Mrs Collins' Lover

by Bronwen Chisholm

  Elizabeth ran a hand over her daughter’s sparse hair. After William’s head full of dark curls, the light dusting of feathery mouse brown strands was a bit of a shock. And though she suckled at her mother’s breast, Anne did not seem to drink as demandingly as her brother had done.

  The bed shifted as William bounced beside her. “… da bigges’ hors,” he declared as he made his wooden horse rear up on its hind legs. The boy had not stopped talking of Darcy, their breakfast, or the horse he rode away on since Betsy brought him to see her. A loud whinny burst from his lips and the baby cringed, releasing a soft whimper before she once more laid her hand upon Elizabeth’s breast and suckled a bit harder.

  “Not so loud, Darling,” Elizabeth whispered as she comforted her daughter.

  William’s face fell and he slowly crawled closer until he was able to look down at his sister. “Sowry, Anne.” He laid a hand upon Elizabeth’s shoulder. “I s’pose be nice ta her. Unca Da say.” He frowned as he looked at his horse.

  “You were just excited, William,” she assured her son.

  He shook his head and sat back on his heels. “I Will now. Unca Da say.”

  Elizabeth laughed and wondered how many more times she would hear what Darcy had said. “Yes, I know, but it will take some time for your mama to remember.”

  A soft cough drew her attention and she looked up to see Jane moving toward the bed. Elizabeth blinked to clear the tears that had gathered in her eyes.

  “Forgive me, Lizzy, but I wanted to see you before I went down to breakfast.” Her sister’s lips lifted in what might have been a conciliatory smile. “I see you have company.”

  “An Jane, Unca Da say I Will now cuz I have sisser.” He pointed to the baby.

  “Really?” Jane sat on the bed beside her nephew and ran a hand over his curls. “We cannot call you William any longer?”

  He shook his head emphatically. “I have …” his expression turned pensive, as though he were trying desperately to remember something. Elizabeth heard Jane’s sharp inhale and wondered if she was noting the similarities to his father which were suddenly more pronounced. Will frowned and looked to his mother. “Wha’ is i’?”

  Elizabeth laughed as she pushed aside her unease. “Responsibilities.” She met Jane’s gaze and rolled her eyes playfully, hoping her sister would be willing to set aside her prejudices.

  William nodded and looked back at his aunt. “Sponsabillies. I watch Anne.”

  “And I am certain you will be a wonderful brother,” Jane said seriously, though Elizabeth saw a hint of a sparkle in her eye. “You know, I always wanted a brother when I was a small child.” She swallowed and sniffed. “I would have loved to have one just like you.” She poked him in the stomach bringing on a peal of giggles.

  When it passed, he climbed into Jane’s lap and continued playing with his horse. Jane raised her eyes and met Elizabeth’s searching gaze. “Forgive me, Lizzy …”

  Elizabeth took a deep breath and released it. “There is nothing to forgive, Jane.” She ran a nervous hand over the covers beside her. “How are you?”

  “Confused.” She hugged the boy on her lap until he squirmed to get away. “I always hoped you were happy. You normally look for the joy in situations, so I thought you would do the same with Mr. … your marriage.”

  “I just couldn’t,” Elizabeth whispered. “Not until …” How could she tell her sister what she had endured? “If I appeared joyful, I was accused of whatever sin first entered his mind.” She brushed away a tear which had slipped from the corner of her eye and sat straighter as she made a decision. “I do not wish to speak of it ever again.”

  Jane nodded. “Your children are beautiful, Lizzy.”

  The smile came unbidden to her features. “They are, but,” she paused and bit her lip. “Jane, is it my imagination, or is Anne’s one eye smaller than the other?” The child had fallen asleep, so she pulled her breast from between the baby’s lips and rolled Anne’s head so Jane could see her better.

  “Oh, everyone’s features are slightly off,” Jane reassured as she leaned forward to peer at her niece. She frowned and tipped her head to the side. “Perhaps it is just the way you are holding her; the angle from which you are looking.”

  Elizabeth yawned. “Perhaps. I am certain it is just my nerves.” She widened her eyes in a teasing manner, as she had done before her marriage, and smiled.

