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Longbourn - James Collins

J ames spent some time in his room reading, and he delayed getting ready for dinner as long as he could.

He had never imagined having a valet. He was rather embarrassed by the state of his clothing.

It would not do for the man to see it. He was also used to managing on his own.

He had heard some of the young ladies of the house chatting to another, though he was used to noise in the corridors as his lodgings were not in a quiet part of the building.

He was just finishing tying his cravat when there was a gentle knock at the door. Not used to having visitors in his rooms, James jumped slightly at the noise, before pulling the door open. An older man stood outside, neatly dressed.

“Mr Collins,” he said with a formal bow, “My name is Murrey, Henry Murrey sir. I was the late Mr Bennet’s valet.”

James was at a loss for what to say or do .

Murrey moved into the room and closed the door behind him, shepherding James before him.

“Miss Elizabeth mentioned that you did not request my assistance this evening. But I thought it prudent to introduce myself.”

After about ten minutes, James managed to escape from Murrey to the drawing room.

He was a little alarmed about leaving the man alone in his room with his very feeble wardrobe, but he had little choice in the matter, for it was either that or continue to be the subject of his attentions.

He did not feel that he would ever need a valet.

He made his way down the main staircase in the house, wishing that the Miss Bennet who had showed to his room had showed him a different set of stairs as well.

Down one of the corridors he could hear women’s voices.

It sound like Mrs Bennet and two or more of her daughters.

Relieved that he was not the last to arrive, he hurried into the drawing room, so as not to be caught on the stairs.

The drawing room appeared at first glance to be empty.

The servants had already lit the candles, and there was a small fire burning invitingly in the hearth.

He walked over to a table that had a few books on it, and he had just selected one when he heard a cough from the chair nearest the fire. He dropped the book in surprise.

One of the Miss Bennets looked around her chair to see what the noise was - the serious one he’d glimpsed earlier with a book. It seemed she had not noticed him either, since she stood up very quickly when she saw it was him.

“Good evening Mr Collins,” she said as she curtsied, red spreading across her cheeks.

He bowed politely, “Good evening Miss Bennet.” He was grateful that this form of address would serve for any of the sisters until he could sort out which was which.

She soon returned to her book and he settled down on a seat to do likewise. They remained silently in the room until some of the other Miss Bennets arrived. The noise grow steadily as more of the family arrived.

“Now, Mr Collins, you shall come and sit next to me,” Mrs Bennet declared as they went through to dine. “Lizzy, my dear, you sit next to him.” Ah, so the sharp-witted one was Miss Elizabeth - or Lizzy, it seemed. James filed this information away carefully.

“Mama,” the sharp-witted Miss Bennet said with a raised eyebrow, “perhaps Mary would be better company for Mr Collins. I believe she has been reading about property law.”

“Nonsense! You must sit here, Lizzy.”

“As you wish, Mama,” she replied with a slight smile. “Though I warn you, Mr Collins, I am afraid my legal expertise extends only to determining whether Portia was a better lawyer or matchmaker.”

Two of her sisters - the fair-haired one and the serious one with the book - shared appreciative smiles at this comment.

James felt his face heat at the reference to Portia.

He recognised it, of course - The Merchant of Venice had been required reading at university - but he hadn’t expected such quick wit from one of his country cousins.

His brother’s letters had described Elizabeth Bennet as “occasionally impertinent,” but James was beginning to suspect William had simply been outmatched.

He was relieved to know Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s name at least, though he found himself wishing it wasn’t the clever one who could probably see right through his discomfort.

He had heard one of the sisters referred to as Mary - the quiet one with the book, perhaps?

- but he couldn’t be certain which was which.

Hopefully the others would use their Christian names during dinner and he could sort them all out.

At least Mrs Bennet hadn’t made him take the seat at the head of the table.

As the new master of Longbourn it was his right, but the thought of sitting in his cousin’s place, with Elizabeth Bennet’s sharp eyes upon him, was more than he could bear just yet.

* * *

Longbourn - Elizabeth

Elizabeth settled into her seat next to Mr Collins, pleased that her Portia reference had at least startled him out of his nervous formality.

