Chapter 23
Monday morning, the fourteenth day of October, William Collins set off from the parsonage a little before the sky lightened in the east.
Even though he preferred not rising from his bed so early, thanks to his limited funds, he could not afford a night in a coaching inn. Also, the best he could rent was a gig. He had wanted to rent a carriage so the man who had written him that disrespectful letter could see Collins’s consequence.
Collins was confused; he was unsuccessful in his attempt to see his all-wise patroness—he had been turned away from the mansion as he had for some days now—because he needed some of his money for the purpose of renting the carriage he desired.
This money would enable him to stay at an inn for two nights.
As he was to arrive on Monday, he would have departed on Saturday and spent the Sabbath—he had a curate engaged to give the services while he was away—at the inn.
Instead, here he was perched on the seat of an uncovered gig on its way to his birthright. Collins was aware he was larger than most, which meant that he would not look very dignified on the seat of such a small carriage.
All the while, he reminded himself how he was going to teach these Bennet usurpers, who had stolen the Collins’ rightful estate from them, a good lesson when they saw him marry another.
He planned to make sure that he would evict anyone named Bennet from his estate before his cousin’s body was cold in the ground.
That thought kept him warm as the cold wind whipped around his person while they travelled.
At two of the rest stops, Collins paid the fee to swap the horse because he did not want to arrive late. Lady Catherine’s lectures about punctuality rang in his head; therefore, he was determined to arrive at exactly the hour he said he would.
The gig reached the lane outside of Longbourn a half hour before four. Before the coachman could guide the horse past the gateposts, Collins spoke up. “No, we will wait here until I say so,” he insisted.
“It be yir money. A ‘alf crown ta wait.” The man held his hand out.
Collins handed over the coin begrudgingly. He was very short of coin now, so he would have to find a way to get his cousin to advance him some of his future inheritance.
When his fob watch showed five minutes before four, Collins gave the order to drive on.
He liked what he saw of his future estate.
The park was nothing to that at Lady Catherine’s Rosings Park, but it was far larger than the patch of ground of the Collins Farm and made his garden at the parsonage look tiny by comparison.
He saw the swing hanging from the bough of an ancient oak tree.
He smiled at the thought that he would soon force any Bennet from his land.
It would be a Collins who used that swing in the future, not a Bennet!
As they rounded a gentle bend in the gravel-covered drive, the house came into view.
Of course, it was nothing to Rosings Park’s mansion, but it was many times larger than any house in which William Collins had ever resided.
It rose up three storeys, built with a beige or light brown stone and the facade was covered by ivy.
At least, someone had made sure that the area around each window was ivy-free.
The ivy would be one of the first things to go.
Rosings Park had none on its structure because Lady Catherine found it untidy and classless.
“Mr Collins,” she had said one day, “no house of note which belongs to someone of rank has ivy on the wall.” Like most of her advice and pronouncements, her words had stuck with Collins.
If Lady Catherine would not allow the vines on her walls, then, following her wisdom, as he always did, Collins would not permit it on the walls of his house.
His mood changed significantly when he noted that not one of the residents was waiting for him in the drive.
He was a clergyman; how could they disrespect him in such a blatant fashion?
Before he could yell about the disrespect as he had wanted to do, two of the largest men Collins had ever seen came to stand near the front door.
Collins shook with fear at seeing them. His father had been a large man, but these two men made his father look small.
He had not forgotten the education he had received from his father’s fists and boots.
If his father had done that, what would these men be able to do?
He began to sweat profusely as the memories of his father’s true nature intruded, not the ones he had tried to replace them with.
How he wished he had some food at that moment; eating always calmed him.
With the huge men watching him, Collins said not a word about his absent cousins.
He would not dare to ask one of them to assist him, so Collins stood and turned as he grabbed the handle and tried to climb down.
He was sweating so much that half-way down he removed his handkerchief from his pocket and began to attempt to mop his brow.
