Mrs Collins' Lover

by Bronwen Chisholm

  “I am so pleased that you were able to come to-day. Mama is asleep, but we can visit with her when she wakes.”

  The ladies entered one of the recently repaired drawing-rooms on the first floor. Elizabeth was directed toward the escritoire where she could write her letters while tea was requested. Half an hour later, word came that Mrs. Abernathy had begun to stir, and the party relocated upstairs to include that lady in their conversation.

  “I must say, I am surprised the two of you would be such close friends.” The older woman’s eyes darted between Elizabeth and Anne, her lips quivering with amusement.

  “Mama,” Genie warned. “Do not make trouble where there is none.”

  “Nonsense!”

  “Mother Abernathy,” Anne sighed, “you know well enough that I have only familial feelings for Darcy. I enjoy Elizabeth’s company and am pleased to call her my friend.”

  The woman frowned, though the sparkle had not left her eyes. “You ruin an old lady’s fun, Anne.”

  They continued a few minutes longer until Elizabeth realized it was time for them to leave and Genie saw them out. Anne slipped Elizabeth’s letters into her reticule before they climbed into the carriage and then they were on their way back to Hunsford. Mr. Collins was just arriving at the parsonage as they approached, and he helped Elizabeth down before bowing and issuing his sincerest appreciation for Miss de Bourgh’s continued condescension toward himself and his wife.

  After accepting as much of his gratitude as she desired, Anne signalled the horses forward. Elizabeth watched her pull away, a smile lingering upon her lips when she thought of Mr. Bingley returning to Netherfield.

  “You appear joyful this morning, my dear.” Mr. Collins grasped Elizabeth’s elbow and pulled her toward the parsonage. “Have you received good news from home?”

  Her smile dimmed as she entered the house. “Nothing out of the ordinary. I suppose it has just been a pleasant day thus far.”

  “You visited the Widow Abernathy again this morning? I do wish you would not spend quite so much time there, darling.” He frowned as he removed his great coat and handed it to her. “Must you go there two days each week?”

  “I have found it allows me to see more people than should I go to individual homes. As Mrs. Martin is a midwife, many of the ladies in the area come to see her. I have met with some individuals I would never see without use of a carriage or wagon.”

  The creases in his forehead deepened. “Well, I suppose that is good.” His features softened and he laid a hand upon her stomach. “But when you are with child, we shall have the midwife Lady Catherine suggests attend you.”

  The remaining element of joy within her drained away and her gaze fell to the floor. “I had hoped I would return to Longbourn when I find myself with child.”

  Mr. Collins’ hand fell to his side. “Silly thoughts of an inexperienced girl. I had thought they would fade once you came to understand the demands of marriage. Your place is at my side until death us do part, may that be many years from now.” He sniffed. “My son will be raised under my roof. Your father is too lax. Why, just look at your sisters. Had I not insisted he employ a governess and return them to the nursery they might have run off with soldiers by now.”

  He wandered off to his study, praising himself for being the model to which all should aspire, while Elizabeth stood staring after him. She opened the closet and hung up his coat before removing her own pelisse and bonnet. Once all was away, she closed the door and moved silently to the parlour in the back of the house. The small, overly warm room where she knew he would not come unless necessary, and where she could be alone with her thoughts and disappointments. As she entered, she saw Jane’s last letter folded upon the small table she used as a desk.

  “At least Jane will be happy,” she reminded herself and wiped away her tears.

  *CHAPTER FIFTEEN*

  Although the carriage was making good time, Bingley seemed to think his rocking and fidgeting would spur them along faster. Darcy had been amused by his friend for the first leg of the trip as he considered how he would behave given similar circumstances. After the horses were changed at the halfway mark though, Bingley had begun tapping incessantly upon the edge of the window. It had not taken long for the sound to become an irritant.

  “Bingley!” Darcy finally barked. “Must you do that?”

