Chapter 33
Mr. Collins sat in his rented rooms above a public house in Meryton, staring out the grimy windows.
As his wife had predicted, the accommodation he could afford was only minimally furnished.
But aside from the desk, a couple of chairs, and a bed for the occasional nap, what more did he need?
The chimney did not draw well, so the fireplace smoked a bit, and that was vexing.
But he reasoned he would not be using it much longer.
Not only was the weather getting warmer, but he had every confidence that he would soon hear from Mr. Yarby’s former employer and learn something that would be so scandalous, Mr. Bennet or the bishop would see no alternative but to fire him.
With him would go his sister, eliminating any chance of Mr. Bennet fathering a son at his late age.
That, Mr. Collins thought, would secure Longbourn for himself and his new son.
In addition, Mr. Collins believed he could likely persuade Mr. Bennet to let him step into the vacancy as the Longbourn rector until he inherited.
Newly refurbished and with well-working fireplaces, the cozy parsonage would no doubt make Charlotte quite content to move from her parent’s home.
Having already finished reworking his sermon for next Sunday, Mr. Collins was a bit bored.
However, he did not wish to walk back to Lucas Lodge quite yet.
Since he was paying good money for these rooms, he felt a strong obligation to spend as much time in them as he could even though the view was minimal and the noise from downstairs occasionally excessive.
In addition, he and Charlotte were getting along poorly of late.
She had refused to come see his rooms, saying she could not imagine a reason to do so.
And at Lucas Lodge, every time an issue came up or he made a helpful suggestion on a better way to do things there, Charlotte would side with her parents, which hurt his pride.
She should take her husband’s side, of course!
In addition, Lady Lucas had begun to insinuated herself into every aspect of caring for young Alexander, which annoyed him.
Another reason to find a better position and start anew with his family.
However, the job situation was looking bleak.
He had sent applications to a few parishes where he had gotten word of a possible vacancy, but he had been thrice rejected, which stung.
There was but one opening left for which he had applied: in the village of Haswell in County Durham.
He almost hoped he would not get it. It was small, quite far north, and appeared to have little to offer in the way of diversions, from what he could tell.
Dull farmers and shopkeepers for the most part, he mused—how tedious their society would be.
Such a step down from the elegant rooms at Rosings Manor.
The salary would also be quite modest—just thirty pounds above his current earnings.
The more he thought about his situation, the more imposed upon he felt.
Thinking an ale would lift his spirits, he decided to go downstairs to the tavern below his room.
Maybe that cute little serving girl—what was her name?
Oh yes, Nancy—was working this afternoon.
Curly red hair, freckles, and a saucy manner to match.
She had definitely flirted with him the other evening.
Though initially he thought she might have done so only in hopes of a nice tip, he reflected now that there was likely more to it, that she probably did find him of interest. He had never seen her in church that he could recall.
Perhaps, he mused, he could offer to privately counsel her on the importance of a relationship with our Lord.
As one of the local ministers, it would only be the proper thing to help bring her closer to God.
Yes, he would greatly enjoy discussions with her.
Checking himself in the small mirror, he brushed his hair, then proceeded downstairs.
***
March 2
Dear Mrs. Withers,
You will, I hope, remember me from our meeting at the funeral of my mother, Mrs. Bennet, at Longbourn. I am writing you now in the hopes of healing the problems that recently arose at Longbourn House.
My sister and your friend—Mary—has been staying with us at Pemberley estate in Derbyshire since what I understand to have been a terribly sad incident some weeks ago, resulting in pain to parties other than herself.
Mary has taken my husband’s sister, Miss Darcy, into her confidence and related a day where she overheard you and your brothers discussing Mary’s attempts to improve and deepen her relationship with Mr. Yarby through scripture study.
Indeed, she said you were all ridiculing her for this.
I do not write those words to chastise you but to help explain her actions afterwards.
You are, no doubt, aware of the untruthful stories she told her father about you and your brother.
These were a direct result of her pain and humiliation, and they were said with an intention to drive you both away in order to salvage her hurt feelings as she found herself unable to be in your company any longer.
