by Alexa Adams
“Do be seated, Mr. Collins, and calm yourself. Mrs. Jenkinson, please order a glass of wine to be brought to Mr. Collins.”
“Oh, thank you, Lady Catherine! As always you are graciousness personified.”
Mrs. Jenkinson followed Lady Catherine’s directive, and the requested beverage was soon in Mr. Collins’s hand. He even managed to consume a few sips amidst his many statements of thanks and woeful declarations.
“You had best hurry up and tell me what has happened, Mr. Collins. Though the wine seems to have done little to alleviate your mind, perhaps my counsel will prove more efficacious.”
“It is precisely what brings me to you, Lady Catherine: the hope that your wisdom will steer my actions in the correct course. It is truly dreadful! My youngest cousin, Miss Lydia Bennet, while on a sojourn to Brighton abandoned her friends and thrust herself into the protection of a most unworthy scoundrel, a Mr. Wickham of the ____ regiment, who has deserted his post and fled with her no one knows where, though Lady Lucas surmises that marriage was not his intention.”
“Dear me! This is a most unfortunate report. Poor Miss Bennet! She will feel it most acutely, both the loss of her sister and her family’s good name. Thank goodness one is not further associated with her!”
Lady Catherine was referring to her former intentions to see the lady wed to her own nephew, but Mr. Collins took her words more personally.
“That is some consolation. I may be thankful now that my overtures towards Miss Elizabeth were not reciprocated and fortune steered me towards my own beloved Charlotte instead.”
Lady Catherine took a moment to ponder the implications of this confession, but soon left the thought behind to pursue another. “You said Mr. Wickham is the man in which the unfortunate girl has placed her trust. By any chance, is his name George Wickham?”
“The very same, your ladyship. Is he known to you?”
“I am sorry to say he is. He is the son of Mr. Darcy’s late steward, a far worthier man than his rapscallion offspring. That boy has been a menace since his childhood. I had understood that he was seeking a career in law, but if he ended up in the militia, he must have squandered what funds he had. The family is to be doubly pitied, for there is no way to work upon such a man other than by buying him off, and with a quantity of funds well beyond Mr. Bennet’s means. Wickham has always had notions above his station.”
“Oh!” exclaimed the miserable rector. “We had hoped there might be a way to patch up the affair by a belated marriage.”
“Not unless this London uncle of Miss Bennet’s behaves most generously to the family. Of course, the sorry couple would first have to be located. Is there any suggestion of where they might be?”
“They were traced no further than London. Lady Lucas believes Mr. Wickham has incurred a great deal of debt and is concealing himself from his creditors.”
“Worse and worse! It is most regrettable. You must write to the family and offer what consolation you can.”
“Ought I? I had thought that all contact with them must be severed at once.”
“You are a clergyman, Mr. Collins, and the rules that others must obey are not meant for you. It is at times of the greatest affliction and sorrow that you are most duty bound to offer your compassion. Write to them at once and provide what little support you can. There is not much you can do, but your words should provide some solace.”
“Yes, yes, of course, Lady Catherine. It is a very delicate situation and requires some careful consideration before I put pen to paper. I shall spend the day studying the matter and seeking the correct phraseology.”
“I am sorry for the young ladies. Their prospects, beyond the claim of charm, were already not very good, but now! Who will connect themselves with such a family? This false step in one daughter is most injurious to the others. If the couple can be located and wed, then time may rectify some of what has been lost, but if not, I am afraid their future is most insecure.” Perhaps a lesser family might find Miss Bennet a suitable companion for an ailing relation, her ladyship considered, determining then and there to keep a sharp eye out for a prospective post.
“You express my thoughts precisely, Lady Catherine. The situation is most lamentable. I count my fortunes in having escaped any closer tie to the family.”
“As you should, Mr. Collins, but it would not do to mention such gratitude when writing to Mr. Bennet. Remember that it is your intention to provide comfort, not congratulate yourself on escaping a shared disgrace.”
“Certainly, Lady Catherine, you are most wise. I shall do just as you say.”
“Perhaps you had better return to your parsonage and see to the task. The sooner the letter is written and received, the sooner the family may benefit from knowing of your support.”
“Yes, indeed, Lady Catherine,” he said as he rose on shaky feet. “I shall see to it at once.”
“Very good, Mr. Collins. Please extend my condolences to Mrs. Collins. She must be greatly distressed on her friend’s behalf.”
“That she is, Lady Catherine. She feels it almost acutely as I do myself. Thank you for your concern in this sorry affair. Mr. Bennet will surely benefit from hearing of your consideration.”
Her ladyship very much doubted it, as what family would not rather keep such a matter as quiet as possible? But she was anxious to see the back of Mr. Collins so did not belabor the point. Following his departure, she turned her mind to all that had been related and attempted to conceive of some means by which she could assist her friend, Elizabeth Bennet.