  His friend turned wide innocent eyes in his direction. “Do what? I beg your pardon, Darcy, if I unsettled you. I fear I am rather anxious.” He leaned forward, his elbows upon his knees. “Are you certain we will be well received in Hertfordshire? I fear my sudden departure has caused lasting damage. You did not see the expression upon Mrs. Gardiner’s face when I attempted to visit Miss Bennet in London.” He shook his head and leaned back in the squabs. “Am I too late?”

  Having some sympathy for his friend, Darcy closed his book and set it aside. “As I have told you, I sincerely believe you will return to the high esteem of your neighbours. You are generally well-liked wherever you go; I am certain Hertfordshire will be no different.”

  “But what of Longbourn?” Bingley asked in a near whisper. “That is what concerns me.”

  “Even in Longbourn,” Darcy replied before taking up his book once more. “I might have made mention of our journey in a letter to my cousin Anne and requested she beg her friend to send word of our travel plans.”

  “Mrs. Collins?”

  Darcy flinched at the name. “If she was so kind, your presence may be anticipated.”

  A look of joy passed across the young man’s features but was quickly replaced with fresh panic. “Or dreaded.”

  “Enough!” Darcy snapped the book shut once more and tossed it on the seat beside him. “This is not like you at all. Why are you so determined to lose her? Have your feelings changed? If you no longer hold Miss Bennet in esteem, we should not even be undertaking this journey.” He shook his head. “If you increase her pain, Bingley, I swear I will never speak to you again.”

  Bingley’s eyes opened wide in surprise and, if possible, he leaned even further away. “I would never hurt Miss Bennet. I swear to you, Darcy, I have every intention of marrying her, if she will have me that is.”

  Forcing himself to relax, Darcy reached for his book, but realized his hand was shaking and would hint at his state of mind. Instead, he laid his hand upon the seat beside him and attempted to appear dispassionate. “So, it was threats that forced you to the point.” He laughed, but it sounded false even to his own ears. “You must be stronger than this to face her father.”

  Fresh visions of horror assailed his friend as Darcy turned to stare out the window. His own distress at bringing Elizabeth additional pain had nearly caused him to betray them. He could not allow his guard to slip.

  “Darcy?” Bingley’s voice was softer but held a hint of steal. “You are guardian to your sister. If I were to approach you regarding her, not that I would, I think of Miss Darcy as a child … a sister, but if I asked you for permission …”

  “You are a good man, Bingley, and I would welcome you as a brother. But not as a husband for Georgiana.” The stiffness in his shoulders eased and he leaned more fully against the cushions. “The difference is that you raised expectations but did not speak to Mr. Bennet before. I suggest you begin there this time.”

  His friend leaned forward once more and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Mr. Bennet is a bit of an odd bird. You will accompany me, will you not? I believe you might have more in common with the man than I.”

  “Are you calling me odd, Bingley?”

  “Good Lord, no!” Bingley sat upright but must have seen Darcy’s smile as he immediately relaxed. “You understand what I am saying. He is a thinking man, a scholar. Miss Bennet told me that he rarely leaves his book room.”

  “In that house, I do not doubt it,” Darcy muttered then internally cursed himself. If he was going to succeed at his mission, he had to change his thinking. “Forgive me, I meant to say that Mr. Bennet ap
pears to appreciate quiet and, with so many spirited ladies about him, it must be difficult for him at times.”

  Bingley laughed. “I dare say, Darcy, that is quite diplomatic of you.”

  “I am making an effort to consider my words and attitudes from other’s perspectives.” He looked out the window once more. “You are not the only one seeking forgiveness on this journey. I did little to make myself welcome in Hertfordshire. Should Miss Bennet accept you, which I strongly believe she will, you may decide to settle here permanently. I would hope to be invited to visit and hate to think your neighbours might dread my presence.”

  “You did make a rough go of it the first time around.” Bingley seemed to relax a bit. “I suppose it is good that Miss Eli … Mrs. Collins is no longer in the area. You will not be tempted into endless debates with her.”

