Chapter XII
Smithson was waiting in the parlour at Rosings, standing up straight, running over his lines in his head.
He looked around the room, at the high walls, gilded portraits and ornate furniture, and for once, he felt a little nervous, but he quickly gathered up his confidence for the task ahead.
He had been preparing for this interview ever since her ladyship’s return from London.
Lady Catherine entered, and he bowed low.
She gathered a smile for him – she had grown almost as fond of him as she had of Collins.
Yes, he was perhaps a little sterner in his faith than was fashionable, but that need not affect her.
For him to call on her uninvited, however, was very unexpected and not a habit she wished to encourage.
It was four o’clock; a time when she would ordinarily call for tea, but she put off doing so, in order not to delay his departure.
She sat but did not invite him to do so. She made a beckoning gesture with her hand which indicated he should begin. He hesitated, fiddling with his cuff.
‘You seem rather unsettled, Mr Smithson. You have been enough in this house, surely, to be able to overcome any natural timidity? Pray tell me the purpose of your visit, for I feel certain you would not have presumed to call on me without one.’
‘Thank you, Lady Catherine,’ he said, giving another small bow. He made his face very sombre. ‘If I am unsettled, my lady, it is because I am the bearer of unsettling intelligence, which, thought painful to relate, I am compelled – by both duty and conscience – to disclose.’
Lady Catherine replied with one long blink.
Taking this as encouragement, though her cues were often inscrutable at best, he continued, ‘You know how I have esteemed Mr Collins and have been so grateful to him for my position here. He has been a guide and a friend to me, and I would protect him at any cost, if it were in my capacity.’
After a pause, Lady Catherine said, ‘Some concision would be appreciated, so that you might reach a conclusion before supper.’
After clearing his throat, Smithson hurried on, ‘What I have to say concerns Mrs Collins.’
Lady Catherine raised an eyebrow.
‘And, well, this is delicate, because it also concerns your nephew, Colonel Fitzwilliam.’
Lady Catherine frowned now, and colour rose to her powdered face. She picked up the bell that sat on a tray near her chair and rang it. She kept her eyes fixed on Smithson’s face as she awaited her butler’s entrance, and when he appeared, she requested tea without diverting her stare.
Figgis left, and the door was closed.
‘Continue.’
Without the need for further encouragement, Mr Smithson launched into the speech he had prepared and practised; he was excited to begin.
‘I know for certain that there is an understanding between Mrs Collins and Colonel Fitzwilliam, and I can offer you evidence of it. I would be loath to bring such tidings to you if it were not for a lack of discretion on their part, which I fear invites scandal into our community. I value Mr Collins so very highly, and I also value the good reputation of our parish, so much so that I did not feel I could be idle while such a threat to our village – and an affront to God – is taking place.’
‘What is this evidence you speak of?’
‘Well, firstly that of my own observations: their connection is clear if one is looking for it.’
‘And you were looking for it?’
Mr Smithson faltered. ‘Y-yes. Once I sensed something amiss.’
‘What are these observations?’
‘You know yourself that they spent several weeks together at Pemberley.’
‘Alongside my other nephew, Mr Darcy, and my niece, Georgiana. Have you any accusations to set against them?’
‘No indeed! But I also saw an accord between Mrs Collins and Colonel Fitzwilliam at the ball here – a closeness in their dancing, an intimate look.’
Lady Catherine’s face was stony as she said, ‘Mr Smithson, you bring me nothing but the excitable gossip of a young girl in her first season. None of what you have said has any substance, and what you are suggesting is grave indeed. I am disappointed that you would so easily slander two people of whom I am very fond.’ Her voice was rising now, and she could hardly conceal her anger.
Mr Smithson was panicked. Without a word, he put his hand into his pocket and brought out a crumpled leaf of paper and handed it to her. She took it, handling it the way one might a dirty napkin. She unfolded it and perused it.
Nothing in her reaction was visible except for the throbbing of a vein that ran across her forehead. She read it once more, and then carefully folded it and placed it on the small table next to her.
‘How did you come by this?’
‘I found it on a visit to Mr Collins’s house this week.’
‘Left casually for all to see?’
‘No.’ He frowned, confused by her line of questioning. ‘It was – well, it was in Mrs Collins’s sitting room.’
‘On a table?’
‘Tucked inside a poetry book.’
Lady Catherine smirked. ‘Your talents are wasted on us, Mr Smithson; you would make a fine bloodhound.’
He blanched, not sure whether to thank her for the remark or not.
Figgis entered now, set tea down on the table and stood by, ready to pour.
‘Two cups please, Figgis,’ said Lady Catherine.
Smithson looked grateful, though surprised, and took the proffered cup and saucer. Lady Catherine sipped her own the moment it was poured, oblivious to the heat, and then set it down. She waited until Figgis had made his exit before resuming.
‘Tell me, what do you think the consequences of such a discovery ought to be? I would value your counsel.’ She smiled at him, and he relaxed a little.
‘Though I am reluctant to suggest it, I fear some damage may already have been done, and I believe you should act quickly. Unfortunately, Mr Collins is tainted by association, and the parish simply cannot be led in faith by a man who has been morally compromised in this way. While the fault lies with Mrs Collins—’
‘And not with my nephew?’ interrupted Lady Catherine.
‘Oh, I am sure he has been persuaded into it. One cannot underestimate the powers women can wield.’
She raised an eyebrow again.
