Page 25 of The Next Mrs Bennet

C ollins had expected a small to medium-sized estate, but they had travelled far more distance from the gateposts than one did when they entered Rosings Park. He would be late because of the much longer than expected drive to reach his future home. Being tardy was something his all-powerful patroness would never countenance.

He had arrived in the lane outside of the estate’s gates before three o’clock, so he had instructed the driver of the rented gig to wait until five minutes before the hour of four to complete the journey.

Now here he was, and it was already past the hour at which he had stated he would arrive. As much as Collins was aware Lady Catherine wanted to know all, he did not think it would cause any harm if he withheld the information that he had not arrived at Longbourn on time.

The further he rode into the estate, seeing the large park, the more he calculated what his soon-to-be estate was worth. When the driver guided his horse around a turn in the drive and the house came into view, Collins’s mouth dropped open. Rather than the modest manor house his father had described to him, before him rose up an edifice that rivalled the mansion at Rosings Park in size. In fact, the one he was seeing was more than likely larger. God had been very good to him to ordain that he would be the future owner of all of the wealth he saw around him.

One thing Collins was certain of was that he could not describe the truth of his estate to the great lady. Lady Catherine would be seriously displeased if he was to own an estate that was better than her own.

Seeing everything around him only helped reinforce Collins’s opinion that he would have the pick of the Bennet daughters in order for them to remain in his favour for the future. Now, if they, or at least one of them, were comely, his triumph would be complete.

The driver brought the gig to a halt under an enormous portico. Even this, which to his eye would accommodate two coaches at a time, was far larger than the portico at Rosings Park. All he could hope was that her Ladyship would never have occasion to visit Longbourn. He was too afraid of her temper to have it turned on himself. At that moment, he remembered something which assisted him in relaxing.

Miss Anne de Bourgh, the rose of Kent, was engaged to her cousin, a Mr Darcy from Derbyshire. When they married, which Lady Catherine had informed him would be soon, the combined estate would dwarf Longbourn. As such, his patroness would have no cause to be upset with him. He never thought to ask her how one combined estates more than one hundred miles distant from each other.

When the gig came to a complete halt, the largest footman Collins had ever seen, a veritable mountain of a man, stepped forward and placed some steps next to the gig. The man then stepped away and waited. Collins shrank back on the bench. The man instilled fear in his heart even though all the footman did was to watch Collins intently—in his mind the man was glowering at him. He took some deep breaths to calm himself before he began to climb down from the bench.

The driver was already untying his trunk before Collins descended, using the step the giant man had placed. He knew he needed to move, so he willed his long, spindly legs into motion. It was not difficult for him to climb down, but as he fought the fear he felt, Collins used slow and deliberate movements.

As afraid as he was of the big man, once his feet were once again on terra firma , Collins looked around, and his indignation grew when he did not see anyone to greet and welcome him to his inheritance or to show him gratitude for the condescension he was showing the Bennets by extending the olive branch after they had attempted to steal his birthright from him.

Before he could contemplate the slight of the family not being ready to receive him in the drive as was his due, the large, oak front door opened. “Mr Collins?” Hill intoned.

“I am; where are my cousins?” Collins demanded.

“They await you in one of the drawing rooms. The mistress instructed me to lead you to your bedchamber so that you may wash and change from the road,” Hill responded. “I am the Bennets’ butler, Mr Hill.”

Before he demanded to go directly to see his cousins, Collins stopped himself. The mountainous footman had moved closer to him. Hence, he nodded sullenly and followed the butler into the house. Once inside, the butler took the broad-brimmed hat, his winter coat, and gloves from Collins.

Removing the hat exposed a balding head, where the few remaining hairs had been greased in a vain effort to hide his baldness. Collins was a few inches shy of six feet in height and was a slender man. His father used to severely punish him if he ate too much, pointing out the sin of gluttony, all the while eating as much as he had desired for himself. Hence, when he ate, Collins was very careful not to place too much food on his plate, thanks to many years of physical lessons, not to overindulge.

As he followed the butler, Collins was in awe of what he was seeing. The house was not decorated as spectacularly as Lady Catherine had done in her décor at Rosings Park, but then again, who could come close to equalling her good taste? That being said, looking around, Collins did not miss the obvious wealth that would soon be his.

He followed the butler up to the fourth storey, which he was told was one of the guest floors. He was shown into a spacious bedchamber which boasted a bathing room and a little room off to one side with closets, chests of drawers, and suspended bars to hang clothing. He marvelled at the room, which was more than twice the size of his chamber at the parsonage.

Seeing that he believed in keeping clean, Collins was happy to be able to wash off the dust of the road. Before he had been preferred to the Hunsford living, Collins had not bathed above once a fortnight. Lady Catherine’s disapprobation and command to never appear before her without taking a bath first had quickly changed that. Now he religiously bathed each and every day, and sometimes—when he had to see his patroness—more than once.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

“Hill reports that the man is in his bedchamber, and will join us shortly,” Bennet related.

