Mrs Collins' Lover Read online

  “I would have pursued him and accepted his hand,” Charlotte replied in the same tone.

  Elizabeth was unable to reply. Charlotte gently squeezed her hand in return and released it. She said her goodbyes to the rest of the family and left before her friend was fully able to recover.

  ***********

  Over the next week, Elizabeth found a certain restraint had entered into her relationship with Charlotte Lucas. She felt persuaded that no real confidence could ever subsist between them again. Her disappointment in Charlotte made her turn with fonder regard to her sister, of whose rectitude and delicacy she was sure her opinion could never be shaken, and for whose happiness she grew daily more anxious, as Mr. Bingley had now been gone a week and nothing more was heard of his return.

  Mr. Collins’ letter arrived on Tuesday, declaring he would return on Monday a fortnight; for Lady Catherine so heartily approved of his marriage, that she wished it to take place as soon as possible. Elizabeth begged her father that she might be allowed to spend one last Christmas at Longbourn as a Miss Bennet, and he agreed. It would be January before she need leave her family and home behind.

  In order not to think upon her future any more than necessary, Elizabeth focused on her sister. Day after day passed away without bringing any tidings of Mr. Bingley. Though Elizabeth refused to believe the gentleman indifferent toward Jane, she did fear his sisters would be successful in keeping him away. In addition, the amusements of London and the persuasion of his overpowering friend, she feared, might be too much for the strength of his attachment.

  As a means of deferring their mother’s laments over Mr. Bingley and protecting Jane, Elizabeth submitted to most of Mrs. Bennet’s demands regarding the wedding. She visited and accepted her neighbours’ well-wishes with the cheeriest smile she could manage. She stood through fittings for her wedding dress and trousseau; though she argued against excess lace or lowered necklines. As the future wife of a clergyman, she felt uncomfortable putting on airs or exposing herself. At her mother’s insistence, she finally relented to one finer dress for special occasions and a collection of fichus to cover the lower necklines. Elizabeth frowned as linen, lace, and ribbon were purchased for her matron caps.

  Mr. Collins returned promptly and joined the Bennet ladies as they visited their neighbours once more. As they left this time, Elizabeth could feel the pitying glances cast in her direction. Mr. Collins was as pompous as he had been previously, and everyone seemed to feel her misery.

  Since Mr. Bennet had refused Mr. Collins extensive access to his bookroom, the man had taken to using the morning room as a sort of study. As a result, the Bennet ladies would quickly move to the drawing room once the sun had fully risen, leaving their cousin to himself. On Thursday, Elizabeth found Mr. Collins there fretting over the sermon he was to preach that coming Sunday. Surprised, as she could nearly recite the message their rector always gave the Sunday before Christmas, Elizabeth supposed his nerves must be the result of it being his first such service at Hunsford, having remembered Mr. Collins had only taken orders at Easter. In an attempt to ease his distress, she began telling him what she had heard since her youth.

  “I do not doubt you mean well, my dear,” Mr. Collins interrupted her, “but Lady Catherine is very insistent upon what she expects. Normally I meet with her in length on Tuesday mornings to discuss what is to be said, but I was unable to do so this week.” He wrung his hands. “I suppose, owing the season and the situation, she might …”

  Mrs. Hill entered the room carrying a letter, therefore stalling Mr. Collins’ speech. “Forgive me, sir, Mr. Bennet asked this be delivered to you.”

  The look of relief which covered her cousin’s countenance when he saw the penmanship on the missive was nearly comical. He thanked Mrs. Hill profusely as he broke the seal. A quick perusal had him once more at ease and he returned to the table where his books and papers lay. The work he had begun was consigned to the fire and he took his seat, drawing a fresh page before him.

  “As I told you, Cousin Elizabeth, Lady Catherine is quite thorough and does not overlook even the smallest detail. You will find it a blessing when we are at Hunsford. Her instruction will complete your education to make you the finest rector’s wife there has ever been.” His eyes never left the correspondence. “Now, my dear, if you would be so kind as to call for some tea while I prepare my sermon, I would be ever so grateful.”

