Master of Longbourn

by Leenie Brown

  “And do you like it?” she asked eagerly.

  “I have only read the first correspondence, and I must say I am intrigued to see what the response to such a request will be.”

  “Then, you have not met Mr. Villars yet? He is the parson.”

  The animation that claimed her features as she spoke of the novel was enough to sway his opinion about them altogether. He could read such works and discuss them with her to see her eyes light as they were now and to watch her bite back a smile by tucking her lower lip between her teeth. It really mattered not if they were dull or entertaining. He could and would read them.

  He shook his head. “I have not met him yet.”

  “I just know you will like him. He is all that is good. He truly is.” Her lips pursed, and her brows furrowed. “There is deception in the story, and I know that is not a proper thing.”

  Collins nodded in agreement. Deception was not a virtue to be sure. “Does the deception persist?”

  “Oh, no. Everything turns out just as it should,” Kitty assured him. “I was just concerned that you would see the deception and…”

  “Condemn the book as a whole?”

  Collins’s question was met with a small nod, which caused him to smile and relax into his chair as his arms folded across his abdomen.

  “What did the serpent do in the garden? Did he not deceive Eve? And then later, did not Jacob deceive his father at his mother’s request? If deception is in the scriptures, can it be wrong to have it in a novel?” He shrugged. “Perhaps so, and perhaps not. It depends, I believe, on the way in which it is presented. If it is lifted up as a thing to be desired or a path to be followed, then the author of the book is in great error, for he or she is leading readers astray. However, if an author shows deception for what it is – an offense against man and God – then I see no wrong in its inclusion in a novel, for the writer is in such a case presenting it as he or she should. Using it even as a warning about the ills of society. Was it not Sir Phillip Sidney who proclaimed that poesy can encourage us, the readers, to virtue and good deeds?” He paused for a moment, brows furrowing as he thought. “Yes, yes, I do believe it was Sidney who wrote The Defense of Poesy, was it not?” He looked at her, but seeing her wide eyes, he then turned to Darcy. Surely, a man such as Mr. Darcy would know such a thing.

  “It was,” Darcy assured him.

  Relief washed over Collins. He would have hated to have gotten that fact wrong, for up until then his speech was rather well-done – logical and not rambling. Surely, she would be impressed by such a thing, would she not?

  “So, you see, it is not just I who thinks such things,” he ended with a nod.

  “Indeed,” Kitty replied. “I have not thought about such things.” She looked at Elizabeth. “Do we have this Defense of what was it?”

  “Poesy,” Collins replied.

  “I have not read it,” Elizabeth replied. “But Papa would know.”

  “If he does not have it, I do,” Darcy interjected. “I can send for it.”

  “Would you?”

  Even Darcy smiled at the excitement in her voice. “I apologize. I had not thought you such a great reader, Miss Kitty.”

  “Oh, I am not unless it is a novel or some lovely verses. I find most other things dreadfully dull, but I should like to see this Defense of Poesy.”

  “It is not so entertaining as a novel,” Darcy cautioned.

  Her lips pursed for a moment, and Collins thought perhaps she would decide not to read it. But then, she shook her head and smiled. “It is at least worth an attempt, is it not? How else shall I know if I approve of it or not if I do not try it? Is that not so, Mr. Collins?”

  Collins blinked. She had nearly quoted, word for word, his explanation of why he would read a novel. “Yes, yes,” he agreed, grimacing inwardly at his tone of utter surprise. However, from how her smile stayed affixed to her face, it seemed she did not mind. “Indeed,” he added, “one does not know unless one tries.”

  Chapter 6

  Collins entered the dining room with Mrs. Bennet as instructed, fully intending to sit next to her at the foot of the table as he had always done. However, tonight things were not going to be as they had been.

  “Come sit next to me,” Mr. Bennet instructed.

  “It is very good to see you at the table, sir,” Collins said as he claimed the chair on Mr. Bennet’s right.

