Chapter 2
Mrs. Bennet longed to retire to her guest bedchamber and ease her frayed nerves.
Her twin grandsons were cute but such a trial.
They fussed and screamed if they did not get their way, and today they were fighting loudly over a favorite toy.
The screeches and tears! Mrs. Bennet had no one to turn to for help as she was alone in the cottage, Lydia having left for a dress fitting earlier that day.
“Mama, I cannot possibly take Gerald and Edward with me; they will be far too disruptive,” Lydia had said after breakfast when she announced her intention to leave the rambunctious three-year-olds behind with Mrs. Bennet.
“But this is intolerable. With your husband gone for days on end with business matters, you really must hire a nursemaid!” Mrs. Bennet had looked forward to a pleasant visit with her youngest daughter and son-in-law, making calls in the neighborhood, and shopping with limited exposure to the twins.
Lydia pouted. “If Papa would send me more than twenty-eight pounds a year, I likely could. But as he won’t see fit to assist his only daughter who did not marry a wealthy gentleman as Lizzy and Jane did, I must do the best I can. I can only stretch our finances so far, Mama.”
“But what am I to do with them while you are gone?” asked an exasperated Mrs. Bennet.
“They will be fine. Just give them some of the taffy George brought home from his last trip. That will keep them happy.” And before the argument could continue, she had flounced out.
Or make them even more high-strung than usual, more like, Mrs. Bennet thought. Oh, why did it have to be all left to her? It had been some eighteen years since she had had to deal with children that young. She had forgotten how much energy it took. And she had been able to afford help.
She grabbed the toy the two boys were squabbling over and held it high.
“Neither of you can have this until you learn to behave! Get your coats. We are going for a walk.” Perhaps a lengthy span of exercise out of doors would tire the children sufficiently to calm things down.
At least, I hope so. Yet I fear I shall wear out before they do.
***
Lady Catherine De Bourgh was in high dudgeon following a visit by her nephew Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Not that he had done anything in particular to annoy her.
On the contrary, he was as polite and well-mannered as ever.
He even paid her daughter, Anne, several compliments when her normally reserved daughter read two newly composed poems to her cousin.
No, Lady Catherine was put out because of the news the colonel shared that her nephew Darcy and his wife—whose name was never mentioned if possible—were expecting another child.
With a second child (possibly another son) to be born, there was even less chance of his regretting his poor choice and divorcing her.
Lady Catherine’s hopes of ever marrying Anne to Darcy, as she and her sister had once planned, seemed all but impossible now.
Her brooding was interrupted by a servant who announced that Mr. Collins had arrived unexpectedly.
Ever since Darcy had married the best friend of Charlotte Collins, Lady Catherine had construed some of the blame for the match to be the Collinses’ fault.
After all, it was Elizabeth Bennet’s visit to the Hunsford Parsonage that gave Darcy the opportunity to fall under the wily spell of that fortune-seeking hussy.
Yes, technically she may be the daughter of a gentleman and therefore Darcy’s equal, but in Lady Catherine’s mind there was no way that upstart Elizabeth could ever live up to the standards that her sister, Lady Anne, had upheld at Pemberley.
The result of linking Elizabeth’s advantageous marriage to Darcy because of her relationship with Mrs. Collins meant Lady Catherine had nurtured a sizeable grudge and had sent fewer invitations to the Collinses in the past few years.
Whereas before the marriage, Mr. Collins would visit by himself nearly five times a week and the couple was invited to dinner regularly, ever since Darcy had wed Miss Bennet, such invitations had dwindled considerably.
And she often instructed her butler, Jonson, to tell Mr. Collins she was “indisposed.” But today she nodded for Jonson to escort the rector in.
As Mr. Collins waddled into the salon (he had gained quite a bit of weight in the past couple of years, she noted), his hands were clasped together, and his head bobbed in a subservient, albeit not displeasing, manner.
“My dear Lady Catherine,” he gushed, “How good of you to see me.” He bowed before taking a seat on the settee to her right. “I wanted to be the first to share the happy news with you.”