  Elizabeth shook her head as she slipped from the room and entered the kitchen to prepare the tea herself. Anything for a moment or two away from the ridiculous man. As the water came to a boil, her mind was drawn to what her mother had said some weeks earlier. At least she could be assured that she would have Tuesday mornings to herself.

  ***********

  Saturday morning Mr. Collins was on his way back to Hunsford, his sermon folded neatly within his prayer book. Though curious by nature, Elizabeth fought the urge to request he read it to her. Her wedding date had now been set and so she knew that beginning with the first Sunday in January she would be witness to his sermons until he inherited Longbourn. She could easily avoid this one.

  To increase her melancholy, Jane received another letter from Caroline Bingley removing any doubt of Mr. Bingley’s intention to return to Hertfordshire. It concluded with Mr. Bingley’s regret at not having had time to pay his respects to his friends in Hertfordshire before he left the country. The one hope Elizabeth depended upon to bring some peace to her future situation in life, now appeared doomed to failure. Jane would not be happy enough for the two of them.

  “I only regret we were not aware of Mr. Bingley’s inconsistencies before you accepted our cousin,” Jane lamented.

  “Whatever do you mean?” Elizabeth asked, suspecting the direction of her sister’s thoughts.

  “If Mama had not presented me as nearly attached, Mr. Collins might have pursued me instead.” Jane reached out and patted Elizabeth’s hand. “I mean no disrespect, Lizzy, but I dare say I would be more accepting of such a situation.”

  Though her sister spoke in all sincerity, Elizabeth could not suppress her amusement. “I take no offense and am quite certain you are correct, but no,” she shook her head. “Mr. Collins was directed toward me before he ever entered Longbourn, Jane. It was Papa’s decision.”

  Jane’s jaw dropped. “Papa?” Slowly, she closed her mouth as her mind turned over this bit of news. “Surely he knew not what our cousin was like …”

  “He had received the first letter from Mr. Collins. You remember it, Jane. Could he have been in any doubt of how the man would be?”

  Her head moved ever so slightly side to side. “Oh, Lizzy, how do you know this to be so?”

  “Mr. Collins told me when he was proposing. I had already spoken to Papa regarding Mr. Collins’ attentions. After the proposal, I asked Papa directly. He told me he advised our cousin to seek me out as I was the most knowledgeable regarding the estate and he had always hoped I would one day be Mistress here.” Elizabeth trembled as she remembered how betrayed she had felt that day. Now it was a matter of fact and she had come to some semblance of acceptance.

  A tear slipped down Jane’s cheek and Elizabeth forced a smile. She would not accept her sister’s pity.

  “I believe Mama is correct, Jane; you require a change of scene. I am certain Uncle Gardiner will not mind taking both you and Mary back to London when he leaves.” A giggle escaped her lips. “Perhaps Mama will learn economy sooner than Papa and I expected.”

  “Lizzy!” Jane scolded, but her lips did curve ever so slightly upward.

  ***********

  The Gardiners arrived the following Monday bringing much needed joy and laughter. Mr. Gardiner with his normal sensibility, something which had quite escaped his sister, leant an air of calm while his wife’s intelligence and elegance went so far as to have Mary looking forward to her journey. Their children, spirited but well behaved, were anxious to visit with their older cousins and pleased to be away from the city for a time. All but t
he three eldest Bennet daughters and the adults rushed for the gardens to expel excess energy before having to sit down for dinner.

  After Mrs. Gardiner described the newest fashions and Mrs. Bennet made notes for the modiste to make alterations to Elizabeth’s trousseau yet again, the lady of the house began her laments on how ill-used Jane had been by the Bingleys.

  “You simply must take her to London, Sister. If nothing else, she might visit Miss Bingley and better determine the validity of that lady’s words. I know Mary was to return with you, but …”

  “Think nothing of it, Sister. We will gladly take both girls to London with us. Now, how do you like Mrs. Armstrong? She was highly recommended.” Mrs. Gardiner winked in Jane’s direction as she sipped her tea.

  “Oh, she is a dear! I am so pleased that Mr. Bennet thought of it. Kitty is showing a natural gift for drawing, you know. We may ask you to sponsor her in a year or so that she might take advantage of the masters.”

