by Massey, Beth
“I did not, and I am surprised, because his father was not particularly pious. He was, however, very unyielding. I wonder if a propensity for sternness like his father was his son’s reason for choosing his profession.”
Mary looked at her father with exasperation. “Oh, Papa, Christianity is as much about love as it is about disapproval!”
“You are right, my most devout daughter. I am letting my prejudices once again get in the way of making a proper judgment of this young man’s character.
Mary resumed reading the letter.
As a clergyman, moreover, I feel it my duty to promote and establish the blessing of peace in all families within the reach of my influence. I flatter myself that my present overtures of goodwill are highly correct, and that the circumstance of my being next in the entail of Longbourn estate will be kindly overlooked on your side, and not lead you to reject the offered olive branch.
Another concern is being the means of injuring your amiable daughters, and I beg leave to apologise for it. I assure you of my readiness to make them every possible amends. We will talk more of this hereafter. If you should have no objection to receive me into your house, I propose waiting on you and your family, Monday, September 30th, by four o’clock, and shall probably trespass on your hospitality till the Saturday se’nnight 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, William Collins
“Mary, what do you think of this young man’s letter?”
Mr Bennet noticed that the look on Mary’s face was the one she had when she was doing sums. After a moment, she said, “His language is quite pretentious and he is overly complimentary to his patroness… I would even use the word obsequious. I find he expresses himself with both servility and self-importance. However, that is form. I find the content of his letter to be full of Christian charity. He feels it important to honour his father, even though he thinks he might have been wrong. The idea of the olive branch perhaps is not wholly new, yet I think it is well expressed. I believe he truly would like to make amends, and he seems to have compassion with regard the welfare of your daughters and your wife. All in all, he seems to be an admirable young man with a style deficiency.”
Mr Bennet laughed at his daughter and asked, “What do you think he wants to talk more of about injuring my amiable daughters?”
“I think he means to marry one of us in order to make the entail less onerous.”
“Would you, who has done extensive reading of sermons, like to be a clergyman’s wife and help your husband write his?”
“Yes, Papa, I believe I might.”
“Then you should make an effort to seek the company of this young man when he arrives. You would make an excellent partner—and would be very adept at helping him moderate his pretentious prose.”
“Oh, Papa, I know I could offer a great deal of assistance with his sermons, but that is not what young men seek in a wife. He would not be interested in me. Jane is much more beautiful.”
“It is true Jane is exceptionally handsome, but she guards her heart ferociously. Young men want to know they are admired and sought after.” He stroked his chin and smiled at his daughter mischievously. “I know, I was once a young man, and your mother was an expert at encouraging me in my affections.”
“Yes, but Mama was very beautiful. I am quite plain compared to her or Jane.”
“Mary, you are far from plain. The whole county talks of the beauty of all my daughters. You are intelligent, and you have developed a keen sense of humour.” He smiled as he said this, and Mary shook her head and laughed—certain her father was patting himself on the back for that triumph. “If he is at all pleasing to you, talk to him. Lydia is very young, and only enamoured of men in scarlet coats. Kitty is spoken for, and Lizzy has no intention of marrying. None of them will be your rival, and I doubt Jane will make any effort to encourage this young man. You have an open field. Go to it, dearest one.”
“Oh, Papa, I love you. I do not know what tragedy befell Elizabeth, and I wake each morning praying for the return of the joyful Lizzy—but I am so pleased you and I had that year together. You made me a better person.”
Her father hugged her and said, “My year with you, Lizzy’s mysterious metamorphosis and John’s vision have all contributed to making me better able to see both the value and the needs of my family.”
Mr Bennet waited to tell Mrs Bennet of Mr Collins’ visit. The morning of the day he was to arrive, he casually mentioned his stay—in the hopes of forestalling too much excitement of a prospective bridegroom coming to call. “At four o’clock, we may expect a peace-making gentleman. He sent a letter a fortnight ago. He is our cousin, Mr Collins. Mary thinks from his letter, he is a most conscientious and polite young man. He stated he was disposed to make amends to our girls, and I shall not be the person to discourage him.”
At first Mrs Bennet missed the reference to his plans to make amends. Instead, she became quite angry that the odious man, who would kick them out of their home when Mr Bennet died, had the audacity to visit. Her husband still found it enjoyable to tease his wife and did not rush to persuade her about what he was certain would come of the reverend’s time spent with his family.
Mr Collins was punctual to his time, and was received with great politeness by the whole family. Mr Bennet said little; but the ladies were ready enough to talk, and Mr Collins seemed neither in need of encouragement, nor inclined to be silent.
He was a tall, heavy-looking young man of five-and-twenty. His air was grave and stately, and his manners very formal. He had not been long seated before he complimented Mrs Bennet on having so fine a family of daughters. “I have heard much of their beauty, but fame has fallen short of the truth. I do not doubt your seeing them all in due time well disposed in marriage.”
Mary and Mr Bennet shared a secret smile at the mention of marriage.