“I know you do not want to be separated from Andrew, Jane dear, but he will need to wait in the adjoining room with the rest of the family and our very special guest,” Becca stated contritely. As much as she and everyone else would have preferred that Jane’s and Andrew’s presence was not needed and that they could have been on the way to their wedding trip destination—Campton Place in Eastbourne, one of the many Devonshire dukedom houses—everyone needed to be present when they applied the death knell to Mr Collins’s delusions.

Jane was holding her husband’s hand and was loath to relinquish it, but she did anyway. Today was the first time she and Andrew had left their suite at Netherfield Park since arriving there after the wedding. They would spend the night at that estate tonight and depart for Eastbourne on the morrow. They had planned a leisurely journey of two days.

“It will not be long before I am back with you,” Andrew assured his beloved. He kissed her hand before he followed the rest of the family members present into the parlour. As he was the last one to enter, Andrew pushed the door until there remained a three-inch gap.

Richard slapped him on the back. “You will survive without Jane at your side for a short time,” he jested with his brother.

“I suggest you two do not prattle on like schoolgirls,” Devonshire gave his nephews a look of mock censure. “After all, we want to be able to hear what is being said in the drawing room.”

Darcy understood Andrew’s feeling at being separated from his wife. It was not the same thing, but whenever he was not in Elizabeth’s company, he felt like a piece of him was missing. In the time he had resided at Longbourn, he knew that he was tumbling over the precipice of irrevocable love. He did not yet know how Elizabeth felt about him, but time was one thing he had.

Those within the adjoining parlour became still as they heard Hill’s voice announcing Mr William Collins.

Collins bowed to those within the drawing room. It was only when he came erect that he saw the four younger ladies standing before him. They were all beauties, each one more so than the next. His eyes locked onto the tall, willowy blonde. She was the one who he would honour with his hand in marriage. She was exquisitely beautiful. Even his late father would not have been able to find fault with his choice.

Jane wanted to go slap the man who was leering at her, a married woman! She controlled that particular desire by reminding herself that he did not know she was married and had not taken the time to look at the rings on her left hand. It did not change the fact he was evaluating her as one does a side of beef at the butcher’s shop.

“Mr Collins, rather than stare at my daughter, allow me to introduce my wife and children to you,” Bennet said sharply.

Hearing his cousin speak snapped Collins out of his lust fuelled lassitude. “It will be my pleasure…” He stopped speaking when he finally noted the two younger men in the drawing room. “This is an outrage that you would attempt to have me meet your lowborn changelings!”

“Biggs! Johns! Please join us,” Henry called out.

He heard the door behind him open and in walked not just the one huge man he saw when he arrived, but a second who was just as intimidating as the other. Collins tried to stop his knees knocking together, but his fear of the two giant men would not allow him to cease the involuntary reaction.

“Now, you will be silent until I have named my family,” Bennet commanded, and Collins nodded. “My wife, Rebecca, and my children from eldest to youngest. Jane, Henry, Elizabeth, Mary, Tommy, and Elaine.” Each one gave a shallow curtsy or bow when they were named.

Seeing permission from his cousin to speak, but fully cognisant of the enormous men either side of him, Collins gulped and then cleared his throat. “My patroness assured me that the documents about the end of the entail were forgeries, so why would you have these changelings here today? The jest is overdone now; there is no reason for their continued presence.”

“Mr Collins, are you able to see or are you completely blind?” Becca demanded.

“Yes, of course I am able to see, Mrs Bennet,” Collins replied indignantly. He had forgotten about the two men for an instant but remembered when one of them growled.

“Watch ‘ow you talk to the mistress,” Biggs hissed near the parson’s ear.

“Thank you, John. I do not believe that my husband’s cousin will forget himself again.” Becca turned back toward the clergyman, who was shaking with fear all over again. “If you are, in fact, not blind, then I suggest you look at my husband and our eldest son , Henry. Unless you are desirous of lying to yourself, please tell me how a changeling can look like a younger version of his father?”

As much as he did not want it to be so, Collins had to admit the two looked like father and son. “His eyes are not the same as my cousin’s,” he asserted, grasping at any straw he could to attempt to disprove the facts before him.

“No, they are not; they are the colour of my own eyes. You do realise that children inherit certain characteristics from both parents, do you not?” Becca inclined her head to Tommy. “For instance, Tommy here is a mixture of my Thomas and me, and looks very much like my brother. Then we have Lizzy,” Becca smiled at her second daughter, “who looks just like me except that she has her Bennet grandmother’s eye and hair colour.”

“I must believe my patroness because she is a peer of the realm.” Collins did not want to admit it to himself, but he could see the two young men were sons. He could breathe easier, thanks to the two huge men having moved from his side.

“Lady Catherine is not a peer of anything; she is in fact a commoner with a courtesy title.” Becca paused. “Are you telling me you accepted everything she told you and did not take the documents she claimed forgeries to a local solicitor to review for you?”

“I did! Of course, I did not question her!” Collins exclaimed. “She is always right.”

“Tell me, Mr Collins, what were these amends you intended?” Bennet asked seemingly for no reason.

“I am to marry Cousin Jane, so that your widow and daughters will still have a home when you soon go to your final reward. My cousin will be elevated by my offering for her, as a clergyman, I am above all of you,” Collins claimed as he puffed out his chest with pride.

