Pride and Prejudice Villains
Revisited ~ Redeemed ~ Reimagined
A Collection of Six Short Stories
by
Renata McMann
&
Summer Hanford
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From Ashes to Heiresses
In the wake of a devastating fire at Longbourn, Elizabeth and Jane are taken in by their aunt and uncle in Meryton. Concerned about their situation, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley come to Hertfordshire, but not before Mr. Wickham attempts to use Jane’s heartache to his advantage.
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Mr. Collins Deception
Preparation
The Interview
Early Days
Courtship
Marriage
Conflict
Happiness
Caroline and the Footman
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Epilogue: Sixteen Years Later
Lady Catherine Regrets
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Epilogue
Mrs. Bennet’s Triumph
Mrs. Bennet
Mary Younge
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue: Twenty Years Later
Wickham’s Journal
Wickham
Mr. Collins Deception
Mr. Collins appears in a large number of scenes in Pride and Prejudice and speaks at great length. In spite of his obnoxious behavior and stupidity, he actually does not deliberately harm anyone. It was challenging to come up with a premise that would make him a likable character. However, once we came up with the premise, Mr. Collins’ Deception was surprisingly easy to write.
Preparation
“He was a tall, heavy-looking young man of five-and-twenty.” Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 13
There were three of us at the table in the corner, each with a pint of ale. It was perhaps not the best place to speak privately, but I would take whatever I could get. I let the conversation travel to my companions’ concerns; sympathized with their woes, congratulated them on their triumphs.
We’d known each other for years. I’d come up with Martin and with Ellison’s brother, with whom I was close. Still, if pressed, I would have admitted the day to day business of their lives didn’t hold much interest for me. I had to work to rein in my impatience.
I suppose my feigned interest could be called subterfuge, but we all knew why we were there. If I pretended a little more curiosity for other topics, it was an act of tact, not deceit. They were willing to exchange information for a pint or two, but would be less resentful and more forthcoming if I didn’t push them. After waving over the buxom serving girl and paying for a second round, I brought up the subject they knew I wanted to hear about.
“Tell me about the living at Hunsford and Lady Catherine de Bourgh,” I asked, looking back and forth between the two.
Ellison glanced at Martin, nodding.
“The living is a dream of a living. It’s six hundred pounds a year,” Martin said.
That was generous indeed, I thought. “The rectory?”
“Well kept up, and large enough for a family,” Ellison said. “I agree with Martin. It’s a dream of a living.”
“Why is the position vacant?” I asked, taking a sip of my ale. It was too watery for my liking, but the best I could afford to buy two rounds of.
“It shouldn’t be.” Martin’s tone was touched with bitterness.
“Lady Catherine has a special contract, drawn up by her lawyer,” Ellison said. “It allows her to expel unsatisfactory rectors within one year of their accepting the position. If you can last the year, the position becomes permanent.”
“I would have thought either of you would be more than satisfactory,” I said. This time, I wasn’t simply being polite. They were both solid, well-educated men, which was why I was worried. If Lady Catherine found fault in men like Martin and Ellison, it didn’t bode well for my chances.
“She wants the perfect rector,” Martin said. He bit out the word perfect as if it was an insult.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, she’ll want you to write the sermons,” Martin said.
Ellison nodded again.
“Write the sermons?” I repeated. Most rectors used sermons from books. “Why write sermons when our best and most educated minds dedicate themselves to preparing them?”
“She wants you to write them so that she may dictate their content,” Ellison said.
“She also wants to run the rector’s household,” Martin said. “And she wants you to agree with everything she says.”
“When did she notify you that you weren’t suitable?” I addressed the question to both of them, cutting off what was, judging by their aggrieved tones, at risk of becoming a joint tirade.
“Six weeks before the end of my year,” Ellison said. He twisted in his seat, reaching for a satchel on the floor beside him. “I brought the contract. You might want to read it.” He pulled it out.
Martin stood, moving to read over my shoulder. Were I not being so politic, I would have asked him to take his onion and ale saturated breath a bit farther away. If that had been the state of his breath during his year as Lady Catherine’s rector, she may have had more cause to let him go than he realized.
“My contract was the same,” Martin said, retaking his seat. “My notification also came about six weeks before the end of the year. She gets as much from you as she can before dashing your hopes.”
“What else does Lady Catherine want?” I asked when I’d finished reading. The contract seemed both fair and reasonable, even if a trial period was a step removed from the ordinary.
“Constant flattery of the most extreme kind,” Martin said in that same bitter tone.