  Elizabeth suppressed her amusement as her mother extolled Mrs. Armstrong’s capabilities while concealing her youngest daughter’s determination to fight the poor woman at every step. When the governess first arrived, Elizabeth was glad to note how she manipulated Mrs. Bennet into participating in the classroom. It was clear Mr. Bennet had taken the hint that his wife could benefit from lessons as well. Unfortunately, Lydia was still being difficult, but that was to be expected. Elizabeth hoped the determined governess would wear her youngest sister down over time, much like water dripping upon a rock.

  Later, when Elizabeth had a moment alone with her aunt, Mrs. Gardiner questioned her more on Jane’s situation. “I doubt Jane will see Mr. Bingley while staying with us. We live in so different a part of town, all our connections are so different, and, as you well know, we go out so little, that it is very improbable that they should meet at all, unless he really comes to see her.”

  “I can only hope that, should he learn of her presence there, he will do just that.” Elizabeth looked longingly out a window. “I must see Jane happy,” she whispered.

  Mrs. Gardiner took a seat beside her niece and laid a hand upon her shoulder. “How are you, Lizzy?”

  “I am accepting of my situation and hoping to make the best of it.” She did not put a false smile upon her lips as she normally would. With her aunt, she felt no need to deceive. “I have set aside the joy I once prayed would be mine in conversing with my husband and debating the finer points of literature or the latest play. I realize there will be limitations set upon me, but I am determined not to chafe under the yoke.” Tears filled her eyes. “God always has a plan, Aunt. Am I correct?”

  “I am certain He does,” Mrs. Gardiner whispered as she embraced Elizabeth. “We need only be open to receiving it.” She rubbed her niece’s back. “I fear for you, Lizzy. The Bible says wives are to submit to their husbands, but that requires you respect him. Can you respect Mr. Collins?”

  Elizabeth pulled away from her aunt and wiped her eyes. “I find little to do so at this time. Perhaps when we are married, I will find something?” She looked pleadingly at her aunt.

  The look of doubt which crossed Mrs. Gardiners’ countenance did not boost Elizabeth’s confidence. She chose instead to change the topic and they discussed the activities planned for the next week, carefully avoiding mention of Mr. Collins’ return the following Monday and the wedding a week from Thursday.

  *CHAPTER SIX*

  The carriage left the high road for the lane to Hunsford as a new tension filled Darcy’s shoulders. He glanced across at his cousin; propped in the corner, head back, mouth open, snores rending the air. He had been thankful when Colonel Fitzwilliam fell asleep so quickly and then remained so the majority of the trip. He welcomed the droning snores over his cousin’s incessant questions regarding Darcy’s recent melancholy to vitriol mood swings. However, their destination would soon be in sight so it was best to wake the man now so he could remove the drool from his chin and straighten his clothing before being harangued by their aunt.

  Fitz startled awake when Darcy kicked the foot propped against the opposite corner of the coach, nearly sending the man sprawling upon the floor.

  “Bad form, Cousin.” The Colonel wiped his chin with his sleeve before remembering himself and searching for his handkerchief. “Were I fresh from battle, I might have killed you.”

  “You might have attempted it.” Darcy looked out the window and pointed at the palings of Rosings Park. “We will be there in a few minutes. I thought you would prefer to enter the dragon’s lair fully aware.”

  Fitz sat up, straightened his jacket, and ran his fingers through his hair. “Quite right, quite right.” His gaze turned out the other window and he leaned a bit closer. “What know you of our aunt’s new rector? Is he a young man, fresh from school like the last poor soul? Or older, with a pretty daughter?”

  “The prior.” Darcy frowned. “More sycophantic, if you can believe it possible. I doubt the man has a thought in his head that Lady Catherine did not place there.”

  A piercing whistle escaped his cousin as he shook his head. “Pity then. That must have been his wife.”

  Darcy’s frown deepened. “Wife? I was unaware he was wed.”

  He turned toward the window, but the carriage was already taking the turn into Rosings Park. Pushing thoughts of the obsequious man from his mind, he concentrated on setting his features in their normal mask; distant and unreadable. He could not allow his aunt to find a speck of weakness in his demeanour, lest she attempt to use it to her advantage.

