

  “We were discussing how much affection a lady should reveal when being courted.”

  Her father leaned forward once more and set his cup back upon the saucer. “May I assume this was in regard to your eldest sister?”

  Elizabeth nodded and took a sip of tea. “I believe none are truly aware of her feelings for Mr. Bingley, and I mentioned this to Charlotte. She saw the prudence of it, but suggested Jane should show more than she feels to Mr. Bingley or he might be in doubt.” She frowned. “Papa, do you believe Mr. Bingley may doubt Jane’s affections for him?”

  Mr. Bennet’s expression mirrored her own. “I believe Mr. Bingley is a sought-after young man who has shown a pointed interest in your sister. However, they have not met often enough to know if they suit.”

  “But they do!” Elizabeth declared enthusiastically. “I know it is early and there is no need to rush things, but they are so perfectly suited for each other.” She sat back in her seat and met his gaze once more. “Charlotte said that happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. She has decided it is better to k
now as little as possible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass your life.”

  Mr. Bennet’s warm brown eyes clouded as he seemed to study her before his gaze fell to the papers upon his desk. “I believe Miss Lucas may have a wisdom greater than I first knew.”

  “Oh Papa!” Elizabeth laughed. “You know it is not sound. I am certain Charlotte would never act in such a way herself.”

  “Would she not?” he asked. “Given an opportunity to provide for her own comfort without cost to her family, would Miss Lucas refuse in hopes of a better situation? She is eight-and-twenty, Lizzy. She has learned practicality.”

  Elizabeth’s frown returned more defined. “I suppose, but dear Jane will not have to worry. I am certain she and Mr. Bingley will get on splendidly.”

  “That may be so, but Mr. Bingley has yet to visit me regarding her.” Mr. Bennet traced the edge of a paper with his first finger. “Lizzy, I have something I wish to discuss with you …”

  The book room door opened with a loud bang, startling them both from their conversation. No one entered, though voices filled the hallway. They soon realized the door had not been latched correctly and, when the front door opened to admit the youngest Bennet daughters newly returned from Meryton, a gust of wind had blown it open. Elizabeth latched it firmly and returned to her seat.

  “What were you saying, Papa?”

  Mr. Bennet stared at the door. Eventually, his eyes fell again upon his desk, but he covered whatever lay there with his hand and smiled at her. “Nothing important.” He took up a sweet roll. “So, the old maple has seen better days?”

  Their conversation returned to the estate and Elizabeth took solace in spending this time with her beloved papa, pushing thoughts of the Bennet ladies’ future without him from her mind.

  ***********

  On Monday, the eighteenth of November, the sun rose as it always did, but Elizabeth could not help a feeling of dread. She had watched her father closely since he entered the dining room to break his fast with the family. He looked as though a great weight bent his shoulders and she feared his illness was returned. When he lifted his head and stared down the length of the breakfast table at his assembled family, Elizabeth attempted to see them through his eyes.

  Mrs. Bennet was holding court at the far end, listening to her two youngest daughters chatter about their plans for the day. Mary, the middle sister, was silent as she divided her attention between Fordyce’s Sermons and her plate. Jane and Elizabeth sat quietly on either side of their father. She noticed his gaze lingered upon Mary before he sadly shook his head and turned his attention toward Jane.

  Having only just recovered from a severe cold, Jane still looked peaked but beautiful. Elizabeth said a silent prayer that her sister would regain her strength quickly. When she felt her father’s gaze upon her, she turned in time to see him wiping a tear from his eye just before he cleared his throat to gain everyone’s attention. Her stomach churned as she waited, anxiously expecting him to notify them of his impending demise.

  “I hope, my dear,” he said to his wife, “that you have ordered a good dinner to-day, because I have reason to expect an addition to our family party.”

  Elizabeth sensed he had attempted to insert his normal levity into his speech, but he had failed miserably.

  Mrs. Bennet began speculating as to whom he might be alluding, and her husband provide another clue. “The person of whom I speak is a gentleman, and a stranger.”

  When Mrs. Bennet took this to mean their new neighbour, Mr. Bingley, though he was so well known to them as to have housed both Jane and Elizabeth during Jane’s illness the previous week, Elizabeth saw her father shake his head in amused disbelief. A bit of the disquiet she felt eased.

  “It is NOT Mr. Bingley. It is a person whom I never saw in the whole course of my life.”

  Elizabeth’s brows rose as she wondered how a complete stranger to her father could have earned an invitation to dine with them. His patience seemed to come to an end, and he drew their guesses to a close.

  “About a month ago I received this letter,” he held up a sheet of paper which appeared wrinkled as though it had been crumpled and straightened. “It is from my cousin, Mr. Collins, who, when I am dead, may turn you all out of this house as soon as he pleases.”

  Gasps ran about the table as Elizabeth’s heart dropped into her stomach. Her father met her gaze, his eyes seeming to plead for something from her.