Jane and Mary’s hidden smiles had not gone unnoticed - it felt good to find glimpses of their old dynamic, even in these changed circumstances.

Still, she could not maintain her momentary spark of wit.

Her thoughts, as they so often did these days, drifted to Netherfield - or rather, to Mr Darcy’s commanding presence there.

Three miles had never felt so far, nor propriety’s demands so heavy.

“So you live in London, Mr Collins?” Mrs Bennet asked as the soup was being served, her voice taking on that particular tone Elizabeth knew all too well.

“Indeed.” His reply was brief, but Elizabeth noted it lacked his brother’s pompous certainty.

“I do so enjoy London. My dear late husband could not stand it,” her mother continued, the mention of her father causing Elizabeth’s throat to tighten momentarily. “But I always enjoyed the theatre. Do you go often?”

“Rarely.”

“Oh that is a pity. Lizzy so does enjoy a good play. Don’t you, Lizzy?” Her mother’s meaningful glance made Elizabeth wish she hadn’t made that earlier reference to Shakespeare.

Elizabeth managed a non-committal smile and focused on her soup, though she had little appetite.

She caught Jane’s sympathetic glance from across the table - her sister at least understood why she couldn’t bear to encourage their mother’s matchmaking, not after everything that had happened with William Collins.

Besides, how could she even consider another marriage without affection when her heart was so thoroughly engaged elsewhere?

Mr Darcy’s behaviour lately had given her hope, but nothing was settled between them.

He hadn’t spoken, might never speak - and having once agreed to marry without affection, she could never do so again, no matter how kind or scholarly this Mr Collins might be.

“And dancing, Mr Collins?” her mother continued, with that particular lilt in her voice that made Elizabeth want to sink further into her chair. She recognised this pattern all too well - theatre, dancing, all the accomplishments that might recommend a young lady to a gentleman’s attention.

Elizabeth watched with growing interest as this Mr Collins proved to be as different from his brother in conversation as he was in appearance.

Where Mr William Collins would have seised any opportunity to expound at length, Mr James Collins seemed content with single-word responses.

Only when her mother, perhaps desperate for any conversation at all, turned to his legal studies did he show any animation.

Even then, his manner remained modest - another sharp contrast to his brother’s endless pontificating.

Elizabeth felt the tension ease as her aunt smoothly turned the conversation to Mary’s music, giving everyone a respite from her mother’s determined matchmaking.

She caught her aunt’s understanding glance and managed a small smile of gratitude.

Still, her mother was not so easily deterred, making several more pointed attempts to draw Elizabeth into conversation with Mr Collins.

When the time came to withdraw, Elizabeth felt both relief at escaping her mother’s matchmaking attempts and dread at what fresh schemes might await in the drawing room. At least her uncle would keep Mr Collins occupied for a while.

Elizabeth rose from the table with deliberate grace.

“Mama,” she said, her voice quiet but firm, “while I appreciate your concern for my future, I believe we owe Mr Collins the courtesy of allowing him to settle into his new role without immediate pressure to marry any of us.” She met her mother’s startled gaze steadily before she retreated to her father’s book-room, not fleeing but choosing her own path.

Her grief was still raw, yes, but she would not let it - or her mother’s anxieties - strip away who she was.

The familiar darkness of her father’s book-room enveloped her, no fire having been lit since his passing.

Elizabeth settled into his chair, pulling her feet up as she had done countless times as a child seeking his counsel.

She wrapped her shawl tightly around her legs against the chill, finding comfort in these small echoes of happier days.

* * *

Longbourn - Jane

Jane watched her mother’s attempts at matchmaking with growing concern.

Though she understood her mother’s fears - with one potential security for the family lost through Mr William Collins’ death, and Jane’s own engagement to Mr Bingley not yet sealed by marriage - she could not bear to see Lizzy pushed toward another loveless match.

Her sister’s spark had only just begun to return, particularly when Mr Darcy was near, and Jane would not see it extinguished again by their mother’s well-meaning but misguided schemes.