  The carriage rolled to a stop as Fitz tucked the edges of his cravat out of sight and turned toward Darcy for approval. After straightening his cousin’s collar, Darcy gave a nod of satisfaction. The door was opened, and he stepped out of the coach, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. When the Colonel had joined him, they walked together up the broad front stairs to where Mr. Kite, the ancient butler, waited by the door.

  “Mr. Darcy. Colonel Fitzwilliam.” The wizened servant bent surprisingly nimbly as he greeted them. “Your aunt has been awaiting your arrival in the parlour.”

  The cousins had always been awed by this man. His very demeanour brooked no tomfoolery, but he was equally able to display hints of amusement. The quick spark in his eye now showed his mirth in what they anticipated to be a most aggravating encounter.

  “Has Lady Catherine been waiting long?” Darcy asked as he removed his gloves. “Surely her ladyship has not forgotten the amount of time which is required to travel from London to Kent?” He glanced at the long clock. “I say, Fitz, I believe we may have broken our previous time. I had not anticipated our arrival for at least another half hour complete.”

  “It must be your forethought in sending your own horses to await us at the last inn.” The Colonel added his outerwear to the growing pile and looked expectantly at Mr. Kite.

  “This way, gentlemen.”

  The butler led the way down the hall, extravagant beyond reason with priceless vases and gold leaf frames littering the area. How Darcy longed for the simple welcoming entry at Pemberley, but he was duty-bound to visit Rosings. It was one of his father’s last instructions before he passed, and Darcy would not fail him in this area as he had in others.

  The double doors were opened as though a visiting monarch were being received and not the expected nephews on their annual visit. Mr. Kite announced the gentlemen in a similar manner, the flash returning to his eye just before he bowed his way out of the room.

  “Ah, you have finally arrived,” Lady Catherine declared as she held out a hand to be bowed over and kissed.

  Both men did their duty before turning to address their cousin, Miss Anne de Bourgh. She was wrapped in several shawls as normal and sat in a shadow, as though the touch of light might burn her.

  “Does Anne not look lovely to-day? She has been much improved of late, is that not correct, Child?” Lady Catherine’s voice filled the room while her daughter’s was barely a whisper.

  “I
have had the pleasure of superior company.”

  Her mother tsked. “Superior? Are you saying you prefer the rector’s wife to your own mother?”

  “No, Mother.” Anne lowered her head. “I have simply enjoyed conversing with another young lady nearer my age.”

  Though Darcy was fascinated by their cousin taking part in conversation, the Colonel was too impatient to wait to be added to the interaction.

  “So, you have replaced Mr. Minnick?” he asked.

  Lady Catherine pursed her lips as her eyes stole from her daughter to assess him. “You know I must, the man died last spring most inconveniently just before Easter. Mr. Collins was recommended by a friend. Lady Metcalf, to whom I had recommended a governess, told me of him. He had just taken orders and was looking for a situation. I have been satisfied with him thus far.”

  Her eyes scanned the Colonel’s person, a frown settling about her lips, before she turned her gaze upon Darcy.

  “I am quite displeased to learn that I have not the opportunity of introducing you, Darcy, to Mr. and Mrs. Collins for I understand you met them both in Hertfordshire.”

  “I did have the opportunity to meet the gentleman while visiting my friend, Bingley, but he was not yet wed.”

  All eyes seemed to turn in his direction and Darcy fought the urge to tug at his cravat which had suddenly decided to strangle him. The memory of the huffing man following him down a hall as he assisted … No! He could not believe that she would ever lower herself to marry such a …

  “You met her, nonetheless. Mr. Collins married one of his cousins.” Her expression turned to one of annoyance. “When first she arrived, I found Mrs. Collins quite unsuited to her role; but she is acquitting herself nicely since I gave her husband certain instructions on how to curb his wife’s impertinence.”

  Darcy felt as though his aunt had physically struck him and he clenched a fist to his stomach as he fought the need to stagger from the blow. “One of the Miss Bennets, you say?” His voice sounded odd to his ears, but he had to know for certain. “Pray tell, which one? There are five as you well know.”