‘Ungodly women, I mean,’ he amended hastily. ‘But as I was saying, while the fault lies with her, I am afraid Mr Collins must suffer the consequences equally. I believe you must ask him to leave his post, for the good of the Church – and for the protection of your own good name, your ladyship.’
‘Please do not concern yourself with my good name, Mr Smithson,’ she said sweetly, smiling again. ‘And what would I do for a rector, were I to act upon your counsel? The living would be sitting empty, and I should be quite bereft.’
Mr Smithson gave a passable impression of nonchalance, offering a mild shrug and saying, with carefully measured hesitation, ‘I know not, Lady Catherine. I am, of course, ever ready to be of service in whatever way I am called. The parish has, I believe, embraced me as something of a second son, and I would be more than happy to step in – should it be of help to you, and if it please God.’
Lady Catherine gave a small nod. And then, quite unexpectedly, she stood. ‘Would you join me for a turn, Mr Smithson?’
Puzzled but delighted, he rose and walked alongside her across the room. To his surprise, she opened the door, and they together and started to travel slowly down the long corridor.
‘I thank you for bringing this to me, Mr Smithson.’
‘I considered it my duty, your ladyship.’
‘This is your first post as curate, is it not?
‘It is, and what luck that it is such a fortunate placing.’
‘You are fortunate indeed. If only Mr Collins were so fortunate.’
‘Quite.’
‘Poor Mr Collins has been burdened with a curate who would concoct stories about his wife, disparage his name, and go behind his back to oust him from his own house and steal his living. I call that most unfortunate.’
Mr Smithson spluttered. ‘I concocted nothing.’
Lady Catherine did not slow her pace to accommodate his increasing levels of agitation as they turned down a narrower, less ornate corridor.
She spoke in a controlled, measured tone.
‘I do not believe you, Mr Smithson; let me be very clear on that. The observations you have made amount to nothing and owe themselves to a wild and malicious imagination.’
‘But the letter—’
‘The letter is as fictitious as the rest – a theatre prop. It is not difficult to fabricate a love letter and to sign it with someone else’s name.’
‘I have done NO SUCH—’
Lady Catherine turned suddenly, her movement now sharp as a whippet. She held his gaze, whispering with icy clarity, ‘I suggest that you do not raise your voice to me, Mr Smithson.’
Smithson visibly folded. ‘My apologies.’
She resumed her former demeanour and continued walking, forcing him to keep pace.
When they reached a plain-looking wooden door at the end of another hall, she stopped and turned to face him.
‘Now we have established that I have no intention of acting on your little fiction, I will say this to you: I have been surprised by your visit, Mr Smithson, and I have reached an age at which I had not thought surprises possible. That you – a young, inexperienced man of twenty years of age, who has seen nothing of the world and added little of value to it – should see fit to enter my home, uninvited, and proceed to advise me on how to best run my estate and manage my affairs – which I have done single-handedly for many years – astonishes me. Had you brought this nonsense to my late husband, Sir Lewis de Bourgh, I think it unlikely that you would have been allowed through the door. But then, I do not believe you would have attempted such a feat with my husband, would you? To manipulate and then offer advice to the master of this house? No, you would not. But you would offer it to the lady.’
‘I assure you, I have the utmost respect for your ladyship, and I wished only to act in service of the Church—’
Lady Catherine’s sharp intake of breath was enough to cut him off, and stepping closer to him, she spoke in a low but steady voice.
‘If I should hear even a whisper on the wind of this tale, from anyone in the parish or from farther afield, I shall know it was you who spread it. Should that occur, you will not only be immediately removed from your position, but I will ensure that you never hold any in the Church again. The Church that I know has no place within its ministry for slanderers or dissemblers – or for those who delight in the downfall of others. I will see to it that you are not welcomed by any good family again, not even your friends the Russells. It will be as if you have not a friend in the world – not a penny, nor a prospect. I think you know I can do this, but I wish to assure you that I will. If you give me reason.’
Mr Smithson’s mouth hung open, his eyes wide with horror. He seemed quite at a loss for words.
Lady Catherine, however, did not require a response at this juncture.
‘As for bringing my nephew into this equation – that shows a shameful lack of foresight. You mark yourself as rather stupid by such a suggestion. That said, cleverness is not something I value in a clergyman, or in an acquaintance. Shall I tell you what I do value, Mr Smithson?’
He nodded limply.
‘Loyalty and discretion.’
He blinked.
‘Might I assume that you will cease your… holy mission now? Or should I write to the archbishop this evening?’
Mr Smithson had no fight left in him. ‘I will cease.’
Lady Catherine nodded. ‘Now, I doubt I will see you here again, Mr Smithson. But might I advise you never to call on a lady at teatime in the future? It is most disturbing.’
She knocked loudly on the wooden door, and a moment later, a maid appeared, shocked to find her mistress at the door. ‘My lady?’
‘Maud, please escort Mr Smithson from the house, via the back stairs. He will not be returning.’
With that, Lady Catherine swept away without a backwards glance at Mr Smithson, who stood, shaking, before being led out like an obedient dog, through the servants’ kitchen, down a set of stairs and to the back door.
As soon as he had set both feet on the ground outside, he heard the key turn in the lock.
Back in the parlour, Lady Catherine sat heavily in her chair, as shaken and as weakened as her guest was. Lifting the letter from the table, she read it once more and, wearily, pushed herself up out of her chair.
She took a step towards the fire and threw the letter into the hot flames. She watched it closely, until it was burnt to nothing.