Vol 1, Chapter 4
“Thomas is that man so insensible that he would write to you after being warned of the penalties that could be imposed on him if he does not give up his maniacal claim?” an exasperated Priscilla Bennet asked.
“Here, my love, read the missive for yourself. He does not repeat that particular claim,” Bennet informed his wife, handing her the letter from his cousin as they sat on a settee in the study at Longbourn.
Hunsford Parsonage near the Great Estate of Rosings Park
Dear Sir,
The disagreement subsisting between your branch of the family and mine always gave me much uneasiness, and since I have had the misfortune to lose my father who forbade contact with the Bennets, I have frequently wished to heal the breach.
For some time, however, I was kept back by my own doubts, fearing lest it might seem disrespectful to his memory for me to be on good terms with anyone with whom it had always pleased him to be at variance.
“You see Priscilla, he is on a peace-making mission,” Bennet joked.
“Who would write in such a way to one to whom he had never been introduced?” an incredulous Mrs. Bennet asked.
“Read on, my love,” Bennet urged.
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, infinite wisdom, and beneficence has preferred me to the valuable rectory of this parish, where it shall be my earnest endeavour to demean myself with grateful respect towards her ladyship, and be ever ready to perform those rites and ceremonies which are instituted by the Church of England.
Moreover, as a clergyman I feel it my duty to promote and establish the blessing of peace in all families within the reach of my influence and on these grounds, I flatter myself that my present overtures are highly commendable.
“He is insensible! Is he the only one in the realm who does not know how uneducated and ridiculous Lady Catherine de Bourgh is? Infinite wisdom indeed! The accurate statement would be infinite ignorance and arrogance!” Pricilla Bennet marvelled at the sycophant’s stupidity.
The nonsense and his obsequiousness mixed with a level of pomposity jumped off the pages at her. Priscilla Bennet read on.
I now understand that one of my antecedents was in error about the nature of the entail placed on the Longbourn estate, and hope that the misunderstanding will be kindly overlooked on your side, and not lead you to reject this olive branch.
“At least he has accepted reality, although the more I read, the more ridiculous this man looks to me.” Mrs. Bennet shook her head in wonder that such a man had ever been ordained, then continued with her perusal.
I cannot be otherwise than be prepared to offer your amiable daughters my olive branch.
I beg leave to apologise for the past misunderstandings, as well as to assure you of my readiness to make them every possible amends—but of this hereafter.
If you should have no objection to receive me into your house, I propose myself the satisfaction of waiting on you and your family, Monday, November the eighteenth, by four o'clock, and shall probably trespass on your hospitality until the Saturday sennight following, which I can do without any inconvenience, as Lady Catherine is far from objecting to my occasional absence on a Sunday, provided that some other clergyman is engaged to do the duty of the day.
I remain, dear sir, with respectful compliments to your lady and daughters, your well-wisher and friend,
Reverend William Collins
“What is the olive branch that the man keeps on about, Thomas?” Priscilla asked with true trepidation, fearing it was what she dreaded. “Does the man not realise that the eighteenth is the Sabbath, not a Monday?”
“The olive branch is what you think, my Cilla,” Bennet leaned over and kissed his wife. “As far as the day goes, he must, like his patroness, believe reality will bend to his will.”
“Does this idiotic man think that one of my girls would be interested in him?” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed with disgust, “Or that we would ever allow any of our girls to be married to an obsequious sycophant, who at the same time thinks that his office as a man of the cloth elevates him above society? The man does not even have the manners to wait for an invitation; he invited himself!” Mrs. Bennet fumed.
“Did you notice the lack of any mention of either Tom or Mark?” Bennet observed.
“Are you going to allow him to visit us, Thomas?” his wife asked as she calmed herself down.
“It seems we must, if for no reason than that he is to be disabused in person of his ever being accepted as a match for one of our daughters,” Bennet suggested.
“So be it, but I want him in a chamber on the top floor, the farthest from our precious girls’ chambers, and he is to be watched at all times!” Mrs. Bennet demanded to which her imminently sensible husband agreed without argument.
