Mrs Collins' Lover

by Bronwen Chisholm

  With one last glance at the unmoving figure in the bed, Elizabeth left the room and closed the door firmly behind her. The air in the hallway was much cooler and she stood still to enjoy it for a moment before descending the stairs. She entered the kitchen to find the normally stern cook kneeling on the floor beside William.

  “That’s the way,” the woman urged. “Ya roll it jus’ so.”

  A ball appeared, heading toward small stacks of blocks, and struck the first one toppling it into the others. Peels of giggles rang through the room as Cook clapped her hands.

  “Well done, Master William.”

  “Well done indeed,” Elizabeth laughed.

  “Oh, Mum,” Cook scrambled to her feet, “I didn’t hear ya enter.”

  “You were more enjoyably employed.” Elizabeth smiled at her son. “Sarah is sitting with Mr. Collins so that I might eat.”

  The cook nodded and began pulling plates out of the cupboards. Before long, a bowl of stew was sitting before Elizabeth with several slices of warm bread. The aroma caused her stomach to growl and she set upon the food greedily while Cook returned to entertaining William. When his attention finally strayed from the ball and blocks, he toddled toward his mother and tugged upon her skirts. Elizabeth helped him climb onto the bench beside her and dipped a bit of crust into the remaining broth for him to suck upon while she finished her meal.

  “Thank you, Cook,” Elizabeth sighed as she pushed the empty bowl away. “That was delicious and quite filling.”

  “Of course, Mum. I’ve broth warming for the Mister when he wakes, also.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “Mr. Dresden does not want us feeding Mr. Collins until he is able to examine him while awake.”

  The older woman frowned. “How will the Mister keep up his strength?”

  “I agree, but those are his orders. He wishes to know the extent of Mr. Collins’ injuries. We are only to provide water until then.”

  Cook gathered the dirty dishes, muttering under her breath as she set them in the sink.

  William swiped a hand over his eyes and Elizabeth gathered him to her “Are you sleepy, little one?”

  He nuzzled against her neck and wrapped his fingers under the neckline of her dress.

  “I will settle Master William in his bed, then relieve Sarah for a few hours.” Elizabeth announced as she pushed out of her seat. Settling the boy on her hip, she turned toward the doorway.

  “Mum?” the cook called after her and Elizabeth stopped. “I will come take your place when you call. Sarah can take over later in the night.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “Very well. Rest for a time then. I will tell Sarah to set the kitchen right before she retires.”

  William fell asleep quickly and Elizabeth tucked him into his bed. Before returning to Mr. Collins’ room, she changed into a lighter weight dress and found her fan. She laid another blanket over the baby and left the door open a crack so she could hear him if he woke, then returned to her husband’s sickroom.

  Sarah stood and stretched when Elizabeth entered. “He has not changed, Ma’am,” she whispered as she approached the door.

  “Please see to the kitchen and then you may retire. Cook will sit with Mr. Collins when I am ready to rest. She will call for you when she tires.” Elizabeth frowned at the hard chair beside the bed. “Could you bring me some cushions, Sarah? I fear I will be unable to sit here for long as it is. I believe we should have my chair brought up from the parlour to-morrow.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” Sarah dipped a curtsey and left on her errand.

  “Well, Mr. Collins,” Elizabeth sighed. “It is you and me for the remainder of the evening. Shall I read to you?” She crossed to the dresser where she had earlier noted a stack of books and began perusing the titles. Her brow dipped as she lifted the first book and opened it to confirm what she saw. “Mr. Collins, I am amazed. These are novels!” She looked at the next and then the next. All were books she had been told a good Christian woman did not read.

  “Ma’am?” Sarah entered the room carrying several pillows. “Will these do?”

  “Yes, Sarah, thank you.” Elizabeth chose a book and took her seat. “That is much better. Please leave the door open a crack so that I might hear William if he wakes.”

  Sarah dipped a curtsey and left while Elizabeth adjusted the pillows until she was comfortable. “Well, Mr. Collins, shall we begin? As I have not read this book as yet, I hope you will understand if I begin at the beginning. You will not mind hearing it again, I am certain.” She opened the book to the first chapter and began reading.

