Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
SATURDAY, 7 DECEMBER 1811
E arly Saturday morning, Mr. Collins awoke to find a summons waiting for him—a message from his new patroness, Mrs. Percival Hargrove, demanding his presence at Netherfield within the hour. The note also confirmed the astonishing news that Miss Anne de Bourgh had indeed married. Struggling to accept this, Mr. Collins stared at the letter in disbelief, as though willing the words to transform if he avoided reading them.
The footman who carried the letter had been told what it contained and waited just outside the door for the answer. After ten minutes of silence, he knocked on the door. “D’ye have an answer for Mrs. Hargrove, sir?” he called when no answer came.
After another moment’s hesitation and another sharp rap, the door opened slightly, revealing a slightly puffy face. “What are you doing out here?” Mr. Collins demanded.
“The Mistress insisted I wait for a reply and suggested you might need some assistance preparing yourself for the meeting,” the footman answered.
His words caused Mr. Collins’s eyes to bulge. “M… meeting?” he stammered.
“Yes, sir. The Mistress expects you at Netherfield as soon as may be. Have you not read her letter?”
Instead of answering, Mr. Collins shut the door in the man’s face. The footman waited five minutes before knocking again. “D’ye need anything, sir? Mrs. Hargrove will not be happy if she is made to wait,” he called.
A few minutes later, Mr. Collins emerged, having dressed hastily. A little more than a half hour later, Mr. Collins was following the footman into Netherfield and was shown into the drawing room where the former Miss Anne de Bourgh waited with a gentleman by her side. Mr. Collins rushed forward and bowed to her.
“Miss de Bourgh,” Mr. Collins began, bowing so low he nearly stumbled, “how very lovely it is to see you again. Indeed, I am most surprised to find you here, so near the very estate I am to inherit one day. Yet more astonishing is the news I have just received—that your esteemed mother, the excellent Lady Catherine de Bourgh, no longer presides over Rosings Park, and, somehow, you have taken her place. I must confess, I am at a loss as to how such a thing could come to be?” His words tumbled out in a rapid, breathless stream, leaving no room for the lady to interject. He blinked, his mouth agape, clearly expecting her immediate reassurance that all would be explained to him.
Anne closed her eyes briefly, letting the foolish man’s words flow over her like a dull, relentless wave. When he finally paused for breath, she opened her eyes and fixed him with a calm, unreadable gaze.
“Mr. Collins,” she began smoothly, “you are indeed correct that I am now the mistress of Rosings Park. The estate was to pass to me upon my twenty-fifth birthday although my mother refused to relinquish control. However, when you came to inform her of my cousin’s marriage, she left the estate for the first time in years. That opportunity finally allowed me to claim what was rightfully mine. For that, I must thank you.”
Anne watched Mr. Collins closely as she spoke, noting with satisfaction the widening of his eyes and the slackening of his jaw as he processed her words. He opened his mouth as if to respond, but she raised her hand, silencing him before he could utter a word.
“Furthermore,” she continued, her voice steely, “I believe you are also aware of my marriage to Mr. Percival Hargrove. Together, Mr. Hargrove and I will manage all matters concerning Rosings Park, and that includes reviewing your position.”
Mr. Collins’ face paled as she fixed him with a stern look that seemed to strike the words from his throat.
“My mother did not have the authority to appoint you to the living,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument, “as your appointment came after my twenty-fifth birthday when I had already inherited the estate. I have spoken with the bishop, and we have granted you two months to prove that you can truly serve the people of Hunsford. Improve your conduct, Mr. Collins, or you will be replaced.”
The man’s eyes bulged in alarm, but he only managed a nervous nod, too flustered to utter a single word.
“If you prove to be a dutiful rector, showing true care for the people you are meant to serve rather than merely striving to gain my favour, then I will allow you to remain. Otherwise, the bishop and I will move to have you replaced,” Anne stated firmly, each word causing the man standing before her to visibly cower. “There have already been some troubling reports that suggest otherwise.”
Mr. Collins’s mouth fell open, his face now the colour of sour milk.
“I am well aware,” Anne continued, her voice carrying an edge of disdain, “of your habit of bringing gossip from the parish directly to my mother’s ear, in contrast to what is expected of a clergyman’s conduct. This behaviour will not be tolerated moving forward. I also understand that my mother has essentially dictated your sermons, Mr. Collins. This dependency is unacceptable and must end. You are expected to lead your parish in thought and spirit independently. Do you understand what I now expect of you?”
