Mrs Collins' Lover Read online

  The church was cold but would warm as more people entered. Elizabeth relished the peace and solitude, knowing it would not last. Shortly, the parishioners would enter, and she would be forced to stand and greet them. They would expect her to be friendly and smile, and she would. Mr. Collins would remain outside until the Rosings party arrived and then he would personally escort Lady Catherine to her pew as though the wretched woman were royalty.

  “Lord, forgive me,” she whispered.

  “Forgive you for what?”

  Elizabeth jumped up, making it impossible to hide a wince as she did so. “I did not realize anyone had arrived.” She turned to see Mrs. Martin approaching and was uncertain what she should do. Sarah had told her many times that Mrs. Martin, or Mrs. Genie as the villagers called her, was a midwife and knew her craft well. The problem was, Lady Catherine was most vociferous over her dislike of her mother, the Widow Abernathy.

  The lady rushed to Elizabeth’s side and insisted she return to her seat, then sat beside her. She held Elizabeth’s hand, patting it reassuringly. “Do not fret, my dear. It is only the two of us.”

  Tears sprang to Elizabeth’s eyes and she batted them away with her free hand. “I am being silly.”

  “You are in pain,” Mrs. Martin said forcefully.

  “It is nothing.”

  She could feel the other woman studying her and sat a bit taller, her breathing shallow to control her discomfort. “I believe it would be best …”

  “I will leave when I am certain you are well and not before.” Mrs. Martin released Elizabeth’s hand long enough to open her reticule and withdraw a small vile which she held out. “This will lessen the pain, make it easier to move about.”

  Elizabeth eyed it longingly but did not accept it. “Does it contain laudanum?”

  “It is an oil; you rub it on.”

  Elizabeth blushed. “Oh, but my pain is …”

  “I am aware from whence your pain comes.”

  Mrs. Martin looked deeply into her eyes, causing Elizabeth’s blush to deepen. “Sarah?”

  “You should be commended that you inspire such affection from your servant.”

  She pressed the bottle into Elizabeth’s hand then quickly stood and moved to a pew closer to the rear of the church. A moment later, Elizabeth heard more parishioners entering. She slipped the oil into her reticule and stood to greet the villagers. Though she was able to call each by name and ask after their families, she did not consider any of them friends. She was grateful when the Rosings party entered and she was able, once Lady Catherine was seated, to do the same.

  She had noticed Mr. Darcy looking her direction, his brow drawn in that bothersome frown which he so often wore in Hertfordshire. Her spine stiffened as she considered what he had said earlier that week and how it might have changed her life. As quickly as the thought crossed her mind, she pushed it away. As she had told him, the chances of her accepting him were unlikely. She had not seen his affection, only his haughtiness. She had been blinded by her own prejudices against him because of an imprudent remark at an insignificant assembly. She had been too proud to recognize his attention in settings following that first night.

  Mr. Collins took the pulpit and the congregation rose. Elizabeth cursed the lack of a pew in front of her as there was nothing upon which she could lean. The opening hymn was sung, then Mr. Collins welcomed the congregation. They continued to stand while he began the prayers of penitence. How Elizabeth longed to be allowed to kneel as the papists did. At least then she would be off her feet and her pain would lessen.

  She felt herself sway and prayed she would not swoon before she was allowed to sit. Instead, she focused upon Mr. Collins’ voice as the music began again. As much as she disliked the man, his voice, though untrained, could be pleasing when lifted in song. She closed her eyes and breathed through her nose, concentrating on his lilting tenor, when she suddenly became aware of a deeper, more resonant voice to her left. Elizabeth knew instantly it was Mr. Darcy. It was the same voice he used when he spoke to her in the meadow in the early mornings; much softer and more intimate than his commanding Master of Pemberley tone.