  “I tire of my room,” the man replied with a smile. “I should like to enjoy at least a few more meals at this table, and Darcy’s physician has told me that I may attempt half of whatever I feel I can do. Therefore, I shall eat at least one of my meals each day at this table.”

  “I am glad to hear it, sir.”

  “As am I,” added Elizabeth, who was seated next to Darcy and across from Collins.

  “Ah, my wayward offspring,” Mr. Bennet muttered as Lydia and Mary entered the room. He lifted a hand and waved them to his side. “You have something to say before we begin, do you not?”

  To Collins, it did not look as if either daughter had anything they wished to say, but their heads bowed, and each muttered an apology.

  “Not so well done as I would have hoped,” said Mr. Bennet, “but it will do. You may take your seats next to your sister.” He turned to Collins. “I have instructed my wife that should you desire to find a wife amongst my remaining daughters, it is to be of your choosing and not hers. And as for my daughters,” he raised a brow and gave Mary and Lydia a pointed look, “I will expect them to look to their sister Jane and follow her example in how to comport themselves appropriately.” He sighed. “It is in the shadows of life when one realizes his folly and fears it shall leave ruin in its wake.”

  Collins wished to turn his head to see what effect such words might have on Mr. Bennet’s daughters, but he did not want to appear indecorous. So, he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the plate before him.

  “I hear you have selected some reading material for pleasure and business,” Mr. Bennet continued. “I am pleased to know you take the role set before you so seriously. It does my heart good to think both this estate and my family will be left in capable hands.”

  “Papa,” Kitty said softly.

  “Yes, my dear, I know. I shall speak of my demise only a small portion more, and then I shall not return to the topic. Potatoes?” Mr. Bennet said, passing a dish to Collins.

  “A favourite,” Collins muttered as he accepted the dish.

  A few other items passed before him, and as soon as his plate was filled, and he was about ready to begin eating, Mr. Bennet raised his glass.

  “I have some most excellent news,” he began before pausing to cough. “Our Jane is to be married.”

  The announcement was met with a delighted squeal from Mrs. Bennet and an eruption of questions from both her and Jane’s sisters.

  Collins waited patiently as the excitement dwindled. Despite the small jibes and occasional harsh looks they gave one another on occasion, it was evident that the sisters did care for each other.

  Kitty smiled nearly as much about the news as Jane did. Elizabeth’s knowing smile told him that she had already been made aware of the betrothal. Mary extended her happiness in a prim sort of fashion, although a secret smile played at her lips. Poor Miss Lydia with her sharp edges exuded with delight before any save her mother had voiced her raptures, but then returned her eyes to her plate, and her smile slipped into a sullen expression, though only for a moment. Mr. Bennet chuckled with delight, coughed, chuckled some more and then as the noise retreated, lifted his glass once more and toasted the happy couple.

  “I am not through with my news,” he said, as he returned his glass to the table. “As we are all aware, my heart is not strong. Therefore, I have come to a conclusion, that I should like to take my ease and pass along the daily comings and goings of Longbourn.” He pushed to his feet with some effort.

  “Papa,” Kitty whispered.

  “I shall be well,” he assured her before continuing with his
speech. “My cousin, Mr. Collins’s father, was a hard man and not a very astute one. I would have been hard-pressed to find any pleasure in leaving my home to such a man. However, I find that his son resembles him in no way. I have found our Mr. Collins to be a most gracious and kind gentleman, eager to learn, and attentive to detail.” He smiled at Collins. “He will care for Longbourn as it deserves. Perhaps even better than I cared for it myself. Therefore, I propose that from this moment forward, Mr. Collins take up the reins of management while I am still capable of assisting him in learning what is needed.”

  Collins shook his head. “I am not ready.”

  Mr. Bennet placed a hand on his shoulder. “We are never truly ready for such responsibility until it is thrust upon us. You, however, will benefit from my guidance for now, and you will do well.”

