Prologue
William Collins opened his eyes and saw for the first time a particular, unfamiliar ceiling. He wondered where he was, but then his eyes widened, sharpened, as two words floated up from his waking consciousness:
My estate.
Technically, it was not his estate yet, of course. Longbourn belonged to the Bennet family, but he was the heir. He would inherit…this aged ceiling.
Frowning, Collins sat up in bed and studied the ceiling better.
It was not a bad ceiling, certainly not an ancient one, but it had not been painted in…
well, he was not sure, but it seemed positive there had not been a fresh coat of paint in at least a decade.
Quite possibly two. And there was a crack in the ceiling.
After a minute of silent contemplation, Collins determined that it was not a troublesome crack.
Not a wide crack. There was no suspicious water stain around it—thus it did not seem to be the sort of crack that foretold a leak on a rainy day.
He shrugged and, finally drawing his eyes away from the ceiling, he studied his domain.
The room was pretty, with sprigged fabric at the windows and subtly striped paper on the walls.
He noticed little feminine touches—the porcelain pitcher on the washstand was decorated with painted flowers, and there was a tabletop embroidery frame on a side table—and he recalled that he was not, as he had expected to be, staying in one of the guest rooms. No, this was the room of one of the Bennet daughters.
Ah…the Bennet daughters. When his noble patroness had dictated that he must go and make amends to the family whose estate he would inherit by offering marriage to one of the daughters, he had not imagined how fortunate such an edict would be.
For each and every one of them was quite lovely.
The one that had first drawn his eye had dark hair, a luscious body, and unusual but truly splendid eyes. She was beautiful, although not in the ordinary way. Not the fashionable way he had heard touted by so many. But…truly desirable.
Unfortunately, that Bennet sister was already betrothed.
Still, the other girls were also very attractive.
Even the youngest was well formed, with shining blonde curls and dark blue eyes, a perfectly symmetrical face and a very pretty smile.
He supposed that she was a bit young for him…
although her mother had declared she was “out,” and therefore available for marriage.
The second youngest—Collins struggled to bring her face to mind, but he did remember that she had light brown hair and was as pretty as her sisters.
Well, he decided, almost as pretty; she could not be said to be memorable.
The middle daughter styled herself as less attractive—she had worn a rather drab brown dress rather than the light coloured gowns her sisters had worn—but Collins had eyes, and he remembered her very well.
It pleased him that her beauty was a sort of secret—lovely brown eyes shuttered by eyeglasses, a pretty face that looked more plain because of her severe hairstyle, full lips that formed a firmly neutral expression rather than a smile, and hints of a curvy figure almost hidden by the heavy brown fabric.
Finally, Collins’s mind turned to the eldest. He had not noticed her at first; the other girls were more lively, and she had remained in the background.
Still, she was truly beautiful. Not merely lovely, but stunning.
Graceful, elegant, almost regal. He could wish for a little more meat on her bones, honestly, but would that not inevitably come as she became older?
And when he got a child on her, her body would definitely fill out into curves.
Her name was Jane…was there ever a more perfect name? Jane Collins—oh, how well that sounded!
Jane had golden blonde hair that appeared to be straight and smooth in its sweep upwards, but that curled prettily around her face.
She had the clearest blue-grey eyes he had ever seen, and a demure, sweet smile.
She would be perfect as a parson’s wife— well bred, well behaved, with a soft voice and pretty manners.
Oh, how his benefactress would love her!
Collins rose from the bed and refreshed himself before going to the window to better see the estate.
When he arrived, he had so enjoyed the tea that was served, and then later the very delicious dinner, that it had not occurred to him to look around outdoors.
From this window, he could not see any neighbouring houses—which surely meant that the fields and forest and park he could see were all part of Longbourn!
How wonderful it was—or, rather, would be—to be master of all he saw!
He revelled in the satisfaction of his situation.
He was destined to become master of an estate, and to wed a lovely girl, as well.
Best of all, that inheritance and marriage would mean that he was destined to be the hero to an entire family.
Because he would be married to a Bennet, and could continue to house all the other Bennets, he would save a desperate widow and her many daughters… someday.
Collins dressed himself and started down the stairs. He could smell all manner of scrumptious dishes, and he recalled that there was to be a wedding that day, which meant there would be a wedding breakfast!
He spoke to the housekeeper, a woman called Mrs Hill.
She agreed to bring him an early slight meal, reminding him that the ceremony was scheduled for nine, and the main meal would shortly follow.
Collins so enjoyed his toast and marmalade that he asked for more.
He reminded Mrs Hill of the delicious lemon tea cakes he had eaten the day before, and she brought him two of those.
When he wished to ask for more substantial fare, Mrs Hill seemed determined to ignore him, and she certainly was busy, rushing about.
Collins still had tea and coffee to sip, and he spent several minutes cataloguing the tantalising odors, contemplating the foods he was likely to enjoy not long from now. …
How fortunate his life had become!