Chapter 15
They intended to stop at an inn and settle upon a plan, for they did not know what awaited them at Rosings.
For the first time during that long week, they sensed a real danger that had to be anticipated and overcome.
Yet the colonel’s presence gave them a feeling of security they had not known before his arrival.
He was prepared to face a complex situation.
He knew how to deal with danger, and with his aunt.
When they were about a mile from Rosings, the colonel and Mr Bennet decided to continue directly to the parsonage.
The last time Elizabeth had come to Hunsford it had been spring. Though only a few months had passed, circumstances had changed her life so profoundly that she felt far removed from the girl she had been then.
She remembered the garden sloping towards the road and the house standing amongst trees and flowers. She searched for the green fence and the laurel hedge that had welcomed her on her first visit.
When the carriages stopped before the house, night had already fallen.
A sky full of bright stars and an almost full moon cast a soft, enchanting light over the landscape.
It might have belonged to a fairy tale. Not far away, Elizabeth caught sight of the palings of Rosings Park.
The sight filled her with fresh anguish.
Darcy could be no more than half a mile away.
The thought made her heart race. They were so near, yet she realised this was their last chance.
If Darcy was not there, or if his aunt did not know where he was, they would have to abandon the search.
She could not ask her father or Mr Bingley to do any more.
Waves of doubt swept over her. Darcy could not be there. How could she suspect Lady Catherine of such wickedness? She might be harsh, even cruel, but she was not evil.
The carriages stopped before the parsonage gate, which opened onto a short gravel walk leading to the house.
Charlotte and the colonel led the party.
Despite everything that had passed between her and Mr Collins, she was still mistress of the house.
Elizabeth walked one step behind her father and Bingley, who followed Charlotte closely, whilst Parker remained with the carriages, making ready for their departure.
The front door opened with a loud creak that broke the stillness of the night. Charlotte instinctively stepped behind the colonel, who quietly placed himself before her. Mr Collins stood in the doorway holding a candle. Its wavering light threw shadows across his face.
For a long moment they stared at one another. Mr Collins looked in bewilderment at the unexpected party before him, whilst they could scarcely recognise in the dishevelled figure the pompous clergyman they had known at Rosings.
Their astonishment was complete, for none of them had imagined they would find Mr Collins at home.
He, meanwhile, could not understand how his wife had returned in such company, surrounded by people who were plainly prepared to protect her.
He took a step towards Charlotte, but she, too frightened to face him alone, immediately took Mr Bennet’s arm and showed no intention of letting it go.
Only the presence of the gentlemen gave her courage.
Alone, she would have been terrified by the sight of her husband.
Suddenly, Mr Collins stopped. When he spoke, his voice was scarcely recognisable, so unlike the grave and pompous tones they all remembered. He sounded like a man stripped of nearly all his arrogance.
“Charlotte, my dear, do not be afraid. It is I…your husband. It is so good to see that you have returned!”
Charlotte was determined not to yield. Without answering, she walked past him into the house.
Their astonishment did not end there. When a sleepy maid, delighted to recognise her mistress, lit the candles in the chandelier, Mr Collins’s appearance revealed more than words could have done.
Dark circles surrounded his eyes, and his hair, usually so carefully arranged, was in complete disorder.
He wore a crumpled, dirty shirt, clumsily tucked into his trousers.
Taking a coat from the back of a chair, he hastily put it on and, believing himself suitably dressed, invited them with a broad gesture to sit down.
No one moved.
“We are not here to sit down, Mr Collins,” Bingley said, his voice carrying an authority Elizabeth had never heard from him before. “We wish to know only one thing. Do you have any information about where Darcy is?”
The colonel advanced a step. His bearing alone forced Mr Collins backwards.
If, for a brief moment, Mr Collins had imagined that they had merely accompanied Charlotte home, Bingley’s direct question destroyed that illusion.
To everyone’s surprise, he collapsed into an armchair, burying his head in his hands, no longer caring to appear master of his own house.
His terror was confession enough.
A quiet sigh passed through the room. It was not loud, but every face reflected the same feeling. They were still anxious, yet hope had finally begun to overcome despair.