  “Lizzy,” Jane scolded, though she suppressed a smile. “Mama means well.” She slid William, or rather Will, from her lap and took the baby in her arms so Elizabeth could lie down.

  “Does she, Jane?” Elizabeth asked as she slipped further between the sheets. “Or does she simply require attention?”

  “I will admit she was a bit trying yesterday.”

  “Jane! I am impressed. I believe that is the harshest thing you have ever said of our mother.” Elizabeth yawned again. “But a bit trying does not begin to address her actions.” She shook her head as she remembered Mrs. Bennet’s tirade on being left at Longbourn by her husband and Elizabeth’s cruelty for having the baby before she could arrive. “I began to think I should make way on the bed for her to rest, as obviously, she had suffered more than I.”

  Jane blushed. “I am sorry she berated you so for not having another son.” She lowered the sleeping child into the cradle.

  “I have come to understand that I will never be the perfect daughter she desires.” Elizabeth rolled to her side and hugged her pillow to her. “But I will not allow her to speak so to my children,” she declared.

  “No, and you were correct to ask her to leave.” Jane held out her arms to her nephew. “Come along, Will. It is time for Mama to take a nap.”

  The boy kissed his mother’s cheek before scurrying to the edge of the bed and announcing, “I walk.”

  Jane laughed as she took his hand, but her smile faded when she met Elizabeth’s sleepy gaze. “It is best that you remain here, Lizzy. Mama will only distress you and the children.”

  “Are you certain, Jane?” She was suddenly alert and watched her sister carefully.

  “I may never understand what … or why … but I will not make it worse.” She gave her sister a tentative smile. “Charles and I have discussed it. You and the children will stay with us until you are ready to go to your own home.”

  “Thank you,” Elizabeth whispered. She had not realized how the thought of returning to Longbourn had upset her. Tears fell from her cheeks and she brushed them away. “We will be no bother.”

  “Bother?” Jane laughed. “Oh, Lizzy.” She stepped back to the bed and leaned over to kiss her sister’s cheek. “I only wish to see you the girl you once were, carefree and happy.” Jane laid a hand upon Elizabeth’s hair and Elizabeth covered it with one of her own, squeezing it. Jane kissed her sister’s forehead and then motioned for Will to lead her from the room.

  When the door closed behind them, Elizabeth stared at it for some time as she pondered her sister. Something had occurred to change Jane’s mind, but she was not certain what it might have been. She leaned over the side of the bed to look down at her daughter and wondered if it was the miracle of birth.

  Once more, she noted that the baby’s features did not appear quite symmetrical. The cheek on her left side seemed to stop a bit higher than the right pulling her chin slightly upward on that side. She frowned, wishing she had noted it before Darcy left. He would have reassured her. He would have told her she was silly for thinking God had not quite finished forming their daughter as a constant reminder of their sin.

  She rolled onto her back and stared at the canopy above her. Tears ran from the corners of her eyes until they caught in her ears and she rolled into the middle of the bed. Sleep quickly claimed her, though her pillow remained wet.

  *CHAPTER THIRTY- ONE*

  The sheer curtains fluttered in the afternoon breeze carrying a hint of fragrance, but Elizabeth had no interest in stepping closer to view the bright spring day. It had rained off and on for the last
three days which better fit her mood.

  A weak whimper rose from the cradle at her side and she bent to gather her daughter to her breast. Mrs. Bennet’s words from yesterday’s visit came to mind as she observed Anne’s reddened countenance. Lizzy, why would you name your child after a sickly woman? You have cursed her. She is so small and weak.

  “Her name did not curse her,” Elizabeth whispered as she caressed the child’s fine hair.

  It had been a week since Anne’s birth; a week since Darcy had gone away. Jane had finally convinced Elizabeth to leave her bed, but she had only agreed to move to the settee by the fireplace. At her sister’s insistence, Elizabeth had made the short journey between the two locations daily but refused to go further.

  When William was born, Mrs. Rickman had frightened Mr. Collins into allowing her bedrest, but Elizabeth had little desire to remain abed. She had paced the confines of her room the first week and was sitting in the garden the following. The energy which possessed her then was nowhere to be found now. Tears flowed unheeded down her cheeks, something else that had not happened with William. Then, she had been filled with joy, not this clawing sorrow.

