That one was easy. “My mother died when I was born. I was taken in by my mother’s sister, who was married to a man named Collins. They had no children, so they changed my name to Collins.”
Which I was grateful for. I’d met my father and been forced to see him on a scattering of occasions. He’d been a barely literate, miserly man. I hadn’t known my mother, but I didn’t like to think of any woman being subjected to him.
“Your father, aunt, and uncle are all deceased?”
I’d just told her I had no connections, but I answered as if I hadn’t. “Yes.” She liked longer answers, I realized, so I went on. “My father hasn’t been with us for quite some time. My uncle died two years ago. He left my aunt without much, and she died a little over a year ago.”
“How much money do you have left of your inheritance from your relatives?” Her eyes narrowed as she asked.
That was really none of her business, but I told her. I knew bankers gossiped and that I couldn’t keep it secret. I also added that everything I owned was packed and ready to be moved, because I would be accepting a curacy if Lady Catherine would not be so gracious and generous as to offer me a living. I managed to go on about that for several minutes. I expounded on what an honor it would be and how superb she was at such length and in so many circling rings of praise that I lost track of my own logic. Hopefully it didn’t matter if my sentences were fully coherent. Martin had made it seem as if she wouldn’t care if I was nonsensical, only if I flattered.
I finally fell silent. She regarded me for a long moment before ringing for a servant. When a footman arrived, I was afraid she would tell him to show me out. I could read little in her hard, arrogant expression.
“Bring my carriage,” she ordered, not even looking at the footman. “Come, Mr. Collins.”
She rose, and I stood quickly. I’d assumed she meant to have me returned to the posting inn, but instead the two of us went to the Hunsford Parsonage. I was almost too excited to take in the details of the place, knowing she wouldn’t be bothering unless she was seriously considering me. It seemed my mention of an alternative position, coupled with my flattery, had pushed her in the direction I was hoping for.
The parsonage was all that Martin and Ellison had said; sizable, well laid out and more than I’d dared to dream of for a long while. As we walked about, I tried to pay attention to Lady Catherine, knowing that what she said now would be important in securing the position. She walked me through every room, never complementing anything, but pointing out every flaw.
“So much work still needs to be done,” she said as we stood inside the last of the bedrooms. “I’m afraid some of the previous rectors were not up to the level one would expect. Do you have any proficiency with carpentry? There should be shelves in this closet here, because there isn’t room for anything but a bed in this room, so it will be used for a child or a guest who won’t need to hang up clothes. Could you do that?” Again, she looked at me through narrow, assessing eyes.
“Yes. I helped my uncle by doing minor work around the house.” Remembering some of Martin’s information, I added. “I wouldn’t presume to hire a manservant, because of the extra cost. I can do some of the heavy work around the house. It should not be beneath a clergyman’s dignity to do work in his own home, any more than it should be beneath a clergyman’s wife to work in the kitchen.”
“That brings up another subject. Mr. Collins, you must marry. A clergyman like you must marry. Choose properly, choose a gentlewoman for my sake; and for your own, let her be an active, useful sort of person, not brought up high, but able to make a small income go a good way. This is my advice. Find such a woman as soon as you can, bring her to Hunsford, and I will visit her.”
I stifled my chagrin. Why had I brought up a wife? Now she wanted me to marry, just like that? How could I court the sort of woman I wanted to spend the rest of my days with while pretending to be Lady Catherine’s toady? It would be impossible to find a female I could stomach who would also please this woman.
Well, with any luck, I could delay marriage for a year.
Early Days
“…nothing was beneath this great lady's attention, which could furnish her with an occasion of dictating to others.” Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 29
I was hired. While a man was sent to collect my things, I sat in Lady Catherine’s office and signed the contract her agent put in front of me, without reading it. Looking up as I placed my pen down, I saw her ladyship watching me with a frown.
“I do not approve of signing things without evaluating them, Mr. Collins,” she said.