  “But what of Hunsford?” He looked from Mr. Bennet to Darcy and back.

  “If you remember, I wrote to my uncle,” Darcy replied.

  “And you may return to Kent as planned to say your farewells and see that all is properly transported to your new home, of course,” Mr. Bennet added before sinking into his chair. “I am not going to grow any stronger. I may tarry for some time in my current condition, but I shall not improve.”

  Collins nodded his understanding. It was a nearly overwhelming thing that was being asked of him, and to be completely truthful with himself, he feared not only his ability to capably run an estate, he also disliked how some, such as Miss Lydia, would receive him. He had only just begun to be accepted by this family, save for Lydia and Mary, of course. But he was working on how to win them over. This would likely set that progress back a pace or two if not further. However, seeing the strained and weary look in Mr. Bennet’s eyes, he knew he could not refuse him. To have an inept usurper, as he might likely be viewed, as head of an estate was better than to press Mr. Bennet into an earlier grave than was probable.

  “Will you do this for me?” Mr. Bennet asked. “Will you allow me to see you well-situated before I leave?”

  Collins looked down the table and then back up. All eyes, some hopeful, others suspicious, and most startled, were turned on him, waiting for his reply. He swallowed, licked his lips, which was of little use since his tongue felt as dry as his lips, and replied, “I would not deny you such a request. In truth, I could not and have a clear conscience. But, I must admit to feeling unequal to it.”

  “I think you more than equal to it,” Mr. Bennet replied.

  “Then, let it be as you say. I shall stand in your place,” Collins replied. His mouth still felt dry, and his stomach was twisting with the words while his heart raced along at an excited yet hopeful pace.

  “Very good,” Mr. Bennet leaned back in his chair and smiled broadly. “Tomorrow, bring the account books to my room, and we shall begin your instruction.”

  ~*~*~

  Not just the next day but for three days – two before Sunday and one after, Collins carried books to the master’s chamber and learned as much as his mind would allow him to absorb.

  Then, each evening after dinner had concluded, he would retire to his room, sit before his mirror, and relate to himself what he had heard. Inevitably, he would stumble on some fact and have to jot it down so that he could ask to have that portion of Mr. Bennet’s instruction repeated to him.

  So devoted was he to learning as much as he could in as short a period of time as was possible for a man such as he who loved learning, yet did not excel at it, that he had very little time for anything else. Or that is, he had very little time for anything else other than reading a bit of Evelina. The task of reading that novel was nearly as important as learning estate management. In fact, if he wished to secure his desired mistress of Longbourn, it was likely even more important than figures regarding crops and goods.

  He tapped his thumb and second finger together as he descended the stairs on the fourth morning after he had agreed to take on the role of master in waiting. “There is a wall in need of repair in the spring.” He stopped on a step about two-thirds of the way to the bottom and continued tapping his fingers as he thought. “Was it below the road or above? Below or above, below or above?” His brow rose, and he smiled. “Below, definitely below.”

  “What is below?”

  Collins startled and turned to see Kitty just behind him on the stairs. “Oh, my apologies. I was lost in thought.”

  Kitty smiled. “Yes, I can see that. But I am curious to know what is below.” She joined him on the step on which he stood and placed her hand on his arm, which had offered itself to her without so much as asking his permission.

  “There is a wall in need of repair. It is not severely damaged, but it is showing wear and will with a winter or two more of rain and ice be so much worse for the wear if it is not attended to directly when the weather allows in the spring. It is better, you see, to attend to such things while they are small matters. For if it is left to fester and grow, the matter will soon become one of great expense rather than a small expense. And one must be careful with one’s funds. God has not given privilege to a man just to see him squander it, though I will admit that I have seen many who have done just that. Great sums of money thrown away on pleasure and never recovered! Estates that have been sold off in pieces or borrowed against in the most grievous fashion for want of caution.” He clamped his lips closed as he saw the small amused smile playing at her lips. He wished, of course, to see her smile, but not at his expense.

