Page 14 of He Taught Me to Hope (Darcy and the Young Knight’s Quest #1)

M r. Geoffrey Collins was eager with anticipation for many months had passed since he first had met his fair cousin.

In under a week, he would see her again.

As he sat in a chair staring out the window of his modest house in town, he reflected upon all that had occurred, and how it seemed to him as though life were conspiring against him.

As much as he considered it a great displeasure to spend any significant time in the presence of his Hertfordshire relations, he had planned to do just that over Christmas, such was his longing to see Elizabeth once more.

Of course, it meant he and his daughters would be obliged to stay in a Meryton inn; what with Mrs. Bennet’s brother and his family from town enjoying a standing invitation to visit Longbourn at Christmas, there simply was not enough room at the manor for the huge influx of house-guests.

Alas, both of his young daughters were afflicted with colds.

In letters exchanged with his intended, the mutual decision was reached that it would not be wise to travel.

He knew the girls would be as taken with Elizabeth as was he.

He had observed with some measure of appreciation, just how much she doted on her young son.

He had no doubt she would embrace his daughters as though they were her own children.

She was just that kind of woman. Though his girls benefited appreciably from a strong female presence in their lives in the form of an attentive and somewhat stern governess, who had been with them for many years and who was considered a part of the family, what they needed most was a mother’s tender love and care.

Elizabeth was the object of his ardent esteem from the moment of their introduction.

Though the father had intended it as an arranged marriage, Mr. Collins had no intention of taking anything for granted.

Geoffrey Collins was everything his younger brother was not.

He had a most agreeable countenance, and he comported himself with considerable dignity.

More than anything else, he was clever. In his astuteness, he realised merely to have her consent was nothing.

What he desired most was her passion, something he knew would never come about without first winning her heart.

He decided he must court her properly, but the prospect of doing so at Longbourn was unfathomable.

That week he had spent there, under the same roof as the silliest creatures in all of England, had been a torment.

And that mother! He had given the matter quite a bit of thought during his stay and was firmly decided—the first thing he would do upon his inheriting Longbourn Village, would be to build a dowager house, should it ever come to that.

Just three weeks earlier he had written to his younger brother, William Collins, to put his plans in motion.

He had taken care of all the pleasantries upfront in congratulating him on his nuptials to the former Miss Charlotte Lucas and in apologising profusely for his not being there in person, in spite of his ardent desire to see his own intended.

He explained how there was much to do in preparing his country home in Lincolnshire for his own pending nuptials.

Geoffrey Collins correctly suspected his younger brother could not be counted as a favourite of his future Bennet in-laws, what with his having failed in his intention of visiting Longbourn to choose a bride from amongst his cousins, much in the same fashion as he had successfully done.

He had learnt that the announcement of his brother’s engagement had been poorly received, indeed.

The chilly reception was such that the younger Mr. Collins quickly had removed himself from Longbourn and taken up residence at Lucas Lodge, ostensibly to commence his courtship of his fair lady and bask in the hopes and dreams of his new-found felicity.

When he had learnt from his brother that Charlotte was a dear friend of Elizabeth’s, he was pleased beyond measure.

It was perfect. Collins asked his younger brother to extend an invitation for Elizabeth and her young son to visit them in Hunsford for the spring.

He and his daughters would join them. There, he would have an opportunity to court Elizabeth and become better acquainted with her son, away from the prying eyes of Longbourn.

Elizabeth would have a chance to become better acquainted with his lovely daughters, as well.

The disheartening situation had gone on for months.

Elizabeth fretted over her young son’s dismay more each day.

Overnight, it seemed, he had gone from waking up bright and early each day eager to finish breakfast and set off on his favourite path, only to return a short time later with one account or another of his adventures with King Arthur, to his seeming total disinterest in waking up at all.

By Elizabeth’s reckoning, Ben seemed as melancholy as was her sister Jane, who had been rather discouraged upon learning that Mr. Bingley did not intend to return to Hertfordshire during the foreseeable future.

He had elected instead to remain in town for the winter, if his sister Caroline’s account could be taken as truth.

Elizabeth knew her sister was nursing a broken heart.

She knew not what to think of her own son’s malaise.

Looking out the window, she espied young Ben sitting on the front steps of the manor house tossing bread crumbs to the white geese wandering freely about.

It was as clear an indication as any of the height of her son’s boredom.

Conspiring to do anything that would encourage her son out of his lackadaisical behaviour of late, she donned her coat and went outside to join him.

“Ben, what say you to the two of us venturing out this morning for an adventure with King Arthur? ”

“There would be no point in that. He is gone.”

“Has he not gone on journeys before? Perhaps, he has returned.”

“No, I am rather certain that is not the case. He is never to return.”

“Why would you say such a thing?”

“They always leave. They never come back.”

“They?” Elizabeth asked her young son in puzzlement. “To whom do you refer, Ben?”

“They! All of them! My father never returned. My grandpapa went away, and he has never returned. Now, King Arthur has gone away. He will never return.”

The tumult in Elizabeth’s mind was now painfully great.

Had she been remiss in allowing her young son to engage in flights of fancy for as long as she had—even in encouraging it as she had just done?

She knelt before her son and took his hand in her own.

“Ben, there is a significant difference between your father and your grandfather and your King Arthur.

Unlike your King Arthur, your father was a living, breathing human being, as was your dear grandfather.

Though your father never had a chance to know you, I assure you he would have loved you very much.

You know how much your grandfather loved you.

Neither of them departed this earth purposely.

“Your King Arthur, however, is merely a result of your young imagination. Please understand me when I say he does not exist. He simply is not real. Tell me you know the difference.”

“No Mama! You are mistaken. King Arthur, too, is a living and breathing human being. He is kind, and honourable and just! He told me he was to return to his own land.” Even the eyes of a child could not misread the pain and incredulity shining on her face. He asserted, “You do not believe me.”

“Ben, I love you more than anything else in the world,” Elizabeth started. The last thing she wanted was to encourage him in his fantastic account. She refused to do so again.

Before she could speak further, Ben responded, “I know you love me, Mama. I want to know that you believe me.” The lack of belief upon her countenance did not abate, causing the young lad to withdraw his hand forcefully and run off as fast as his little legs would carry him.

Elizabeth decided not to follow him, thinking it was best to allow him some time alone. She also needed time to reflect.

One of the things she had missed about Longbourn during her stay at Camberworth was its proximity to Oakham Mount.

Elizabeth always did her best thinking there.

In mere months, she surmised, she would be far, far away from the one place of her greatest solace.

As much as she was anxious over the prospect of embarking upon her new life with Mr. Collins, she knew there must be significant advantages in doing just that, if not for herself, then surely for her young son.

Ben desperately needed companionship; the type a mother, a house full of aunts, a hysterical grandmother, and an inconsiderate grandfather did not provide.

He needed the guidance of a strong man and the enduring ties of siblings.

In his many letters over the past months, Mr. Collins had spoken enthusiastically of his desire to make them all a family.

Elizabeth prayed he did so out of sincerity, that he would indeed be an excellent father for Ben.

I shall find out soon enough. The advent of our trip to Hunsford could not possibly have come at a better time.

Indeed, it is just the sort of diversion my son needs.