Yet, Mary now regrets her actions, and I am certain you realize how out of character they were for her. She knows she has caused pain not only to you but also to our dear father, and she is most sincerely remorseful.
But even yet, Mary is too ashamed to return to Longbourn and put things to right.
Her humiliation over hearing your comments seems to have shifted into a shame about her own behavior, and at this point, she has not the courage to confront it.
I am hopeful that, with gentle persuasion by Miss Darcy and me, her feelings will change, although how quickly, I cannot guess.
Miss Darcy also has informed me of another incident of which I must write.
Upon receipt, Mary burned your recent letter to her without reading it, so whatever message you were trying to communicate was unsuccessful.
She apparently vows to burn any future letters, so it seems there is no use for you to write again.
Pray forgive me for perhaps intruding in these matters, but my interference is kindly meant.
We all love Mary, and nothing would make us happier than to see everything settled among all of you so that Mary will be able to return to Longbourn again, free of shame and, hopefully, to renew her friendship with you and your brother. However, it may yet take some time.
I give you permission to share this letter with my father, Mr. Bennet, so that he may be assured the rumors about you are just that—taradiddles that are wholly without foundation.
Yours most sincerely,
Elizabeth Darcy
***
“I can scarce believe it!” declared Mr. Bennet upon reading his daughter’s letter that Amelia brought to him.
Initially, he was somewhat suspicious that it was a forgery, or some attempt by the Yarby family to deceive him, but it was clearly written in Lizzy’s hand.
Furthermore, after Amelia recounted her and Mr. Yarby’s new knowledge from their maid of Mary’s visit and their belief in the conversation Mary overheard, he was convinced.
He sat back in his desk chair and studied Amelia ruefully.
“You were telling me the truth all along. I should have known you would not lie to me.”
“Yes, but I am afraid the truth has also revealed a side of my family that is not very flattering. We should not have made sport of Kitty’s attempts to endear herself to Robert.
I can only say in our defense that we had been drinking—perhaps, a bit too much dandelion wine—and that, plus the warm weather, loosened our tongues as well as our sense of good manners and propriety.
Please forgive me, Eugene. I am truly quite fond of Kitty, you know. ”
“It is I who should ask for your forgiveness, Amelia. I was too quick to believe the stories my daughter told, as outlandish as they seemed to me at the time. I should have shown better judgment and had all of us sit down together. Then, we could have sorted out this misunderstanding with fewer tears and heartache.” He reached for her hand.
“Can you excuse my behavior and believe that I do love you, despite the doubts I exhibited?”
“Any father would likely side with his child over someone he has known less than a year; it is only natural. I bear no ill will towards you or Mary, be assured. I am only happy we have cleared up everything at last.”
Mr. Bennet glanced down at the letter again, his face showing his dismay. “To tell such falsehoods! It is so very unlike my daughter. She prides herself on always being truthful, you know.”
“To a fault,” Amelia said, and the two shared a small chuckle.
“But please do not be too harsh with her. She was just so terribly hurt and betrayed by what she overheard—what she believed. To her, convincing you that I was a fortune hunter seemed the only solution and the best way to rid herself of us. And Mrs. Darcy does write that Mary now feels great remorse over her actions.”
“Although, she does not yet have the courage to confront those she has lied about and beg their forgiveness.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face, considering.
“Well. What to do now? Lizzy writes Mary burned your last letter. It seems I must travel to Pemberley to speak to her and set things to right.”
“My brother and I discussed this long into the night, trying to decide whether I should go to her or ask you to do so. In the end, Robert decided he would speak to Mary as her pastor and…friend. He left early this morning, in fact, and has every hope of bringing Mary home within a week’s time.”
“Will she even speak to him once he gets there?”
“I believe so. She is quite fond of him, you know.”
“Yes, but now she must face the heartache that those feelings are not returned, must she not? That will be another painful trial for her.”
Amelia smiled and clasped Mr. Bennet’s hands. “Oh, I think we may all soon learn that Robert’s feeling are not quite what most people, including Mary herself, may think.”