After a week of fruitless searching, Mr Collins’s silence told them they had reached the right place.
Their friend, brother, cousin, betrothed, and master was less than half a mile away.
It was the only conclusion that could explain the mystery which had thrown all their lives into confusion. Yet silence was no longer enough.
Naturally, the colonel took command. He stepped before Mr Collins and spoke in a calm voice that concealed both anguish and fury.
“Now, Mr Collins, stand up. There are ladies present, and you will immediately tell us what happened to Darcy and where we can find him.”
Mr Collins rose at once. He knew perfectly well who the colonel was, and one glance at his face was enough to understand that no politeness would be extended to him that night.
Under other circumstances he might have attempted to delay matters.
Not now. Everyone around him was exhausted, angry, and desperate.
Even the ladies, his own wife amongst them, looked ready to fight.
“Please…sit down,” Mr Collins said.
This time they took their seats around the large table in the middle of the dining room.
Charlotte returned with the maid, carrying water, a bottle of wine, and a simple meal, something that could be eaten quickly. They waited whilst the maid arranged the plates and dishes. Only after she had withdrawn did every eye return to Mr Collins.
“Yes,” he said at last, pretending to study a piece of cheese upon his plate rather than look at them. “I have seen Mr Darcy.”
Once again, a sigh escaped them all, this time drawn from the very depths of their anguish.
“Do not stop, Mr Collins,” Mr Bennet said. “Do not force us to question you. Simply tell us everything, so that we may go to Rosings and bring him home. I trust you recognise Colonel Fitzwilliam, Lady Catherine’s nephew.”
Mr Collins reacted in a manner none of them expected.
He sprang to his feet in obvious confusion, repeating words that scarcely seemed connected.
“Go to Rosings…No…How can you suggest such a dreadful thing?.. Disturb her ladyship in the middle of the night? Certainly not! I cannot permit it!”
He might have continued indefinitely had the colonel not cut him short.
“Sit down, Mr Collins. We want the truth, and we want it quickly. We intend to leave this place and bring Darcy away with us. I care nothing for who objects to our plans.”
“Even your position, sir, does not give you the right to disturb her ladyship!” he muttered with difficulty.
“Mr Collins, where is Mr Darcy?” Charlotte addressed him for the first time that evening.
Her tone was composed, as befitted the mistress of the house, though there was no warmth in it.
She stood beside Elizabeth’s chair, well away from her husband, making her position unmistakable.
She wanted him to understand that she had not returned to him but had come in the company of friends who needed her.
Elizabeth watched her with admiration. She had washed her face, and her bruises were visible in the light. No longer ashamed, she faced her assailant with pride and courage.
“I am sorry for what I did to you,” Mr Collins said, “but I will not allow you to take part in this rebellion.”
“Enough talking!” the colonel thundered, so loudly that everyone in the room fell silent. “Enough. I am telling you for the last time. Speak, or I shall not answer for my temper.”
The fury in his face transformed him. Mr Collins stood motionless, white with fear, torn between provoking the colonel’s anger and betraying his patroness.
“Why is my brother at Rosings, and why were you summoned there?” Georgiana asked through her tears.
The colonel stepped forward again and gripped the clergyman firmly by the shoulder.
“Mr Darcy,” Mr Collins said at last, “called upon her ladyship in London last week, and as her ladyship was not present when he arrived, he…”
A long silence followed. This time no one urged him to continue, but eventually he did.
“Mr Darcy took advantage of Miss de Bourgh.”
The final words were scarcely audible, yet everyone around the table heard them, and a gasp of horror swept through the room.
“Her ladyship required me to witness the dissolution of Mr Darcy’s former engagement, announce his marriage to Miss de Bourgh, and, at the proper time, perform the wedding ceremony.”
Elizabeth froze. She stared at Mr Collins, unable even to look at the others.
“It cannot be true,” she whispered.
“But it can,” Mr Collins replied with quiet insolence. “Gentlemen sometimes behave very strangely when they are about to marry.”
