Mrs Collins' Lover

by Bronwen Chisholm

  “I believe Mr. Collins has not told her where I go. I am sure I have never mentioned it.” Elizabeth laughed as she squeezed Genie’s hand which lay upon her arm.

  They entered the older woman’s rooms and explained they had taken a walk while she slept. The widow eyed them suspiciously, but said nothing. Elizabeth and Darcy sat for just a few minutes and then made their excuses. The journey back to the meadow was made in silence, neither wanting to face what was to come. When they reached the spot where they always separated, Darcy frowned.

  “Will you be well?”

  Elizabeth went up on tiptoes and kissed him. “I will think of you, sir.”

  “And I will be unable to think of anything else but you, my love.” His arms went about her, and he kissed her passionately.

  Her head spun with the intensity of him, but she pressed her hands against his chest and pushed away. “Please, William, do not do that to yourself.” Her eyes searched his. “I beg of you.”

  A movement drew her attention and she saw the Colonel approaching them from the meadow. “Colonel Fitzwilliam, may I ask a favour of you?”

  “I am at your service, Madam,” he said while bowing deeply.

  “You must entertain your cousin this evening and do not allow him to dwell upon things beyond his control.” She held Darcy’s gaze, her eyes pleading with him.

  “I shall do all within my power, Madam.” The Colonel clapped his hand upon Darcy’s shoulder. His smile disappeared and his voice lowered. “Mr. Collins left Rosings about the same time I did, Madam.”

  Elizabeth bit her lip. “Thank you, Colonel.” She looked to Darcy but could not bring herself to kiss him again. “Tuesday,” she whispered as she began to back away from him. As soon as he nodded, she turned and rushed away. When she knew she was out of sight, she broke into a run, fearing that if she did not, she would be too tempted to return to his side.

  *CHAPTER THIRTEEN*

  Elizabeth lay upon her bed, her eyes closed as she remembered the morning she had spent in Darcy’s arms. She had been certain to bathe before Mr. Collins would come to her, but it did not wash away her memories of her lover’s touch. Her hand slid down the front of her perfectly proper white nightgown and slipped between her legs to find the sensitive spot that William had kissed, touched, and tantalized. Her lips were already slick with her longing, there was no need to apply Genie’s oil.

  A quick knock gave her but a second to remove her hand before the door opened and Mr. Collins entered her room. He frowned and snuffed out the candle on her bedside before taking his place at the side of her bed. Reaching out, he took hold of her legs and drew her toward him.

  “Lo, children are an heritage of the Lord: and the fruit of the womb is his reward. As arrows are in the hand of a mighty man; so are children of the youth. Happy is the man that hath his quiver full of them: they shall not be ashamed, but they shall speak with the enemies in the gate.”

  He slid her nightgown up about her thighs and, she knew from experience, undid the flap of his trousers. Elizabeth forced her thoughts to William, remembering how he touched her with reverence. She kept her eyes closed, desperate to hold to the thought of him.

  “The righteous shall flourish like the palm tree: he shall grow like a cedar in Lebanon.”

  Elizabeth felt Collins fumbling about, and then he grasped her thighs and pulled her closer to the edge of the bed. His limp member brushed her sensitive lips and she shuddered in revulsion.

  “Those that be planted in the house of the Lord shall flourish in the courts of our God. They shall still bring forth fruit in old age; they shall be fat and flourishing; to shew that the Lord is upright: he is my rock, and there is no unrighteousness in him.”

  He continued to press against her but stepped away suddenly. His hand replaced his manhood as a low growl escaped him. “You have applied that … stuff again though I forbid it.”

  “No,” Elizabeth whispered. “I had no need of it.”

  “Why are you wet?” he demanded.

  “I … I ... forgive me, sir. I have no control over such things. It must be natural, is it not?” Her mind whirled, trying to find an explanation. “In my father’s library there were books on animal husbandry. When an animal is in heat, there is a discharge …”

  “Why would a proper lady read such things?” Mr. Collins demanded, disgust dripping from his words. “Were you tantalized by the idea?”