  Darcy chose to ignore the comment and instead maintained his focus out the window. He had not considered how frequently he would hear her name, more specifically the name she now bore. This journey was going to be more difficult than he had originally anticipated. His own relief would come if Bingley was able to quickly become engaged so that Darcy could return to London where he could begin making weekly trips to Hunsford.

  ***********

  Three days passed before Darcy and Bingley made their way to Mr. Bennet’s book room. Though several gentlemen from the area had visited Netherfield, Mr. Bennet chose instead to wait for them to call upon him. Bingley had taken a seat before their host’s desk and was attempting to converse easily while Darcy took Mr. Bennet’s advice and perused the selection of reading material. The books on the shelf before him were so well-read the spines were broken, and threads showed on several. Darcy was forced to withdraw a few to learn the titles.

  “That is my poetry collection, Mr. Darcy.” Mr. Bennet leaned back in his seat and sipped a glass of brandy. “I am not overly fond of the genre, but my daughters enjoy it as you may surmise from the condition of the volumes. Should you note any grass or water stains, I would blame it on my Lizzy. She could not walk through nature without a book of poems to further enhance it.”

  Darcy turned in time to see his host’s shoulders slouch and a shadow pass over his features. He could not but commiserate with the man over the loss of his daughter from his home, but the information caused him to take a closer look at the books he had previously given only a passing glance.

  His host seemed to shake off his melancholy. “Lizzy told me of your poor selection, Mr. Bingley. Should you see anything you wish to borrow, Mr. Darcy, I would lend it happily.”

  Bingley blushed like a schoolboy, but Darcy thanked the man and began a more thorough inspection of each tome until he stumbled upon one with the very stains Mr. Bennet had mentioned. It opened naturally and his eyes feasted upon the words on the page. I wandered lonely as a cloud that floats on high o’er vales and hills. How often had Darcy read Wordsworth filled with wonder by the notion the man had read his thoughts yet voiced them with such inspired beauty? He wondered now if Elizabeth shared his feelings on the poet.

  “That was Lizzy’s favourite. I was surprised when she left it behind.”

  Darcy looked up to find Mr. Bennet watching him closely. “I have always felt a kinship with Wordsworth.”

  “Yet you do not have a copy of that volume, sir?” The older man’s eyes narrowed.

  “I do, but not with me. May I borrow it? I will return it before I leave the area.” Darcy held the book against his chest, directly over his heart.

  Mr. Bennet continued to study him, but eventually nodded. “I am certain Lizzy would be surprised the two of you share a love of poetry.”

  “We discussed poetry once.” Darcy could not help but smile when he thought of her comments at Netherfield Park during her sister’s rehabilitation from a brief illness.

  “Do you speak of what she had to say regarding poetry and love?” Bingley asked.

  Darcy nodded, but said nothing.

  “Lizzy spoke of love?” Mr. Bennet appeared surprised.

  “Yes.” Bingley seemed to grasp upon the subject as a way to ingratiate himself with Miss Bennet’s father. “I believe she mentioned poetry being the food of love.”

  Mr. Bennet frowned and Darcy quickly corrected his friend. “That was my response after she wondered who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love.”

  “But she did say it could be the food of love.” Bingley frowned as though he were trying to remember the conversation in detail.

  Darcy had no difficulties in bringing the scene to mind. He remembered the flash of mischief in her eyes as she pursed her lips just before responding to him. “She said, of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Everything nourishes what is strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, she was convinced that one good sonnet would starve it entirely away.”

  “That is it!” Bingley sat forward. “I knew I was correct.”

  Without thinking, Darcy caressed the book he held. He raised his head a moment later to find Mr. Bennet once more watching him and realized being here was revealing too much. His first instinct was to adopt his mask of indifference and back away from the interaction, but he had promised he would put forth more effort to ingratiate himself.

  “I am certain, sir, you are wondering why my friend and I have returned to Hertfordshire.” He took a step forward and lowered himself into the companion seat across from their host.