Mr. Collins swallowed audibly and gave a vigorous, almost frantic nod. “Yes—yes, Miss de… I mean, Mrs. Hargrove. I—I shall do my utmost to serve with the utmost sincerity and… and integrity, as befitting the position. I—I assure you, I will be diligent in attending to my parishioners and their needs. They are, after all, deserving of my… my fullest care and attention.” He dabbed at the perspiration gathering on his brow, clearly rattled but determined to say what he thought she wished to hear.
“Very well,” Anne replied, her voice cool and impassive. “You will find that I expect results, not merely your assurances. You will return to Hunsford and begin doing your duties, or you will be looking for another position soon.”
Collins nodded again, backing away with his eyes cast down, and practically stumbled towards the door. The moment he exited, Anne allowed herself a small, satisfied smile.
Her husband chuckled, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on her hand. “I must say, Mrs. Hargrove,” he remarked with a touch of admiration, “I have rarely seen such a forthright dismissal of foolishness as you managed just now.”
Anne gave a small, dignified smile. “After all these years under my mother’s rule, I have had ample time to observe her dealings with this man and others just like him. He needs a firm hand, but I am uncertain that he is capable of standing on his own. I believe we will be searching for a new rector before Easter.”
“Indeed,” Hargrove remarked. “He does not strike me as someone capable of standing on his own feet. Instead of being appointed a rector, he should have remained as a curate where someone could have trained him. As it is, he is entirely too foolish and too biddable to be of use to anyone.”
A knock sounded on the door, and Elizabeth and Darcy appeared in the open doorway. “Has he gone?” Elizabeth asked. “I am not terribly sorry to have missed him, but I did wonder how it went. Did he listen to what you had to say?”
“I gave him little choice but to listen. With luck, he will depart from Longbourn today. Perhaps I ought to have made arrangements for a carriage or something to take him to Hunsford, but I could tolerate him no longer,” Anne replied.
Hargrove laughed. “I truly believed Anne was exaggerating when she spoke of the man. However, he was all she said and then some. Frankly, I am astonished you gave him even two months to redeem himself.”
“It was the bishop’s suggestion. If we simply released him, he could attempt to find another position. However, if the church decides he is incompetent and never should have been ordained in the first place, no one else will be subject to him. It is a small price to pay,” Anne said, shrugging in an unladylike fashion.
“Enough talk of that man,” Darcy said firmly. “The Bennet ladies will be arriving soon. Bingley suggested we invite them here, and Elizabeth has already prepared a note to send with our carriage. We waited to despatch it only until we were certain Mr. Collins had departed.”
Darcy’s gaze shifted, softening slightly. “While we wait, we thought the two of you might like to join us for a walk in the gardens. Will you come?”
“That would be lovely, Darcy,” Anne replied. “Let me send a maid to gather my outdoor things. Where are your friend and Georgiana? Will they be joining us?”
Darcy indicated they would, and the four ventured into the hallway where Bingley and Georgiana met them a few moments later. For the next half hour, the group walked the paths of the garden, enjoying some exercise and genial conversation.
Around noon, the Bennet ladies arrived. As Mrs. Bennet and her four unmarried daughters were shown in, her voice echoed through the room where Elizabeth sat with Anne and Georgiana. She was speaking loudly about her plans to renovate the house once Jane became its mistress.
“I am glad it was me in this room, and not any members of Mr. Bingley’s family, who heard you speak so, Mama. Mr. Bingley would be rightly offended had he heard you, and had either of his sisters been present, they would have labelled you a fortune hunter, regardless of your intentions,” Elizabeth scolded her mother.
“Elizabeth Bennet, how dare you speak to your mother so!” Mrs. Bennet replied sharply.
“Mother, I speak so because it is in your best interest to hear it from someone. Had my father treated you with the respect due to you as his wife, he would have guided you in understanding the responsibilities and expectations of a gentlewoman. Perhaps it is not my place to correct you, but you must hear from someone how your actions could affect your family.”
“Indeed, madam, for that is how I have labelled you after hearing your intemperate speech,” Anne interjected, hoping to lend her new cousin aid in this matter.
“Who are you to speak to me so?” Mrs. Bennet demanded.
“Mama, please allow me to introduce you,” Elizabeth interjected smoothly. “Mama, sisters, might I present Mrs. Percival Hargrove, mistress of Rosings Park and my cousin,” she said, gesturing towards Anne. “This young lady,” she continued, indicating the girl beside her, “is my new sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy.”