  “No!” Elizabeth cried out. “I was helping my father …”

  “You had no business in such matters. When I am the Master of Longbourn, you will mind your place.” He once more fumbled his member against her, muttering more Bible verses as he attempted to enter her.

  Wishing the deed to be done, Elizabeth pressed against him, hoping it might spur him on. She was taken by surprise when his hand crashed against her cheek, turning her head to the side. Tears sprung to her eyes, but she bit her lip, willing them away.

  “Wantonness!” The back of his hand struck her once more upon its return. “A proper lady endures the curse of Eve that she might be blessed with child. Only the righteous will multiply.”

  She felt his manhood rise against her, but he did not enter her. Instead he grasped her leg and rolled her onto her stomach.

  “If it is animals you are thinking of, then like an animal you shall be treated.” He pushed against her from behind, his hand heavy upon her back, pinning her to the bed.

  Elizabeth prayed for her mind to go blank, but how could God hear her after what she had done. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping it all would end soon.

  His other hand found its way to her hair. The hair William had stroked and twisted lovingly about his fingers mere hours earlier. Collins grasped a handful and leaned over her. His voice was in her ear as his spit fell upon her cheek and he thrust into her in time to his words.

  “You will be a proper wife to me. You will bear my child, my heir. You will … submit!” The last came out in a groan as he finished his deed.

  Elizabeth lay still, uncertain what might happen next. Collins’ weight was heavy upon her back for a minute or two, but then he pulled away and left the room. For some reason, she feared he might return, though he never had before, therefore she stayed as he left her until the chill of the night raised goose bumps upon her thighs.

  She eventually pushed off the bed, thankful that she had not been subjected to the agonizing experiences of previous visits and stumbled to the chamber pot to relieve herself. Bitterly, she hoped that his seed would be expelled from her body. Afterward, she washed and returned to her bed, laying her head upon her pillow as she had against Darcy’s chest. For the first time, tears did not come. She drifted off to sleep, thinking only of her lover’s touch.

  ***********

  “Oh, missus.” Sarah’s voice was filled with pity.

  Elizabeth opened her eyes to find the maid shaking her head.

  “I shall fetch some cold water from the well. It might help the swelling.”

  Sarah rushed from the room leaving Elizabeth wondering what had the young girl so upset. She rose easily, not suffering as she had in the past, and crossed to the chamber pot. Having relieved herself, she took a seat before her dressing table and stared with disbelief into the mirror. Her face was puffy with bruises covering both cheeks and encircling her eyes. Had Mr. Collins only struck her twice?

  Her jaw still hung open when the maid returned with a basin. “Here, Ma’am. Return to bed and I will place the cloths on the worse spots.”

  Mindlessly, Elizabeth followed her instructions and laid down upon the bed. Sarah laid the cold fabric across her eyes, cheeks and the bridge of her nose, then opened the wardrobe.

  “Your black dress …?”

  “No, it is Easter,” Elizabeth replied.

  “But you could wear your veil …”

  “It will be seen as odd.”

  “More odd than the rector’s wife havin’ bruises about her face?” the maid mumbled.

  Elizabeth sig
hed. The girl was right; she could not be seen this way. Her heart raced when she considered Darcy’s reaction. She lay still and considered the options available to her. She could not remain abed; she must attend service. After last night, she was uncertain how Mr. Collins might respond. “Is there white lace left over from my caps?”

  She could hear Sarah moving things in the bottom of the cabinet. “There is a piece, but I fear it would not make a proper veil.”

  “No, but we could attach it to my bonnet. Would it cover enough?”

  More things were moved about and finally, Sarah agreed that it might work. The maid selected a gown which would match the necessary headwear and eventually removed the cloths so Elizabeth could dress. Whenever possible, Elizabeth held a cool rag over the worse of the swelling and, by the time she was ready to go below, she could see some improvement; though the bruises were as obvious as before.

