Chapter 35
Dear Sir,
The disagreement that subsisted between you and my late father, of which I learnt after his death, I regret, did not give me much uneasiness, as I had the misfortune to lose his regard early in my life.
I have long wished to heal the breach caused by him but have been kept back by my doubts, fearing it might seem disrespectful to you, considering him to have been a most detestable relation.
My mind, however, is now made up on the subject for, having received ordination at Easter, I have been so fortunate as to be distinguished by the patronage of the Right Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh, whose bounty and beneficence has preferred me to the valuable rectory of this parish where it shall be my earnest endeavour to, with grateful respect towards her ladyship, be ever ready to perform those rites and ceremonies which the Church of England institutes. As a clergyman, I feel it is my duty to promote and establish the blessing of peace in all families within the reach of my influence; and on these grounds, that the circumstance of my having been next in line by the entail of Longbourn estate be overlooked by your side, and not lead you to reject the offered olive branch.
I cannot be otherwise than concerned at being the means of injuring your amiable daughters and beg leave to apologise for it, as well as to assure you of my readiness to make them every amend. If you should have no objection to receiving me into your house, I propose myself the satisfaction of waiting on you and your family Monday, the eleventh of November, by four o’clock and shall probably trespass on your hospitality till the Saturday se’nnight following.
I remain, dear sir, with respectful compliments to your lady and daughters, your well-wisher and friend,
William Collins
Lady Catherine handed the letter back to Mr Collins.
“Much better, Mr Collins. Although you continue to write five words where two would do, this third attempt is a vast improvement.”
“I adhere strictly to your ladyship’s guidance. Did you not advise that one cannot expect to excel if one does not practise a good deal?”
“I did indeed.” Her grin nearly revealed her jest. “Am I to imagine you offer such a delicate compliment so that I may find it acceptable?”
Mr Collins coughed. Continuing his patroness’s line, he replied, “These are the little things which I find please her ladyship, as it is a sort of attention which I conceive myself particularly bound to pay.”
Lady Catherine snorted. “Particularly bound to pay?”
Mr Collins gave up the ghost. With his hands on his belly, he gave in to his laughter. “My lady, the victory is once again yours.”
“Thank you, Mr Collins. You are a welcome opponent.” She set down her teacup. “The Bennets are your only remaining family. They shall be delighted to receive you. I am very happy for you to know our friends.”
“As am I, your ladyship.”
On November 11, at precisely the hour of four, a small gig arrived at the Longbourn portico. The driver quickly dismounted and deposited a trunk upon the drive. He was on his way before the dust settled, leaving behind a tall, dark-haired, sombre-looking young man in parson’s clothing. The Bennets, less the two eldest, waited to greet their distant cousin. Legget stood off in the shadow cast by the manor. Bennet hoped this Collins was unlike his father and grandfather.
The young man approached. “William Collins, at your service.”
Bennet returned his greeting and introduced his family. The formalities completed, he and Mr Collins followed the ladies inside; Bennet signalled to Legget all was well.
“How were the roads, Mr Collins?” asked Mrs Bennet. “The weather has cooperated for your journey.”
“Yes. Providence has seen to our meeting.” He cleared his throat. “Lady Catherine de Bourgh has charged me to present her very best wishes for our visit together. I quote, ‘God sets the solitary in families’.”
“Psalm 68:6,” said Mary.
Mr Collins inclined his head towards her. “Miss Mary, that is very good of you.”
His letter, although sensible, indicated a propensity towards verbosity. This young man is anything but. He was about to prod his cousin when he spied him surreptitiously steal a glance at Mary a second time. Interesting, that.
At dinner, Mr Collins told of his education and his acceptance of the living at Hunsford upon receipt of his ordination. He described his duties with passion and piety.
“What a fortunate situation you enjoy, Mr Collins,” replied Mrs Bennet, her sincerity genuine.
“Yes, madam. I cannot think of anything that could induce me to alter such an advantageous situation.” He looked directly at Bennet as he spoke.
As the family continued to pepper Mr Collins with questions—from his interpretations of a certain Bible passage to the fashions of his patroness—he dined and answered each in turn. Bennet played with his food throughout, pondering the ‘advantageous situation’ remark. What did he mean by that? Nothing could induce him to resign his living?
Philips had shown him the court’s acceptance of their petition to break the entail; Longbourn was now a fee simple estate and not a fee tail. Mr William Collins was no longer in the inheritance chain.
I shall beard that lion with my brother Philips.
The three men gathered in Longbourn’s book-room the following day.
“Cousin Bennet, I thank you for allowing me to visit with my only remaining family,” said Mr Collins.
“We are thankful to Lady Catherine on many levels,” Bennet leant back on his seat, steepling his fingers as he peered at his cousin. “Mr Collins, apparently I misinterpreted your olive branch regarding your belief you were to inherit.”
Mr Collins sat back in his chair, looking perplexed. He glanced at Bennet and Philips as if searching for clues. “I am blessed to have cast off my situation as an orphan.” He turned to the solicitor. “I understand I have you to thank.”
Bennet looked at Philips, who seemed confused as he was.
“Mr Collins, what do you speak of?” asked Philips.
“You wrote to Mr Gardiner, did you not?” asked Mr Collins.
“Yes, about the Chancery Court’s denial of our petition,” Philips replied.
“Then you know not of Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s intercession?”
Philips turned to Bennet. “Is this related to that business with the barristers that conspired against Andrew Gardiner?
“It is.” He ran through the sequence of events as he understood them. Mr Collins interjected a detail here and there.