“She doesn’t want you to interfere in the parish. She wants to be the only one doling out charity. She wants to decide what you buy, what servants you hire, and what you plant in your garden. When my wife planted some flowers, Lady Catherine told her that was too frivolous. She drove my wife mad,” Ellison said. “Speaking of which, I should get home, because she’ll wonder.” He downed the remainder of his ale in a lo
ng gulp. Reaching for the contract, he stuffed it back in his satchel.
Martin’s ale was already gone, but I wasn’t offering to buy any more. I stood along with Ellison. After a last look at his empty mug, Martin got up as well.
“Well, Collins, thank you for the drinks. It’s always good to see you,” Ellison said, giving me a friendly slap on the shoulder. He pulled his hand back with a startled look on his face. “I thought you were getting fat, but that’s muscle. What have you been doing?”
“Working the harvest,” I said, opting for honesty. I wasn’t surprised by the shock on both men’s faces. Manual labor was not approved of for educated gentlemen. “When my uncle died, my aunt had little and I helped her some,” I said, feeling I should explain. “Until her death, I paid for her upkeep from my inheritance from my father. I managed to get ordained, but I don’t have much left in the way of funds. I’ve inquired at a dozen or more places, but I’ve only been offered one position, as a curate. The pay there is so little they can’t take anyone with a family, and I’ve a mind to have one. I had to work somewhere. I have to eat.”
I shrugged, not ashamed. Let them look down on me if they wanted. I’d benefited more from working the harvest than they ever needed to realize. Besides, these men should know better than most: If anyone is not willing to work, let him not eat.
“You might want to conceal that you’ve been working the harvest from Lady Catherine,” Ellison said. “If possible.”
I nodded. It would be easy. Since I was simply ‘William’ to the people there, no one could pass along the information. A little padding in the right places and my muscular frame would even more easily be taken as plump, especially as I couldn’t afford a decent tailor. People didn’t suppose their rector to be well put together, and would see what they expected to see.
“He might be able to get away with that,” Martin said, “But nothing else. There’s no point in trying. She has spies everywhere. You can’t trust anyone with your secrets.”
“It’s true. She isn’t happy if she doesn’t know every detail of what’s going on,” Ellison added.
“I’ll remember that,” I said. “Speaking of which, if I do get the living, do you think your brother will hold it against me if I’m aloof for a year? I think I’m going to have to pretend to be someone I’m not, and I suppose that means no visits from, or to, friends.”
“Definitely no visits,” said Ellison. “No letters, either. If you write him, Lady Catherine will find out who he is. It wouldn’t do for you to have a friend who’s related to me. I’ll explain it to him.”
I grimaced. It seemed a poor way to treat one of my oldest friends, especially after he’d put me in touch with Ellison in order to help me. “You’ll have to make my excuses, then, and give him my regards. If I get the living or not, I’ll see him in a year, one way or the other.”
“Will do,” Ellison said. “Sorry to hurry off, chaps, but I’m still making up for subjecting my wife to a year with Lady Catherine.” He gave us both a nod, shoved his cap down on his head, and departed.
Martin turned to me. I thought he’d make his farewells, but instead, he launched into a fresh tirade on Lady Catherine’s peculiarities.
“Is her advice so bad?” I interrupted after he’d been speaking for several minutes without showing sign he would stop. I gestured toward the door, indicating we should leave. The serving girl may still be flashing me an inviting smile, but the barkeep was casting angry looks our way. We weren’t ordering anything more, and were keeping other customers from using the table we stood beside.
“No,” Martin said thoughtfully as we crossed the room. “It isn’t bad. It may not be the best advice, but it usually isn’t the worst. The trouble is, she gives it on the tiniest details. You do as she says and provide constant flattery or you’re gone.”
We stepped out into the street. “What does she want me to flatter her on?” I asked.
Martin eyed me for a moment, his look almost pitying. “Everything.”
The Interview
“Lady Catherine was a tall, large woman, with strongly-marked features, which might once have been handsome. Her air was not conciliating, nor was her manner of receiving them such as to make her visitors forget their inferior rank. She was not rendered formidable by silence; but whatever she said was spoken in so authoritative a tone, as marked her self-importance.” Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 29
Armed with the information I’d gotten out of Ellison and Martin, I journeyed to meet Lady Catherine. A curricle was sent to pick me up from the posting inn. It was of sufficient quality that I wasn’t surprised by the grandeur of Rosings, though I was still a bit daunted. Reminding myself of the importance of the interview, I endeavored to maintain my composure as I was shown inside.
