Chapter 14 #2
Mr Collins stood tall and stared Bennet down, and the older gentleman shrank back into his seat.
“I cannot fault your logic,” Bennet said at last. “It seems far-fetched, but plausible.”
“Now suppose we made a complete inventory of all the books that are not part of the estate, and so not subject to the entail, and you sold them or gave them to me minutes before you died—or even made the list part of your will, so they were clearly defined as personal property. What then?”
“I suppose whoever I designate could do with them as they choose. They would be outside the entail, so your heirs would have no claim—and, of course, I would not care since I would be dead.”
“Very well. Suppose you and I make an agreement. You promise to sell those books to me retroactively after your death, and I agree to pay the money to your descendants according to your will. Your daughters would get the benefit of the money, though late in the day, and you would still have your treasures at no cost, save staying out of the way while your daughters and I make the inventory for you to sign and have witnessed. You need not even keep the list updated, as we could just reverse the process and list everything that is part of the entail.”
Bennet clearly did not enjoy being backed into a corner, but eventually said, “I see no impediment.”
Elizabeth could have screamed at the need to force him to sign his name once, but William held his hand to suggest she hold her peace.
“Now, sir. I will ask one more thing. I believe there are collectors—very rich ones—who would, as you say, practically kill for some of those.”
He pointed at the Gutenberg. “By chance, I happened to hear about this particular book in seminary. Most believe there are fewer than 50 left in the world. It is the first book printed with a modern press, the very beginning of the publishing industry. Such books are valuable now and will become far more so over time. Centuries hence, they will be worth thousands or even millions of pounds.”
“Your point?”
Mr Collins stood his ground and held her father’s eye.
“With Lady Catherine’s help, I could probably make an agreement with one of those rich men to purchase the books after you are gone, and to make partial payment for them when each of your daughters except Mary weds.
You would have your treasures until your death, and your daughters would have a dowry now at no trouble or expense to yourself. ”
“The collector would most likely not be distressed; he would know he was securing a great treasure for his sons and grandsons. For a rich man, the cost and the years or decades of waiting for the result would be trivial—no worse than for any other man waiting for his wife’s portion, dependent on a parent’s demise, as your daughters presently do.
As I said, in that situation, everybody wins, and at almost no effort to yourself. ”
Bennet practically growled. “Mary, your husband is giving away your legacy.”
“I will have Longbourn, Papa. I shall be more than satisfied. I would be quite cross with William if he asked for an equal share. Lizzy worked out our finances, and William and I are entirely content with our situation.”
Mr Collins smiled at his intended, and for a moment, they might have been alone in the room.
Bennet said, “Lizzy… Lydia… I would not have predicted you two would be the ones in such a serious conversation. Are you satisfied with your cousin’s plan?”
“Of course. I applaud William’s idea,” Elizabeth added.
She stopped herself short of adding, all is forgiven. She was not entirely certain anything was forgiven; worse, she had lost what little esteem she had for her father.
Lydia nodded. “May I ask how much there is without sounding like a shrill mercenary? I will not tell a soul.”
Bennet cleared his throat loudly enough to draw everyone’s attention.
“If I go along with this scheme, I will insist on only one condition, and I will brook no opposition. I wish the amounts to remain secret—absolutely secret. It would not do to make you all victims of every fortune-hunting rake in the county. You need to bring a man to the point without a promise of any particular dowry. You may tell him it is modest, and no more. Anyone who violates this agreement forfeits their share.”
Elizabeth glanced at Lydia for confirmation. “We agree, Papa, and I am certain Jane and Kitty will as well.”
“Very well. I have spent ￡200-400 per annum, and some of the volumes have increased in value. Since you are so insistent, I will get a formal appraisal. I would say they will provide around ￡2-4,000 for each of you.”
Elizabeth and Lydia gasped, while Mary beamed at her intended. Mr Collins looked supremely satisfied.
Bennet picked up the old, battered copy of Don Quixote, opened it to a random page, and spoke without looking up.
“Mr Collins, this is your plan, so you shall implement it. Gardiner will help you find an appraiser, and you may send my gaggle of daughters to make the inventory any time it is convenient after I retire.”
Elizabeth wished to growl at him, but Mary took her hand. Best to retire with a victory.
Bennet stared at the book, for all the world immersed in its contents.
“And now, if you do not mind, I would have the use of my library at your earliest convenience.”