  Bitterness filled her and she swiped the tears away, refusing to remain in this posture. Adjusting Anne accordingly, she lowered her feet to the floor and sat straighter, placing a pillow beneath the child for a bit of support. Anne’s suckling was already slowing, and Elizabeth knew she would soon be asleep. She decided to walk about the room once the babe was returned to her cradle.

  Scratching at the door drew her attention and she waited to see if it would open. A moment later, Mary peeked inside.

  “Are you feeling well enough for a visit?” her sister asked.

  Elizabeth took a deep breath and nodded. “I was about to settle Anne back into her bed and take a walk about the room.”

  “May I assist you?” Mary drew closer and set the book she carried upon the table beside the settee.

  “If you would like.” Elizabeth held the child out so her sister could claim her.

  A soft loving smile graced Mary’s features as she ran a finger along Anne’s cheek and placed a kiss upon the baby’s forehead. “Does she require changing?”

  Elizabeth nodded and pointed toward the supplies on a table in the corner. Mary attended the task while Elizabeth remained seated, no longer having the desire to walk as she had previously stated. When her sister was finished, she held the baby to her shoulder and turned back to Elizabeth.

  “Shall we walk?” Mary asked, one brow raised in an impertinent manner.

  “Would you prefer to sit and talk? Did you walk from Longbourn?”

  “Heavens no. You are the walker in our family, Lizzy. I came in the carriage.”

  Elizabeth frowned. “Is Mama with you?”

  The corners of Mary’s lips twitched. “No. Papa sent me alone. He thought it best that you and Mama spend some time apart.”

  A sense of relief flooded over Elizabeth and she settled back into the cushions. “I appreciate the reprieve.”

  “Well, after she was told to leave Netherfield on more than one occasion, Papa informed the stables that he was the only one who would be requesting the carriage. If Mama wishes to go anywhere, he must give his approval.” Mary stood before Elizabeth, her expression expectant. “Do you require assistance to rise?”

  “I fear the desire to move about has deserted me.”

  Mary stared at Elizabeth with pursed lips, then laid the baby in the cradle and took the seat beside her sister. “Jane says you are not yourself and I find she is correct.”

  A tear slipped from the corner of Elizabeth’s eye and travelled down the cheek furthest from her sister, so she made no move to swipe it away for fear she would draw attention to it instead. “Nothing of this birth has been the same as my last.”

  “Mama says that is natural. Each child is different so why should each birth not be?”

  Elizabeth narrowed her eyes as she peered at her sister.

  “I am not deaf, Lizzy, and Mama speaks loudly enough for all of Meryton to hear.”

  “I suppose you are correct,” she reluctantly conceded.

  Mary covered Elizabeth’s hand with her own. “Did you not feel better when you were walking after William was born?”

  “I did. But I was more joyous then.” She took up Darcy’s handkerchief and twisted the end about her finger. “Now I feel as though I am weighed down by a sorrow I cannot name.”

  Her sister removed her hand. “You cannot or you will not?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Mary cleared her throat and turned so she fully faced Elizabeth. “I know about you and Mr. Darcy.”

  The room seemed to spin, and heat flooded Elizabeth’s cheeks. She could not have this conversation with her younger sister who was so well-versed in Fordyce’s sermons. She pushed out of her seat and crossed to the mantle, clinging to it as a wave of nausea accosted her.

  “I have known since Jane’s wedding. I saw you together on Oakham Mount.”

  Oakham Mount. Dear God, when William was conceived. The room dipped and swayed, and she dug her nails into the wood.

  “I told no one. I had seen how Mr. Collins mistreated you. I heard Mr. Darcy ask if … if he had struck you again.”

  Elizabeth heard movement behind her and felt Mary’s small hand rest upon her upper arm.

  “After that, I did everything I could to shield you from Mr. Collins and Mama.” She slipped her arms about Elizabeth’s waist and laid her cheek on her sister’s shoulder. “You sacrificed so much for us; it was the least I could do for you.”

  Gradually her sister’s words broke through the chaos of her mind. Mary was not judging her. She was not castigating her. Elizabeth’s voice was broken as she whispered her thanks and turned to embrace her sister.

