Page 67

Bastow Church

Derbyshire

1 year later

“Now remember, Mr. Collins, you will be using the wedding ceremony from the Book of Common Prayer, nothing more,” Mrs. Charlotte Collins admonished gently.

Mr. William Collins, who was gazing with confusion at a vagrant twist in his white surplice, smiled lovingly at his very pregnant wife.

“Thank you, dear Charlotte. I do need that reminder. In any case, I do not feel a strong need to lecture the couple on compatibility; it seems to me, and more importantly to you, that Mr. Martyn and Miss Bennet are very compatible indeed.”

“Yes,” Charlotte agreed as she cleverly adjusted the rebellious sleeve of the surplice. “I believe Mary and Mr. Martyn will be happy together.”

There was the sound of voices, and Mr. and Mrs. Collins turned toward the open door of the room where Mr. Collins was preparing for the upcoming wedding ceremony. A few seconds later, Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy and her two youngest sisters, Kitty and Lydia Bennet, surged into the room in a flurry of wedding finery.

“Kitty, Lydia!” Charlotte cried out in excitement. “I am so glad you arrived here in time for Mary’s wedding! Elizabeth told me that there was a delay due to your father’s illness.”

“We finally arrived yesterday morning,” Lydia explained with a dramatic sigh. “Yes, Papa was unwell, and thus we left Longbourn later than expected. The trip itself was longer than we hoped thanks to a broken wheel on our carriage. We were stuck in a boring little town for a full day while it was repaired.”

“That is a pity,” Charlotte replied sympathetically, “but at least you are here now. What think you of Pemberley?”

“It is incredible!” Lydia exclaimed. “I never would have guessed that Lizzy would marry such a very rich man! She is so lucky!”

“I am lucky,” Elizabeth agreed, stepping up to Charlotte and giving her a careful hug. Both ladies were in an advanced stage of pregnancy, and thus moved with bulbous caution. “Not because Mr. Darcy is rich, but because I love him.”

“How are you, Kitty?” Charlotte asked kindly. Kitty, the fourth Bennet daughter, tended to fade into the background when in the presence of her more vibrant sisters.

“I am well, Charlotte,” Kitty said happily. “Miss Darcy is very kind and I love the rose garden. She and I are going to paint pictures of the roses tomorrow.”

“Your family is planning to stay for a few weeks, then?”

“Yes, Mama is determined to be present for the birth of her second grandchild,” Elizabeth explained cheerfully, looking down at her rotund form. “Of course, she is hoping that our child will be a boy, and I admit that so do I, but Jane’s daughter Esther is precious. Regardless of the gender of the child, I will be overjoyed. It will not be long now. ”

“It will not,” Charlotte agreed, taking a deep breath and forcing herself to smile.

“I will like living like a princess at Pemberley,” Lydia commented with a pout, “but I fear it will be a little dull. I suppose it is too much to hope that there is a militia regiment nearby? I still need to find my red-coated officer to marry.”

“That would be inadvisable, Miss Lydia,” Mr. Collins proclaimed suddenly. “Most militia officers are not wealthy; a captain must be heir to property worth only 400 pounds a year, and a lieutenant but 50 pounds a year. As the daughter of Mr. Bennet, you live on an estate with an income of approximately 2500 pounds per year. In order to maintain your current style of clothing, food, and the number of servants you are accustomed to, I estimate you will require at least 634 pounds per year of income from your husband. That, of course, is somewhat dependent on your willingness, or lack thereof, to economize as needed. When children come along, expenses will increase ...”

“Mr. Collins, I believe I hear the groom arriving,” Charlotte interrupted gently, taking her husband’s arm and turning him toward the door.

“Ah yes, my dear, you are quite correct. Thank you. Until later, Mrs. Darcy, Miss Kitty, Miss Lydia.”

The ladies curtsied and Mr. Collins strode out, leaving a wide eyed Kitty behind him.

“Mr. Collins must be very good at sums,” she said in an awed tone.

“He is good, as you put it, at almost everything,” Elizabeth responded with a chuckle. “Did not Father tell you that he is a genius?”

“He is very rude,” Lydia complained, wrinkling her nose. “It is not the fault of the militia officers that most are not rich.”

“Mr. Collins did not say that it was their fault,” Charlotte explained patiently, drawing in a deep breath. “He was pointing out that you would be well advised to consider your own needs before falling in love with a member of the militia. You would not care to do your own laundry and mend your own clothing and live in rented lodgings, would you, Lydia?”

The girl looked horrified, “No!”

“Well then, it would be sensible for you to marry a man who can support you as a gentleman’s daughter,” Mrs. Collins suggested. “But come, I believe it is time we all went into the sanctuary.”

Elizabeth shooed her younger sisters out the door but put up a restraining hand to her friend, “What is wrong, Charlotte? I can tell you are not well.”

Charlotte Lucas grimaced openly and put a hand on her stomach, “I am merely having more contractions than usual, Lizzy. That is all.”

Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy frowned hideously, “How often, Charlotte?”

The lady winced, “The last two were only five minutes apart, but ...”

“Five minutes?” Elizabeth hissed. “What are you doing here, Charlotte? Are they regular?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Collins admitted. “But come, Lizzy, you know first babies are always slow to arrive.”

“Usually slow, dear friend. Usually slow.”

“As soon as Mary and Mr. Martyn are married, uh ...!”

Elizabeth shook her head determinedly, “No, you will go back to your home now, and we will call the midwife. The last thing Mary wants is for you to have a baby in the middle of her wedding ceremony.”