Mrs Bennet, who was always pleased with compliments, said, “You are very kind, sir; and for many years it has been my main concern—or else my girls might have ended up destitute. However, providence has already smiled on two of my daughters. One is recently attached to Mr Reynolds, our steward and the owner of a brick works in the neighbourhood. Another of my daughters is an heiress, and does not plan nor need to marry. However, she has assured me I will be provided for once we are ejected from this house.”
“You allude, perhaps, to the entail of this estate.”
“Ah! Sir, I do indeed. I must confess, it is a grievous affair I have fretted over for many years. Not that I mean to find fault with you, for such things I know are all chance in this world. There is no knowing how estates will go when once they come to be entailed.”
“I am very sensible, madam, of the hardship to my fair cousins, and could say much on the subject, but that I am cautious of appearing forward and precipitate. But I can assure the young ladies that I come prepared to admire them. At present I will not say more, but perhaps when we are better acquainted.”
Mary Bennet took her father’s advice. She spent hours discussing the finer points of theology with Mr Collins and found him knowledgeable. She enjoyed what sometimes actually became lively debates.
He had recently been influenced by Lady Catherine’s desire to ensure his parishioners were admonished regularly as a deterrent against sinful behaviour. Mary was much more of the mind to promote charity among the flock, having been visiting the tenants at Longbourn since she was twelve. She and her sister Elizabeth saw carrying out this task as living the lesson of Matthew, Chapter 25. Mary told him she had recently embraced the text as a creed to live by… ‘Verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.’ Mr Collins was stirred by her passion.
Mary gently used humour to mo
derate his predilection for pretentious prose, and she determined that much of his obsequious attitude toward his patroness was due to a lack of experience. He might sound self-important, but Mary determined him to be deficient in confidence. She flattered him and pointed out his good qualities. Nothing was said that was untrue; she just highlighted those things about him of which she most approved.
William Collins was not particularly handsome, but he was not repellent in his looks. Mary wished him less heavy, but she quite appreciated his height. Walking was an excellent way to trim a figure—she would encourage that activity. He had a pleasing smile and his teeth were white and even. The more she looked, the more she was certain she saw kindness in his eyes. The trick would be to get him to be less grave. Soon she did not have to try very hard to encourage smiles—they just seemed to happen the more she was around him. Very soon he was smiling quite often and looking hopefully at her.
She did not approve of his hair. He, like many, felt the need to use too much oil. Mary wondered what he would look like without his wayward locks kept so strictly in place. Lizzy would surely have some idea for how to correct that shortcoming.
That night she went to Elizabeth’s room and disclosed her growing feelings for Mr Collins and asked her sister’s opinion.
“Mary, my first impression was not favourable. I was taken aback by the pompousness of his speech and his fawning attitude toward his patroness. However, he is much improved after spending a week in your company. How do you evaluate him?”
“I have added up all his good qualities and compared them to his poor qualities, and I am quite persuaded he has much more good about him than bad. I am not a romantic. I do not expect to be swept off my feet by a knight in shining armour, but I do feel I could be very content being Mrs Collins and helping him with his sermons and visiting those in need in the parish. I also like the idea of having children and my own home. To tell the truth Lizzy, I enjoy being in his company.”
Mary took hold of her sister’s hands and caught her gaze. “I hope Papa lives for many more years, but when the day comes that he is gone, I will be glad to come home to Longbourn and provide a home for Mama and you.”
The sisters embraced and Mary confided in Lizzy about her dislike of his hair.
Elizabeth looked thoughtful and then gave her sister a wicked grin. “I have just the thing. Have Jane make something with which to wash his hair and describe it to him as one of her very special mixtures. Tell him there are properties in her unique blend that will preclude the need to put any oil on his hair. The one she makes with lemon and rosemary is lovely. When he comes down after washing his locks, I will have everyone ready to compliment him on how fine he looks and how nice he smells.”
The two sisters giggled at their plot.
On Saturday morning, October 5th, Mr Collins asked Mrs Bennet for a private conference with Mary. He proposed and she accepted. He immediately met with her father, and he too approved the match. They set the date for Saturday, December 28th.
24 WHERE IS IT NOW THE GLORY AND THE DREAM?
Bethany Darcy rose from her bed as the first rays of the sun came through her windows. She had been awake for hours, waiting for enough light to dress. The day before had seen the little girl go through her clothes looking for items she could manage by herself. Her choice had been a new dress she had never worn that she could pull over her head. She thought it was meant to have something worn under it but she did not know what. Instead of trying to fasten stockings, she opted for a pair of slippers without them. Her papa loved her hair—he had often told her so, but this morning there was a tangle on one side that she could not get her brush through.
Her mission was a secret. Her hope was to catch her father alone before he went for his morning ride. He always had coffee first in the breakfast room. Her plan was to be waiting when he came down and persuade him to go with her to his study.
She was kneeling in a chair at the table when a servant came in to ready the room. He looked as though he was planning to question her, but she made her face fierce and he left her alone.
Her father looked puzzled when he arrived. “Baby Duck, why are you here? Did Milly wake you early… and what exactly do you have on?”
She decided not to smile when she spoke but to act as though her presence was nothing unusual. “I dressed myself.” Her face became severe and she whispered. “I must talk to you. What I have to say is a secret that only Lew knows. Could we go to your study?”