“Even were I not already married; do you imagine I would ever marry one such as you?” Jane stated vehemently.

“You cannot be married! As the heir, you need my permission! I will have your so-called marriage dissolved! You will be my wife,” Collins blustered. He shut his mouth as soon as he felt a huge hand on each of his shoulders. The fear caused beads of cold sweat to begin to drip off him.

“I was remiss when I made the introductions, as it seems I omitted some names and titles ,” Bennet drawled. “My wife’s corrected name is Lady Rebecca Cavendish Bennet, and my eldest daughter’s name is Jane Fitzwilliam, Viscountess Hilldale. Unlike your know-it-all patroness, my wife is the daughter of a duke.”

“Nooo! This cannot be so,” Collins wailed. “You are lying to me to try and cause me to recede and allow you to steal my birthright.”

“As my wife pointed out, anyone, other than one living in a delusion like you, can see that Henry is my son. It was due to your ancestor—who, by the by, used to be a Bennet before he was disowned by my great-grandfather—that the entail came into being. The only reason a Collins ever had a chance of being the heir presumptive to this estate was an error my great-grandfather made in writing the entail. Regardless of what your uneducated patroness said, the entail is no more. The only one in effect is the new one I have written, which makes sure a Collins will never be master of Longbourn.”

Just when Collins did not think things could get worse, he heard the clearing of a voice behind him. When he turned, he saw four couples of varying ages, three men close to his own age, a man dressed as a high-ranking clergyman, and behind him, the two men who had come to learn from him at Hunsford. He shook his head in confusion What were those two doing here, and from whence did these people come?

“Mr Collins, do you think the Church of England should allow a man to minister to others when that man prays for the demise of another for any reason, never mind purely avaricious ones? Also, how can you permit Lady Catherine de Bourgh to write your sermons? Not only that, but you read them on Sundays, and they are anything but a Christian message. If that is not all bad enough, rather than keep your parishioners’ confidences secret, you tell all to Lady Catherine. I strip you of the living forthwith and defrock you. You will never be a spiritual guide to anyone again.”

“How dare you?” Collins screeched.

“Oh my, have I been remiss in making the introductions again?” Bennet asked, trying to maintain a straight face. “First, my wife’s parents, Their Graces, the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire; next to them are Lord and Lady Fitzwilliam, the Earl and Countess of Matlock; then there we have Lord and Lady Smythe, the Earl and Countess of Granville—the Countess is my wife’s younger sister; next to them are Lord and Lady Cavendish, the Marquess and Marchioness of Hartington; the Marquess is my wife’s brother; next I present Lord Fitzwilliam, Viscount Hilldale—my Jane’s husband, and finally the Honourable Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy.” Bennet scratched his chin and made like he was deep in contemplation. “Hmmm, did I miss someone? I know you met these two gentlemen in Hunsford when they were investigating you. Oh yes, I did in fact forget one person. Allow me to correct that omission now. This is none other than His Grace, Charles Manners-Sutton, The Most Reverend Willowmere, by Divine Providence, Lord Archbishop of Canterbury.”

The Archbishop! Collins felt his world go black as he fainted dead away.

“I think the former clergyman just realised that you, Your Grace, are one of the few men in the church who can both remove him from his living and defrock him,” Andrew opined.

The Archbishop turned towards Matlock. “We have been friends for many years, Matlock. Since our time at Cambridge together in actual fact. However, I cannot ever allow one like your sister to have any authority over anything connected with the church. What my two investigators have reported to me is further beyond the pale than any other case they have examined for the church.”

“You will hear no argument from me, my friend. In fact, we will be visiting Catherine soon, and we will put things to rights at Rosings Park. I guarantee you she will never interfere in the running of that parish, or any other parish, again,” Matlock vowed.

Bennet told Biggs to wave a bottle of salts under the former parson’s nose.

As Collins regained his senses, he prayed it had all been a bad dream, but no, everyone was still present, including the Archbishop and his two investigators. Why had he been so free with them about everything, including his prayers that his cousin would leave the mortal world as soon as may be? He still refused to accept that what he had been told about Longbourn being the birthright of the Collinses was not factual, all the evidence to the contrary notwithstanding.

“You are to leave my estate and never return. If you do, I will set my guards and dogs on you, and then you will be arrested,” Bennet told Collins. He nodded to Biggs and Johns to approach his cousin.

“ This is my estate !” Collins screamed. “I want all of you…” A very large hand clamped over Collins’s mouth.

At an unspoken command from his mistress, Johns had used his hand to cause the raving man to be silent. He and Biggs lifted him and removed him from the drawing room with orders to lock the man in the windowless room adjacent to the wine cellar.

“He is clearly deranged,” Devonshire observed. No one in the room disagreed with him. “I think he needs to be committed to Bedlam.” There was general agreement on that.

“If I were to guess, something snapped inside of him when he finally realised that everything his father and grandfather before him told him was not true. He had, in my opinion, constructed his whole identity around Longbourn being this mythical birthright of his,” Becca postulated.

Not a half hour later, Jane and Andrew said their farewells and departed to be together at Netherfield Park.