  She fought the urge to turn in his direction but instead allowed his presence to buoy her spirits and in turn give her the strength to continue until they would finally be instructed to sit. Even during the readings, she focused on his voice until the final “Thanks be to God.” When that time came, she lowered herself slowly and finally relaxed, knowing she would be able to sit for some time while Mr. Collins recited Lady Catherine’s sermon.

  The topic this morning was on fulfilling one’s duty. She wondered who had inspired her ladyship. Normally at this time of lent, they would be preparing for Palm Sunday and Holy Week, but Lady Catherine cared little for what was expected. She had a message she wanted to deliver, and Mr. Collins was her mouthpiece.

  The sermon ended, and they were on their feet again for the remainder of the service. Elizabeth silently begged God’s forgiveness that she was unable to give Him the attention and worship due Him, but she believed in her heart He understood. After Mr. Collins blessed the congregation, Elizabeth nearly fell into her seat. She knew she should remain standing to greet the remaining members to whom she had not yet spoken, but she found her legs no longer capable of holding her. Instead, she let her reticule fall to the floor and pretended to bend forward just to retrieve it.

  A man’s boot stepped into her view just before Mr. Darcy kneeled before her, his hand also reaching for her reticule. She sat back and allowed him to assist her. The concern writ upon his features touched her heart and she blinked rapidly to keep tears at bay. He said nothing but held out his arm to assist her to her feet. Reluctantly she accepted, trying not to lean upon him more than necessary.

  As they walked up the aisle, parishioners approached and greeted her, looking at the gentleman curiously. Mr. Darcy hesitated near each one and nodded for introductions. Though most of the individuals were beneath his notice, at least the pauses allowed her several moments to rest. As they continued out of the church, Elizabeth realized he was measuring his steps to hers, so she was not forced to walk faster. She cast him a grateful smile then quickly lowered her gaze again.

  They approached Lady Catherine who was speaking earnestly to Mr. Collins. Anne stood by the Colonel, both of them looking at Elizabeth and Darcy oddly. She suddenly realized they might have some idea of what had passed between her and the gentleman and pulled her hand from Darcy’s arm before taking her place beside Mr. Collins.

  “There you are.” Lady Catherine sniffed as she looked Elizabeth up and down. “I wondered where you might be.”

  “Forgive me, your ladyship; I was delayed by other parishioners.” Elizabeth kept her voice soft and submissive; though inside her mind was screaming it was none of the old biddy’s business. She said another silent prayer of forgiveness and wondered if God was beginning to doubt her sincerity.

  “It was my fault,” Darcy said from behind his aunt. He hesitated, suddenly looking pale, but recovered quickly. “The lady was doing me the service of introducing me to several individuals.”

  Lady Catherine frowned at her nephew. “I am certain there could be no occasion where you would need to know the parishioners here. You will be leaving within a few days and will forget them before you return.”

  “On the contrary, Lady Catherine.” Darcy stood taller, his face taking on the haughty expression Elizabeth had disliked when they first met but, she now understood, was used to brook no opposition. “There are minor repairs which must be done to some of the tenants’ homes and I have met with your steward to discuss whom to hire. Meeting a man in person goes further than any recommendation. I wish more people employed the technique rather than taking another individual’s reference.” He glanced down upon Mr. Collins and turned toward his cousins effectively ending the conversation.

  His aunt glared at his back before turning her attention upon the couple from the parsonage. “I shall expect you for te
a,” she declared before calling out to her nephew to assist her to her carriage.

  Mr. Collins was still stooping and thanking her ladyship when the door closed, and the equipage pulled away. Elizabeth sighed, hoping the oils Mrs. Martin had given her would allow her to walk the short distance to Rosings without so much discomfort, knowing Mr. Collins would not be so considerate as Mr. Darcy had been.

  ***********

  The following Thursday, Darcy squatted to examine the wainscotting in the hallway of the Abernathy house. The handiwork was impressive. Such talented craftsmen would have cost triple the price in London, but the men had reduced their fee when they learned it was for Mrs. Genie and her mother. Apparently, Genie had been midwife to several of their wives, even delivering a breech babe without injury to either mother or child. Once word had spread of repairs being done, Darcy had received more offers of assistance than were needed. As a result, he was able to do more than he originally believed possible.