  Mrs. Bennet cried out against the man and the entail which stole Longbourn from her and her daughters. Jane and Elizabeth attempted to explain the nature of an entail to her as they had so many times before, but to no avail.

  “It certainly is a most iniquitous affair,” said Mr. Bennet, “and nothing can clear Mr. Collins from the guilt of inheriting Longbourn. But if you will listen to his letter, you may perhaps be a little softened by his manner of expressing himself.”

  He proceeded to read the letter; a pompous, falsely humble, proclamation of the man’s intent to heal a breach within the family by offering an ‘olive branch’ and alluding to possible reparation to the Bennet daughters. The majority of the wordy missive was filled with praise of Mr. Collins’ patroness who had bestowed a valuable rectory upon the man after he received ordination earlier in the year.

  “At four o’clock, therefore, we may expect this peace-making gentleman,” said Mr. Bennet, as he folded the letter. “He seems to be a most conscientious and polite young man, upon my word, and I doubt not will prove a valuable acquaintance, especially if Lady Catherine de Bourgh should be so indulgent as to let him come to us again.” He returned the letter to his pocket.

  Mrs. Bennet appeared thoughtful for the first time and cautiously voiced her acceptance of any amends the gentleman might offer. Elizabeth and her sisters each responded in manners similar to their individual personalities. Jane gave the man credit for thinking of offering atonement, though she could not think of what that might involve.

  “He must be an oddity, I think,” said Elizabeth. “I cannot make him out. There is something very pompous in his style. And what can he mean by apologising for being next in the entail? We cannot suppose he would help it if he could. Could he be a sensible man, sir?”

  Mr. Bennet drew a deep breath and released it slowly as his eyes fell from her. “No, my dear, I think not.” Something in his voice spoke of despair and Elizabeth assumed he feared for the estate once this man inherited.

  “In point of composition,” said Mary, “the letter does not seem defective. The idea of the olive-branch perhaps is not wholly new, yet I think it is well expressed.”

  The youngest, Catherine and Lydia, clearly held no interest in either the letter or its writer as it was next to impossible that he should come in a scarlet coat as the officers in the militia now housed in Meryton. They returned to the latest gossip recently obtained from the officers’ wives and their Aunt Phillips who resided in the town.

  Mr. Bennet excused himself as his family returned to their previous discussions and Mrs. Bennet called for the housekeeper to make preparations for their guest. Elizabeth watched her father leave, his shoulders definitely appearing more stooped. She asked Mrs. Hill to add an extra spoonful of honey to Mr. Bennet’s tea when he requested it.

  *CHAPTER TWO*

  Mr. Collins was punctual to his time. Elizabeth stood beside Jane as introductions were made and each curtseyed in their turn before regaining their seats. Though she was intrigued regarding her cousin, Elizabeth could not tear her eyes from her father. She thought back to his curious behaviour over the last few weeks and began to suspect this visit was the reason.

  Though not an overly active man, preferring his book room to exercise, Elizabeth had been surprised when Mr. Bennet fell ill at the end of summer as she would not have thought him in such poor health. What had seemed a simple cold had settled in his chest, causing his breathing to be difficult. Mrs. Bennet pronounced him near death daily, but Elizabeth had been determined to see him well ag
ain.

  And so she had, but he now appeared greatly altered to her. Where they once laughed freely at their neighbours foibles, he now seemed to ruminate upon decisions better made. Where he had once smiled at her, his eyes now pleaded for something she was unable to name. She had attempted to speak to him on the subject, but he had waved her away stating perhaps his time in bed had brought a new understanding of her mother’s nerves.

  A chill ran the length of her spine as Elizabeth became aware of her cousin repeatedly glancing in her direction. Mr. Collins was a tall, heavy-looking young man of five-and-twenty. His air was grave and stately, and his manners were very formal. He had been in conversation with Mrs. Bennet and the topic had turned to the entail. Elizabeth looked to her father, but he seemed to purposefully avoid her gaze.

  “I can assure the young ladies that I come prepared to admire them,” Elizabeth heard Mr. Collins say. “At present I will not say more; but, perhaps, when we are better acquainted—”

  He was interrupted by a summons to dinner causing Elizabeth to smile at Jane as they linked arms. As this was a family dinner, they did not stand on ceremony. Mr. Collins escorted Mrs. Bennet to the dining-room, but Mr. Bennet followed behind alone. Jane and Elizabeth came next, with Mary behind them, and Kitty and Lydia bringing up the rear with whispers and giggles. Due to their guest, Elizabeth took the seat beside her eldest sister, allowing Mr. Collins to sit to her father’s right.

  Mr. Collins’ admiration of the Bennet daughters’ beauty upon his arrival was quickly matched, and possibly surpassed, by his praise of the hall, dining-room, and all its furniture. The look of mortification on Mrs. Bennet’s countenance told Elizabeth she supposed the man to be viewing it all as his own future property.