  Taking a seat before the mirror, she and Sarah tried several different positions for the lace before finding one that seemed to work from most angles. Her hair was pinned in such a way to aid the process and Elizabeth was now ready to break her fast with Mr. Collins. She removed the bonnet.

  “But, missus …”

  “Should he not see what he has done?” Elizabeth asked the young girl, her temper rising. “I must hide his actions from the world, but not from him.”

  She left the room, the maid scurrying behind her. Mr. Collins was already seated in the dining room and berated them both for his meal not yet being served.

  “Forgive me, sir, I found there was more required to my toilette this morning.” Elizabeth took her seat and stared at him.

  With a disgruntled sigh, Mr. Collins raised his eyes from his prayer book and looked at her. His face turned an unnatural purple and then red. “How are you going to appear in church looking like that? You must be there!”

  Elizabeth was shocked by his response. “Have no fear, sir, I have found a solution.” She held up her bonnet and then sat it on the table beside her.

  He frowned. “I suppose you are unable to wear it while you eat, otherwise you would not upset my breakfast in this manner.”

  “Forgive me, sir. I did not feel the need to hide from you the results of your actions.”

  Though his countenance had begun to return to a normal colour, her words caused the crimson to once more creep up from his neck until it fully engulfed him. “I am responsible? If you were in subjection to me as St. Peter declared it should be, this would not have occurred. Behold your chaste conversation coupled with fear.” He rose from his seat and towered over her. “As your husband, I demand your submission and fear. Must I show you again?”

  Disgust at her own weakness flooded her as Elizabeth cowered before him. In her meekest voice, she whispered her pleas that he forgive her rashness and placed the bonnet upon her head that the veil might hide the bruises. A noise drew her attention, but she dared not look away from the spectre before her less he strike in the moment of her distraction.

  “You may serve me, Sarah. Mrs. Collins is not hungry. She will go to the church and see that all is properly prepared.” He regained his seat. “Tell Cook that Mrs. Collins is fasting until I tell her otherwise.”

  The maid hesitated only slightly before setting the plate before her master and carrying the other back to the kitchen.

  “Of course, you realize, my dear, that Jane will be unable to join us.” Mr. Collins took up his knife and fork and began cutting the ham steak before him.

  Elizabeth said nothing. She rose from her seat and left the room. Every curse she had ever heard in her life ran through her mind as she walked the short path from the parsonage to the chapel. She hesitated at the door, fearful of entering God’s house with such hatred in her heart. Instead, she looked about to be certain she was alone, and knelt on the step.

  “I will not say that I have been a dutiful wife. You know that is not true. Perhaps I have not tried as hard as I should, but do I deserve such treatment?” She closed her eyes, hearing the bitterness in her words. “Father, I know I do not deserve Your condescension, but help me to control my words and release my anger. I only pray that I may one day find Your favour again.”

  Fearful that someone might pass and see her, Elizabeth stood and entered the church with a slightly calmer spirit. She already knew that all was prepared for the service, and instead went directly to her seat in the front pew and waited for the parishioners to arrive.

  ***********

  Fitz’s hand on his shoulder and Anne leaning upon his arm were the only things which kept Darcy from rushing into the church. Mr. Collins stood at the front doors, but immediately gave up his post to escort Lady Catherine to her seat. The cousins followed behind at a sedate pace set by Anne. It took a moment for Darcy’s eyes to adjust to the interior lighting, but when they did, he immediately looked toward Elizabeth’s seat.

  She was there, as always, but her shoulders seemed curved as though under a great weight and she wore a bonnet in place of her matron’s cap, something he did not remember her having done before. It also seemed as though she was determined not to look in his direction.

  The party took their seats and the service progressed as it always did. Darcy was frustrated that he could not look in Elizabeth’s direction without drawing attention to himself. He trained his eyes upon the windows behind the pulpit and hoped the service would soon end.