  “Oh, Lizzy, I only want you to be happy.” Mary drew back and met her gaze directly. “But you will never be so if you do not forgive yourself.”

  A sob escaped as Elizabeth pulled away from her sister and began walking the length of the room. “You do not understand, Mary. I have done such …”

  “Do you blame yourself for Mr. Collins’ death?”

  Elizabeth stopped by the window and gazed down into the gardens. William and his nurse were kneeling by the bushes as though they were looking for or at something. She continued to watch as her son sat back on his heels and giggled, the sound floating toward her on a breeze. Oh, to be that innocent once more.

  Her voice was soft when she answered. “Things happened at the time of his death for which I blame myself.”

  “Lizzy,” Mary came to stand beside her. “Mr. Collins was a frustrating man at his best. I can only … I do not want to imagine what he put you through.” She slipped her arm about Elizabeth’s waist and stared out the window. “Jane said Mr. Darcy will return when your mourning ends.”

  Elizabeth nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  “He will be highly displeased if you are not the woman he came to love. I believe it was your spirit which drew him to you. He is much too serious a man and requires your joy to make him happy. If you continue in this manner, you will make him apprehensive.”

  “You are correct, of course.” Elizabeth wiped her tears away. “We simply are not suited.”

  Her sister’s rapid departure from her side caused Elizabeth to stumble.

  “Whatever gave you that idea?” Mary demanded. “That man has waited for you for nearly three years and is prepared to wait even longer. I was in no way trying to discourage you. Jane and I are worried for your well-being. If you continue to berate yourself in this manner, you will forever destroy the joyful sister we miss so very much.”

  “Mary, you cannot understand.” Elizabeth turned and made her way back to the settee. She lowered herself onto it and dropped back against the cushions. “When Mr. Collins was dying, I told him what I had done. I was cruel and mean-spirited. I did not know myself.”

  “Oh, Lizzy,” Mary whispered
as she regained her seat at her sister’s side. “In some way, I am certain Mr. Collins drove you to it. You would never behave so if not pushed.” She laid a hand upon Elizabeth’s arm. “You must forgive yourself and ask God’s forgiveness.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I knew what I was doing was wrong. I told God I did. Yet I did it anyway.” She shook her head again harder. “He will never forgive me.”

  “How can you say that?” Mary asked as she reached for the book she had carried earlier. “Look at all the times Jesus welcomed sinners to his table. In Luke he tells the story of the lost sheep. What man of you, having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it? And then he goes on to tell the story of the prodigal son. Lizzy, what are you but that lost sheep? A prodigal daughter?” She pressed the well-worn book of Gospels into Elizabeth’s hand. “Our Father wants you to return to him, Lizzy, but you are being stubborn and, forgive me, proud.”

  “Proud?” Elizabeth lifted her head to meet her sister’s gaze. “How am I being proud?”

  Mary bit her lip and squirmed in her seat. “You seem to cling to your sin as though … like a badge a soldier might wear for deeds done in service to the crown.” Her lips quivered and Elizabeth saw a spark of amusement in Mary’s eyes. “Like Sir William and his knighthood.”

  Elizabeth gasped and began to deny it, but no word would come.

  “I will leave you now.” Mary stood and looked down at her. “Jane said tea will be ready shortly if you wish to join us. You need not take the stairs. We will be in the sitting room off her bedroom.”

  The door closed behind Mary’s departing figure and still Elizabeth sat staring at nothing. The book seemed to burn in her hand until she finally opened it. A ribbon marked Luke 15 and she settled back to read the familiar passage. When she had finished, she read it through again.

  “Am I a lost sheep?” she asked the empty room. A third perusal caused her to slip to her knees before the settee. Her tears flowed unchecked as she cradled her head upon the seat. “Father, so many times over these years I have come to you, not for guidance but to present my plans. … I know my ways are not Your ways.” She thought of the passage in Isaiah and smiled. “Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts: and let him return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy upon him; and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.” A sob tore at her throat. “Father, forgive me.” She sobbed, unable to speak clearly as her soul cried out her true repentance. When the last tear fell, she felt cleansed but weary. Her eyes fell closed and she slept peacefully for the first time in years.