Part Seven
A few weeks passed before word came of as favorable a resolution to the Bennets’ sad situation as one could hope. The illicit couple had been found and married in London. A small, discrete notice in the newspaper testified to the fact. Mr. Wickham’s debts had somehow been settled and a commission purchased for him in a unit of regulars currently stationed far north, well away from anyone who might be privy to the scandal. Lady Catherine surmised that the London uncle had indeed come through most handsomely to so satisfactorily settle the matter. She still pitied Miss Bennet such a brother-in-law, but it was extremely unlikely they should have any contact in the future. Nevertheless, no belated action could suffice to erase the new Mrs. Wickham’s misconduct, and her ladyship’s intentions to see the Miss Bennet wed to Colonel Fitzwilliam were forever abandoned. However, she was once again worthy of better than a life as a mere companion, and Lady Catherine looked forward to her future visits to Hunsford as opportunities to introduce her to potential husbands.
A mere month and a half later such sanguine hopes were again dashed to the wind, and this time in a manner far more disruptive to Lady Catherine’s equilibrium than the dramatic episode that had preceded. Lady Lucas had again written to her daughter, and Mr. Collins once more came scurrying to Rosings Park one evening, his wife in tow, the unfortunate bearers of the bad tidings. He was even more shaken upon this interview than previously, and until he was able to summon his courage and share all there was to know, Lady Catherine and her daughter were left in some state of suspense at to what could disconcert him so. Mrs. Collins, usually quick to assist her husband, remained stoically silent.
“My deepest regrets that it should be my misfortune to be the conveyor of such inconceivable intelligence. You must know, dear Lady Catherine, that it is ever my intention to do what I can, in my humble way, to promote the peace and prosperity of all in my parish, particularly those whose magnanimous patronage I have been so fortunate as to receive. To have to carry word of such a nature into your noble abode, knowing that it must bring disquietude of the gravest nature to those who reside within its walls, is a sorrow I only shoulder with the bitterest sense of remorse, compelled by my sense of duty as a man of the cloth and the knowledge of what I, most particularly, owe to you, Lady Catherine.”
“Do stop babbling, Mr. Collins, and speak your piece at once! Whatever is the matter?” demanded her ladyship.
“My dear wife has received word f
rom Lady Lucas that the Bennet family, despite their recent misfortune, are to be conspicuously honored. In defiance of our well-founded concerns that the actions of my unfortunate cousin Lydia would materially disadvantage her sisters’ prospects, the eldest has entered into a most notable and elevating engagement with Mr. Bingley, the master of Netherfield Park and possessor of a handsome fortune.”
“Why, there is nothing dire in what you say at all, Mr. Collins. Indeed, it is cause for celebration! With such a connection, the prospects of the remaining daughters are greatly improved. I am glad to hear it, as I have always wished Miss Elizabeth Bennet the very best. She is a fine young woman and deserving, I am sure, of as advantageous a union as her sister has managed.”
Mr. Collins grew notably pale at these words and dabbed at his moist brow with an already well-used handkerchief. “Oh yes! Miss Elizabeth is said to be well on her way to contracting just such a match as you predict, Lady Catherine, but I cannot imagine it will be such a source of gratification as you foresee.”
“What do you mean? Explain yourself at once!”
“I cannot do it!” he cried. “Charlotte, my dear, show some pity and inform Lady Catherine of what you have confided in me.”
“Mrs. Collins?” her ladyship prompted.
“I am sorry, Lady Catherine, but as the information which has so disordered my husband entirely belongs to the realm of conjecture, I am far from certain that sharing it is appropriate, as I have already counseled him.”
Mr. Collins groaned, draping his damp handkerchief across his face.
“Well! If what you say is true, then Mr. Collins surely should have heeded your advice, but as he did not, instead intruding upon our evening with this most distressing display, you had best share its cause at once.”
Mrs. Collins cleared her throat. “Perhaps your ladyship is unaware that Mr. Darcy has often been at Netherfield Park while Mr. Bingley courted the eldest Miss Bennet?”
It was Lady Catherine’s turn to display a notable pallor. “I did not. Does he remain in the neighborhood?”
“He has removed to London on business but is expected back within the week.”
“I see.” She spoke tersely and, with a view towards negating her worst fears, asked, “And what has any of this to do with Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”
“It is the general opinion of those who have observed your nephew’s attentions to Miss Elizabeth that he, too, will soon align himself with the family.”
Lady Catherine sat in silence for several moments, studying the tightly clenched hands in her lap, while Mr. Collins continued to swoon and Mrs. Collins stood rigidly, without emotion, by his side. Finally, her ladyship looked up and met her daughter’s eye, there seeing not horror or dismay but rather a knowing penetration, accompanied by an amused smile, not unlike that belonging to the ungrateful creature who had usurped her destined mate.
“And this is the thanks I am to expect,” she began in ominously quiet tones, “after all I have done for Miss Bennet? I invited her into my home, took an interest in her prospects, and bestowed upon her my much-sought advice. Ungrateful, conniving,” her voice began to raise to something like a shriek, “avaricious girl! Would that I had never laid sight on her!”
