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Darcy lurked in an alcove across from Mr. Collins’s bedchamber in Netherfield. He was curious to hear what Jones had to say about the injured man, and if he went downstairs he would be subjected either to Miss Bingley’s complaining, or Miss Elizabeth’s fine and tempting eyes, or both. It was best to stay here.

The door to the clergyman’s room was firmly shut, so Darcy could only hear the soft rumblings of male voices. After some ten minutes, the door opened and Mr. Jones appeared with his black bag in his hand.

“By all means, read the Bard’s works,” he said cheerfully to the patient within, “but only for an hour at the most at a time, Mr. Collins. It is vital that you rest as much as possible to allow appropriate healing.”

“Thank you, Mr. Jones.”

Jones turned around and started slightly at the sight of Darcy, “Mr. Darcy?”

“Mr. Jones. How is Mr. Collins?”

Jones pulled the door shut firmly. “He is well, sir. I am very pleased to see him up and walking around, though given his unsteadiness, it is unwise for him to descend the stairs without assistance.”

“I will ask Mr. Bingley to have a footman stationed outside Mr. Collins’s room to help him as needed,” Darcy suggested.

The apothecary was clearly pleased. “That is an excellent idea. I am glad that he is being cared for so well.”

“Did he say anything unusual?” Darcy inquired carefully.

Jones, an older man with a shock of silver hair, stopped in the middle of the corridor and looked up into Darcy’s face, “Unusual? What do you mean?”

Darcy hesitated but decided, based on his minimal interactions with Mr. Jones, that the apothecary was a sensible man who could be trusted.

“Mr. Collins and I had a truly remarkable discussion in the library, and I found myself exceedingly surprised by two things. The first was that he dictated, word for word, the first chapter of the Gospel of John. The second was that he stated that ‘the other Mr. Collins’ was no longer in charge of his life. It was quite an extraordinary statement and I find myself concerned for his mental state.”

“That is remarkably odd. Interestingly, a few minutes ago, the rector quoted the entire first chapter of the book of James, which I found impressive, but I assumed it was merely a favorite of his as a clergyman.”

“He claims to have memorized the entire New Testament, Mr. Jones.”

The man’s eyes flared wide, “Truly? That is incredible.”

“It is, and I am inclined to believe him since I chose the chapter which he recited for me. The whole thing is extraordinary, and I find myself both curious and troubled.”

“Are you concerned that he is mad?” Jones demanded bluntly.

Darcy hesitated and then slowly shook his head, “He seems rational enough, but I wonder whether he would be better served to stay here at Netherfield than to return to Longbourn, which has fewer servants and a … a livelier environment. Of course, he could potentially return home to Kent and his parsonage.”

“There is no question of the latter,” Jones insisted. “Mr. Collins lost consciousness for many hours and must not be moved far; indeed, if Mr. Bingley is willing to host him here, I would advise he not move to Longbourn yet. He really ought not to be bumped about in even the most well sprung carriage.”

“I agree,” Darcy said with relief. He was fascinated by Mr. Collins. If the man truly could remember everything he read, then he was absolutely brilliant — but that brilliance was locked in the portly body of a formerly groveling parson.

***

“It is very kind of you to host Mr. Collins during his convalescence,” Miss Bennet told Mr. Bingley, her soft blue eyes admiring.

“It is the least we can do,” Bingley replied, his own eyes adoring. “After all, he was injured here at Netherfield.”

A definite snort emanated from Miss Bingley, who was standing by the door, but neither Miss Bennet nor Mr. Bingley seemed to notice.

Miss Elizabeth clearly did notice as she shot a quick glance at Miss Bingley before turning her attention back to Darcy, who was seated in the drawing room on an overstuffed chair. While he preferred firmer seats in general, it was wise to avoid a couch, since Miss Bingley would inevitably sit down next to him and move closer than propriety truly allowed.

“Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy addressed her, “I remember that you enjoy reading?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Is there a bookstore in Meryton?”

Elizabeth tilted her chin in her thoroughly enchanting manner. “Yes, Mr. Darcy, there is a very fine bookstore.”

