Chapter 15
“The heir to Longbourn died from falling off a horse?” Miss Bingley inquired in disbelief. “How could such a thing happen?”
Darcy sank gratefully into his chair near the breakfast table. His arms were tired from using the crutches and he had sore spots from the wood digging into his sides. He would never take walking for granted again.
“It happens more often than you would imagine,” he commented, taking a welcome sip of coffee, “though more typically during a hunt over difficult ground than down a well-tended path.”
“Apparently Mr. Collins insisted on riding Miss Elizabeth’s horse, Daisy,” Bingley explained gloomily, “in spite of warnings from both the stable boy and the steward that she was a difficult ride. She threw him and regrettably a rock was in just the wrong place.”
“She sounds like a dangerous beast,” Miss Bingley exclaimed with a dramatic shudder. “I am truly startled that Miss Elizabeth is so bold as to ride her.”
“Many a horse will behave well for her master or mistress but act in an unruly fashion for another. It is likely that the parson was not as accomplished a rider as Miss Elizabeth. Collins made a fatal mistake, which is a tragedy.”
“Darcy, I am thinking that I will go over to Longbourn this morning to see if the Bennets need any assistance with the arrangements for Mr. Collins.”
Miss Bingley wheezed indignantly at this pronouncement and turned an outraged look on her brother, “You cannot be serious! The Bennets and Mr. Collins are nothing to us, and it would be entirely inappropriate to involve yourself in a private family matter such as this.”
Bingley wilted and shot an uneasy look at his friend, “I suppose that is true, Caroline.”
“Mr. Collins was the rector of my aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh,” Darcy declared. “I consider it my duty to learn the details of his death before I send a letter to Lady Catherine. Bingley, would you be willing to accompany me to Longbourn since my ankle still pains me?”
“Of course!” his friend exclaimed, his expression lightening. “When shall we leave?”
“Perhaps in an hour so that we arrive at the beginning of normal visiting hours?”
“Splendid!”
It was splendid. Darcy was thoroughly weary of being incapacitated in the same house as Miss Bingley. In the past, he had been able to drift off to the library or the pool room or his own bedchamber when her hovering was particularly annoying, but the crutches rendered him as slow as a snail, and she often beat him to his intended destination. At Longbourn, there would be distressed ladies but no Miss Bingley. Nor were his motives entirely selfish; he admired Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and given her parents’ incompetence, she would likely be saddled with the details of contending with Collins’s death. He would be honored to assist her in some small way.
/
“Why should we wear deep mourning for Mr. Collins, Jane?” Lydia demanded with tears in her eyes. “We only met him a few days ago! I wore mourning for Matthew for months and now I wear half mourning for my beloved twin. It does not seem right to wear black for a distant cousin.”
Jane and Elizabeth exchanged quick glances and Jane leaned forward to embrace her youngest sister, “You need not wear full mourning, Lyddy. The rest of us will do so but only for a week, and then half mourning for a week. On the one hand, we must respect the dead. On the other hand he was, as you say, but a distant relation.”
Lydia wiped her wet eyes on her handkerchief, “I do feel sorry for Mr. Collins.”
“We all do, dear,” Jane concurred.
The door opened and Sally, one of the maids, stepped into the room.
“Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Lydia, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley have come to call.”
The elder two sisters started in surprise and then both were on their feet.
“We will be down in a moment, Sally. Thank you.”
/
“And now Mr. Collins is dead and I do not know what is to become of us all,” Mrs. Bennet moaned from her place by the drawing room fire. “He was to marry our third daughter, Mary, you know, which would have allowed Longbourn to stay in the family. Such a generous man and now he is dead!”
Darcy, who had taken a cautious seat well away from the garrulous matron, admitted to himself that the clergyman’s plan to marry one of the Bennet daughters was indeed quite generous. The Bennets were a gentle family, but he understood that there was little money for dowries. The heir to Longbourn might well have expected more monetary recompense when choosing a wife.
“It is indeed a great tragedy,” Mr. Bingley said gently. “Mr. Darcy and I were wondering if we could assist in some practical way with the arrangements?”
Mrs. Bennet looked startled, “Oh, well, that is most ... most kind of you both! To be truthful, I have not considered what must be done ...”
“I believe Elizabeth is in the library right now discussing the matter with Father and Mr. Allen,” Miss Bennet said gravely.
“Might I join them, Mrs. Bennet?” Darcy asked and then, observing the surprise in the lady’s expression, added, “Lady Catherine de Bourgh is my aunt, you see, and thus I feel it incumbent upon me to assist in Mr. Collins’s final disposition.”
“Oh! Lady Catherine is your aunt? I did not know. Of course, I understand completely. You are most gracious to assist us in this matter. Er, Hill, escort Mr. Darcy to the library.”
“Yes, Madam.”
Darcy, with the assistance of Bingley, rose clumsily to one foot, adjusted his crutches, and stumped out the door.
/
“Father, you must see that it is important that you be there at Mr. Collins’s burial,” Elizabeth murmured in her most soothing voice, though she had little hope of reaching the rational side of her sire. He had been drinking steadily all morning and was now in a state of irritable truculence.
“I will not go there, I will not! The man was fool enough to fall off a horse and die. I have not returned to ... to Matthew’s grave ...”
Mr. Bennet, aged more by sorrow and inebriation than years, burst into tears and Mr. Allen reached out a gentle hand, “I understand, sir.”