“Nor do I, my lady,” I said, fully prepared for her reaction. “In this case, however, your reputation for honesty and fairness so far precedes you, I deemed reading the pages unnecessary.”
She favored me with a pleased smile, seeming not to notice the coughing fit that overtook her agent at my statement. A quick glance was all it took to assure me he thought I was a sycophantic fool. I considered it fortunate that I could add him to my growing list of those successfully duped by my act, and made sure my face was properly devoid of intelligence as he handed me my copy of the document.
Bowing my way out of Lady Catherine’s presence, I took myself and my newly signed papers to Hunsford, to the parsonage. As my belongings had not yet arrived, and to mollify my nerves, I immediately poured over the document I’d just signed. I was relieved it was the same as the one I’d read earlier, with only the dates and my name changed. I was just finishing reading when I heard a knock at the door. Folding the document and tucking it into my coat, I went to answer.
The knock turned out to be three women; a cook and two maids, if I was any judge. One of the maids was rather attractive, and I remembered just in time not to smile at her, turning the inclination into bemusement instead. I cast a vague look over the lot of them.
“May I be of some assistance?” I asked.
“Her ladyship said as to give you this, sir.” The one at the forefront, who gave the impression of being a cook, held out a sealed letter. “So as you can read it and decide if you’d like to take us on.”
They politely stood outside while I opened the letter and perused it, not closing the door. Even if the brief note had been less forthright, the food the cook carried would have swayed me toward saying yes. There was nothing to eat in the entire house.
As it was, I was offered little choice. Lady Catherine’s wish, according to the missive, was that I hire the three of them. She even detailed what each should be paid. I thought the amount a bit low, but as I had very little to my name, I wasn’t going to select that as a sticking point.
“Come in, of course,” I said, endeavoring for a non-threatening, bumbling sort of haughtiness. So far, Lady Catherine’s interference, as Marten and Ellison called it, seemed highhanded but exceedingly helpful. I dared to hope my year of probation would pass quickly.
Just like that, I was established as the rector, staff and all. While I waited for my possessions to arrive, which included some carpentry tools, I bent my mind toward finding more ways to fawn over my benefactress. Debating which would make her happier, asking for more detailed advice about the shelving I should install or throwing myself directly into my more spiritual role, I walked over to Rosings to thank Lady Catherine for sending the servants and to ask for suggestions for the sermon on Sunday.
She told me what to speak on and that I should give her a draft of the sermon by Friday evening. She corrected my draft and that was the sermon I gave, with a few minor modifications to improve the flow of words. As my friends had insinuated, it wasn’t the best sermon ever, but it also wasn’t the worst. While, like any reasonable person, I aspired to do well in my chosen field, I felt I could live with being a mediocre parson for one year.
Having gathered it would flatter my patroness, I visited Rosings every day that week to inquire about her and her daughter’s health. Miss Anne de Bourgh was a sickly woman with neither beauty nor presence. She must have someth
ing of a mind, because she played cards adequately and drove her low phaeton competently, but she was ignorant and appeared to have no opinions or desires. She was completely dominated by her mother and overprotected by her companion, Mrs. Jenkinson.
When I asked Lady Catherine where to get seasoned wood for the shelves, she gave me some from Rosings’ supply, as well as loaning me several tools to use until mine arrived. There was more wood than I needed for the closet, so I went into the attic to make repairs to the servants’ quarters, not wanting to waste. I’d given the cook first choice of the servants’ rooms, but it wasn’t much of an advantage because none of them were in good condition. I selected an empty room and made a platform for a bed, built into the wall, and including some storage under the bed. I wasn’t carpenter enough to make reasonable drawers, but I made a kind of tray that could be pulled out so the owner could look at her possessions. The tray had a lip at the back so nothing would fall out. It wasn’t much, but it was the best I could do. When I was done, the cook asked if she could move into that room and I gave her permission.