Lady Catherine raised an eyebrow but remained silent.
After a moment, he continued, “I hope you will be as happy to hear my news as I am to deliver it. My dear wife, Charlotte, is expecting our first child! Is that not splendid?”
“Is it?” she asked dryly.
Mr. Collins gave a nervous laugh. “Well…that is…we have been married for nearly five years now without producing any children, and I feared my wife might be…I mean…it was entirely possible she would be unable to give me a child at all. So naturally, we are both enthralled at the prospect of parenthood. I pray for a son, of course, as every good man should, but if it be a girl, we are agreed to name her Catherine after you.” He sat back, panting a bit as though the telling of such news had been nearly more than he could handle.
“I see. And I suppose you would wish for me to become godmother to the girl—should you have one—provide her with a substantial stipend, no doubt, or a fat dowry to attract a good match. I suppose you might even hope for me to leave her a legacy in my will—usurp my own daughter for yours!” Even as she knew her response was less than polite, Lady Catherine could not stop herself from berating the cleric.
“No…I would never presume to…my dear lady, I only wished to share the joyous news…”
“It seems everyone is having children these days!” Lady Catherine spat. “I just heard the wife of my nephew Darcy is expecting—”
“—oh yes, Elizabeth wrote my Charlotte that she is with child again.”
“Do not speak her name in my presence!” Her face was beginning to turn a splotchy red, and her hands clenched the arms of her chair. “Worthless fortune hunter—securing Darcy’s fortune that ought to have been co-joined with my daughter’s!”
“Indeed, what a blessing it would have been to unite Rosings Park and Pemberley,” Mr. Collins said unctuously. “A match made in Heaven. To see your daughter happily wed to—”
“—and instead, she is still on the shelf! At twenty-seven and with her ill health, who will have her now? My dreams of grandchildren decrease by the day. I shall die bereft of the sound of happy children in my home.” She leveled a gaze at her rector. “And. It. Is. All. Your. Fault!”
Mr. Collins swallowed before stammering a reply. “My…my fault? But how?”
“You allowed that young woman to come to Hunsford and visit your wife four years ago. I was hoodwinked into inviting her into my home, showing her condescension far beyond her merit. And what was the result? My nephew fell in love with her instead of my Anne as my sister and I always intended. It is all your fault!”
Mr. Collins’s mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Finally, Lady Catherine stood. He jumped up, still attempting to speak.
“Leave me at once!” Lady Catherine ordered. “I do not wish for your company at present. Nor can I say I ever shall again.” She glared at the hapless cleric, who could do nothing but bow and scuttle out of the room as rapidly as his girth allowed.
Lady Catherine sat down heavily once she was alone. She felt the beginnings of a pain in her temple. She rang the bell on the table to her right. When Jonson entered, she told him to bring her a glass of water and her headache powders. He bowed and hurried to do her bidding.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet—for she still thought of her by that name—you may think your dear friend Charlotte’s life is so fine. But you will see that things can change when you least expect them to.
***
“You are very quiet this evening, my dear,” Charlotte said to her husband as the dishes were cleared away.
She wanted to speak before he could disappear into his study for the remainder of the evening.
Not that she greatly missed his company when he did so.
She had no problem coping with her solitude in this cozy house whenever Mr. Collins absented himself for work or visits around the parish.
Truly, her life was more than she ever could have hoped for when she had accepted Mr. Collins’s hasty marriage proposal.
As she told her friend Lizzy, she was quite content with her situation.
But she found William’s mood this evening disquieting.
He was seldom like this—so taciturn. Indeed, he had hardly spoken a word throughout dinner.
“Is something causing you concern?” she continued. “Perhaps I can help.”
Her husband gave a wan smile and heaved a sigh. “I do not wish to burden you with my troubles, Charlotte.”
“Your troubles are mine as well, of course,” she replied as she rose from the dining table and came over to him.
She took his hand—inwardly cringing a bit at its moist touch to which she had still not become accustomed even after five years of marriage.
“I am your wife, and we are soon to have a child, so of course whatever affects our household should be discussed openly between us. Can you not share what is upsetting you?”