For a single dreadful moment, Elizabeth's certainty faltered. Love left room for doubt, however unreasonable, and after days of fear and exhaustion even her trust in Darcy seemed no longer enough. Her reason, worn down by everything she had endured, began to give way.
Then a burst of laughter shattered the silence.
Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed openly, so heartily that the windows themselves seemed to tremble.
“This is the most absurd tale I have ever heard. Why should Darcy take advantage of my poor cousin Anne when he is about to marry this remarkable lady?”
“Exactly!” Bingley exclaimed, delighted to have found an argument that made immediate sense.
The two men laughed, and even Mr Bennet’s expression softened, until they caught sight of Elizabeth’s pale face and stricken eyes.
“Forgive me, Miss Bennet,” the colonel said at once.
“I never meant to suggest that Darcy would… Please do not misunderstand me. I merely mean that he could never behave so dishonourably towards any woman. You know that as well as I do. And Anne, of all people! My aunt and this man have completely lost their senses if they expect anyone to believe such nonsense. Darcy take advantage of Anne?”
“Is that your whole story, Mr Collins?” Mr Bennet asked, glancing anxiously towards Elizabeth, who remained silent and deathly pale.
The colonel paced the room for a few moments until he had mastered himself. Then he stopped directly before Mr Collins.
“Where is Darcy?” he repeated.
His voice was calm now, cold and precise, and far more intimidating than his earlier anger.
Whilst Elizabeth sat in silence, overwhelmed by fresh fears, Georgiana suddenly spoke with unexpected force.
“You are lying, sir!”
Mr Collins did not answer.
“You would have us believe you merely happened to be in London when my brother came to visit my aunt?”
“Yes,” Mr Collins answered reluctantly.
“How many times has Lady Catherine invited you to London before? And do not lie, sir. Remember that you are a clergyman and a servant of God.”
“Well,” Mr Bennet observed dryly, “he has generally proved himself more the servant of Lady Catherine than of God.”
Mr Collins flushed with anger.
“I will not permit such insulting remarks in my own house!”
“I have no need of your permission, sir. But since you truly are a clergyman, perhaps you will answer Miss Darcy’s question. How many times has Lady Catherine invited you to London?”
Charlotte answered before her husband could speak.
“Not once.”
Then she turned directly to Mr Collins.
“The moment has come to decide where your loyalty lies. Will you stand with the truth, as your calling before God requires, or with the woman who has manipulated you to serve her own purposes?”
Colonel Fitzwilliam struck the table so violently with his fist that one of the plates broke cleanly in two.
“That is enough. We have no further need of this pitiful man. We are going to Rosings immediately.”
Charlotte nodded.
“I shall come with you. Afterwards I shall return to my parents’ house in Meryton, and everyone will know what sort of husband I have.”
Mr Collins looked at her in panic and disbelief. He could imagine neither losing his wife nor betraying his benefactress. His living depended entirely upon Lady Catherine’s favour.
“The entrance to Rosings Park is guarded at night by two men carrying rifles,” he said at last. He was still struggling with himself, yet finally chose to speak.
“You may approach in your carriages and enter through the main gate. Miss Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam are Lady Catherine’s close relatives. The servants will admit you.”
“Good,” the colonel replied. “I am glad you have recovered at least a little of your reason. It seems you have not entirely surrendered it to that deranged woman.”
“Lady Catherine is my patroness. I owe all I possess to her…even what I am now,” Mr Collins answered miserably, still torn between his duty to her and the colonel standing before him.
“You should count yourself fortunate if we allow you to leave this affair alive after what you have done,” Bingley said.
Elizabeth followed the conversation almost mechanically. Pain, confusion, and doubt overwhelmed her, yet she dared not ask herself why Darcy was at Rosings or what had happened there.
“Perhaps the ladies should remain here,” the colonel suggested.
“I am coming,” Elizabeth answered firmly, in a tone that admitted no argument.
“So am I,” Georgiana said.
“Then Mr Collins will walk beside me,” the colonel declared. “I intend to see exactly how many guards there are in the park and to make certain no other dangers await us.”