Before long, the item was soaked with his sweat and was no longer useful.
The driver jumped down and removed the lashing which had been holding Collins’s trunk in place.
He watched as one of the two men stepped forward and lifted his trunk as if it weighed nothing. Just then the front door opened. An older man stepped out. Collins was about to ask him if the man was his cousin, but he was spared that embarrassment when the man spoke first.
“Mr Collins, I am Mr Hill, the butler. If you follow me, I will show you to your chamber so you may wash and change from the road. Biggs here,” Hill inclined his head to the footman-guard, “will make sure your trunk reaches your chamber.”
“When will I see my cousins?” Collins asked nervously, still eyeing the man holding his trunk like it was a toy.
“Mr Bennet and his daughters will see you in the drawing room. Once you are ready, exit your chamber and Johns here,” Hill nodded to the mentioned man, “will show you to the relevant room.”
As fearful as he was of the huge men, Collins said nothing. The last thing he wanted to do was to anger one of them. All he did was nod.
The drawing room in question had a good view of the drive. Kate and Lydia were watching and reporting what they saw back to their family. When their father’s cousin was no longer visible, the two youngest Bennets turned to face their father and sisters.
“He is as round as he is tall. The most corpulent person I have ever seen,” Lydia reported. “He could not stop sweating once he saw John and Brian.”
“Now Miss Lyddie, you know we do not speak so,” Mrs Dudley reprimanded.
“Even if it is true?” Lydia queried with a wide smile.
“Lyddie, some things are better unsaid,” Bennet stated, even as he fought to keep a grin from his face.
“Lyddie’s description was very accurate,” Kate said in support of her younger sister. She was very protective of her younger sister who followed her example closely.
“That may be, but we will not comment on his girth in his company, will we?” Jane stated as she looked at each younger sister in turn. Jane was not overjoyed that the arrival of their cousin had made it so their friends would not call this day.
A little after two that afternoon a note from Lulu had been delivered telling Jane that Mr Bingley had just returned to his leased estate.
Due to their knowing that the Bennets were expecting a guest to arrive, those at Netherfield Park would not call until the morrow.
It had been almost a full week since Mr Bingley had taken the youngest Miss Bingley away, and Jane was missing him far more than she expected.
Another sister who did not like that their distant cousin had interfered with calls was Elizabeth.
In the days since Mr Darcy had returned to the area with his sister and cousin, either those residing at Netherfield Park or the residents of Longbourn had called at the other’s estate daily.
Elizabeth remembered how nervous Anna had been on the day after she had told all to Kate and Lyddie, and per her request, they had disclosed all to her.
It had taken Anna a moment to realise that no one blamed her and thought no less of her because of being the target of such concentrated manipulation.
It was after she saw that she was not looked down upon by any of them that Anna had asked Jane, Mary, and herself to address her informally, something they had all agreed to and reciprocated.
The only two Elizabeth blamed were the dastardly Mrs Younge and Mr Wickham. If she ever came across them, she would love to set John and Brian on them and watch them squirm.
When Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam told what would occur with the libertine when he was apprehended, not one Bennet had felt bad for what the man would have to face.
Elizabeth could not help but smile when she thought about Mr Darcy, and more specifically, the Colonel; not for herself, but for Mary.
Mary found she loved speaking of military matters with Colonel Fitzwilliam.
She had always been interested in the subject and had studied the history of many past battles.
She enjoyed that Colonel Fitzwilliam spoke to her as an intelligent being, not as some fragile woman who needed her sensibilities protected.
For his part, Bennet was missing Miss Louisa Bingley.
They were in the middle of a hard-fought game of chess, and as he was only one up in wins, Bennet’s competitive nature wanted to win this game.
His thoughts of this very pleasant topic faded away when the drawing room door was pushed open, and Bennet discovered that Kate and Lydia had in no way exaggerated regarding Mr Collins’s girth.