Chapter 5 #2
“What does that odious man want with us? I am sure he wants to catalogue his future possessions. I do not know how he sleeps at night knowing he will steal a home from its rightful owners.” Fanny repeated her oft stated views on the entail.
As he had explained the entail many times to his wife over the years, Bennet did not attempt to correct her misinterpretation of the situation again.
She never heard what he told her, so there was no point wasting his breath.
He handed the letter to his wife instead.
Luckily, she did not comment on the date of the missive so he did not have to lie that it had been misdirected.
“What is the olive branch the man is going on about?” Mrs. Bennet asked. She was one who would never allow any perceived advantage to pass her, especially of it meant the possibility of marriage for one of her daughters.
“As you read, Mrs. Bennet, the man states he will enlighten us when he arrives,” Bennet stated.
Mean of understanding she might be, she now smelt a potential suitor for one of her girls, not Jane or Lydia of course; they were meant for far better things than a parson, even the one who was to inherit Longbourn.
Bennet sat with a grin as he watched his wife arrive at the same conclusion he had about the proposed amendment the man wanted to make. If his letter was anything to go by, Bennet was sure there would be a lot of amusement watching the man try and woo one of his daughters.
“The house must be ready for this most welcome guest,” Fanny stated as she left his study to bark orders at Hill and the other servants.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
“I approve of the curate you have engaged to perform your clerical duties while you are in Hertfordshire, Mr. Collins,” Lady Catherine de Bourgh, the mistress of Rosings Park, declared. She was seated in her raised throne-like chair in the drawing room of the estate in Kent.
“Thank you, your beneficence,” Collins replied as he bowed so low his nose almost touched the floor. How he did not fall over was a wonder.
The truth was since her daughter’s birthday two years ago; she was no longer the mistress. She refused to relinquish the position and, in her opinion, Anne was too frail to fight for her rights.
It was imperative that she force her nephew Darcy to marry her daughter by this coming Easter.
She would force a compromise if needed. She would do what she had to in order to retain control of Rosings Park.
It was bad enough that when her daughter turned three and twenty there had been severe restrictions placed on her access to the estate’s funds.
Thank goodness she had made provisions before that happened.
Damn her husband for refusing to make her his heir! She had thought about forging his name to a new will but knowing there were several copies of his will held in various locations prevented that option. Losing control of the estate to her nephew, Richard Fitzwilliam, was not an option.
Anne was becoming more ill, just as the physicians she dismissed had predicted. This knowledge drove her need to force the marriage as soon as might be. Her nephew was in Hertfordshire, where this idiotic parson of hers was traveling next week.
“While you are in Hertfordshire, I have a task for you,” Lady Catherine sniffed imperiously.
“Anything, your Ladyship,” Collins bowed again.
“My daughter’s intended is staying at the estate of Nether…something or other. I want you to seek him out. Remind him of his duty to me and Anne, and report anything you learn of his activities there to me,” Lady Catherine instructed.
“It will be my great honour to assist you, My Lady. Thank you for your wisdom and condescension…” Knowing her parson was about to launch into one of his longwinded compliment-laced speeches, Lady Catherine cut him off.
“That will be all, Mr. Collins.” Lady Catherine gave a dismissive wave. Mr. Collins backed out of the drawing room bowing and scraping, his nose almost touching the floor as he did so.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
“Tiffany, love,” Lady Elaine Fitzwilliam, the Countess of Matlock, called to her daughter who was seated at the pianoforte with her cousin, Georgiana Darcy.
“Yes, Mama,” Lady Tiffany responded as she joined her mother.
“Notwithstanding your relief that Mrs. Granger retired last month, you know we must employ another companion for you. I had my eye on Mrs. Annesley, but Giana’s need for a good and trustworthy companion took precedence.
” Lady Matlock was still worried about her niece.
She was doing a little better after her near ruin at the hands of that libertine George Wickham, but she had very far to go.
“Please, Mama, do not hire another woman as ancient as Mrs. Hermione Granger. I beg you to find someone a decade or less older than me who will be able to walk and ride with me,” Tiffany beseeched.
“It is not always possible to find a lady who has the attributes you require,” Lady Matlock raised her hand to stop the protest forming on her daughter’s lips.
“My promise is I will try. If there is a lady available who is younger and physically able, and appropriate to be your companion, then it will be done. However, I can make no promises.”
“Thank you for at least trying, Mama.” Tiffany hugged her mother and kissed both of her cheeks.
“Away with you now; Giana is waiting for you at the instrument.” Lady Matlock gave her young daughter a playful pat on the derrière as she walked back to her cousin, throwing her mother a smile over her shoulder in response to the pat.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
After a second night with no marked improvement in her sister, Elizabeth sent a note to her mother to ask her to come and see Jane for herself. If it had not been for the sleeping draughts Mr. Jones had left, Elizabeth was sure Jane would have not slept at all.
As it was, Jane thrashed and writhed as she fought the fever each night.
Elizabeth’s worry was the cause of the note to her mother.
She had hardly used her bedchamber on the other side of the sitting room for more than a few hours.
Elizabeth refused to be away from Jane in case her sister needed her.
When she first arrived, Jane was able to recognise her and hold her hand. As far as she could tell, Jane had not been conscious since then. All she did was mumble. Elizabeth heard the names Darcy and Bingley and assumed Mr. Darcy had somehow insulted her serene and loving sister Jane.
Mr. Bingley’s name was understandable, as Elizabeth believed Jane was well on her way to falling in love with the master of Netherfield Park. When Jane and Elizabeth were younger, they both pledged to marry only for the deepest love.
For Elizabeth, it was a watchword, especially given the example of a marriage of unequal affections she saw each day at home. She was determined to only marry for love, or not marry at all. Elizabeth, in her na?veté about her sister, still believed the same was true for Jane as well.
Her assumption that Mr. Darcy had somehow slighted Jane stoked the fires of resentment she felt for the man she was softening toward all over again.