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The same afternoon that the Bennet parents read the ridiculous letter from the sycophantic parson, the three Bennet daughters were shopping in Meryton with Charlotte and Maria Lucas when the Derbyshire Militia marched through the town on their way to the encampment just south of the town.
“Ooooh, I do so think a man in a scarlet coat looks very well. I would not complain if I were to marry an officer,” Maria Lucas exclaimed.
“And how would you live, Maria? Do you forget that you and I have only five hundred pounds which would generate a whole twenty pounds a year? What do you think that will buy you? You will have no new clothes, no balls, no entertainment, and if that is not bad enough, you would live in cramped quarters and have no servants,” Charlotte said, giving her younger sister a lesson in reality.
“B-b-but surely an officer earns a good salary,” Maria stammered, much less sure of her assertions when seconds ago she had begun to imagine a life of constant entertainment and balls for herself.
“Officers in the militia are usually poor; most of them are not even gentlemen. Most gentlemen who become officers join the Regulars,” Elizabeth explained firmly.
“Unless you marry the colonel of a regiment, you would be lucky if the junior officers bring in one or two pounds a month. Charlotte is correct, Maria; you would not live at a standard close to what you are used to.”
“I would rather stay single for the rest of my life than marry a man just because he wears a certain colour jacket,” Esther opined.
Seeing how distressed her sister was, Charlotte pulled her into her arms. “Maria, we did not mean to upset you, but you cannot live on a scarlet coat, or even a handsome man, alone. Please promise me that you will stay within the bounds of propriety around these men. Trust me when I tell you that they will take a small amount of flirtation as a sign that you are willing to give much more than you actually are.”
“A woman’s reputation and virtue are extremely brittle, Maria. It is the most valuable thing that we have and once it is lost, it is lost forever,” Esther told her friend, gently taking Maria’s hand and gave it a light squeeze after Charlotte hugged her younger sister.
“It seems that I have a lot to learn from all of you,” Maria sniffed.
While the Bennet daughters were in Meryton, Mr. Bingley came to call. He was shown into the master’s study, and when Mr. Bennet suggested that they greet his family in the drawing room, he smiled to himself when Bingley lit up at the prospect, Bennet suspected, of seeing Jane again.
Bennet almost felt badly for the young pup—almost. Jane had no interest in Bingley, but she would be polite to him. On entering the drawing room, Bennet did not miss the crestfallen look the younger man sported when only his wife was within.
Bingley asked after the Miss Bennets, and after some inconsequential discussion about the weather, made his excuses and departed.
He had been so preoccupied with his disappointment that Miss Bennet had not been at home waiting for him to call, he did not notice that although the manor house looked deceptively small with the way the front facade was presented, it was far larger inside than one would think looking at it from without.
There was a stand of large trees on either side of the house which obscured its true size from view, which was by design.
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Wickham was restless to leave Edward Street for Hertfordshire. He had to make do with Mrs. Younge and was beyond sick of her company already, but he needed to use her hospitality until the nineteenth of the month, the day he had agreed to meet Denny in Meryton.
Usually, Wickham enjoyed his time in London. But with his dwindling money, not to mention a number of debt collectors after him, he had enjoyed none of his normal vices of gambling, women, or drink of late.
As much as he feared Colonel Fitzwilliam, he was not worried about running into him in the militia as he knew from discreet enquiries that the Colonel was in the Regulars.
Wickham scoffed when he thought about how Richard Fitzwilliam had willingly put himself in harm’s way, for he would never do anything that ridiculous.
There was only one thing Wickham genuinely cared about, and that was himself.
He had heard that the Colonel had been injured, but unfortunately, he was on the mend, meaning that Darcy’s threat still remained valid.
He would endure Mrs. Younge for the next few days until he no longer needed her. It suited his purposes for her to believe him in love with her, so even when he left, he would not disabuse her of that nonsense in case he needed her succour in the future.