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Mr Collins returned to the parsonage and remained relatively quiet during supper.

He nodded and smiled when Charlotte told him that she and Elizabeth finished planting the garden that afternoon.

However, he never spoke of news from Rosings, and neither woman asked about Lady Catherine.

Rather than join his wife and cousin in the parlour after the meal, Collins went to his small office and wrote a draft of a long letter by the light of a pair of candles.

The letter was written at Lady Catherine’s instruction and was addressed to Mr George Wickham.

The text inquired about investment opportunities that would attract the attention of Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy.

Mr Collins explicitly stated that Lady Catherine’s objective was for her daughter to become Mrs Darcy once she secured additional wealth by investing in Mr Wickham’s business.

Once the letter was complete, Mr Collins bent his head over the paper and revised the rambling missive by inserting periods to break up long sentences and clarify his ideas. Once complete, he carefully copied each sentence onto a new sheet of paper. This letter must be without splotches and blots.

Leaving the document on his desk to allow the ink to dry, Mr Collins entered the parlour and suggested that everyone retire.

The parsonage was quiet that evening, though Collins found it hard to fall asleep.

When the parson rose the next morning, he dressed and entered his office.

After reading the letter to remind himself what he had written, he folded the paper, wrote the direction for delivery, and sealed it with wax.

Finished with his task, Mr Collins placed the letter on the small table beside the door where no other letters awaited the postman.

During the morning meal, the post carrier arrived.

Mrs Collins went to the door and returned with a letter for Cousin Eliza.

Nervously, Mr Collins asked, “My dear, did the carrier receive my letter?”

“Yes, Mr Collins. The letter to Mr Wickham was secure in the man’s pouch when he mounted his horse,” Charlotte replied while handing Eliza her letter.

Opening the letter, Elizabeth announced, “My letter is from my sister Jane.”

Elizabeth read Jane's letter with great interest while Mr and Mrs Collins continued breaking their fast.

Mrs Collins paid every attention to her husband before he left for Rosings Park that morning, brushing lint from his coat and encouraging him. Mr Collins nodded but said nothing in return and left the parsonage at the usual time.