  Each added project extended his time in Kent. And each day added to his stay provided another sunrise opportunity to speak to Elizabeth. He was beginning to believe she welcomed his presence and he was finding it more and more difficult to leave.

  “I feel as though I have walked back in time.”

  He stood and smiled at Genie who was standing near the bottom of the stairs. “You are pleased then?”

  She returned his smile as she looked around. “I would be most ungrateful if I said otherwise.” She met his gaze. “How can we ever repay you?”

  “There is nothing to repay. You do a great service to this community and they wanted to show their gratitude.” Darcy approached the stairs. “How is Mrs. Abernathy to-day?”

  “She is well. I came to tell you tea will be served shortly.”

  “That sounds delightful.” He glanced around once more, making sure he had not neglected anything, and then followed her upstairs. “Have you seen Fitzwilliam? He left Rosings before me this morning.”

  “As I understand it, you left Rosings before him.”

  Darcy blushed. “I went for a walk at sunrise, but when I was ready to come here, he was already gone.”

  “He is with Mother.”

  “He has been here this whole time?” Darcy asked, pausing on the top step.

  “Yes.” Genie continued without him. She turned to face him near the door to her mother’s sitting room. “You do not approve.”

  “I hardly know what I am judging.” Darcy eyed her suspiciously.

  “Your cousin is a good man, Darcy.”

  “A good man,” he nodded, “who sometimes makes imprudent decisions.”

  “I want nothing from him. We are friends.” She folded her hands before her as though she waited for Darcy to have his say. When he did not, she smiled. “He calls you his conscience.”

  “Fitzwilliam and I are brutally honest with each other.”

  She nodded. “That is good to have as we so easily deceive ourselves.” Before he could respond, she turned and opened the door. “Look who I found, Mother.”

  “Why Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Abernathy smiled and motioned Fitz away so Darcy could take the seat closest to her. “I heard the banging and thought you might be around.”

  “I hope the noise did not disturb you, Madam.” Darcy bowed and settled into what was becoming his chair.

  “It sounds like a distant drum. I dreamt of the red men Martin spoke of when he was courting Genie.”

  The tea tray was brought in by the lone maid and Genie fixed each cup without direction. Darcy settled back in his seat to hear another story. “Martin? Genie’s husband?”

  “Yes.” Mrs. Abernathy accepted the cup from her daughter. “He was stationed in the Americas before he returned to England and married Genie.”

  She told one or two of his stories before her eyelids grew heavy and her head began to nod. Once she was asleep, Darcy followed Genie and Fitz from the room. They surveyed the other projects being done about the house, inside and out, and returned in time for the older widow to awaken and say goodbye to them.

  The gentlemen had ridden a short distance from the house when Fitz reined in his mount and turned his attention toward his cousin. “You disapprove of my relationship with Genie.”

  “It is not my place. You are a grown man and she is a wise woman, as you once told me.” Darcy did not stop, and Fitz kicked his horse forward until he was beside him again.

  “So, there will be no lecture?”

  “Do you wish to have a lecture?” Darcy glanced in his direction, a smirk beginning. “I never realized you appreciated my ‘blasted piety’. In the past, you have asked me to keep my opinions to myself on this topic.”

  “I do not want you to think less of Genie.”

  Darcy nodded. “Have no fear, Fitz. Genie is a good woman.” He looked over the fields towards Hunsford and sighed. “I cannot find it in myself to judge anyone on such matters.”

  They rode in silence for a few minutes until Fitz finally spoke. “Did you notice her discomfort on Sunday morning?”

  Darcy knew immediately their topic had changed and of whom his cousin now spoke. “Yes.”

  “She seemed improved later, when she took tea at Rosings.” When Darcy did not respond, Fitz continued. “Genie said she had given her something to help her. Did you notice any change when you met her this week?”

