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Chapter Nineteen

November 18, 1811 Longbourn Elizabeth

W illiam Collins arrived precisely at four o’clock, clambering from the hired coach that had brought him from Meryton. He straightened at once and smiled broadly at his relations, with no trace of false humility—or, indeed, any self-consciousness—upon his countenance.

Elizabeth observed that he stood close to six feet tall. He appeared fit enough, though he carried a little more weight about the middle than that of most gentlemen of his age she had encountered. He removed his hat and pressed it to his chest, revealing light brown hair tousled from travel.

“My dear cousins,” he said by way of introduction. Stepping forward, he bowed low to the assembled Bennets before straightening with evident satisfaction. “I am most pleased to be here. My father spoke of Longbourn’s beauty, but I must say his descriptions did not do it justice.”

“Mr. Collins, I presume,” said Mr. Bennet, stepping forward. “Welcome to Longbourn.”

“Delighted.” Mr. Collins grinned. “Will your man see to my trunk? I am happy to carry it inside.”

“Mr. Hill will see it brought to your chambers. Shall we go inside?”

After the appropriate introductions were made, the family led their guest into the house.

“My, what a superbly appointed room!” Mr. Collins exclaimed upon entering the parlor. He appeared determined to be pleased with everything he saw and complimented the furnishings accordingly. “Tell me, do you pass many evenings here?”

“This is my wife’s favorite room,” Mr. Bennet replied. “It is ideally situated in the southwest corner of the manor. The placement of the windows ensures we are not too hot in summer nor too cold in winter.”

“Our ancestors were wise to arrange it in that manner,” Mr. Collins declared solemnly.

Tea arrived, and as Mrs. Bennet began to serve, their guest launched into a series of questions. Once he had satisfied himself as to the size and profitability of the estate, the conversation turned—rather predictably—to the subject of Longbourn’s living.

“Is the parish here large?” he asked.

“The church is of moderate size. Much of Meryton and the surrounding estates attend services at Longbourn.” Mr. Bennet took a sip from his tea.

“And is it a valuable living?” Mr. Collins leaned forward eagerly.

Mr. Bennet raised his brow, staring at his cousin with studied solemnity. Collins appeared chagrined, looking away awkwardly before he continued in a more subdued tone.

“You know from my missive that I wish to receive the living, Cousin,” he said carefully. “I merely hope to learn everything I can of it beforehand.”

“Perhaps we ought to reserve such matters for a private discussion—after dinner, perhaps? Thomas will join us. I value his keen insight.” Mr. Bennet set his cup down with a slight clatter, the gesture betraying his irritation.

“Yes, that will do nicely. Forgive my impatience. I often find that, once I set my mind on something, the idea consumes me. I cannot rest until I have reached a satisfactory conclusion.”

“I understand completely,” said Mrs. Bennet, reassuring him. “I am very much the same. My projects and ideas frequently overrun my other concerns.”

“And yet you never shirk your responsibilities, my dear.” Mr. Bennet said, smiling fondly at his wife.

Elizabeth followed the conversation with interest. Mr. Collins did not appear so foolish as they had imagined. Rather, he seemed eager to please and to be pleased by everything and everyone around him. As her sisters conversed softly, he made his way about the room, inserting himself into various exchanges. They did not mind. He was not intrusive, merely eager to become better acquainted with his cousins.

“That is a lovely bonnet,” he said, admiring Lydia’s latest creation spread across the table. “And Miss Kitty, what a charming sketch.”

“Miss Mary, I find Wordsworth to be excellent reading. Might we discuss your book later?”

“Miss Bennet, have you any suggestions for sights to see whilst I am in Hertfordshire?”

At this, Jane smiled and gestured toward Elizabeth. “My sister would be the far better guide, sir, especially if you are a great walker. Elizabeth goes wherever her feet carry her and has explored the area extensively.”

“Miss Elizabeth?” He turned to her, a question in his eyes.

“Oakham Mount is a favorite excursion,” she replied. “I find the paths east and west of Longbourn to be superior as well. They are well trodden and not at all difficult.”

“I thank you. I do enjoy walking, though I cannot do so daily whilst I am attending to my parish.” He smiled and took a seat beside Thomas, folding his hands in his lap and smiling broadly.

“Will you tell us about your parish?” Jane asked.

“Indeed, if that is your wish. I am most fortunate to have secured a living so early in my career. Lady Catherine is an attentive patroness.” He grimaced slightly and looked rather guilty. “May I speak plainly?” he asked, turning to Thomas.

“Of course.” Thomas replied, nodding encouragingly. “We shall not judge you for your words.”

Mr. Collins sighed. “Lady Catherine is indeed an attentive patroness— too attentive. She oversees every aspect of my work with intense scrutiny. I cannot even order meat for my dinner without her remarking at the expense of the cut. I had resigned myself to a life governed thus, when I learned from a friend that Longbourn’s living would fall vacant next year.”

“I see your purpose.” Thomas grinned. “You hope to install a curate at Hunsford and assume the living here yourself. Clever man—escaping the oversight of your patroness whilst retaining the income. I applaud your good sense. My father is not so interfering.”