Two days later, a knock on my door revealed Lady Catherine. She swept into the room without waiting for the maid to announce her. “Mr. Collins, I hear you have made changes to the attic,” she said before I could even rise from my chair.
I stood, bowing. My mind scrambled for how to react to the anger in her tone. “Lady Catherine. What an unexpected privilege. Would you care for refreshments?”
“I would not care for refreshments. I would care to know what changes you’ve made to this rectory.”
“I followed your excellent suggestion of adding shelving in the smallest bedroom,” I said, hoping to distract her. I could tell she was displeased and I wondered which of my three servants had informed on me, assuming all three weren’t to blame.
“That is not what I mean. You have altered the servants’ quarters.”
Her chin jutted out and she tipped her head back, effecting to look down her nose at me, though I was much taller than she was. A quick glance at the maid, Sally, who’d trailed in behind her, showed the girl’s face was flushed. Whether from guilt, embarrassment or some other emotion, I didn’t know, but I resolved to keep a closer eye on the girl.
“Oh, yes,” I said, trying to think of how to mitigate the damage. “I did, but I didn’t realize my small modifications were within your notice, my lady. It’s certainly to my honor that you deign to care about them.”
She eyed me for a moment, and I worked to keep an expression of servile adoration firmly in place. “Well, show me what you have done, then,” she finally said.
“Of course, my lady. If you’ll follow me.” I led the way to the stairwell. As we climbed, I struggled to put an inoffensive face on what, apparently, was a grave transgression. “It’s generous of you to be concerned about my humble affairs. After your wise advice about putting in shelving, I decided that there were other places that needed what modest improvements I could offer.”
Apparently knowing every inch of the rectory was more important than her dignity, for Lady Catherine followed me all the way up to the attic and into the cook’s room, puffing loudly the entire way. When we finally came to a halt in the small space, I could see she needed a moment to catch her breath. I endeavored to look at anything that wasn’t her, so we could both pretend I hadn’t noticed her unladylike exertions. It amazed me to what lengths she would go to know every detail of what went on in my household. I counted it a lesson learned.
“I see you’ve added a bed, of sorts, and made some minor repairs,” she said. “It’s good to see someone in this rectory who treats it with the proper amount of respect. I see no shelves, though. I was specifically told the cook was given shelves. This is her room, is it not?”
“Ah, yes, my lady. There is a shelf. It pulls out from underneath the bed.”
“Well, don’t just stand there, sir,” she said. “Show me.”
Feeling decidedly awkward about it, as this wasn’t my room, I bent down and pulled out the shelf. I tried not to take too much note of what was on it, especially the smaller, more personal items. Lady Catherine had no such compunctions. She picked through the cook’s things, seeming to have no thought it wasn’t her right to go through another’s effects.
Finally, she sniffed, straightening. “You may return it to where it was.”
I slid the shelf back under the bed, hoping the cook's things weren’t in too much disarray. Although I hadn’t touched the woman’s stuff, she had no way to know that and I felt almost as embarrassed as if I had. I hoped my meals wouldn’t suffer. Of course, if it turned out the cook was the one who’d run to Lady Catherine with the news, she deserved what she got.
Lady Catherine took a final glance about the room. “I’ve seen enough.”
I responded with something between a nod and a bow and gestured that she should lead the way. She swept out of the room like a queen. It was a wonder she didn’t trip with her nose so far in the air. I was sure she couldn’t see the ground before her feet.
“I wouldn’t think a servant would need that much space for her possessions,” she said as we walked down the stairs. “And she has more than I thought. Perhaps you should pay her less. You certainly didn’t need to go to the trouble of adding conveniences for her.”
“Just as when a child has a scrap of a blanket that no one else values, it doesn’t mean that the scrap isn’t valuable to the child. It costs me only a little effort to give the cook space for her meager possessions, but I hope, in my humble way, I’m making her life better.” I also hoped none of the servants heard me talking that way, and that the anger her words sparked came out as pomposity in my voice.
