Chapter 9
Longbourn
“No, Mr. Collins! You cannot stay at Longbourn! Do you not understand, sir, that the house is in mourning? It would be decidedly improper for you to reside here.”
Fortunately, my uncle Philips came up at that moment. Mr. Collins was standing on the portico, demanding entry to the house. James stood with me, his face impassive—my bulwark against Collins’s intrusion.
“Mr. Collins, why are you here?” Mr. Philips addressed the man in the sharp, clipped tone he normally reserved for questioning witnesses at the Assizes in St. Albans. “Miss Bennet has the right of it. You cannot stay at Longbourn.”
“But it is my estate! I am the heir—the master; it is my right to live in my own house.” His voice was petulant, whining. I recalled that his voice had always been harsh, grating. It must be painful for his parishioners to sit through a hectoring sermon given by the man.
“Had you come for the funeral—as heir to the estate, as was your duty—then my wife and I would have offered you accommodation in our own home.” My uncle looked severely at the man.
He was a distant cousin to Mr. Bennet, next in line to inherit under the entail.
Indeed, it was extremely disrespectful for him to come now; he should have been present at Papa’s funeral, held three days before.
My uncle Gardiner from London had attended, having left his wife and children, who were all suffering from a fever—not severe, but such could turn worse at any time. Even he, despite his anxiety for his family, wished to pay his respects to Mr. Bennet.
Hattie, Mr. Gardiner’s elder sister—my mother being the younger—urged him to return to London immediately after the funeral.
“The living are more important than those who have passed, Edward,” she said, embracing him.
“Fanny has Elizabeth and me—she would wish you and your family well above all else.”
Mr. Collins continued to protest. “B—but Lady Catherine said I must remain at Hunsford for matins. She had selected passages from the Scriptures which she declared could not possibly be delivered with any coherence by the verger. I was forced to delay my journey to Monday, for I also took evensong.”
Mr. Philips looked disgustedly at Collins.
“Did I hear you correctly, sir, that you failed to attend Mr. Bennet’s funeral, the very man to whom you owe the estate, because your patroness—what is her name, Lady Bonehead?
—wished you to read the scriptures rather than have a verger read them? You offend me, Mr. Collins.”
He turned away. “Lizzy, I take it the other gentlemen have arrived for the reading of the will?”
I nodded; they were assembled in the parlour. In truth, I had left Mama with them alone for too long, having been obliged to deal with Mr. Collins. He had no part in the reading of the will, since his inheritance arose from the entail, and not from any bequest by Mr. Bennet.
“Leave your valise here, Mr. Collins, for collection on your departure,” Mr. Philips said.
“Since you have come in time for the reading, I will allow you to sit with us. I believe you will find it illuminating, and, given your tardiness in paying your respects to the household, your reward well-deserved.”
“Mrs. Bennet, Miss Bennet, Sir William, gentlemen.” Mr. Philips acknowledged the occupants of the parlour.
“While I intend to read the will, as attorney to Mr. Bennet and the estate, there can be no distribution of his bequest until the will is proved by the Episcopal Consistory Court of the Diocese of Lincoln. My purpose is that there be no misunderstandings as to Mr. Bennet’s intentions.
If the will or bequests are disputed, then your concerns can be taken up with the court, which, according to their calendar, will be held in St. Albans on the fifteenth of next month. ”
He paused; those assembled signalled their understanding.
I clutched Mama’s hand; her countenance was strained.
This meeting was to dispose of dear Papa’s personal effects.
His mortal body had been interred in the small family plot adjacent to the Longbourn chapel where Papa had stood with Jane at her wedding just five weeks before.
Oh, to recall the pride, the tears in his eyes when he took her hand and placed it upon Mr. Bingley’s.
In a moment of true sorrow, I envied Jane, for Papa would now, never be able to do the same for me.
Mama must have felt my distress, for she pressed my hand ever more firmly with hers.
“It is somewhat unusual,” continued Uncle Philips, “but, as I have said, I am attorney for Mr. Bennet, yet also appointed his executor. Further, I am his brother by marriage—Mr. Bennet and my sister, Mrs. Bennet, were one flesh under ecclesiastical law, thus I am his closest male relation, though not of Bennet blood. We shall proceed.”
Papa had set aside sums for all of Longbourn’s servants, who would be notified once the will was proved.