Mr. Collins visibly relaxed and beamed. “I am very pleased that you understand,” he said warmly. “I shall leave the remainder of that discussion for later, as your father suggested.”

“A perfectly amiable plan. Now, tell us more of yourself.” Thomas leaned forward with interest.

Mr. Collins nodded. “What would you wish to know?”

“Everything, sir,” Jane responded. “We knew our father had relations, but we know nothing of them. Anything you share is new to us.”

“Well,” he said slowly, considering his words, “my father dwelt in Essex on a small farm that yielded a modest five hundred pounds per annum. My mother was also raised in the village near there. They had known one another all their lives and married when they came of age. My mother’s family has long since passed to their reward, and my father’s parents died before he married.”

Mr. Collins detailed his upbringing with pride, attributing his education to his father’s frugality and his desire that his son live more comfortably than he had. “Upon his death, my father directed me to sell the farm and use the proceeds to take orders,” he said. “I am most grateful for his sacrifices. My father was not a well-educated man, though he could read and write.”

“The love of a parent for a child is precious,” Mary said softly. She had approached as her cousin spoke and taken a seat beside Elizabeth.

“That it is, Miss Mary. And I had a surplus of it.”

Mary flushed at his acknowledgement, and Elizabeth exchanged a glance with Jane. Could their younger sister find the parson appealing?

It would be a sensible match, particularly if Papa grants him the Longbourn living. One valuable living could support a family in comfort, but two would provide more than ample means—especially if they had a large family. Longbourn’s living provided around four hundred pounds a year. Based on Mr. Collins’s description of Rosings Park, the Hunsford living must yield at least six hundred.

A thousand pounds a year and the interest from Mary’s dowry would be sufficient, Elizabeth mused. And I do not doubt that Papa would help them further. Yes, it would be ideal—but nothing could be said yet. They had only just made one another’s acquaintance, and it would be some time before a decision of that magnitude could be made.

Dinner that evening demonstrated Mrs. Bennet’s skill as hostess. With little notice, she ordered three courses of the finest fare their cook could manage. Mr. Collins, thoroughly pleased, consumed two servings of nearly everything—thus accounting for his portly frame.

The following morning, after breakfast, Lydia proposed a walk into Meryton. The weather was clear and fine, with no sign of impending rain on the horizon. Her sisters were quick to agree, though Thomas declined, citing the need to assist his father with repairs to a fence.

Mr. Collins asked hesitantly if he might accompany the ladies. “I have no intention of intruding on your privacy,” he said haltingly. “But I should like to see more of the area, and a walk seems ideal.”

“Of course you may come!” Mary cried. “I shall take particular delight in showing you our little community.” She gave him a broad smile, setting aside her usual shyness.

They departed soon after the meal, donning warm cloaks and pelisses, gloves and walking boots for the journey. The well-maintained lane from Longbourn to Meryton was free of ruts or holes that might cause one to inadvertently trip. Elizabeth and Jane walked behind Kitty and Lydia, keeping a close watch on their youngest sisters, who occasionally wandered off. Mary and Mr. Collins brought up the rear, drifting further behind the others the nearer they approached Meryton.

“Stay close,” Jane warned Kitty and Lydia. “I should hate to inform Father that you could not keep to the rules. He would be seriously displeased.” A smile belied her seemingly stern words.

“We shall only go to the milliner’s,” Lydia protested. “Kitty and I will look in the window whilst you retrieve what Mama needs.” Their mother had sent a list of errands for the girls to manage during their outing.

“Miss Bennet!” Someone hailed them from across the street, and the group turned to see Mr. Denny approaching from the direction of the bakery. A man in a blue coat followed closely behind.

Elizabeth had never seen a more well-favored man in her life. His dark brown hair curled slightly at his ears and the nape of his neck. His dark eyes sparkled with mischief and, though his smile was charming, it bore a touch of arrogance.

“Mr. Denny,” Jane said, curtseying. “How do you do today?”

“I am very well, thank you. I promised my friend that I would introduce him to the neighborhood. Jane nodded, allowing Mr. Denny to proceed with the introduction.

“May I present Mr. George Wickham? I hope to convince him to take a commission with the regiment.”

Mr. Wickham bowed and nodded to each of the sisters as Mr. Denny named them.

“This is our cousin, Mr. Collins,” Jane added when the introductions concluded. “Our two youngest sisters are just there,” she said, gesturing toward the milliner's shop.

The sound of approaching horses drew their attention. Elizabeth felt a thrill as she recognized Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley riding closer. Darcy’s gaze met hers briefly before scanning the rest of the group—and she noted the moment he saw the newcomer.

His expression darkened at once before smoothing into a mask of polite indifference. He drew up his horse and dismounted.

“Wickham,” he said evenly. “Imagine seeing you here, of all places. It has been some months, has it not? My cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, asked me to send his regards when we next met.”

Elizabeth glanced at Mr. Wickham and saw his expression shift rapidly from amiability to fear. “Yes, well, the colonel is all solicitousness.”

She could swear he had paled by at least two shades at the mention of the colonel.