  When it did, he found himself escorting his aunt from the chapel while Fitz and Anne addressed Elizabeth. He was uncertain how his cousins had arranged it and equally displeased that they felt the need. Something was wrong, quite wrong. His mind raced, trying to determine what it could be and what he should do. So distracted was he that he barely acknowledged her ladyship’s presence and conversation.

  “You may attend tea at Rosings to-day, Mr. Collins,” he finally heard her say and realized they stood at the door leading outside.

  The man bowed lower than was ever necessary and began a dissertation on Lady Catherine’s charity, but Darcy was surprised to realize he was declining the offer.

  “I fear, your Ladyship, that Mrs. Collins will be unable to leave the parsonage for a few days. She is fasting and seeking Godly direction.” He bowed once more.

  “I am pleased to hear it, Mr. Collins, for your sake. You are, of course, welcome to come without her.” Lady Catherine tugged on Darcy’s arm and began moving toward her carriage even as Mr. Collins bowed his acceptance.

  “Where is Anne?” she demanded as the footman opened the door and Darcy helped her inside.

  Darcy turned back toward the church in time to see his cousins exiting with Elizabeth. A stray breeze lifted the veil on her bonnet just enough before she turned away that he could see the dark purple upon her cheek. His hands clutched into fists and he was about to storm forward when Fitz approached him at a brisk clip.

  “Do not make it worse,” his cousin whispered.

  The ladies approached at a slower pace, but Elizabeth turned away before reaching the men. Her head was bowed, and Darcy was unable to see any of her features.

  “Come along,” Lady Catherine demanded from within the equipage.

  Fitz handed Anne inside and closed the door behind her. “I believe Darcy and I will walk back to Rosings, Lady Catherine. It is a beautiful day and we had previously discussed viewing the path which leads to the rose garden. I believe there was an issue of disease in some of the trees upon that route. Darcy?” He elbowed his cousin who was staring off after Elizabeth’s departing form.

  “Yes. Some may have to be removed.” Darcy’s voice was as neutral as he was able to manage, and he kept his gaze trained away from his aunt.

  “Very well,” her ladyship huffed. “Do not dawdle.”

  Fitz bowed and tapped the side of the coach alerting the driver to proceed. Taking hold of Darcy’s arm, he pulled him toward the long rambling path of which he had spoken. They were some distance along when they both stopped and faced each other.

  “What
did he do to her?” Darcy demanded.

  The Colonel kicked at a loose rock. “She would not say.”

  “Was …” He swallowed. “Was she in pain?”

  “It did not appear so.”

  He trembled from his anger and the effort he was expending not to run to her side. “What kind of man …?”

  “A fool,” Fitz spat out. He patted his hand against his thigh in irritation. “She mentioned being hopeful to visit Mrs. Abernathy on Tuesday.”

  Darcy released a long breath. “Mr. Collins said Elizabeth will be fasting for a few days and seeking Godly direction.” He shook his head. “Could he know?” His voice was barely a whisper.

  “Surely not.”

  They stood, each lost in thought, before eventually turning and continuing on their way toward Rosings. The tension continued to gather in Darcy’s shoulders and he repeatedly clenched his fists. They took their time, even marking a few trees for the gardeners to remove, before they finally found themselves in the rose garden.

  “I cannot be in the same room as that man, Fitz.”

  “No, I did not think you could.” The Colonel looked up at the windows which lined the back of the grand house. “I fear we have exhausted most of our possible excuses. Aside from bodily injury, of course.”

  Darcy coughed out a harsh laugh. “Bodily injury?”

  Fitz’s fist tapped twice against Darcy’s upper arm, the second pushing him enough to make him stumble. Darcy drew back, surprised until he saw the gleam in his cousin’s eye.

  “Has running an estate made you soft, Cousin?” The Colonel bated.

  After removing his coat and setting it and his hat upon a nearby bench, Darcy loosened his cravat. “Is it my bodily injury or yours which is going to necessitate our absence?”

  The Colonel also removed enough layers until they were both in their shirtsleeves and circling each other like youths expending unwanted energy. Each threw a few punches, few landing precisely, as they tested the other’s mettle.