  From time to time, she stopped, sipped some water, and looked upon her patient. Mr. Collins did not change position or show any sign of recognizing her presence, so she would return to her reading. The story was enthralling, and she read far later than she intended. When she raised her head, she noted that several candles had guttered, and the fire no longer burned as hot. Elizabeth stood and stretched her back before leaning over the bed.

  Mr. Collins no longer shivered and appeared to be resting peacefully. She removed one or two blankets and laid a hand upon his forehead. His skin was warm, but not hot or clammy. Taking this as a good sign, she removed another blanket, so he was no longer buried under the heap. She was about to stoke the fire when she heard whimpering from her bedroom and went to check on her son. William sat in the middle of his bed, rubbing his eyes as he took a deep shaky breath.

  “Oh, darling,” Elizabeth wrapped an arm about him and kissed his forehead. “Did you have a bad dream?”

  The boy nodded. “Pah,” he whined.

  “Pa? Papa?” Elizabeth asked.

  William nodded again.

  “Well, let us go see Papa.” Elizabeth stood and placed William on her hip. He snuggled against her shoulder as she made her way back to Mr. Collins’ room. “There is Papa,” she whispered. “He is asleep.”

  William whimpered again and buried his face against her breast.

  “William darling, what is wrong?”

  Elizabeth looked at the bed and found Mr. Collins staring back at her. His eyes were dark and cold as he glared first at her and then her son.

  “Mr. Collins!” She sank back onto the chair.

  “Lizbet,” he growled.

  She reached for the bell pull and tugged it several times. “Would you like some water, sir?” she asked as she pushed aside her unease. William clung tighter to her, so she was forced to pour the water with one hand. “I am afraid Mr. Dresden said we cannot give you anything more than water until he returns.”

  Mr. Collins did not speak, but continued to stare at her, pouring all his displeasure into his gaze.

  Determined not to be discomfited by an invalid, she raised one brow as she returned his gaze directly. “Shall I continue reading, sir?”

  The rector sputtered and gurgled a response, but nothing intelligible.

  The door opened and Cook rushed into the room pulling her cap straight. “Forgive me, Mum. I didn’t mean to sleep this late.” She turned toward the bed. “Mercy! He’s awake!” She stepped closer. “Should I send for Mr. Dresden, Mum?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “No, Mr. Dresden said he would be here at sunrise and not to send for him before then.” She stood as she attempted to loosen the baby’s grip upon her. “Please hold William while I see to Mr. Collins.”

  “Of course. Come here, wee one,” the cook crooned.

  Reluctantly, the child released his mother and allowed the servant to comfort him. Elizabeth took up the glass of water and leaned over the bed. “Will you drink, sir?”

  The intensity in Mr. Collins’ eyes did not diminish, but he opened his mouth. Elizabeth slipped a hand under his head, careful of the bandages, and lifted him enough that she could tip the glass and pour a small amount into his mouth. As she lowered him, he began to gurgle and choke. She quickly set the glass aside and lifted him once more, but the water did not seem to go down. Instead, it dribbled from the corner of his lips. Using the corner of the cou
nterpane, she wiped away the moisture and lowered him once more.

  Their eyes met and this time Elizabeth saw fear in Mr. Collins’ gaze.

  *CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE*

  Something was pushing against her arm, so Elizabeth moaned her displeasure and rolled away from it.

  “Ma’am!”

  The urgent whisper broke through the haze of her sleep and dreams. Elizabeth attempted to say something intelligible, but only mumbled as she swatted away the hand which shook her once more.

  “Mr. Dresden has come, Ma’am.”

  The edge of her consciousness recognized Sarah’s voice and Elizabeth forced herself to open one eye.

  “Please, Ma’am, Mr. Dresden wishes to speak to you.” The maid’s cast down expression was enough to recall everything which had occurred the evening before and bring Elizabeth fully awake.

