Chapter 4
“Mr. Collins is here, sir. Shall I tell him you are too grief-stricken to see him?” Mrs. Hill spoke hopefully but softly, knowing that the rector who would one day claim Longbourn as his own—and perhaps be her new employer—was waiting just outside the book room in the entry hall.
“Thank you, Hill, but I suppose I must allow him in. He has come, no doubt, to condole with me about Mrs. Bennet’s death. Although how he heard of it so soon, I cannot imagine.”
“Sir William Lucas, would be my guess,” she grumbled.
Mr. Bennet sighed. “Yes, he likely sent an express as soon as he learned the news. Very well then, send Mr. Collins in. But do not bring tea unless I call for it. I hope his condolences will be brief, and I am reluctant to extend his visit with courtesies.”
Mrs. Hill nodded, then opened the door and gestured to the waiting rector to enter.
“Mr. Bennet, my good sir, how lovely to see you again!” Mr. Collins burst past Mrs. Hill with a hearty voice and took Mr. Bennet’s outstretched hand firmly, pumping it several times. “How are you? You look very well indeed!”
“I am…as well as can be expected, Mr. Collins.” Mr. Bennet was a bit startled at the effusiveness of the greeting. “It is good of you to call.” He gestured to a chair for Mr. Collins and took his own chair behind his desk.
Mr. Collins plopped down and continued his exuberant address. “Well, as I told my dear Charlotte, it has been far too long since I have visited you all here at Longbourn. I am delighted to return, although I hope my unannounced visit is not inconvenient.”
Mr. Bennet paused, trying to decipher the man’s meaning. “Oh, no. No advance notice was necessary. I suppose I should have expected you by now.”
“Oh, indeed—I am glad to hear you were thinking of me at this time.” Mr. Collins give Mr. Bennet a wink, beaming with happiness.
Then his expression turned serious, and he bowed his head, shaking it slowly as he continued.
“Such a loss for the whole parish—a good old soul, depend upon it. Although getting on in years. It was not to be completely unexpected, I suppose.”
Mr. Bennet, a good fifteen years older than his late wife, did not know just how to respond. He was feeling more and more confounded and insulted by his babbling guest who continued on without waiting for a response.
“Indeed, I do not know why I did not contact you as soon as I heard of your loss.” Mr. Collins gave another wink.
“But”—Mr. Bennet paused once more, even more perplexed—“did you not? I mean…here you are now. And it only occurred two days ago, after all.”
Mr. Collins gave a start. “But…I was under the impression the tragic loss took place a month ago.”
“A month? She had only been north a little more than two weeks.”
“She? North? My dear Mr. Bennet, of whom are you speaking?”
“My wife, of course! Of whom are you speaking?”
“Why, the reverend Mr. Dudley who passed away a month or more ago. My dear wife informs me that you have not yet filled the position, so I hurried here to assure you of my willingness to step in.”
“I see. So you did not come here today to condole with me upon the passing of Mrs. Bennet?” Mr. Bennet said slowly.
He watched as Mr. Collins finally seemed fully aware of the situation and began to stammer in embarrassment.
“Mrs. Bennet? She has…died?” He fumbled in his coat for a handkerchief and mopped a damp brow.
“How on earth…that is…no—I had no idea of your loss! My dear Mr. Bennet, I never would have broached the subject of the open position at Longbourn parish had I known. Please forgive me my rudeness—to discuss business affairs at such a time. I am utterly mortified. It sprang entirely from ignorance of your situation, I assure you. I am quite grieved to hear of Mrs. Bennet’s sudden death—excessively grieved, indeed.
How on earth did this tragedy occur?” He bowed his head, then mopped his face again.
Finally able to comprehend his cousin’s bizarre behavior, Mr. Bennet sucked in a slow breath.
“That is perfectly all right, Mr. Collins. I can see from whence the confusion arose. It did cross my mind that Sir William had notified you of the accident, which accounted for your swift arrival. But, of course, that would be quite remarkable since word of her death only reached me yesterday. My wife had a fall while visiting our daughter Lydia. The funeral is set for three days from now after Lydia, Lizzy, Jane, and their families arrive.”
“You are too kind to speak of forgiveness, but no, my manners were reprehensible. How can I possibly make it up to you, my dear, dear Mr. Bennet?”
His host sighed. “Do not be hard on yourself, sir. Be assured that I accept your apology.” “Thank you. I am so grateful.” Mr. Collins’s face brightened.
“Oh—but I can still be of assistance. Since the living here is vacant, I shall be more than happy to step up and conduct Mrs. Bennet’s funeral service.
It will also give you a good idea of the kind of stirring sermon I am capable of when I am rector here and assure you of the good sense of hiring me. ”
Mr. Bennet tried to hide a smile. “I do not have the pleasure of understanding you, Mr. Collins—hire you? Do you mean to say you would quit Hunsford? You would leave the patronage of the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh? I thought you were well situated there. Has something gone amiss?” He watched, amused, as his cousin’s face turned a blotchy red from embarrassment.
“Well…as I said, I heard there is a vacancy here. And my dear Charlotte is expecting our first child; she wishes to be closer to her mother and father. So, even though the living at Longbourn is less than I am accustomed to, we thought—that is, it seemed the best course of action to offer…”
“I see. However, I fear I must disappoint you. The position has recently been filled.” Mr. Bennet rose, put his hand on Mr. Collins’s arm to guide him out of the chair, and began to steer him from the library towards the front door.
“You are, of course, most welcome to attend the service along with your in-laws, the Lucases. However, your services in the pulpit will not be needed. Mr. Yarby will be more than capable, I have no doubt.”