Turning to Anne and Georgiana, Elizabeth added, “Anne, Georgiana, these are my mother, Mrs. Bennet, and my sisters: Jane, Mary, Catherine, and Lydia.” She gestured to each in turn.
The ladies exchanged polite nods, each sizing up the new acquaintances as they took their seats around the cosy arrangement of chairs and settees. Elizabeth noticed Lydia’s restless glances and fidgeting, already eyeing the richly decorated room, while Jane cast Anne a warm, welcoming smile. Mary looked slightly apprehensive, her gaze shifting quickly between the unfamiliar faces while Kitty leant in, whispering eagerly to Lydia as they settled beside each other.
Anne, observing Mrs. Bennet’s barely concealed glances around the room, offered a gracious smile despite the woman’s rather obvious assessment. Georgiana, a little shy, kept close to Elizabeth, her delicate hands folded neatly in her lap, her gaze gentle and reserved as she studied her sister-in-law’s family.
“So, Mrs. Bennet,” Anne said, her tone warm but with an edge of formality, “we are very pleased to host you and your daughters at Netherfield.” Anne laughed lightly. “Of course, I suppose it is Elizabeth who ought to welcome you since I am a stranger to Mr. Bingley. It is my cousin Darcy who is that gentleman’s friend; my husband and I were just introduced to him when we arrived.”
“And we are delighted to have you all at Netherfield for Christmastide,” Mrs. Bennet gushed.
She would have continued, but Elizabeth interrupted her. “Mama, we will be leaving the area no later than Tuesday, as you have been told on more than one occasion. Anne and her husband will leave Monday or Tuesday as well.”
“Why would you not stay longer, Lizzy? I cannot understand your insistence that you will depart so soon. We must celebrate your marriage here in Hertfordshire, and your husband should meet your friends. Given how you ran away from home to marry, it is the least you can do to restore the respectability of your family,” Mrs. Bennet cried, her voice rising with each word.
Elizabeth’s tone held a touch of irony as she spoke, her gaze lingering on her mother with a knowing look. “Mama, we will, of course, be attending the dinner at the Lucases tonight as you arranged with Lady Lucas. You and my sisters are to attend as well, are you not? Father, I know, will not leave his bookroom for such an event, and that is perhaps for the best, given all that has transpired.”
Mrs. Bennet’s smile froze for a brief moment before she forced it brighter, her eyes darting toward Elizabeth as if trying to gauge her mood. Elizabeth leaned forward slightly, her tone calm but edged with steel. “We will also attend church on Sunday. From your letters—and what Jane and Charlotte Lucas have shared—it seems everyone in Meryton is delighted with my marriage.” Her smile thinned, and the sharpness in her gaze betrayed her true feelings. “I know your only concern is my happiness, Mama.”
The gentle barb did not escape Mrs. Bennet, who fluttered her lace handkerchief and looked away, though her mouth pursed in mild displeasure. Elizabeth suppressed a grimace as she thought wryly of her mother’s motivations, aware that Mrs. Bennet’s pride was as much about showing off her wealthy, handsome son-in-law as it was about any true concern for Elizabeth’s happiness.
Mrs. Bennet dabbed at her eyes though her gaze darted towards Elizabeth with something like impatience. “Of course, I am pleased that you are happy, Lizzy,” she said, her tone softening only slightly, “but so few will have the chance to properly meet your husband at just those two events. Imagine, a man like Mr. Darcy—so handsome, so wealthy—barely introduced to the neighbourhood.”
She gave a delicate sigh. “While I am surprised that Lady Lucas agreed to host the dinner in honour of your wedding, we could hardly have it at Longbourn with your father being so disagreeable about the marriage.” She sniffed, lowering her voice as though in confidence. “There was also Mr. Collins, still determined to wed you despite everything! Thankfully, he left in quite a rush this morning, declaring he must return to Kent immediately. I had such hopes that he would marry one of my daughters, of course, but now I see what a blessing it is that he did not.”
She shook her head as though deeply disappointed. “A single day at Longbourn, and I realised what a terrible match he would have been for any of you. His ways are… quite insufferable, and I could not, in good conscience, imagine subjecting one of my girls to a lifetime with that man.” Her expression softened, as if genuinely relieved.
Elizabeth raised her brows, a trace of amusement mingling with her exasperation. It was not often that her mother’s judgement aligned with her own, especially when it came to marriage, but in this instance, she could hardly disagree and was pleased her mother realised it.