  “Of course,” she murmured as she pushed herself upward. She looked down and discovered she was still clothed from the previous night. She vaguely remembered returning to her room but must not have had the strength to undress before falling asleep. Patting a hand over her hair, she slid to the edge of the bed. “I will be but a moment.”

  Sarah left the room and Elizabeth made her way to the chamber pot to relieve herself, then splashed a bit of fresh water from the basin on her face and rinsed her mouth. She pulled a cap from its drawer and used it to cover her hair, grateful for the hideous thing for the first time. Taking a deep breath, she left her room and returned to Mr. Collins’ door. This time she did knock and waited for the apothecary to respond.

  When the door opened, she looked up to see the cold mask the man had worn most of the previous evening. Elizabeth’s shoulders sagged, understanding he was not pleased with his patient’s condition.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Collins. It appears you were unable to rest well last night.” His frown deepened as his eyes fell to her rounded stomach.

  “Were you informed of what occurred?” she asked, not having the strength to share anything that had already been disclosed.

  He gave a brief nod as he ushered her into the room. “Mr. Collins awoke, his language was more recognizable, but he was unable to swallow the water you provided for him.”

  Elizabeth nodded. They stood inside the room, but had not approached the bed, and she could not bring herself to look in that direction. “That is correct. I remained with him until he fell asleep once more. Has he woken since then?”

  “He is awake now.” Mr. Dresden motioned toward the bed.

  Reluctantly, Elizabeth followed his hand until she focused on the figure under the covers. Mr. Collins had been propped up by several pillows so that he was able to see some of the room, though he was not actually sitting up, and he once more glared in her direction.

  Swallowing her discomfort, Elizabeth moved closer and dipped a curtsey, abbreviated due to her condition.

  “Good morning, Mr. Collins.”

  “Yooo.” A gurgle followed, then, “Seh Pee-r toe.” The gurgling increased, followed by gagging sounds and Mr. Dresden rushed to his patient’s side.

  “I have not been able to make out much of what he is attempting to say. Do you understand him, Mrs. Collins?” He tipped the parson’s head and the choking sounds subsided, though the gurgling was still noticeable.

  “I can only imagine he is trying to quote scripture,” Elizabeth replied wearily. She bit her lower lip as she considered which passages Mr. Collins had regularly read to her. She pulled the well-worn book from his bedside table and looked over the list of books, finally settling upon the Second Epistle of Peter, chapter two. Her eyes ran over the words until they came upon a passage she had heard repeatedly during her marriage.

  The Lord knoweth how to deliver the godly out of temptations, and to reserve the unjust unto the day of judgement to be punished. But chiefly them that walk after the flesh in the lust of uncleanness, and despise government. Presumptious are they, selfwilled, they are not afraid to speak evil of dignities. Whereas angels, which are greater in power and might, bring not railing accusation against them before the Lord. But these, as natural brute beasts, made to be taken and destroyed, speak evil of the things that they understand not, and shall utterly perish in their own corruption, and shall receive the reward of unrighteousness, as they that count it pleasure to riot in the day time. Spots they are and blemishes, sporting themselves with their own deceivings while they feast with you.

  Elizabeth closed the book and returned it to its place before meeting Mr. Collins’ gaze directly. “I am uncertain what he is trying to say,” she said with a determined deliberateness.

  The gurgling grew louder, and another round of gagging followed. Once Mr. Dresden had assisted his patient to regain some ease, he motioned for Elizabeth to step outside with him. Sarah, who had been waiting in the hall, entered the room to sit with the patient while they talked.

  The apothecary opened his mouth, but shut it again, taking two steps away from her and returning. He shook his head. “There is no one who might be with you in this time, Mrs. Collins?”

  “I would not bring any of them out in this weather, sir. Miss de Bourgh is a trusted friend, but she takes ill easily.”

  “No male relation that I might speak to on your behalf or who might relieve you of situations which are at most undesirable?”

  Frustrated with the apothecary’s continued belief in women being frail, weak creatures, Elizabeth crossed her arms before her and tapped her toes. “Sir, I am the individual responsible for Mr. Collins, therefore, it is with me you must speak.”

  “He is dying.”