  “I did not ask, but by Tuesday she seemed herself.”

  They rode on in silence until Rosings came into sight. “The work is progressing well. Will we be leaving soon?”

  Darcy hesitated. There really was no reason for him to remain, no future in staying longer other than delaying the pain of not seeing Elizabeth. “I would prefer to see the job completed.”

  “Is it not nearly done?”

  “I have spoken to the carpenter about making repairs on the stable.” Darcy spurred his horse into a faster trot, hoping Fitz would not continue questioning him.

  “Is that necessary?” his cousin asked, matching his speed.

  “Probably not, but would your horse not prefer it?” He grinned at the Colonel.

  “I suppose.”

  Darcy nodded and was thankful they had reached an open area so he could urge his mount into a full gallop. He arrived at Rosings’ stables with Fitz close behind him. They turned their horses over to the capable grooms and entered the house to find Anne waiting for them.

  “What has happened?” Darcy asked, his heart in his throat.

  Anne laughed. “Nothing to concern yourself, Darcy. I simply did not want you entering the drawing-room unawares. Elizabeth is here. Mother summoned her.”

  Darcy frowned, wondering what Lady Catherine wanted with Elizabeth. Filled with apprehension, he moved quietly down the hall toward his aunt’s favourite sitting-room and listened for voices. The doors were closed, but he could hear her ladyship’s demanding tones.

  “It has been nearly three months, Mrs. Collins. Are you certain you are not yet increasing? It is your duty to provide an heir for your husband. Your mother was unable to do so and, thus far, you show no signs of having any success.”

  Elizabeth’s voice was too soft to hear clearly.

  “I see your impertinence remains. God does not bless a sinful woman with children, Mrs. Collins. You must repent and change your ways.” There was a silence, or perhaps Elizabeth had responded in an even softer voice. “Have you been following the instructions I gave you? … Good. You may go, but I expect to hear of some progress when you report next month.”

  Darcy realized Elizabeth had been dismissed and he would be unable to avoid encountering her. What he had heard made him ill, but he could not allow her to know he had been witness to the exchange. He stepped backward until the door opened and then took a step forward, as though he were just approaching.

  “Miss … Madam.” Darcy bowed. He had yet to call her by her married name and this would not be the time.

  “Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth dropped a quick curtsey, a warm blush covering her che
eks. “If you will excuse me, I must return to the parsonage.” She hurried past him, exchanged a brief farewell with Anne and Fitz and was gone.

  “Darcy! Is that you?” Lady Catherine demanded from within. “Where have you been?”

  Not yet ready to face the woman who had so thoroughly humiliated Elizabeth, Darcy closed his eyes and breathed deeply. When he opened them, his cousins stood before him, watching him. Though it took more effort than normal, he schooled his features into bored indifference and entered his aunt’s domain.

  “Fitzwilliam and I were out riding.”

  “You go out riding quite frequently. Have you finished with the ledgers?” Her eyes were narrowed as she studied him.

  “No, Aunt. Are you ready for us to leave?”

  “Of course not! Just last week you were the one so anxious to be away from here, but you have said nothing of it in days.”

  “When we arrived, I mentioned the possibility of our being recalled to London. That has not occurred.” Darcy bowed his head. “If you will excuse us, Aunt, we are dusty from our ride and should change.” He turned and left, not caring how she would respond or even if Fitz followed him.

  He heard the Colonel’s heavy footfalls as he approached the stairs. They said nothing until they were in Darcy’s rooms.

  “How dare she?” he growled as he paced the length of the room.

  Nelson entered but was waved away as Darcy continued to walk out his anger. Fitz leaned against the door, watching.

  “I am assuming you heard their conversation.”

  “One side of it.” He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “She belittled Elizabeth for not yet being with child.”

  “What? They have only been married for a few months and from what Genie says it is doubtful if he will ever get her with child.”

  Darcy stopped and stared at his cousin. “I beg your pardon?”