A painfully desperate look washed over Mr. Collins’s face. “But…that is…is it absolutely finalized, Mr. Bennet? I was so hoping to start anew with my family here—”
“Quite settled.” Mr. Bennet nodded as he opened the front door. “Well! I have much to deal with at this time; I am sure you understand. Thank you for calling, Mr. Collins—good day.”
With a final pat on the back, Mr. Bennet shoved his guest out of Longbourn, closing the door firmly behind him.
***
That afternoon, Mary was resting in her room when she heard a soft knock at the door.
“Come in.” Expecting Mrs. Hill, or perhaps even her father, she was surprised and pleased to see Mrs. Withers enter her room. Mary quickly scooted off her bed where she had been curled up, tried to smooth her now-rumpled dress, and put on her spectacles.
“Oh! I did not expect you, Mrs. Withers. Why did Hill not come for me?”
“Forgive me the intrusion, Miss Bennet, but my brother and I were visiting with your father and sister. When I did not see you, I asked Hill whether I could just slip up to check on you. The parlor is quite full of people just now, come to offer their sympathies.”
“Yes, word has reached most people in the village by now. I…I suppose I should go down to meet our guests. It would only be proper.”
“Kitty and your father are managing.”
Anguish washed over Mary as she spoke bitterly. “Naturally. I am not needed. Why should anyone wish to speak to me, after all?”
Mrs. Withers crossed quickly to Mary and took her hands in her own.
“Oh, that was not my meaning at all! Pray forgive me for distressing you.” She guided Mary to sit beside her on the bed. “I only meant you should go down when you feel up to it. I am certain your presence is greatly missed.”
Mary shook her head sadly. “And I am every bit as certain no one has even noticed my absence. You are too new to the area to know yet, but I am the unseen Bennet sister.”
Mary fumbled in her dress pocket for a handkerchief, wiped her eyes, and blew her nose. “Forgive me; I am quite ashamed of my outburst. The sharing of my emotions is ill-timed just now. My thoughts should be on Papa, Kitty, and the others—not on myself.”
“You may be assured of my discretion. As for your comments…well, doubtless it is the tremendous stress you feel. Certainly, once you are past the shock of it all, happier memories will surface to comfort you.”
Mary gave her a wry look. “Your optimism is duly noted.” She made an exasperated noise and shook herself. “Enough! I must go and do my duty as my father’s daughter. Shall we go together?” She began to move towards the door when Mrs. Withers gently put a hand out and stopped her.
“Will…will you allow me to assist you with your hair before we leave, Miss Bennet? It is a bit mussed from lying down. You wish to look your best, I am sure.”
Mary gave her companion a long look. “As if anyone would notice. Besides, does not the holy book warn against vanity? Our focus should be on higher things.”
Mrs. Withers simply smiled, steered Mary to the dressing table, and made her sit. Before Mary could say another word, the widow had undone her hair and was combing out the tangles. As she brushed and arranged Mary’s tresses, she kept up a quiet conversation.
“While undue vanity is a sin, I believe there is nothing wrong with trying to look our best while in this world. After all, does not our Lord wish all his creatures to be at their best? Why did he make flowers so lovely if they were not to be admired? I see no reason not to make the most of our physical gifts. No one would ever call me a great beauty, but I still do what I can with what the good Lord gifted me.” After pulling back most of Mary’s hair and securing it a bit loosely, she took the remainder and began to braid two thin side plaits and pin them in loops that framed Mary’s narrow face.
“Oh—I do not wear it that way,” Mary protested.
“But it will flatter your face—just watch.”
Too tired to argue, Mary let her continue.
When Mrs. Withers was done, Mary studied her reflection.
She had always just pulled her hair back somewhat severely from her face, never making the most of its natural wavy tendencies.
But now she saw how this new style softened her features.
Heavens! It made her look—well, if not handsome exactly—at least a little less plain.
“Oh my,” she whispered, leaning forward to see every detail in the mirror. “I look quite different…”
Mrs. Withers beamed. “You see? I did not have time to do anything very elaborate, but I think it quite pretty. Does that not give you a bit more courage to face the world?”
Mary blinked back tears, reached up, and clutched her friend’s hand.
“It does. Thank you.”
Together, they descended the stairs and entered the formal parlor. If anyone noticed Mary’s new appearance, the only one to comment was Kitty, who stared at her briefly before blurting out, “Good heavens, what have you done with your hair?”
Unable to think of a reply, Mary felt a surge of relief when Mrs. Withers, standing nearby, came to her rescue again.
“Is it not lovely? Your sister had truly been hiding her beautiful hair like a light under a bushel as it says in the Bible—but no longer.”
Stunned by all the attention, Mary allowed Mrs. Withers to take her by the arm and walk her towards a group of visitors.
“Do be so kind as to introduce me to your guests, Miss Bennet,” Mrs. Withers said in a low voice. “I am so eager to meet all who are a part of Robert’s new parish.”
The mention of the handsome rector gave Mary a brief start.
Had he noticed how well she looked? She quickly gazed across the room where Mr. Yarby was speaking with her father.
The rector glanced up and smiled before returning to his conversation.
The briefest of looks—but Mary felt her heart swell.
Then she found herself introducing Mrs. Withers to her aunt and uncle Phillips.
***
That evening, as she prepared for bed, Mary was reluctant to comb out her hair.
She studied it again carefully, hopeful that she could somewhat replicate it in the morning.
Or she might ask Sarah, the underhousemaid, for help.
Sarah often had acted as a lady’s maid to Mrs. Bennet, so she could certainly manage the new style, Mary thought.
It had always been her desire to avoid vanity and eschew any great consideration to her looks, but now… she felt somewhat differently about it.
Mary braided her hair into one long plait, changed into her nightclothes, and said her nightly prayers. Would it be conceited to ask the Lord to have Mr. Yarby pay her a bit of attention? She concluded it probably would be.
But she added it to her prayers just the same.