Charlotte Lucas opened her mouth in protest and then closed it. In truth, she was in a substantial amount of pain and everything was happening more quickly than she anticipated.

“Elizabeth, go into the sanctuary, and I will walk home. The parsonage is very close.”

“Absolutely not. I will get you home and in your bed and arrange for the midwife to come. I know Mary will understand. If she was not marrying Mr. Martyn today, she is the one who would be walking you home.”

***

2 hours later

“Is Charlotte all right?” Mr. Collins demanded, storming into the bedroom where his beloved wife was curled up on the bed, obviously in pain.

“Everything is well, Mr. Collins,” Mrs. Stewart, the midwife, assured the rector. “Your child is on his or her way, sir, but everything is proceeding as expected.”

“Charlotte?” Mr. Collins asked softly, his eyes dark with fear. What would he do without her?

“I am ... well, husband,” the lady said, taking panting breaths. “Do not be afraid. God is with me.”

“He is, and so am I,” her husband said with determination.

“Sir, you must leave,” Mrs. Stewart ordered him. “Men are not permitted in the birthing chamber.”

“I am her husband, not a mere man,” Collins replied flatly. “I will stay and watch my child being born. I will help my wife. I am not leaving.”

Mrs. Steward was nonplussed. Never, in all her years as a midwife, had a husband insisted on staying while his wife delivered!

“It is quite all right, Mrs. Stewart,” Charlotte managed with a pained smile. “My husband will be a blessing.”

The midwife shook her head in disbelief but kept her silence. She had known Mr. Collins was an odd man, but not this odd!

***

“Jane!” Elizabeth exclaimed, reaching eagerly for her four month old niece, baby Esther Bingley. “Come here, Precious.”

The baby peered uneasily at her aunt, glanced back at her mother, gurgled, and grabbed at Elizabeth’s hair.

“Lizzy, is Charlotte well?” Jane demanded.

“Yes, but the babe is on the way.”

“That is so exciting! Would you wish for me to stay here in the parsonage so you can go to the wedding breakfast at Mary’s new home? You missed the ceremony, after all.”

“No, go ahead, Jane. You do not get to spend much time with Mary, and I will be nearby at Pemberley. Mary and I will visit one another often.”

“Charles and I will be nearby as well, Elizabeth.”

“Oh Jane, truly? You liked the estate fifteen miles beyond Lambton?”

“Very much. Charles’s agent is making arrangements today to purchase the estate. We will be within twenty miles of one another, dear sister!”

“Oh Jane! I am so excited!”

***

“Three daughters married, Mr. Bennet, and to such fine men.”

“Yes, we are blessed,” Mr. Bennet told his wife. They were standing on the front terrace of the estate house at Bastow, their daughter Mary’s new home.

“Of course, Mr. Martyn is nothing compared to Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley,” his lady commented. “He is a second son and a steward, but at least he is a gentleman.”

“Hush, my dear,” Mr. Bennet said, “have you ever seen Mary look so happy?”

Husband and wife looked over at Mary, who was standing at her new husband’s side under a tent erected in the middle of the front lawn. Their third daughter’s eyes were glowing, and her usually pale face was flushed with joy.

“No, I have not,” Mrs. Bennet admitted. “She is very happy indeed. Oh Mr. Bennet, how hard it will be for Lizzy and Mary to be living so far from us!”

“We can visit, Mrs. Bennet,” her husband returned in a soothing tone. Unlike his wife, Mr. Bennet knew that Jane and Mr. Bingley were also searching for a home in the north. Almost certainly he would soon have three daughters living far away from Longbourn. That reality, plus the glories of the Pemberley library, were enough to dislodge him from his comfortable home on a relatively frequent basis.

“The house is well enough, at least,” Mrs. Bennet commented, turning to look up at the stone edifice of the front wall of Bastow Hall. “It is not quite as big as Longbourn, but close. It is a very fine home for a steward, to be sure.”

“A steward who is married to the sister of Mrs. Darcy. Mr. Darcy told me that Bastow Hall is a wedding gift to Mary and her new husband.”

“Well, that is absolutely delightful, Mr. Bennet. Three daughters married, a granddaughter born, another grandchild on the way, and Mary newly wed. We are fortunate indeed.”

***

“So is that the baby’s head?” Mr. Collins inquired with avid curiosity.

“Yes,” the midwife replied absently. “You are doing very well, Mrs. Collins. Wait for the next contraction and then push.”

“Really, I know almost nothing about childbirth,” Mr. Collins commented. “Are there any books ... ?”

“William, not now!” Charlotte cried out with far less calm than usual, but then she was in considerable pain.

“I am so sorry, my dear,” the man said contritely. “What can I do?”

“Hold my hand,” she begged as another contraction hit.

“Very good, Mrs. Collins! The baby ... there we are.”

The welcome screams of an indignant newborn baby filled the air of the room. Mrs. Stewart lifted the child away from Charlotte and quickly peeked between the infant’s legs.

“It is a boy, Mrs. Collins,” she cried out happily, then added, “and Mr. Collins. Congratulations to you both!”

Charlotte Collins fell back on her pillow and felt tears of joy running down her cheeks. A moment later, her tall, not very handsome husband bent down and kissed her on the lips.

“My darling Charlotte, thank you,” he murmured in a choked voice. “You are so strong and so brave, and I love you very much.”

“I love you too, William.”