“Excellent. I will make a trip there soon in search of additional tomes for Bingley’s rather bare shelves.”

Bingley pulled his attention away from Miss Bennet long enough to chuckle, “I am no great reader, Darcy, as you well know. By all means, buy as many books as you like.”

“Perhaps you ought to go with Mr. Darcy, Charles,” Miss Bingley suggested from the couch nearest Darcy. “Netherfield’s library is a true disgrace. A gentleman should always be working towards an extensive collection of books. There is nothing quite as enjoyable as a good book, after all!”

“I agree, Miss Bingley,” Elizabeth said brightly. “I am curious, what is a book you particularly enjoy?”

Caroline Bingley pursed her lips indignantly. “I enjoy many books, Miss Eliza,” she claimed loftily, “but of course Shakespeare’s works are some of my very favorites.”

“Do you prefer the comedies, the tragedies, or the histories?” Elizabeth inquired courteously.

“Oh, the tragedies, of course! The pathos of Hamlet, the madness of Lady Macbeth, they are so inspiring to the true patron of the arts!”

“I prefer the comedies,” Jane Bennet commented cheerfully. “I know the tragedies are clever and creative, but they are so gloomy. I like happier plays.”

“I do as well, Miss Bennet,” Bingley agreed.

“Which play would you suggest I read first, Mr. Darcy?”

Darcy leaped to his feet in surprise. Mr. Collins was standing in the doorway of the drawing room with a wooden faced footman at his side.

“Mr. Collins! You really ought not to be out of bed, sir,” he exclaimed.

“I had to see you, Mr. Darcy,” Collins averred, his expression passionate. “Shakespeare’s works are so extensive and so powerful, but it will take much time to read it all, and there is never enough time to read. Never enough.”

Bingley and the two Bennet women seemed thoroughly startled while Miss Bingley looked disgusted.

“Mr. Collins, please do sit down,” Darcy suggested soothingly, gesturing toward the chair he had just vacated. “Miss Bingley, I wonder if you could arrange to have some tea sent in for Mr. Collins?”

“Certainly, Mr. Darcy,” she simpered, leaving with alacrity. Darcy hoped she would not return.

“Mr. Darcy, which is your favorite Shakespearean play?” Collins asked in a single minded way.

“Oddly enough, I enjoy the histories most, Mr. Collins, but I would suggest The Tempest as a good introduction to Shakespeare.”

“Oh, I love The Tempest ,” Jane Bennet exclaimed. “I saw the play in London with my aunt and uncle.”

“Miss Bennet!” Mr. Collins exclaimed. “Miss Elizabeth! I did not see you here. Why are you here at Netherfield?”

The Bennet women exchanged surprised glances and Elizabeth spoke for both of them, “We came to see how you are doing, Mr. Collins. We are relieved that you are feeling better after your fall.”

“Er, yes, well, that is to say, I did not feel anything when I was unconscious, and now my head hurts, so I am not certain that I feel better, precisely.”

Miss Elizabeth looked bewildered, as she well might.

“I believe,” Darcy observed gently, “that Miss Elizabeth is pleased that you have regained consciousness.”

“Yes, that is a good thing,” Collins agreed, his face screwed up in profound concentration. He gazed at Miss Elizabeth for a minute.

“You would regret accepting my hand in marriage, Miss Elizabeth,” he said conversationally.

Bingley choked aloud at this statement and Elizabeth Bennet flushed indignantly.

“I assure you, Mr. Collins, that I have no intention of accepting any offer from you.”

The rector looked startled. “Truly? Even though I am heir to Longbourn? Even though your portion is very small?”

Now Elizabeth’s eyes were narrow with outrage. “I assure you that I would never accept you.”

Collins heaved a great sigh of relief, “That is truly excellent, Cousin. You are most wise. You are a lively and intelligent woman, and would loathe being under the authority of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who is a termagant.”

There was another gasp, this one from Miss Bennet, and Elizabeth turned a wide-eyed stare at Mr. Darcy.

“Mr. Collins,” the man said mildly, “while it is true that my aunt is an arrogant woman, it is not politic to discuss that widely with those who do not know her personally.”

