Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
COLLINS
Collins sat with slumping shoulders. His eyes were directed to the ground, and the corners of his mouth drooped downwards as well. One eye twitched fitfully.
Speaking with Mr Hurst had helped him realise that his patroness was not nearly as noble as he had believed.
She had repeated many times something that was only hoped for—but she had clearly stated it as though it were true.
It was her fault that he had interrupted a wedding, had been scolded by a vicar, and had embarrassed a man he would have liked to have pleased.
Still, he hated that something so longed for by his benefactress was now impossible. Was there still a way that the marriage could be annulled, and Mr Darcy made to marry his cousin?
A memory of his determination to write to Lady Catherine and apprise her of her nephew’s marriage arose in his mind.
He said, tentatively, “Do you think I ought to write to Lady Catherine, giving her the news of her nephew’s wedding?
I realise now that she was incorrect to mislead Miss deBourgh and me and likely many others about the betrothal, but if she wishes to have Mr Darcy’s marriage annulled, I feel certain that one has only a small window of time with which to legally gain the annulment.
Am I correct? I do not wish her to learn of the wedding too late… .”
Hurst laughed heartily. Collins liked that laugh—the man always gave his everything, no matter what he did. Hurst ate heartily, drank heartily, laughed heartily….
“If I know Darcy, it is already too late! You know…I am certain that they moved quite quickly to…” his voice dropped to a whisper, “consummate.”
Collins blushed. Oh! Did consummation mean there could be no annulment?
he wondered. And then a wonderful realisation burst upon him: if it was already too late, then he had no need to hurry to write to his benefactress.
Actually, there was no need to write to her at all.
That meant that he did not have to struggle with how to express…
how to word the distinctly upsetting news that her nephew and brother had betrayed her.
But now…all Collins’s worries about being the bearer of bad news could be shrugged away, because it was already too late.
Lady Catherine would find out about Mr Darcy’s marriage, of course.
If nobody wrote to tell her of the wedding, she would certainly see the announcement in the newspaper.
But it was possible that, had Collins written to her, she might have directed her inevitable wrath towards him!
If she saw it in the newspaper, her anger might be directed at her nephew, or likely to his bride, but it would not spill onto him.
Collins was considering that happy thought when he noticed a group of young men seemingly building towers of cold meats and cheeses on their plates.
He indicated the group to Hurst, murmuring, “A bit of a contest there? Is it proper? What I mean is, would such behaviour upset our bride and groom, if they should ever hear of it?”
“Well, if their stacks take a tumble, the mess and the waste would shame Mrs Bennet, at least,” Hurst replied. “Come with me, please; we can intercede before gravity has its fun.”
The two hurried over to the young men. Hurst said, “I see some high jinks here. Believe me, I understand having too much spirit—as in far too much to drink—in such a well-stocked affair as this one, but I hated when our beautiful bride was disappointed by my poor behaviour, earlier, and I imagine you would feel regret, as well, so let us rein in our behaviour now, shall we?”
Collins looked at the faces of the young men. They seemed to already know and respect Hurst, and Collins supposed that they were likely residents of the neighbourhood whom Hurst had met at various gatherings.
“Sorry, sir,” one of the youths said.
Another young man mumbled something about the bride not even being there, but a taller fellow shot his elbow into his friend’s side, hissing, “But all of her sisters and her parents are here! If we make a spectacle, she will learn of it—you know she will!”
Collins said, “If this was your effort to out-stack your companions, instead of competing with such risk of catastrophe, let us sit with decorum and compete a different way. I suggest that each of you try the various meats and cheeses and attempt to name them. I believe it will not be entirely easy to do—not with this much variety!”
The shortest one, who looked to be a mere boy, said, “I wager I am able to name them all, sir, and easily!”
“Well, we shall see, I believe we shall see,” Collins said.
“But no actual betting!” Hurst interjected.
Collins turned to Hurst and said, “I have access to a portable desk and will be right back with supplies we need for this endeavour.”
Before long all the young men were taking their turns using one of the three quills, scribbling away at numbered lists.
As they tasted each meat or cheese, they would make varied intense facial expressions: screwing up their faces, wrinkling their brows, casting their eyes up and to the side, or closing their eyes and smiling so blissfully, it was as if they were tasting ambrosia from the Greek gods.
Hurst had torn up a sheet of paper into small squares, and he had numbered a small sample of each of eleven meats plus two cold mixed-meat dishes, and each of seven cheeses. The young men studied the appearance of those numbered samples and then searched for that item on their own plates.
Collins encouraged well water, not ale, as a palate cleanser, because he was convinced that the youths had already imbibed plenty of spirits.
Once all the young bucks had attempted to identify the twenty numbered items, Hurst collected the papers and, handing them to Collins, said, “This will take some time to find the winners—those of you who had the most correct answers. While you wait, I suggest you eat up, boys.”
“Yes, indeed,” Collins said. “We wish to honour Mrs Bennet, not to waste her delicious food.”
The two men then consulted one another over the lists.
They counted up correct answers and came up with three youths who had identified seventeen correctly.
Hurst and Collins were convinced that they knew all the foods on offer, and to distinguish between the three winners, they gave a bonus point for the two who had specified Yorkshire ham for the paper-thin slices of ham, and yet another bonus point to the one fellow who had written goose en daube rather than just goose.
Hurst, of course, was the one who knew the young men’s names, and thus he was the one who announced the winners, holding up each winner’s arm as he gave their place and score: “In third place, we have William Goulding, with seventeen correct answers; in second place is Jonathan Jones, with seventeen correct answers and one bonus point for identifying Number 1 as Yorkshire ham, rather than merely ham; and finally, the winner of the contest is John Lucas, who also had seventeen points but not only specified Yorkshire ham but also correctly identified the goose as being served en daube.
Congratulations to all our epicures in training! "
There was a bit louder applause and a tad more whooping amongst the young men than Collins would have liked, but he was still pleased by the success of the contest he had suggested.
He said to the Goulding fellow, “You were the only one who recognised the Dutch gouda cheese, and I applaud you for the extent of your knowledge.”
“Thank you, sir. This was quite a fun exercise; we appreciate your efforts.”
Hurst, hearing the sincere gratitude in the youth’s voice, beamed at Collins, and Collins beamed at him, and the two decided to take just the smallest portions possible of each of the meats and cheeses themselves, as a sort of reward for a job well done.