Darcy tried hard not to laugh at his daughter. He knew she was trying to be serious and would be furious if he treated her as though her request was comic.
He looked at her, and she did indeed look ridiculous. He had no idea what she had on—and her hair was a mess He agreed to her request and lifted her out of the chair. They walked hand-in-hand to his study. When the door was closed, he pushed a chair up in front of his desk. She climbed into the chair, and stood. He wondered whether she was trying to minimize his height advantage.
She got to the point immediately and her words appeared to be rehearsed. “Papa, ever since you and Aunt Georgie came back from Ramsgate, you are angry and Aunt Georgie is sad.” At this point she seemed to remember something that was not part of her prepared speech. “Lew thought he did something wrong. I found him crying in the nursery… I cuddled him until he stopped crying, and then told him he was being a baby. I hope he believed me… not about being a baby… but that he was not to blame.”
Darcy looked stricken at his daughter’s revelation. “I will talk to him and make certain he understands.”
“That is fine; Papa, but that is eh… hmmm… not what we want. You must stop being angry, and Aunt Georgie needs to be happy again.”
“Bethany this is not something you need worry about. Georgie and I will be fine soon.” Fitzwilliam Darcy hoped he was telling his daughter the truth. He was very concerned about his sister’s melancholy, and when he thought about the cause of her sadness, his deep-seated anger with Wickham became almost uncontrollable—and that only made her more withdrawn.
Bethany looked exasperated with her father. She said abruptly, “You are too slow. I have a plan. Would you like to hear?”
Darcy could only stare at his daughter and nod.
“I heard Mrs Reynolds and you talking about going to Neverland with Mr Bingley.”
“Bethany, it is wrong to eavesdrop; and the name of Mr Bingley’s estate is Netherfield.”
She shrugged her shoulders in exasperation. “Papa, I am trying to help. Please listen. I think you should go to… Netherfield… Mr Bingley is a very nice man. He is always happy, and you need to be with happy people… You and Mrs Reynolds talked about enjoying some sport. That means you will shoot birds, right?”
Darcy nodded his head.
“I think that is what you need.”
Darcy was speechless in the presence of his remarkable daughter. He was reminded of a similar negotiation that had taken place at Darcy House more than five years ago.
“Killing birds will make you less mad.” Bethany broke from her serious face and said the last with a lopsided grin and a twinkle in her eye. Darcy wondered whether she realized the humour of her words and was trying to make him laugh. He was afraid to indulge---just in case he misjudged her.
Bethany captured her father’s eyes. “Lewis and I will spend time with Aunt Georgie and try to make her happy.” She wiped the grin from her face and returned to her grave face. “I will ask her to teach me to play the pianoforte. If she is busy with that, maybe she will stop being sad.”
A smile crept back onto her face as she continued, “We can also plan my birthday party… she will love that. Do you think Cousin Richard will come to my party? He is very funny.” Bethany’s face now became a grimace. “Ugh… I do not want Cousin Edmund to come. Aunt Georgie needs someone who is kind…” She gave her father a furtive glance as she said, “hmmm… I do not believe he is kind—even when he smiles at me.”
Bethany noticed that he
r father’s face seemed to display disapproval. “I am sorry. Is it bad to say that? He always seems to stare at me—like I have been naughty—but he thinks that funny. I like Cousin Eleanor, but she also seems sad.” Bethany’s smile returned. “Ooh, Aunt Cassie, we should invite her. She always smells so nice. I am not sure about the Earl. Sometimes he seems to make Aunt Cassie sad.”
Fitzwilliam smiled inwardly at how excited she seemed about her birthday, and her uncanny ability to size up their family. Up until the incident at Ramsgate, he, Georgiana and his children had enjoyed a pleasant life. She was correct… he needed to get over this anger; and he needed to find a way to help Georgiana recover from her despair.
Bethany stared at her father, trying to figure out what he was thinking. The next minute, she thought of her brother and she giggled. “Lewis will want Sian to come. He is in love with her, and they will marry as soon as they are grown. If Sian comes, then Sir Gareth will come.”
Darcy chuckled. “I did not know Lewis and Sian were engaged. Did her father agree?”
“No, Papa you are soooo silly… He can’t talk good enough to ask, but I am sure they were meant to marry. They were born on the same day… their mothers both died when they were born. That must be a sign from God.”
Bethany did not wait for her father to reply. She had a thought that made her quite excited. Her words started rushing out. “Oh and please, please, Papa… may Dr Wilder come? He said he would teach me to play the Irish whistle! And maybe he would bring some of those Mad… Oh hmmm… What are they called? You know, Papa… Those little cakes that he always brings… They are my favourite food in the whole wide world. Can we have ices? I think that is my second favourite food. Oh, and chocolate—I loooove chocolate.” Bethany made a face and said, “I guess we have to ask Grandmama… But she will make all of us sad.”
Fitzwilliam was desperate to laugh, but he managed to keep his face composed. She was right though, Lady Catherine would be disastrous for Georgiana right now, and he also did not want to see either Edmund or the Earl. “Bethany Darcy, do not say things like that. It is not at all respectful.”