Later in the morning, Elizabeth remembered that Charlotte mentioned posting a letter to George Wickham but decided, ‘Mr Collins must be making inquiries about profits to be paid this summer by the New World Tea Company. Lord knows Charlotte needs funds for tea and sugar.’

~~~

Three days later, a letter arrived for Mr Collins that he opened at the table while breaking his fast. He read the page quickly and then read it a second time.

Glancing once at Elizabeth, who never realised her cousin looked her way.

Collins turned to his wife and said, “My dear, we shall have a guest at supper tonight. George Wickham arrives in Hunsford this afternoon to lodge at the inn for at least three days.”

“I hear it is a very small inn but certainly the most suitable place for a single gentleman to stay,” Charlotte said, relieved that the man was not expected to be housed under her roof. “He will have to take care walking from the parsonage back to Hunsford in the dark.”

“He will leave before dark, the days are longer, and if the moon isn’t out,” stated Mr Collins. “I shall provide the man with a torch.”

“Mr Wickham may be able to rent a carriage or a horse from the livery there in the village,” stated Elizabeth. Then she turned to Mr Collins and asked, “What is the purpose of Mr Wickham’s visit?”

“Purpose, Miss Elizabeth?” asked Mr Collins. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Last year, when you sent your letter to my father, you declared your purpose was to reconcile with him and get to know him better,” the young woman reminded the parson. “You have met Mr Wickham before, but this will be his first venture into Kent.”

Elizabeth waited, but Mr Collins did not respond, so she again prompted the man, “I am truly interested. Why is Mr Wickham coming to Hunsford?”

This time, Mr Collins replied, “To see me, of course! I shall take him to Rosings Park to confer with Lady Catherine about investments.”

Turning away from his cousin and addressing his wife, Mr Collins asked, “What will you prepare to serve our guest at dinner, my dear?”

Surprised by the question, Charlotte admitted there was only Black Sausage in the pantry with potatoes, peas, and bread.

“We must have something more appropriate!” Mr Collins insisted. He searched in a pocket and pulled out several small coins he handed his wife. “Walk into Hunsford and visit the butcher. Buy a leg of lamb or a fat hen and prepare a good meal for my…our guest tonight.”

Staring at the coins briefly and then closing her palm around them tightly, Mrs Collins smiled and replied, “As you wish, Mr Collins.”

The parson rose from his table, folded the letter, and placed it into his pocket.

He took his hat and gloves from the table at the door and left for Rosings Park.

Having seen her husband out the front door, Charlotte returned to the dining room to find the table cleared and Elizabeth in the kitchen, considering the different pots and pans available to cook and bake.

“Charlotte, I can walk into Hunsford for you and purchase the meat,” Elizabeth said. “There are too many things for the hostess to do for you to be absent for two hours this morning.”

“Thank you, Eliza, but there is no need to walk into Hunsford,” Charlotte explained.

“I shall walk down the lane to the nearest farm and purchase a chicken. We shall stew it and make a chicken pie for supper. We can serve your excellent bread and my shortbread cookies. There is beer to drink with the meal, and I have sufficient new tea leaves to provide fresh tea after the meal.”

Immediately moving a large kettle over the coals of the fire, Elizabeth said, “I shall heat the water to scald the bird so we can pluck the feathers quickly. And purchase an old hen rather than a cock. A hen tastes best in a chicken pie.”

Elizabeth checked the flatware and tablecloths while Charlotte walked to the nearest farm to obtain the bird. She knew Charlotte would repeat this tasks later in the day but preferred to keep her hands busy. And she wished Mr Darcy was coming for supper instead of Mr Wickham.

‘How will Charlotte guide the conversation at the table?’ she wondered. ‘Will Mr Collins allow his wife to act as the proper hostess? Papa allows Mamma to decide the topics at the beginning of dinner conversation, though he always guides the conversation after dinner with guests.’

‘Mr Darcy would speak of books and bills before Parliament,’ she decided. ‘Or he could speak about music. Does Mr Wickham appreciate music?’

While Elizabeth wished Mr Darcy would visit at supper, she was relieved that Mr Collins could not call on her to perform for Mr Wickham tonight. The parsonage had no musical instruments.

Checking the pot of water set to heat over the fire, Elizabeth frowned, ‘Mr Collins said something about taking Mr Wickham to Rosings to meet with Lady Catherine. If that grows into a supper at the manor, I should have to perform for everyone on the pianoforte in the parlour.’

At that moment, Charlotte returned with the bird and the two women set to work.

Wearing long aprons and rolling up their sleeves, they moved the pot of water out of doors, scalded the dead bird, and took turns pulling off feathers.

Charlotte dealt with the bird while Elizabeth washed the pot, returned it to the fire in the kitchen and filled it with water to boil.

After gutting and washing the bird, Charlotte up the bird and added every piece to the pot, along with salt and pepper.

A kettle was filled with water again to provide hot water to add to the pot as it simmered and boiled until the meat fell from the bones.

The maid brought in wood to feed the fire while preparing the meal.

At one point in the afternoon, after baking some shortbread and retrieving the potatoes and peas that remained in her pantry, Charlotte said, “I should like…I shall work very hard this summer to ensure sufficient food in my pantry so that any guest appearing at my door has a good meal.”

“Your mother and father always managed Lucas Lodge well,” Elizabeth agreed. “You were taught how to store and prepare food properly to last through the winter and spring.”

The young wife had baked enough shortbread to provide each man with several biscuits, and Eliza with two, but none for Charlotte.

There was not a single moment of rest for Charlotte that afternoon.

With Elizabeth charged to watch the boiling pot, the housewife checked her parlour, dining room, and entry hall.

The tablecloth was changed, the flatware and dishes moved to the table, and Charlotte inspected the supply of tea leaves.

At four of the clock, Charlotte began assembly of the chicken pie with pastry for a crust, potatoes, peas, a small onion, salt, pepper, and an ample supply of meat and broth.

Charlotte laid more pastry across the top of the ingredients before crimping the edges together to seal the pie. A flower design was cut into the top of the pastry to allow the steam to exit as the pie was baked in the hot oven for over an hour.

At five of the clock, Mr Collins appeared at the kitchen door and demanded his wife’s attention. He asked, “Is everything ready, Mrs Collins? Mr Wickham will appear at our door in one hour’s time.”

“It will be ready, sir,” Charlotte replied as Elizabeth and the maid finished cleaning the kitchen.

“Why is it not ready now? Why have you delayed?” Collins insisted on knowing.

Elizabeth interrupted the man, saying, “Mr Collins, Mrs Collins manages her kitchen properly. The meal must not be prepared too soon, or it will be cold when served! How would Mr Wickham like cold chicken pie?”

“Cold pie?” asked Mr Collins, unsure if he understood his cousin’s words.

“Mr Collins, your guest…our guest will have no reason to complain about the meal,” Charlotte assured her husband.

“Now, go to your study and prepare yourself to entertain the gentleman. Elizabeth will go above stairs and dress for supper. I shall dress once the chicken pie is done. All will be ready before six of the clock.”

~~~