  “You seem very dedicated to being successful.”

  He sighed and nodded. “I am.”

  She left her hand on his arm despite being at the bottom of the stairs. “Are you taking those books to the study?”

  He nodded. “That is where they belong, so I thought it fitting to return them to their proper place.” He pressed his lips together again. She was smiling at him in that amused fashion once again.

  “May I walk with you?”

  He blinked. “To the study?”

  She nodded.

  His brow furrowed, his lips pursed, and he shrugged. “I see no reason why you may not.”

  “We have not seen much of you in days. If it had not been for meals as well as services on Sunday, we might have forgotten you were here at all,” she said as they walked the short distance down the hall. “Have you been studying these books all that time?”

  “I am not a fast learner,” he admitted as he crossed the room to where the books belonged. He had even spent a good deal of time on Sunday reviewing the things learned on the two days prior. Things needed several repetitions before they became ingrained in his mind.

  “Nor am I,” she replied. “Lizzy and Mary are very quick, Jane and Lydia a bit less so, and then there is me.”

  He spun toward her. “No, it cannot be. You seem very capable to me.”

  “And you seem very capable to me.”

  That small amused smile was on her lips again, but when coupled with the kindness he found in her eyes, he could only be glad to be the cause of her enjoyment.

  “So, we are alike,” he said.

  She nodded. “In that way, yes.” She took a seat in front of her father’s desk as he returned to placing the books where they belonged and gathering two others. “I should like to know if there are any other ways in which we are alike.”

  His hand froze on the book he was about to pull from the shelf. She wished to know about him?

  He glanced at her surreptitiously. She was still smiling that pleasantly pleased smile. It did not appear as if she was making sport of him, not that he thought her capable of such a thing. Miss Lydia was perhaps capable. He shook his head and pulled his mind back to the topic before him. “There is likely little else we share.”

  She was tipping her head and looking at him very closely when he turned around.

  “I believe you are wrong, for it seems we both wish to please my father,” she said.

  He smiled. “That is true.” He sat down in Mr. Bennet’s chair and then immediately popp
ed up.

  “You may sit there. It is your place,” she said softly.

  He turned and looked at the chair. “It does not seem right,” he muttered.

  “But it is,” she insisted. “Papa would wish for you to sit there.”

  “Are you certain?”

  She nodded, and he sat, tentatively, just on the edge of the chair.

  “You have met my father.” She looked down at her hands as if uncertain whether she should continue. Then, having seemingly reached a conclusion in the half minute that silence reigned in the room, she looked up and continued. “I doubt from what Papa has said that I should like to meet your father, but I would like to know about him.”

  Collins shook his head. “No, you would not.” A gently bred lady with a tender heart such as hers did not need to know about the wounds both visible and invisible that his father had inflicted.

  “He was so bad then?”

  Collins inhaled deeply and released the breath slowly. “He was unkind, ill-tempered, and a man who cared only for himself.”

  Her head tipped once again, and her eyes grew sad. “That is most unfortunate,” she said softly.

  Indeed, having a father such as his was unfortunate. He rose from his place and picked up his books.

  “My father teases me,” she said as she followed him in rising. “He says Mary, Lydia, and I are the silliest girls in all of England.”

  Collins stopped his progress to the door and turned toward her. “But you are not.”

  She shrugged. “Perhaps.”

  “No,” he took one step closer to her. “You are not.” She was kind and beautiful and perfect. There was not a single thing about her that was silly.

  Again, she shrugged.

  “Fathers can say things that are not true.” He ran the hand that was not holding the books through his hair. He struggled to reconcile a father who said such things about his daughter with the man who lay in bed in the master’s chamber. “My father said many things that were not true of me. I know that they are not true because I have proven them false.” He shook his head. “I cannot imagine your father treating you cruelly.” Before he could help himself, he reached out and cupped her cheek.