  Mr. Bennet’s brow rose as he looked from one to the other. “I believe there are those in the area who are more interested in why you left.” His eyes settled upon Bingley who sat taller and tugged at his cuffs.

  “As you are probably aware, sir, I was called to London on business.” Bingley frowned and was silent before glancing toward Darcy, a strange look in his eyes, then turned back to Mr. Bennet and continued. “It was unwise of me, but I put my faith in those I thought could best advise me. Though they may be better situated than I, they were not as knowledgeable of situations.” He swallowed and gave another tug on his coat. “I allowed myself to be persuaded to abandon your daughter and I now fear I will regret it for the remainder of my life.”

  The gentleman before them hid his shock well, if he felt it. His brow lowered until it was nearly a frown. “And this brings you to my book room.”

  Bingley’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Yes. I know that I must regain your trust, and I have every intention of doing whatever is required to do so. May I have your permission to court Miss Bennet?”

  “Have you spoken to her?” Mr. Bennet revealed nothing in his countenance.

  “Not yet, sir.” Bingley’s eyes once more glanced in Darcy’s direction. “I have come to realize that I erred last fall by not speaking to you when I came to recognize the depth of my affection for your daughter. Had I done so, well, we will never know what might have been.”

  “Indeed.” Mr. Bennet folded his hands upon his stomach and stared out the window. He appeared lost in a memory and neither of the gentlemen disturbed him. “You have only just returned to the area; I do not believe you have shown yourself a dependable suitor to my daughter. Perhaps, should you spend some time learning more of her and allowing her to see the devotion you now profess, I will witness what I believe to be lacking.”

  “I see.” Bingley’s head fell forward, and his hands twisted in his lap. “And will I be welcomed at Longbourn?”

  “I am certain my wife will be delighted by your presence, though I would prefer it be under invitation.” Mr. Bennet’s lips twitched. “I suppose a few morning calls, dispersed over several weeks would be acceptable.”

  The momentary lightness which had entered the older gentleman’s features vanished. “I have learned the price of acting too quickly and will not make the mistake again. Though Jane is of age, she will do as I say. I will not give her to any I think unworthy of her.”

  Darcy bit the tip of his tongue trying to keep himself from speaking. His hands ran lovingly over the book he h
eld upon his lap. Yes, Mr. Bennet had learned his lesson, but only after sacrificing Elizabeth.

  “I understand, sir,” Bingley said as he stood. “I do not wish to overstay my welcome. Will you give my regards to your wife and daughters?”

  Though Darcy joined his friend, Mr. Bennet remained seated, lost once again in thought. Finally, he stood, and the right side of his face turned upward in a crooked smile. “I fear I shall hear too many complaints if you do not at least say hello to the ladies.”

  He led them to the parlour where Mrs. Bennet, Miss Bennet, and Miss Mary sat stitching what appeared to be baby items. The gentlemen were welcomed, and the work set aside. Darcy allowed his friend to claim the seat nearest his angel then chose a place close enough to easily converse with either his hostess or her middle daughter. Mrs. Bennet was more interested in Mr. Bingley and spoke directly to him, so Darcy turned his attention toward Miss Mary.

  “I could not help notice your work, Miss Mary. Is someone in your family expecting?” His heart raced, wondering if Elizabeth suspected she might be with child and had told her family.

  “No sir, we maintain items for tenants. Though none are expecting now, there were three babes born this past spring and our supplies have dwindled.” She spoke softly, but clearly, without looking him in the eye. “Without Lizzy, we must do more now, so they are ready when needed.”

  “That is very wise, Miss Mary.”

  A soft pink hue covered her cheeks as she bowed her head. “We only do as our good Lord directs, sir.”

  “And do your younger sisters help you as well?” he asked, determined to keep the conversation going.

  He thought he saw her roll her eyes but could not be certain. “Their governess has taught them some stitches, but they have little patience for anything beyond ball gowns.” Her blush deepened. “Forgive me, sir, I should not speak so about my sisters.”

  Darcy chuckled. “I am certain your older sister, were she here, would have said something similar.”