I ground my teeth shut over what I truly wanted to say: Look here, Lady Catherine, just because you have so much doesn’t mean you should begrudge the little that the servants have. Pay them less indeed. I was already paying them so little I was embarrassed to call it pay.
“We don’t do that at Rosings,” she said. “I wouldn’t want it to be said that being a servant at the parsonage offers something more desirable than Rosings.”
Now we’re to the heart of the matter, I thought. I could certainly never have anything that rivaled Rosings in even the smallest, most insignificant way. What could I do to fix it, though? Did she want me to tear apart what I’d made for one of my servants? Maybe it would teach them not to tell Lady Catherine everything, but I still didn’t want to do it. “I’m sure the servants at Rosings consider themselves so fortunate to have a place there that they don’t need the insignificant work I did in this humble abode.”
She didn’t respond as we continued to walk, setting my nerves on edge. We reached the ground floor. She turned to face me, clearly not happy.
“If I can help in any way, I would be happy to build something similar for your servants at Rosings,” I offered, trying to make things right.
I couldn’t believe I’d already made such a drastic mistake. Until that moment, I’d had hopes of getting through my year with ease. Who would have thought one roughly crafted shelf would spark so much angst.
In the end, I didn’t have to build new storage for every servant in Rosings. Lady Catherine had a carpenter on her estate and she sent him to work with me for a few days. He helped me build two more similar beds in the Hunsford attic, giving me solid advice on how to improve my own meager skills, and then he tackled Rosings. Not long after, I heard the servants at Rosings had gotten drawers, rather than shelves. Even though the carpenter had shown me how, I knew better than to attempt to put drawers at Hunsford.
In all, the project served me well. It drove home that I had no privacy. When my possession arrived, I went through them, reevaluating. Most seemed inoffensive enough, the typical trappings of a man my age and station. My only concern was over my books. Taking a lingering look at them, some as dear to me as old friends, I closed and locked the chest they were in. I decided to keep the key on my person, to be safe.
I wasn’t sure if any o
f the servants could read, though it seemed likely Lady Catherine would employ one such to more adequately spy on me, but a literate servant reporting the titles of my books wasn’t my only concern. I also wanted to keep them locked away to avoid the temptation of reading them. If the servants saw me reading, probably even if I used a suspicious amount of fuel for light, it would be reported. I had to remember what Ellison and Martin had said and assume anything I did would get back to Lady Catherine.
Knowing it was the only book acceptable to Lady Catherine, I kept out my Bible, and referred to it when I wrote my sermons. That was to be expected, and I would suffer through it for a year. There were people who were satisfied with only a Bible to read. I was not one of them.
Courtship
"My reasons for marrying are, first, that I think it a right thing for every clergyman in easy circumstances (like myself) to set the example of matrimony in his parish; secondly, that I am convinced that it will add very greatly to my happiness; and thirdly—which perhaps I ought to have mentioned earlier, that it is the particular advice and recommendation of the very noble lady whom I have the honour of calling patroness. Twice has she condescended to give me her opinion (unasked too!) on this subject.…” Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 19
After my mistake with the carpentry, things settled into a more amiable routine. I attended tea or dinner at Rosings at least once a week. I made a point of asking Lady Catherine’s advice on at least one topic each time. I kept a log on the topics and her answers so I wouldn’t inadvertently repeat myself. The log was labeled Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s Excellent Advice, which meant I could leave it out for the servants.
As I’d resolved to follow her advice in anything that could be reported back to her, I had to look at the log regularly. As Martin had said, just as with her changes to the sermons, her advice wasn’t bad. It wasn’t brilliant, but it wasn’t bad.
Pride & Prejudice Villains Revisited – Redeemed – Reimagined: A Collection of Six Pride and Prejudice Variation Short Stories Page 2