“What brings you to Meryton? Just passing through?” Darcy’s words held a subtle bite, as though the question was not truly a question at all. Elizabeth could see he did not like this Wickham fellow, and suspected that he wished to make him uncomfortable—perhaps even encourage him to leave. He is to join the militia. Will he abandon that plan at Mr. Darcy’s urging?

“Yes, just passing through. I shall depart after I have taken a meal.” Wickham swallowed. “Pray, excuse me—I shall just go to the inn now and secure a place on the post coach.”

Mr. Denny frowned, clearly confused, and watched as his friend strode offwithout another word. “He was to join the militia,” he muttered, sounding rather dazed. “Colonel Forster promised a fee for every man we brought in.”

“You would do well to sever all acquaintance with that man,” Darcy said, though Mr. Denny had not addressed him. “I have known Mr. Wickham since his infancy, and though he can make friends easily, he rarely manages to keep them.”

Mr. Denny hesitated, then nodded. “I believe I shall return to camp,” he said at last. With a bow, he turned and departed.

“Miss Bennet has invited us to Longbourn for tea, Darcy. What say you?” Mr. Bingley grinned. Jane’s arm was looped through his, and he patted her hand affectionately.

“That sounds like a marvelous idea. Perhaps we might escort the ladies…” He trailed off, only then seeming to notice Mr. Collins standing nearby.

“Oh, allow me to introduce our cousin to you!” Elizabeth cried. “This is Mr. Collins. He arrived yesterday and will stay with us for a fortnight.”

“It is a pleasure,” Mr. Bingley said warmly.

Mr. Collins nodded and turned to Mr. Darcy. “Pardon my impertinence, sir, but are you perhaps the Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire?”

Elizabeth saw Mr. Darcy’s jaw tightened as he gave a stiff nod.

“What a strange coincidence!” Mr. Collins looked both delighted and somewhat nervous. “I hold the Hunsford living, sir—since last summer.”

“Ah.” Darcy’s manner changed to one of ease. “How do you find Kent, sir?”

“It is truly a lovely county, and I find the area around my parish particularly beautiful.”

“May I offer you some well-intentioned advice?” Darcy’s lips quirked up in a half-smile. “I am aware that, in doing so, I may seem somewhat interfering.”

Elizabeth’s cousin swallowed and nodded cautiously.

Darcy continued. “Do not allow my aunt to bully you. She is far too officious for her own good. Remember that she cannot reclaim the living now that it has been bestowed. Act only in your own best interest.”

Mr. Collins visibly relaxed. Elizabeth wondered if he had feared the nephew might prove very like the aunt and thus did not entirely know how to conduct himself. “I thank you very much, Mr. Darcy. I intend to do just that.”

“Let us retrieve Kitty and Lydia and complete Mama’s list,” Mary chimed in. “I shall be famished by the time we walk back to Longbourn!”

With the youngest girls in hand, the Bennets and their accompanying gentlemen gathered everything on Mrs. Bennet’s list before setting off once more. The gentlemen led their horses, choosing to walk beside the ladies. Once again, Kitty and Lydia skipped ahead, whilst Mr. Collins and Mary strolled behind them. Mr. Bingley and Jane came next and, this time, Darcy and Elizabeth brought up the rear.

“I must tell you,” Darcy said as they walked, “that I felt great surprise and dismay upon seeing Wickham in Meryton today.”

“We had only made his acquaintance when you arrived,” she replied. “I confess I am curious about your remarks to the gentleman.”

“He is no gentleman,” Darcy muttered darkly, his jaw clenched. “He is a libertine and a seducer. His habits are not fit for a lady’s ears. Wickham may wear a charming countenance, but he is a snake.”

“Your warning to depart seemed to be received with clarity.”

“I hope so. I intend to send my man to Meryton tomorrow to make certain he is gone. Wickham leaves debts—and worse than broken hearts—wherever he travels. Meryton would be no different.”

She gently squeezed his arm. “I thank you for protecting us,” she murmured. “His charm was apparent even in so brief a meeting. I have no doubt he would have employed it to great effect here.”

They arrived at Longbourn and joined the family for tea. There, Mr. Bingley presented the Bennets with an invitation to his upcoming ball. It would be held on the twenty-sixth of November. He then requested Jane’s hand for the first and supper sets, much to Mrs. Bennet’s delight. Jane accepted readily, her face aglow with love and happiness.

Darcy, too, asked Elizabeth for the supper set, with a look so tender and hopeful it warmed her heart. She accepted graciously, bestowing upon him a secret smile she hoped conveyed the depth of her feelings. I do not care any longer, she told herself. I love him, and nothing will stand in the way of my happiness.

She knew certain truths that might yet stand between them, and she prayed that if he proposed, his affection would prove stronger than the peculiarity of her circumstances.

Mr. Collins requested the first set from Mary, and after explaining—somewhat sheepishly—that he was unfamiliar with the steps, she offered to help him before the appointed evening. Pleased, he accepted, then declared that if he felt sufficiently confident, he would be honored to stand up with Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth as well.

When all was concluded, Elizabeth walked Mr. Darcy to the door, then stood at the window and watched as he mounted his horse and rode away, Mr. Bingley close behind.