Chapter 13 #2
As he walked, Collins did not notice anything around him.
How could this be? Not only had that impertinent chit, Elizabeth Bennet, not cared a whit about all of what she gave up by refusing him, but now, he would never have the pleasure of evicting her, her mother, and her unmarried sisters from Longbourn! He would have done so with glee.
If that was not bad enough, he had tied himself to the former Charlotte Lucas for no reason at all. His cousin was never jealous, and now, being able to lord being the master of the Bennet estate over her was no longer an option.
If he had not been so close-fisted with money, he may have gone to see a solicitor.
He had hoped that Lady Catherine would take up his cause and pay for a solicitor and barrister.
Had she decided to order someone to do so, his case would have gone to court without costing him a penny.
He hated to spend money unless there was no choice.
By the time he reached the parsonage, Collins was infuriated and had no outlet for his anger.
He did not bother to ring the doorbell, as was his wont.
He pushed the door open so it slammed against the wall.
He stalked to his study after realising that in his hurry to see Lady Catherine, he had not donned his hat or coat when he had left the house.
Collins entered his study, again slamming the door closed.
In her parlour, Charlotte listened to the sounds of multiple slamming doors, which indicated that her husband was having a tantrum about something. She wondered if it was connected to the express which had arrived while Mr Collins had been at Rosings Park.
As she was resolved not to seek him out unless it was absolutely unavoidable, Charlotte went back to the repairs of clothing for the less fortunate of the parish.
For a few minutes, Collins paced back and forth in his study, working himself up into a frenzy of disappointment as his dreams turned to dust. That led to his anger increasing.
He directed his fury at his wife. Why had she not come to see if all was well with him?
Did she not care for him? He ignored the fact that he cared not at all about her.
He saw the plate of shortbread biscuits on his desk. The majority remained, and he knew that eating one of his favourite treats would help calm him.
His pudgy hand grabbed a handful of the biscuits, which he began to chew.
As there were so many in his mouth, chewing was not easy.
At that moment, he felt like he would soon sneeze.
Forgetting that his mouth was crammed full of biscuits, Collins did what he always did to stop a sneeze.
He took in a deep breath of air to hold in his lungs.
The problem was that the deep breath forced a few pieces of hardly masticated biscuits back, and they blocked his trachea.
Suddenly, Collins began to panic when he was unable to draw breath.
Not knowing how to clear the blockage, Collins became overwrought as he began to feel light-headed from the lack of air.
It did not take long for him to crash to the floor, and rather than dislodging the biscuits and making it possible for him to breathe, the opposite occurred thereby hastening the inevitable.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Charlotte had heard the crash, and then there had been silence from the study.
She decided that whatever was in that letter had upset her husband so much he had thrown some of his possessions around in his study.
However, Charlotte kept to her resolve to not approach Mr Collins and remained in her parlour except for a brief time when she conferred with the housekeeper and cook in one person regarding that night’s dinner.
The woman was roasting a joint of beef, not an inferior one, like those Lady Catherine commanded Charlotte to purchase, but one of quality.
Her husband’s patroness’s interference in the running of the house was almost as ridiculous as her recommendation that Mr Collins place shelves in all the closets.
When she had arrived the day of their wedding, there had been nowhere to hang her gowns.
Hence, in a small act of defiance, that first night she had removed the shelves and hidden them under her bed.
Thankfully her husband had no reason to open the closet in her bedchamber.
The only good influence Lady Catherine had on her husband, in Charlotte’s opinion, was that she demanded Mr Collins bathe before being in her presence. He was in her presence every day. Hence, he bathed each day, which in turn made his odour much more pleasant.
It was approaching the time to change for dinner—Mr Collins demanded they follow that convention—so Charlotte climbed the stairs and went to her chamber to wash and change.
Thanks to her husband’s refusal to escort her down to dinner since Eliza departed, Charlotte thought nothing of the fact she did not see him when she made her way down the stairs on her own.
What was not normal was that her husband, who demanded punctuality, was late for the meal. He was never late for meals.
Charlotte rang for the maid. “Betty, have you seen Mr Collins since he returned a few hours past?” She enquired.
“No, Mrs Collins. Las’ time I see’d ‘im were when I took ‘is tea to ‘im,” the maid replied.
“He did not ring for you to remove the tray?” Charlotte was aware her husband enjoyed having servants running hither and thither for him; it made him feel superior to them.
“No, Ma’am,” Betty shook her head to emphasise her reply.
“Please go and retrieve it now, as the tray is needed to bring food up from the kitchen,” Charlotte instructed.
In any event, there was still no sign of Mr Collins, which was not like him.
Her husband had never met a meal he would skip.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Betty let out a bloodcurdling scream.
Charlotte pushed her chair back with such force it toppled, but she cared not. She ran to the study. There on the floor, his eyes wide open and clearly not alive, was her husband.
Although she had not wished this on Mr Collins, she was quick to realise that she was free of him, and she was not sorry.
“Betty, tell Jim to summon the apothecary and the magistrate, and then go to the mansion and inform the butler that Mr Collins is no longer alive so that he will be able to notify Lady Catherine.
Betty, who was only fifteen, was very happy that she did not have to address the intimidating Lady Catherine. She bobbed a curtsy and was off.
The scream brought Mrs Innes, the housekeeper and cook in one, from the kitchen in the cellar. “Now I know why poor Betty screamed like she did,” Mrs Innes stated. “What can I do for you, Mrs Collins?”
“Until Mr Kimmel and Lord Metcalfe arrive, all we can do is wait. I have lost my appetite; will the joint keep until the morrow?” Charlotte asked calmly.
“Certainly, it will; I will go see to it immediately.” Mrs Innes bobbed a curtsy and left.
There were pages on the desk that were not in her late husband’s hand, as would be expected if he had been crafting his sermon for the sabbath upcoming.
Charlotte lifted them. As soon as she read Mr Phillips’s letter, she understood why her husband had been in such a foul mood.
Not that she doubted Mr Phillips’s word, but Charlotte looked at the clause in the entail document and the one issued by the Court of Chancery.
Now that she was no longer tied to Mr William Collins, Charlotte found that she was well pleased that Longbourn would remain in the hands of a Bennet once Mr Bennet was called home.
Charlotte returned to her parlour and began to scribe letters to her father and Mr Bennet.
She knew not what assets Mr Collins owned, or if she was even his beneficiary in his will, if he had one.
At least, as far as she remembered, the wedding settlement spelt out that her seven-hundred-pound dowry would return to her.
She had just sanded the letter to her father when Mr James Kimmel, the apothecary, arrived. He was followed closely by the magistrate, Lord Metcalfe. No word had arrived from Rosings Park yet, but knowing Lady Catherine as she did, Charlotte was not overly surprised.
Within the hour, the apothecary and magistrate met with the widow in the back parlour of the house.
“Mr Kimmel and I agree that this is a clear case of accidental death. There is no sign of foul play, so I will not need to convene an inquest,” Lord Metcalfe explained. “Where will you want him interred?”
“I think here in Hunsford among his parishioners would be the best,” Charlotte replied. ‘As he always wanted to have his eternal slumber in Longbourn church’s cemetery with his fellow landed gentlemen, it is fitting he will be here among those he never served as he should have,’ Charlotte thought.
“In that case, I will contact the undertaker and have him come to see you so the arrangements may be made. If there is no curate, I am sure the rector at Metcalfe Hall’s church will do the duty,” Lord Metcalfe stated.
Soon enough, the men left, and Charlotte felt light and free, like she had before she made the wrong-headed decision to marry Mr Collins.
Her future was now her own.