“Please accept my humblest apologies for ever having introduced her to you, Lady Catherine,” Mr. Collins cried out, falling to his knees in supplication.
“Oh, leave us, Mr. Collins! I have no patience for your groveling at such a juncture. I must consider what is to be done.”
“If there is anything I might do to make amends for having brought the lady to your notice, however little I could have predicted the outcome, you only need ask, and it shall instantly be accomplished!”
“I said leave, Mr. Collins! Mrs. Collins, do take your husband away,” she barked, and the rector, assisted by his wife’s urgings, fled for his parsonage, there to ring invectives down upon her head for failing to broach the matter more delicately.
“I always thought my cousin showed a particular interest in Miss Bennet,” Anne commented calmly after his departure.
“How you can take it so lightly, I fail to comprehend. Do you not understand that Darcy is your best hope for an equal marriage? There are no other gentlemen of your acquaintance so suitable.”
“I never wished to marry cousin Darcy. That was always your desire, Mama. Miss Bennet will make a much more suitable mistress of Pemberley. She has the energy for such an undertaking. I do not.”
“Oh, do be quiet, Anne! You do not recognize your own best interests! Fortunately, you have me to see to them. I think I must go to Longbourn and speak to Miss Bennet. No! Perhaps it is better to go straight to London and talk to Darcy. Surely I can make him see reason!”
“Mrs. Jenkinson, order a soothing draught for my mother. She is not herself,” commanded Anne. “You should go to bed, Mama. A good night’s sleep will soothe your nerves and help you to reason more clearly.”
“You are right, dear Anne. I shall sleep on this dreadful matter. My course of action will be clear to me on the morrow.”
The light of day brought Lady Catherine the realization that Longbourn ought to be her destination. If Darcy was so infatuated that he had forsaken all notion of familial pride and obligation, there was little she might say to dissuade him, but Miss Bennet might be swayed by a sense of duty to herself, and even more so by the knowledge that such a union would never be condoned by the broader family. Unfortunately, having slept rather late under the influence of the administered draught and then having spent no small amount of time in contemplation, the day was already too far gone to set forth at once. She ordered the traveling coach to be harnessed with four horses and ready to depart at first light, then spent a fitful evening, her mind alive with unanswered questions, feelings of betrayal, hopes dashed, and the haunting specter of a disappointed Lady Cat.
Lady Catherine departed promptly the next morning, and traversing the roads at top speed, it took but a few hours to reach her destination. That time she spent in working herself up into an even stronger rage than she had been in before, as she systematically reviewed each and every kindness she had ever bestowed upon Elizabeth Bennet. The lady herself may not have been privy to even half of Lady Catherine’s good intentions towards her, but that rendered her offense no smaller in her ladyship’s eyes.
As the carriage entered the grounds of Longbourn, her eyes swept the scenery in search of something of which to disapprove. She found much to meet that qualification. The estate, though respectable enough, showed signs of neglect. The farm attached to it was only of middling prosperity, and the few tenant cottages that dotted her route were wanting refurbishment. The small pleasure grounds and house she begrudgingly acknowledged to be handsome enough, and that concession only fueled her ire.
One of her footmen handed her down and knocked on the door, announcing his mistress with formal dignity. The portly housekeeper who answered looked thoroughly overwhelmed by such magnificence, an effect Lady Catherine hoped she would have on the rest of the household. She was ushered up the stairs and into a small drawing room, fitted up with more fashion than she had expected. There she beheld her prey.
The astonishment of her entrance was writ loudly upon the faces of the other two occupants of the room, presumably Mrs. Bennet and one of the superfluous sisters, but Lady Catherine took little notice of them. In Elizabeth Bennet, she thought she detected a hint of anticipation, as if she had been expecting such a visitation. “As well she might,” thought Lady Catherine. The girl must have read her character well enough to know she would not brook being the subject of sport.
Miss Bennet performed some sort of greeting and introduction, which Lady Catherine only deigned to acknowledge with a tilt of her head. The mother then spouted some commonplace pleasantries, which were disregarded as her ladyship seated herself for a moment in silence, formulating her approach. Finally, seeing no way around greeting the vixen, she managed to do so with the utmost disdain. "I hope you are well,
Miss Bennet,” she said stiffly. “That lady, I suppose, is your mother."
“Yes, your ladyship.”
"And that, I suppose, is one of your sisters."
"Yes, madam," the mother replied. “She is my youngest girl but one. My youngest of all is lately married, and my eldest is somewhere about the grounds, walking with a young man who, I believe, will soon become a part of the family."
Such reminders did nothing to ease Lady Catherine’s temper, and after a short silence she noted curtly, "You have a very small park here.”
"It is nothing in comparison to Rosings, my lady, I dare say, but I assure you it is much larger than Sir William Lucas's."
As if such comparisons mattered to her! "This must be a most inconvenient sitting room for the evening in summer. The windows are full west."