“Well,” remarked Philips. “This has been quite the adventure, I daresay. Have we uncovered everything unknown heretofore?”
Mr Collins looked bewildered as his head pivoted back and forth between the two men. “I thought you knew.” He squared his shoulders. “I am here to repudiate any and all future consideration as heir.”
Bennet knew not what to say. “But it is unnecessary.”
“I understand that now. Yet, even if it is ceremonial, I would like to do so. The Almighty has reunited us and I am ever thankful.”
Bennet looked at Philips. The man was speechless. Mr Collins looked at the ceiling a moment, as if searching the heavens. “I believe you might have imagined I was here to choose one of my cousins as a wife?”
“Yes, I did,” admitted Bennet.
“I would consider myself blessed to do so, though as I do not yet know the ladies very well, it would seem premature to select one to wed.”
“Let us defer such a topic until a later date.”
Mr Collins shook his head. He looked down, his shoulders hunching forward. “Today, and only today, I shall speak of my childhood, so you may sketch my character.”
When he looked up, his expression was forlorn. “I understand you knew Josiah Collins to be cruel. I am doubtful you understood the depths of his depravity. My drunken father importuned a tavern girl. The parish rallied to her care. God forgive me for saying this, but thankfully, she died giving me life. In so doing, she escaped living in purgatory. I did not.”
Philips drained his port, then grabbed Bennet’s glass and drained his.
“My father barely tolerated me. I disgusted him. He saw me as weak and perceived himself as strong. He cared not whether I lived or died. The only thing he understood was brutality.”
Bennet extended a glass with port to the young man. “Please. For our sakes.” He took the glass and continued speaking.
“Once I could walk, I never knew a day without the feel of his heavy hand or the cruelty of his words. He thought me lacking as his heir—a pitiful, insipid son. To assuage his temper, I learnt subservience, placidity, and, when possible, invisibility. I whispered ten passive words rather than two or three direct ones. It was how I answered each angry bellow. I lived in fear, but I survived. Then one day, he beat me so badly, I awoke to find myself in the infirmary at Marylebone House.”
Bennet shook his head, disgusted and nauseated. He knew Josiah Collins had been a poor human being, but this was unconscionable. A sound from the doorway made all three men turn round. Mary stood with a tea tray in hand, her pale face attesting to the fact that she had heard Mr Collins’s recitation. Bennet stood and went to her at once. Gently taking the tea tray, he urged her to go back to her mother, whispering that Mr Collins no longer had anything to fear.
“How could such evil exist in the world, Papa?”
“I cannot answer that,” he replied, walking with her down the corridor. “I can only urge you to counter such badness with good deeds. We are lucky to know many who do just that.”
On his return to his study Philips informed him, “Collins has retired. He wished you a good evening.”
“I must speak to Franny. I am sure she would agree we should offer Mr Collins some assistance.”
Philips welcomed Bennet and Mr Collins into his office two days later. “Collins, we have much to review. This meeting is legal in nature and will matter to the Longbourn estate and its tenantry.”
Mr Collins sat back in his chair, appearing confused.
“Mr Collins, the Bennets desire to assist you in your chosen profession.”
“Cousin Bennet, that is not necessary,” the cleric replied immediately.
“Necessary it may not be, but desirous it is,” Bennet replied.
Philips read from the document to his front. “Mr William Collins will receive the following legacy in perpetuity until his death.” He glanced at Mr Collins, saying, “You are named grantee,” before looking back at the document to read aloud. “Grantee will receive the sum of a thirty-pound quarterly allowance to a future named account accessible to the grantee and any he deems as a surrogate.
“Grantee is not entitled to request advances upon the allowance nor to request additional financial assistance from the grantor. Grantee may not request restitution of any funds should he or a surrogate misplace, lose, or act errantly regarding the allowance.
“Grantee allowance will begin in the year of our Lord 1811 and be delivered each quarter day. Grantee allowance will end upon his death or upon his failure to withdraw funds three-quarters consecutively.
“Grantee will employ a local solicitor in his home county. The grantor’s legal representation must approve the grantee’s choice. Any communication between the grantor and the grantee regarding the allowance must transpire between the solicitors to be considered valid and binding.”
Philips looked at Mr Collins, who looked pensive. “Questions, young man?”
“The allowance is quite generous. I find it hard to accept such largesse.”
“Yet, you shall,” countered Bennet. “This is your family’s preference, and the estate can afford to support you in this manner.”
“This amount is more than adequate for the time being. Do you foresee a change in your circumstances?” queried Philips. “Do you foresee taking on a wife? Having children? Growing a family?”
“I believe that is a topic to be discussed in the future between myself and Cousin Bennet,” Mr Collins replied quietly. Bennet remained silent.
“Fine. Let us continue.” Philips nodded to Bennet before explaining the final terms of the legacy and again asking whether Mr Collins had questions.
“None.”
Bennet and Mr Collins signed the agreement. Philips completed the documentation and sanded all the signatures before rolling each document separately. “I shall produce two more copies for signatures in the morning,” he advised.
Bennet stood and nodded at Mr Collins. “We have completed our business. When we next meet, it would please me to know more of your life at Hunsford.”
Mr Collins stood as well. “Thank you, Cousin Bennet. I shall do just that. Mr Philips, I also thank you. Good day to you both.” He closed the door behind him.
Bennet sighed. “I believe the young man may have designs on one of my daughters.”
“He is an agreeable young man with a bright future and good connexions. Have you any objections?”
“I can think of none at this time.” Bennet extended his hand to Philips. “Thank you. I shall inform Franny we have met her wishes.”