The door opened at this inauspicious moment and both Mr. Allen and Elizabeth turned in surprise. The lady’s face flushed red with humiliation as Hill announced Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. Oh, was it not enough that her father was a drunkard? Must she be shamed by him as well?
Darcy took in the situation with a glance and bowed courteously to all.
“Mr. Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, I apologize for my intrusion during this delicate time. My condolences on the loss of your cousin.”
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth responded, forcing herself to maintain a calm tone. “It has indeed been a most grievous shock.”
“Mr. Collins was rector under the patronage of my aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Thus I wish to offer my assistance in the arrangements for his burial and, unless you object, will write to Lady Catherine to explain what occurred here.”
Elizabeth felt some of the tension in her shoulders dissipate at these words, “Mr. Darcy, that would be most gracious of you. Thank you.”
“It is my honor,” Darcy replied, and he meant it. It was so wrong that a girl of twenty years was forced to carry such a heavy load on her shoulders.
Mr. Allen, the rector, nodded at him with approval when a sudden outburst of barking, muffled by the windows, startled the inhabitants of the library.
“Is that Maxwell?” Elizabeth asked in bewilderment. “Did you bring him to Longbourn?”
“We did not,” Darcy returned, tilting his head to listen more carefully. “Nonetheless, it does sound like him.”
Elizabeth was at the window in a moment, and she smiled at the sight below her. It was indeed the red spaniel, and he was seated below the window looking up at her, his tail wagging, his mouth opened in a cheerful, enthusiastic doggy grin.
“He must have followed you over, Mr. Darcy,” she said with an amused chuckle.
Darcy made as if to rise and then remembered, for the one hundredth time, his injured ankle.
“Mr. Allen, do you need me?” Elizabeth asked, turning to the rector.
“Not at all, Miss Elizabeth. I am quite certain that with Mr. Darcy’s help, we can manage all of the arrangements.”
“Then I will go talk to Maxwell for a bit and then shut him in the stable until Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy are ready to return home.”
Darcy opened his mouth in protest at the thought of a lady doing a servant’s work, but then he closed it. He had seen the smile on Miss Elizabeth’s face, and she liked Maxwell. Perhaps what she really needed right now was time with a friendly animal, away from the human havoc and upheaval in Longbourn.
“That sounds like an excellent plan, Miss Elizabeth. I do apologize for the trouble.”
“Not at all,” she responded and yes, her face looked calmer already. “I adore dogs.”
She curtsied and departed in a soft flurry of skirts, and Mr. Allen smiled at Darcy before getting down to business.
“I understand, Mr. Darcy, that Mr. Collins held the living under the auspices of your aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think she will wish for Mr. Collins’s body to be transported to Kent for burial?”
“That will not be necessary, no. Mr. Collins served at Hunsford for less than a year before his tragic death.”
“Miss Elizabeth has already informed me that Mr. Collins has no nearby family; his parents predeceased him, and his only brother went to sea many years ago and has not been heard of since. It seems wise, therefore, that he be buried in our local cemetery.”
“Not next to Matthew,” Mr. Bennet croaked. “I wish to be buried next to my son when the time comes, not this interloper.”
“Of course not, Mr. Bennet,” Mr. Allen returned soothingly.
/
“I am sorry about the dog, Miss,” one of the stable boys exclaimed. “I do not know where he came from!”
“I do know, Jesse,” Elizabeth declared cheerfully. “He belongs to Mr. Bingley and apparently got loose and followed Mr. Bingley’s carriage here. Return to your work, please, and I will have a chat with Maxwell before shutting him in the fourth stall, if it is empty.”
“It is, Miss, yes,” the boy replied, before running off to fulfill some other task about the stables.
Elizabeth strolled over to a nearby bench and sat down, where Maxwell joined her. She ran a hand down his head and furry neck and back, causing him to pant with renewed enthusiasm while he made throaty noises of pleasure.
“You are a dear boy, Maxwell,” she murmured, continuing to stroke his ears and head, “and so delightfully uncomplicated. I wish Father could release the guilt and sorrow of the past and live in the present as you do, but I suppose that is too much to ask.”
Maxwell whined sadly and she smiled at him, “It is not your problem, dear puppy, and take heart, I find you a great comfort.”
/
In the end, Mr. Collins was buried with only a small group of men in attendance. Bingley had graciously agreed to accompany Darcy, and Mr. Allen, who spoke the burial rites over the coffin in the church, was supported by one of his deacons. An additional six men, all strong, husky individuals, carried the coffin into the graveyard whereupon the sexton, who had dug the grave overnight, directed them to lower the casket gently into the cold earth.
It was an appropriately somber day, misty and cold, and Darcy felt a twinge of sorrow as he gazed down while the sexton began filling in the dark hole with dirt. He had never met Mr. Collins and knew nothing of him except that the man had been given the Hunsford living by Lady Catherine. That in itself was telling, since Lady Catherine invariably chose fools and grovelers to serve under her. Mr. Collins would doubtless not be greatly missed by anyone and that was itself a tragic thing, was it not?
“I appreciate your willingness to attend the ceremony, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley,” Mr. Allen said softly, nodding to the pallbearers to indicate that they could depart the graveyard.
“I am honored to be here,” Darcy returned courteously and Mr. Bingley grunted inarticulately.
Mr. Allen lowered his voice and continued, “I thank you on behalf of the Bennet sisters as well, gentlemen. It was a tremendous gift to Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth that they were able to leave the disposal of Mr. Collins’s remains in our capable hands.”
“That was indeed our pleasure,” Bingley replied sincerely.