“It is just—well, I had a very discouraging meeting today with Lady Catherine.”
“Oh?” Charlotte led him from the dining room to the front parlor, away from the prying ears of any servants, and pulled him down beside her on the settee. “What made it so? Is she displeased with something you have done?”
“More like displeased with me in general.” Mr. Collins lowered his eyes, unable to meet his wife’s gaze.
“I went to share the news of our impending child. I anticipated she would be pleased—especially at the news that we plan to name a girl after her. Instead, she went into a tirade, accusing me of expecting her to all but adopt the child financially! And then it devolved into her anger over Cousin Elizabeth’s fortunate marriage to Mr. Darcy. She quite blamed you and me for it!”
Charlotte sighed. “Oh dear. I am afraid Lady Catherine simply will not give up on the idea of Mr. Darcy’s divorcing Eliza so she can foist her daughter, Anne, upon him. It is, as you know, her fondest desire.”
“True. But what disturbed me the most was her final statement. As she asked—no, ordered me to depart. She all but said she never wished for my company again!”
“But, she has been similarly upset and said such things before, has she not? Then she forgets her rage and the invitations continue.”
“I have never seen her like this.” Mr. Collins shook his head. “I fear she may ask the bishop for permission to send us packing. After all I have done for her. To be so summarily dismissed! It would be more than I can bear to lose her patronage—the humiliation of it!”
“Well, she has not yet taken that step, nor is she likely to in my opinion,” said Charlotte calmly. After a moment, she added, “However…perhaps…just perhaps it is time for us to consider another path.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mentioned to you that I received a letter from dear Eliza this week, remember?” At her husband’s nod, she continued.
“Well, her father has not yet found a new rector for Longbourn. Mr. Dudley is proving somewhat difficult to replace, likely due to the modest living it affords. However, since there is still an opening and Mr. Bennet is related to you, why should you not take the living there? I am certain we can manage on the budget quite adequately. You know how economical I am with money.”
She watched as an expression of wonder appeared on her husband’s face.
“Indeed, that is quite a sensible idea, my dear. Since I am to inherit Longbourn anyway upon the unhappy occasion of Mr. Bennet’s death, it would be so much simpler to move from the parsonage to the manor.
Plus, the parish would already know me and not resent my becoming the new head of the estate.
I would not be seen as an interloper. And, you would like to be back with your family too, I imagine, as you near your time. ”
“You must write to Mr. Bennet tonight.”
“No. Tomorrow, first thing, I shall take the barouche and catch the Town Coach so that I may visit him in person as soon as possible. But should Lady Catherine ask where I am, you must be circumspect.”
“Of course, my dear. You may depend on me. I shall go pack your bag.”
She kissed him lightly on the cheek and left the room.
***
Mrs. Bennet was in a state of happy anticipation for the day.
For once, she had convinced Lydia to hire a day nurse (of course, it was she who paid for the girl) so they could spend time in Trent without the twins.
She eagerly anticipated the time alone with her youngest daughter and envisioned a lovely walk around the commerce thoroughfare, shopping, and a fine lunch.
She checked her reflection in the mirror a final time, satisfied at what she saw.
The great beauty of her youth was long gone, she had to acknowledge, but she had kept her figure fairly well—even after five girls—and looked quite handsome for her forty-three years, she thought.
She adjusted her new bonnet a final time.
“Mama, are you ready? The carriage is here!” Lydia yelled from downstairs.
“Coming!” Mrs. Bennet called and hurried from her room.
“Boys! Where are you?” Lydia continued. “Come meet Miss Drayson and then say goodbye to Mama and Grandmama.”
Just as Mrs. Bennet reached the top of the staircase, Edward and Gerald bolted out of the nursery, racing each other to the stairs.
Heedless of their grandmother’s location, they ran too closely to her as they rushed down, knocking her off balance.
Unable to right herself, Mrs. Bennet lurched away from the only source of stability—the railing—and with a small shriek, tumbled down the staircase to the bottom where she lay still, her neck at a horrible, unnatural angle.