While waiting for Lady Catherine, I executed the first part of my plan to curry her favor, quickly memorizing as much as I could of my surroundings. I wanted to select an item of prominence and use it to ingratiate myself. The trouble was, the dark wood, rich fabrics and gilded opulence of the room left me at a loss as to which object might be a favorite. Eventually, my eyes settled on the chimney piece. It looked costly, and new.
When Lady Catherine swept into the room, I bowed as deeply as was appropriate for royalty. With someone else, I would have worried the action would offend with its blatant sycophancy, but one look at Lady Catherine’s haughty expression assured me my friends’ assessments were correct. She took in my obsequiousness as her due.
“Mr. Collins, do sit down. Tell me about your education and experience,” she said, settling into a high-backed chair.
I sat across from her, not leaning forward or back. I didn’t want to appear either over familiar or too blasé. “First, let me say how fortunate I am that you have given me the immense courtesy of talking to me. I have heard much of your wisdom and acumen. I’m grateful for the honor of you even considering me for the position.”
I gave her a brief, but reasonably accurate, description of my education and experience. I downplayed my academic achievements because Martin had said she didn’t really approve of scholarship. Odd, for she also didn’t approve of labor. Did she not realize only a privileged few could survive without one or the other?
“What do you think constitute the duties of a rector, Mr. Collins?” she asked when I finished answering her first question.
Her questions, so far, were not only very reasonable, but also exactly what I expected. Armed with Martin’s information, I gave another prepared answer. “The rector of a parish has much to do. In the first place, he must make such an agreement for tithes as may be beneficial to himself and not offensive to his patron. He must write his own sermons; and the time that remains will not be too much for his parish duties, and the care and improvement of his dwelling, which he cannot be excused from making as comfortable as possible. And I do not think it of light importance that he should have attentive and conciliatory manners towards everybody, especially towards those to whom he owes his preferment. I cannot acquit him of that duty; nor could I think well of the man who should omit an occasion of testifying his respect towards anybody connected with the family."
I was worried she wouldn’t care for the emphasis on tithes, but Martin had assured me she believed in them. She nodded, appearing pleased. Glad my friend had given me good information, I relaxed slightly. Maybe this would work.
“Do you have any connections?” Lady Catherine asked.
How I wished I did. Then, I wouldn’t be embarking on this mad scheme of pretending to be someone I wasn’t for an entire year. “No. I have no immediate connections. I do have a cousin I haven’t met, a Mr. Bennet, in Hertfordshire. My father and he quarreled some time ago, which is why I haven’t had the occasion to meet him.”
“I don’t approve of families quarrelling. You will remedy that, should I take you on. I assume Mr. Bennet is a gentleman?”
“Yes. He has an estate reputed to be two thousand pounds a year.” Should I volunteer mor
e information? Probably. If she was as eager for knowledge as I’d been told, she would resent it if I didn’t tell her. “It’s entailed, and he only has daughters, so I may inherit this estate.”
“How old is Mr. Bennet?” she asked, sounding displeased.
“I believe he is about forty-five. His wife is a few years younger than he is and their youngest daughter is about fifteen,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t think to ask about the wife. I’d been told her family was in trade.
“Humph. I don’t believe in entailing estates away from the female line. Rosings will go to my daughter.”
“If reports are true, there could not be a more worthy recipient of your magnificent estate,” I said, assuring myself flattery wasn’t on level with falsehood. Now, I realized, was the perfect moment to implement my plan. “I couldn’t help but notice your magnificent chimney piece. It not only adorns the room, it goes perfectly with the furniture.” I didn’t turn to look at it until after I’d named it, so she’d know I’d noticed it before.
“It should be magnificent. It cost me eight hundred pounds.”
I stifled my shock both at the cost and at her blatant mention of it. “What wonderful taste you have,” I forced myself to say, a year already starting to seem like a longer time than I’d originally thought. “The chimney piece is a superb addition to the chamber. Although I have trouble looking at the room when I want to pay full attention to your questions and your wisdom.”
As the words left my mouth, I worried I’d gone too far, but could tell by her preening that she actually liked the last phrase. What could I do to increase her regard? The only criticisms she’d given so far were over my estrangement from my father’s family and the fact that I would one day inherit what was currently Mr. Bennet’s. I couldn’t claim I would give up my rightful inheritance and renounce the entail, for I wouldn’t, but I could suggest I was willing to extend the olive branch of peace to my unmet relatives.
“How is it that this Mr. Bennet has a different name than you?” Lady Catherine asked, before I could formulate my offer.
Pride & Prejudice Villains Revisited – Redeemed – Reimagined: A Collection of Six Pride and Prejudice Variation Short Stories Page 1