But there were two servants, Mrs. Hill, our housekeeper, and Mr. Haddon, manager of the home farm, who had each served Longbourn in excess of thirty years, even before Papa had become master.
Mr. Bennet provided them with an annuity in their retirement.
Further, he had bequeathed to Mr. Haddon a small parcel of land, just one acre, together with a small stone cottage.
As he read the bequest, Mr. Philips smiled. “Mr. Bennet has written a note in the margin: Haddon dug that acre whenever he could escape his duties to the home farm. And now it is his. He grows the best vegetables in the parish—who am I to deny a man his destiny!”
The room chuckled, but Mr. Collins’s countenance was flushed with anger. He abruptly stood. “How can Bennet give away land? And the annuities, they belong to the estate!”
Mama and I looked at the man with horror—to declaim so rudely in front of the gentlemen of the neighbourhood. I was embarrassed for him, and for his being our cousin.
“Mr. Collins, you were invited here as a guest. This is not the place to dispute the will. If you so wish, take the matter up with the court. For the edification of those present, while searching the titles, I discovered that the land was purchased by Mr. Bennet’s grandfather and is not part of the entailed estate.
Indeed, several tenant farms, including the home farm, as shown on the survey, are also not part of the entail. ”
There was a murmur in the room. Mr. Goulding spoke up. “I recall my father saying that a Bennet had bought the old Hathaway estate. What of Hathaway House—does that belong to Bennet as well?”
I looked at Mama, who was staring, puzzled at Mr. Goulding; her eyes flicked to Mr. Philips. It was clear she had no knowledge of this.
“Yes, Bennet, in his own right, owned Hathaway House, which has been rented out mainly to officers and their families from the militia.” Uncle Philips turned to my mother.
“When this was discovered, I asked Bennet to tell you, Fanny, that not all of the tenant lands came under the entail. But he was worried that, had his wealth been known, then Jane and Elizabeth would be pursued for their fortunes. With his arthritis, he felt unable to protect them as they deserved.”
Mrs. Bennet nodded, but she clutched her handkerchief to her eyes. All this time, the dear man had been planning for his dying and leaving his wife and daughters well looked after.
Mr. Philips continued. “Further, I will remind Mr. Collins that no personal property is entailed. Mr. Bennet had no debts. Apart from the annuities and bequests, all his property and possessions pass to Mrs. Bennet. Let me be clear—his books, chattels, livestock, investments, and all monies in the accounts.”
Mr. Collins continued to stand and bluster, and was only forced to sit and remain silent when Mr. Darcy, who had come just that morning from London, stood and glared at him. Mr. Collins was all astonishment.
“M—Mr. Darcy, of Pemberley?” the man stuttered. “What a singular coincidence. B—but how is it that you are here, at Longbourn? Surely, you have no acquaintance with my cousins, the Bennets?”
“Sit, Mr. Collins, for you speak too much, and of so little consequence that none wish to hear your drivel. Why I am here is my own business, but I have known Mr. Bennet for some years, we have enjoyed a lively correspondence. But that is of no concern to you, sir. Be seated, close your mouth, and pay proper respect to a good man and his lady.”
The reading continued. Indeed, all of Papa’s possessions passed to Mama.
But there were some requests that Mr. Bennet had made to her: Sir William had a keen eye for oxen, and Papa had wished that, in the event that the beasts were to be sold, Sir William be given first option to purchase at a fair price; Mr. Goulding had long admired a painting which hung in the library—if he so desired, he would be permitted to take possession of it when Mama and I vacated the house; and to Mr. Darcy, Papa gave the option to purchase his books, particularly the first editions.
Naturally, Collins could not restrain himself, and puffed himself up to some semblance of importance. “Indeed, I shall dispute the will. The painting—it is affixed to the wall. Certainly it falls under the entail.”
Mr. Philips sighed. “To avoid doubt, Mr. Bennet sold the painting to Mr. Goulding some time ago, as was his legal right. That contract cannot be undone—certainly not by his death nor any subsequent event. Enough, sir. Unless you have further to say, we are done.”
“But I have come to claim the estate. Perhaps, Mr. Philips, as attorney, you should inform my cousins that they must leave as soon as may be, and allow me to assume my occupancy.”
“You would throw a newly bereaved lady out of her home of over twenty years! Have you no shame, Collins!” Mr. Darcy loomed over the man, who flinched at such ire directed toward him. “I shall have you run off, you shameless miscreant, and inform Lady Catherine of your despicable behaviour!”