  She had been prepared to hear it, but not in this manner. The air felt as though it had been suctioned from her and she held out a hand to brace herself against the wall.

  “There is a rattle in his lungs which is, or most likely will become, pneumonia. The only means of battling it is to cough out the fluid, but Mr. Collins is incapable of doing so. He cannot swallow; therefore, he cannot eat or even drink. He will most likely suffocate, drown in his own spittle.”

  A hand rose to her mouth as Elizabeth gasped. “How horrible.” Tears burned against her eyes as she considered such a demise. “Is there nothing you can do?”

  Mr. Dresden pursed his lips and shook his head. “To ease his suffering would be to kill him sooner.”

  “Would that not be merciful?”

  He shook his head once more. “I cure, Mrs. Collins; not kill.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “How long?”

  “It is hard to say. Most likely a day or two, but no more than a week.” He laid a hand upon her shoulder. “You may call me when he has passed.” His hand fell away and Mr. Dresden entered the sickroom once more. A few minutes later, he left with his bag in hand and descended the stairs after giving Elizabeth a brief nod.

  When she heard the front door latch, she finally felt free to move. Staggering to one side, she pressed her back against the wall, her palms followed suit and she splayed her fingers outward. She hoped the more of her which touched the solid object, the more strength she could draw from it. Time passed and she no longer felt as though she were tipping to one side. Peeling herself away from the false strength of the building, she stood alone in the middle of the hall.

  Sarah remained with Mr. Collins, but it was not fair to place such a burden upon the young woman. Still, before Elizabeth could take her place at her husband’s side, she had to see to her son. Poor William. Cook had settled him back in his bed the previous night, once he fell asleep again, and Elizabeth had only now had the opportunity to consider the child.

  She entered his room as silently as she was able and stood at the edge of his bed. Sleep still claimed him, wetting his dark curls with sweat and sticking them to his forehead. His lips twitched and she wondered at his dreams. Sending up a silent prayer that they remain sweet and pleasant, she slipped from the room and stood once more in the hallway staring at Mr. Collins’ door.

  “Mum?”

  Elizabeth jumped as she sw
ivelled toward Cook’s voice.

  “Forgive me, Mum, but I did clear my throat first ta announce my presence ta ya.” Cook held out a tray. “I brought ya tea.”

  “Tha … Thank you.” She glanced at the door before her once more but decided to return to her own room; the servant followed. “I believe it best if I do not partake of sustenance before Mr. Collins,” she explained.

  Cook nodded as she set the tray upon the only table large enough to accommodate it in the room. “May I ask …?”

  “Mr. Dresden said Mr. Collins is not long for this world. Perhaps a few days.”

  The servant nodded and used her apron to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. “Sarah and I will tend Master William, Mum. Ring for us when ya needs anything and one of us will come sit with the Mister while ya rests or eats.” The cook turned to leave.

  “Thank you, Cook.” Her gratitude nearly choked her, and Elizabeth cleared her throat. “Forgive me, I have always called you Cook because that is how Mr. Collins introduced us. What is your name?”

  “Mrs. Jones, Mum. Mrs. Mary Jones. Sarah be my niece.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “I have a sister named Mary. Thank you, Mrs. Jones. You and Sarah have been wonderful during this difficult time. I could not have managed without you.”

  Mrs. Jones lowered her gaze. “I fears ‘twill get worse, Mum. Have ya ever seen a man die?”

  “No,” Elizabeth whispered.

  “My husband …” Cook’s voice faded away as her lower lip trembled. A moment passed before she squared her shoulders and looked at Elizabeth directly. “I’ll try to be with you, Mum.” Mrs. Jones dipped a quick curtsey and hurried from the room, leaving Elizabeth alone with the weight of what was to come.

  ************

  When Elizabeth had finished her tea and gathered her sewing basket and some writing materials, she returned to Mr. Collins’ room. Her chair from the parlour now sat beside the bed where Mr. Collins slept. Perhaps Sarah had requested the young man who hung about the kitchen door, trying to sweet talk her, to bring it up the stairs. However it had been moved, Elizabeth was grateful.