Page 25 of To Love And To Cherish (Pride And Prejudice Variation #3)

Mary knocked gently upon the study door.

“Come in,” called her father.

She entered quietly, closing the door behind her. Her brow was furrowed.

Mr. Bennet set down his pen. “What has happened? Why so grave, my dear?”

“Papa, please do not misunderstand me. I am delighted that Mr. Collins has made me an offer of marriage. I believe him to be a worthy man with many virtues. However, there are two concerns that I wish might be addressed. If they could be managed, I would be exceedingly happy.”

Mr. Bennet folded his hands atop the desk. “And what are these two concerns?”

Mary sighed. “First, he talks too much. I’ve noticed that when he grows anxious, instead of becoming silent as I do, his speech runs on in a torrent, and much of it scarcely makes sense. It is surprising, for he is intelligent and sensible. Might you speak to him about it?”

Mr. Bennet gave a slow nod. “And the second?”

Mary’s cheeks flamed. “His hygiene. Bessie says he has not bathed since arriving four days ago. Papa, I can smell him in the hallway.”

Mr. Bennet cleared his throat. “Indeed. When a man must heat his own water and set his own bath, he may adopt the habit of weekly ablutions, or worse. Some men bathe but once a month. It is not unusual, but not ideal either. Leave it with me, daughter. I shall speak with him at once. Off with you now.”

He rang for Hill and, when she arrived, requested tea and that Mr. Collins be sent to the study. He drew a fresh sheet of paper and began a list. At the top, he wrote one word: Gentleman . The list that followed was not long.

When Mr. Collins entered, Mr. Bennet set the paper aside. His nose wrinkled, purposefully.

Mr. Collins paused. “Sir, are you unwell?”

Mr. Bennet fixed him with a steady gaze. “Mr. Collins, when did you last bathe?”

The rector blinked.

“I could smell your approach from the threshold,” Bennet continued. “And your garments, when were they last cleaned? How many days have you worn that shirt?”

Mr. Collins opened and closed his mouth but produced no sound.

“Ring the bell, if you please.”

The clergyman obeyed. Hill entered.

“Please have Bessie draw a bath for Mr. Collins,” Bennet said. “Supply him with soap if he lacks his own. His garments require laundering. Mr. Collins, I trust you have clean attire with you?”

“I do, sir, but they were meant for next week.”

“That will not do, Mr. Collins. You are not comporting yourself as a gentleman. The future master of Longbourn must uphold its name and standing. After your bath, we shall drive to Meryton. There, you will purchase seven shirts, seven neckcloths, and order two new jackets. You will also place advertisements for a valet to launder your clothing, cut your hair, and maintain a proper shave. That is the standard here.”

Mr. Collins stared, wide-eyed.

“Have you any questions?”

“No, sir.”

“Take a look at me, Mr. Collins. Are my garments ill-fitting, soiled, or odorous?”

“No, sir.”

“That, Mr. Collins, is the standard I expect of my heir, the heir to Longbourn. Clean, well-dressed, well-groomed. And while we are in Meryton, we shall visit my brother Phillips and begin the formal process to change your surname. Which do you prefer, William Collins Bennet or simply William Bennet?”

Mr. Collins was quiet for a moment. “William Collins Bennet. Though there was no love lost between us, I will keep my father’s name.

He was a drunken lout, sir, who squandered what my mother worked hard to earn.

My new life begins with this marriage to your beautiful daughter.

I thank you for your instruction. I shall go at once to bathe and will do my best to earn your respect. ”

Left alone, Mr. Bennet leaned back and gazed out the window.

He was satisfied. The man was teachable, even humble.

His letter had sounded pompous, but perhaps that had been a shield against uncertainty.

Mr. Bennet resolved to meet with his heir daily.

He would offer guidance, conversation, and example.

It would benefit his daughter and their future children.

That evening, Mr. Collins descended the stairs quite transformed.

He wore a new, ready-made jacket, which served well enough until his tailored coats could be completed.

His cravat was white and crisp, tied with a simple knot, but it looked well.

Mr. Bennet had instructed him on how to tie it.

The town barber had trimmed his hair, and Mr. Hill had polished his shoes.

He smelled fresh, with a light scent of shaving cream, masculine and pleasant.

As he entered the dining room, all eyes turned to him. Mrs. Bennet was the first to speak.

“Mr. Collins, you look every inch the gentleman! Tall and handsome, with your stylish Brutus haircut, and are those side-whiskers I see growing in? Very well done, I must say.”

He turned to Mary, who wore a deep rose gown that flattered her complexion and her figure. She met his gaze and smiled, then placed a hand lightly upon his arm.

“Sir, look into the mirror across the room. I believe we make a fine pair. What think you?”

All the Bennets turned to look and murmured their agreement. Indeed, Mary had never looked so attractive, nor Mr. Collins so respectable.

Dinner was cheerful. Mr. Bennet retreated to his study after the meal, but Mrs. Bennet and Mary kept Mr. Collins occupied with questions about the parsonage, Rosings Park, his patroness, his chickens, and his garden, all of which proved thoroughly engaging.

Jane and Kitty sat on a settee, embroidering handkerchiefs bearing Mr. Collins’s new initials: W.C.B.