The rector frowned and raised a wavering hand to his brow, “My apologies, Mr. Darcy. You are correct. My apologies, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Bennet, Mr. Bingley.”

Miss Elizabeth’s gaze was fixed on Darcy now, confusion written across her brow.

“I believe that Mr. Collins is somewhat discombobulated after his fall last night,” Darcy explained carefully.

Miss Bennet’s mouth formed an understanding “O”, and Elizabeth turned a frowning glance on Mr. Collins.

“You truly do not intend to offer for me, Mr. Collins?” she asked boldly.

Collins shook his head, “No, Miss Elizabeth. I intended to before my injury, of course, but I have awakened and now see the light. I truly do not know of any woman who would relish dealing with Lady Catherine on a frequent basis, but you are an especially intelligent and independent gentlewoman, and you would find my patroness extremely tedious. For that matter, Mr. Collins is hardly a catch, in spite of the fact that he is the heir to Longbourn.”

Elizabeth coughed, “Mr. Collins?”

“The other Mr. Collins, yes.”

“Sir,” Darcy interpolated hastily, “I really believe you must return to your bed. Mr. Jones was quite firm that you need rest. I intend to travel to the bookstore in Meryton soon and would be delighted to pick up a few books for you. Are there any topics you find of particular interest?”

“Oh, Mr. Darcy,” the man beamed, “that is an impossible question to answer. Anything at all is of interest, though I particularly enjoy histories.”

“Perhaps I can find a copy of Southey’s Life of Nelson ,” Darcy suggested.

“That is an excellent book,” Elizabeth Bennet agreed, though her brow was still wrinkled in confusion.

“You are most gracious, sir, most gracious indeed. I will return to my bed and my Shakespeare.”

“You might well enjoy Julius Caesar and Richard III since you enjoy histories,” Darcy declared, “but do get adequate rest.”

“Thank you,” the man replied, climbing to his feet with some difficulty and limping to the door where the footman still stood.

Bingley waited until the rector had departed before turning to Darcy with concern writ large across his face, “I say, Darcy, is the man quite all right?”

Pemberley’s master, who was gazing blankly toward the door, turned toward his closest friend, “I do not think he is precisely all right, no. Mr. Jones thinks that he has sustained a brain injury.”

Bingley looked even more alarmed at this, “Is he ... quite safe? My sisters are here in the house.”

Darcy sighed, “I do not believe Mr. Collins is violent in the least. He is more likely to be a danger to himself than anything else; he is slightly addled and limping and might well fall on the stairs, which is why I asked you to assign a footman to his door.”

“What do you suppose he meant about ‘the other Mr. Collins’?” Elizabeth asked carefully.

Darcy hesitated. That statement was truly bizarre and perhaps indicative of insanity, but then …

“Were you acquainted with Mr. Collins’s father?” he asked the Bennet ladies.

Jane and Elizabeth glanced at one another and shook their heads simultaneously.

“Our father quarreled with his,” Elizabeth explained gravely. “According to Mr. Bennet, the elder Mr. Collins was a cruel, illiterate, unpleasant man.”

“Less than two hours ago, Mr. Collins informed me that his father hated learning and beat his son’s love for books out of him.”

Jane Bennet gasped in distress, “That is horrible, Mr. Darcy, absolutely horrible!”

“It is,” Darcy agreed with a noticeable shudder, “It is hard to fathom a father so cruel as to punish his son for his natural love of learning. I am not a medical man, but it seems that your cousin’s fall has, fortuitously enough, freed him from some of the mental chains of his father’s cruelty. It is clear that Mr. Collins has a passion for knowledge. Furthermore, your cousin tells me that he has an amazing ability to remember what he reads and that he has memorized the entire New Testament of the Holy Bible. I tested him by requesting that he recite the entire first chapter of the gospel of John and he did so without hesitation, and without a single error.”

Miss Elizabeth gasped, “Mr. Collins? The entire New Testament? How could that be?”

“I believe,” Darcy mused aloud, “that your cousin is a genius.”