Chapter 15
William Collins was most seriously displeased.
He had gone through the expense of hiring a curate from a neighboring parish to take care of his duties in his absence.
He had paid, in both time and money, to travel fifty miles.
It was all to visit his bride-to-be so that they could plan their future.
He had expected a warm, happy welcome from her, especially since he would be staying with her family. He had hoped that the intimacy of the arrangements would allow him to speak with her more often. Yet, somehow, she seemed to be avoiding him.
It was not blatant or obvious. She simply seemed to have many responsibilities that required her attention, so much so that he had barely been able to speak with her at all.
The only conversation they had, other than at dinner, was a brief one wherein she declared that their wedding date would be the ninth of January.
She didn’t even give him a chance to object, which he would have done, since she was called away by the cook immediately after she had declared it.
The date she had named was too far away for his comfort. He had been hoping she would agree to a wedding before Christmas or, barring that, the very beginning of the year. But she had chosen one nearly a month in the future.
For two days, he had attempted to find her alone so that he could persuade her to change her mind, but he had been unsuccessful.
Now, Sir William, her father, was of the firm belief that the date had been agreed upon between them, and Lady Lucas had begun plans for the wedding breakfast. Even if he had managed to discuss it with his betrothed, it could no longer be changed.
Mr. Collins seethed. He did not like being made a fool of, and he did not like it when someone who should be below him, should be guided by his advice, completely ignored everything he had to offer.
That, alone, would have been enough to make him displeased. Yet now, at a dinner party at Lucas Lodge, their own engagement party no less, there was even greater reason. In fact, no one could possibly blame him if he was outright angry or even if he made a scene.
His Charlotte, the woman he had deigned to make his wife, was making eyes at a gentleman across the room, and the gentleman in return could not seem to keep his gaze from her. To make it worse, he wasn’t even particularly handsome.
She tried to hide it, more so than the gentleman in question, but Mr. Collins was nothing if not observant.
He was beginning to wonder if Charlotte was already in love with another man before she agreed to marry him.
The idea was intolerable, but such feeling and attraction as was flowing between these two was not something that could have developed in only the few weeks he had been absent.
Needing to know who his rival was, he turned to a young officer who was sitting nearby. “Mr. Wickham. I wonder if I could trouble you for some information.”
“Of course, I would be happy to help,” said the officer. “What would you like to know?”
“Who is that man who cannot seem to stop looking at my future wife?”
Mr. Collins was looking at the gentleman in question. If he had, instead, been looking at the officer next to him, he might have noticed a dangerous gleam in the young man’s eyes. “That is Colonel Fitzwilliam, second son of the Earl of Matlock and Mr. Darcy’s cousin.”
Mr. Collins gasped in astonishment. “That would make him nephew to my patroness. What are two such distinguished gentlemen doing here?”
“I couldn’t say for certain,” said Mr. Wickham.
“I do know that Mr. Darcy seems to be courting Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Rumor has it that he has visited Longbourn every day for the last two weeks. Colonel Fitzwilliam has not accompanied him there, however. Instead, he was accompanied by his sister, who is not here tonight, and his friend Mr. Masters, who is now engaged to Miss Bennet.”
“Miss Bennet is engaged to Mr. Masters?” cried Mr. Collins. “I had heard she was to marry Mr. Bingley.”
Mr. Wickham shrugged his shoulders. “That is what everyone assumed, but he left for London the day after his ball and never returned. Instead, Mr. Darcy took over the lease of Netherfield and returned in the company of his sister, his friend, and his cousin.”
“So, Miss Bennet has only known this man for a couple of weeks? An engagement on such short acquaintance is quite shocking,” said Mr. Collins.
He completely ignored the amused look Mr. Wickham gave him as well as the fact that he had proposed to both Miss Elizabeth and Miss Lucas on even less acquaintance.
“As you say,” said Mr. Wickham.
Mr. Collins glared at Miss Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy, and Colonel Fitzwilliam as well as his betrothed.
They were all conspiring to make a fool of him, and that was the one thing he truly could not tolerate.
Charlotte’s treatment of him was bad enough, but for Miss Elizabeth, who he had deigned to propose to first, to attempt to entrap his patroness’ nephew, when he was certain no man in his right mind would willingly wish to marry her other than himself. Well, it was not to be borne.
“It seems as though you wish the residents of Netherfield gone just as much as I do,” said Mr. Wickham.
“Those men do not belong here,” said Mr. Collins.
“At least the colonel and Mr. Darcy do not belong here. I know nothing of this Mr. Masters. They must be convinced to return to London or to any other home they have. Anywhere but here. Their aunt, who is the wisest lady of my acquaintance, would say the same, I am certain.”
“I think I know how it could be done,” said Mr. Wickham. “But it would require significant risk and effort on my part. I wouldn’t willingly do it without some kind of reward.”
Mr. Collins was not particularly worldly, but even he knew that Mr. Wickham’s idea couldn’t be anything laudable or praiseworthy.
The man himself had admitted that it was risky.
Mr. Collins hesitated. He did not wish to be involved in anything that could be deemed unworthy or ungentlemanly.
He had worked very hard to raise himself out of the poverty his father had kept him in for most of his life.
As he was coming to the conclusion that he should reject the officer’s offer, he happened to see Colonel Fitzwilliam approach Charlotte. He leaned towards her and said something in her ear. Though her expressions was forbidding, her blush said that she secretly enjoyed the attention.
Rage rose in his breast. It was like no feeling he had ever felt before, not even when his father had beaten him. All these people, everyone in the room, were making a fool of him, treating him as if he had no sense, as if he could not see what was right in front of his nose.
With his anger guiding his words, Mr. Collins said, “What did you have in mind?”
“Ah, ah,” said Mr. Wickham. “Not yet. First, we must discuss the price. I was thinking twenty-five pounds.”
“You are out of your mind, man,” said Mr. Collins. “That is more than you make in a year.”
“Perhaps,” said Wickham. “But if I get caught attempting to do your dirty work, I will lose that income. I feel it is a fair trade.”
For a second time, Mr. Collins hesitated. What did the officer wish to do that could get him dismissed from the militia? He looked around the room, hoping to find some reason to spare all the fools in front of him.
Instead, he saw Mr. Darcy, his esteemed patroness’ nephew, clearly flirting with Miss Elizabeth, and she had the temerity to return it.
That lady that Mr. Collins had deigned to offer for despite her complete lack of fortune, who had thrown his generosity back in his face in the most insulting manner, could not be allowed to continue her schemes.
“Twenty pounds,” said Mr. Collins. “I cannot afford any more than that. That is solely on the condition that both Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam leave the neighborhood before Wednesday next.”
“It shall be done,” said Mr. Wickham. “Shall we discuss ways and means?”
“I care not what you do,” said Mr. Collins. “I do not wish to know as long as those two gentlemen are gone.”
“As you will,” said Mr. Wickham.