Where The Heart Belongs

by Tilly Davis

  At this Mrs. Bennet let out a further sob, broken by Mr. Bingley’s timid entrance, announcing that the cart was here now and that the procession was forming.

  Elizabeth and Jane helped their mother to her feet and led her slowly from the room as the local men, charged with acting as pallbearers, entered and gently lifted the coffin down from its wooden stands.

  They took it slowly from the room, and out through the front door of Longbourn, down the garden path along which was lined Mary, Kitty, Lydia and Mr. Wickham. Elizabeth and Jane escorted their mother in front and Mr. Darcy saw to the pallbearers.

  It was almost too much for Mrs. Bennet to walk behind her husband as the party made its mournful way towards Meryton. The local people came out to pay their respects, the men doffing their flat caps and the women bowing their heads as the funeral cortege passed.

  In the distance, the bell of the parish church could be heard tolling and by a quarter to eleven o’clock, the procession had reached the door of the church where Mr. Hicks was waiting to greet them.

  ‘Happiness and sorrow these walls do see,’ he said to Elizabeth as he shook her by the hand and moved to comfort Mrs. Bennet, ‘come now, dear lady, let us lay this fine gentleman to rest and find comfort in our sorrow before God.’

  She clung to Jane as the men lifted the coffin down from its place on the cart and followed Mr. Hicks as he processed into the church, the organ playing its low tune, as the family followed behind.

  ‘I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die,’ Mr. Hicks began as he read the sentence whilst leading them towards the front of the church.

  The family took their places at the front, whilst around them other mourners now seated themselves, amongst them the Lucases, Charlotte Lucas smiling weakly at Elizabeth as she passed.

  Mr. Bennet liked his religion as simply put as possible, and had had several run-ins with the previous rector of Hunsford whose notion as to what constitutes the Protestant religion as received by the Church of England did not tally with Mr. Bennet’s own. Thus, it was that Mr. Hicks read the service in as simple manner as possible, and the organ merely accompanied the coffin and out of the church.

  Around half an hour later they arrived at the graveside, and as Mrs. Bennet sobbed uncontrollably, now supported by both Lydia and Kitty, Mr. Bennet’s coffin was lowered into the ground.

  ‘For as much as it hath pleased Almighty God of his great mercy to take unto himself the soul of our dear brother here departed: we therefore commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life, thorough our Lord Jesus Christ …’ Mr. Hicks said, as the mourners looked on.

  ‘Amen.’ They concluded in unison at the end of the prayers.

  When Mr. Hicks had pronounced the final grace all then stood silently, looking down at the coffin now submerged into the earth, a gold plaque attached to its top reading: ‘George Ernest Bennet,’ and the dates of his life and death.

  It was all that Mrs. Bennet could do to tear herself away from the graveside, led by Kitty and Mary, Elizabeth taking Mr. Darcy's hand, Jane the arm of Mr. Bingley, and Lydia and Mr. Wickham following behind, Mr. Bennet’s middle daughter pausing to silently recite a line or two of one of Mr. Bennet’s favourite poems, as Mr. Hicks looked on.

  At the front of the church the mourners had gathered, and Mrs. Bennet greeted them as best she could. A trap had been engaged to transport the ladies back to Longbourn and this was waiting at the gate as the crowd began to disperse and go its separate ways.

  ‘Your father was well respected in the district,’ Mr. Hicks observed to Elizabeth, ‘a good man and an honour to know.’

  ‘You have our deepest condolences,’ Sir William said to Jane as he and his wife prepared to depart, ‘I have many fond memories of brandy with your father, some more vague than others.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she replied, helping her mother into the trap.

  At length, they departed the church for Longbourn, Mrs. Bennet riding alongside Jane, Elizabeth, Mary, Lydia and Kitty whilst the gentlemen walked behind, they arriving home first to find a most unexpected visitor.

  ‘Who is that waiting outside the gate?’ Lydia said as Longbourn came into view.

  ‘Why it’s…? No, surely not,’ Mary said.

  But here suspicions were confirmed as they approached.

  ‘Whatever is Mr. Collins doing here?’ Jane gasped, as the trap now drew up outside the house and Mrs. Bennet proceeded to climb out.

  ‘Mr. Collins, I am not sure I have the strength to speak with you now,’ she said. ‘Come Lydia, help me inside now, we must open the curtains and let in the light again.’

  As she proceeded inside, Mr. Collins stood expectantly outside, as the rest of the sisters turned to face him.

  ‘I am sorry I was not here in time to attend the funeral,’ Mr. Collins said, not addressing any of them in particular and resolutely avoiding eye contact with Elizabeth, ‘but since that unhappy task is now accomplished it leaves me only to deliver this letter which is addressed to your mother, I shall be staying at the inn in the village and will expect an answer there within the day, good day to you all.’

  And with that he mounted his horse and trotted off towards Meryton, passing the equally surprised Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy, Mr. Wickham not immediately recognising that the clergyman on horseback was the Mr. Collins he had heard so much about.

  ‘We have just seen Mr. Collins riding towards the village,’ Mr. Darcy said as the party arrived at Longbourn where the sisters were still outside in a bewildered state.

  ‘He comes to deliver a letter to mother,’ Elizabeth said, ‘what ever will it say?’

  ‘I have a fair idea,’ Mary said.

  ‘Well, you don’t think …?’

  ‘Let us see if Mother is up to reading it,’ Jane suggested, leading them inside, ‘whatever Mr. Collins writes one imagines it is not good news.’

  ‘What did Mr. Collins want?’ Mrs. Bennet said as the party entered the parlour to find her lain out upon a chair, smelling salts in hand, Lydia attempting to get her to drink a cup of water.

  ‘He brings a letter for you,’ Jane said.

  ‘A letter? For me?’ she exclaimed, ‘well, let me have it.’

  ‘Are you up to reading it?’ Elizabeth asked.

  ‘I should rather read it then worry about its contents, come now, give it here,’ and Jane passed her the letter which she opened and began to read.

  Dear Mrs. Bennet,

  May I begin by offering my condolences upon the death of your late husband and assure you of my prayers during your period of mourning. It is no doubt a great comfort to know he rests in the peace of heaven.

  I write to you on a practical matter of both urgency and importance. As you are aware the estate of Longbourn passed to your husband upon the death of my grandfather and, since my own father is also departed this life, and your husband having no male heir is unable to pass it on directly to his descendants owing to its being entailed, ownership now falls to me.

  I have consulted my own solicitors Messrs. Squire and Kingston of Cromwell Square, London, and they assure me that it is now my right to possess Longbourn at my own convenience. However, being a man of charity I am writing this letter, dated above, as notice that in one month’s time I shall take possession of the house and its contents, giving you ample time to vacate the house and find suitable lodgings elsewhere.

  I remain in Meryton for another two days during which time I shall expect your reply.

  Yours most sincerely.

  The Reverend Mr. William Collins MA Cantab.

  ‘Treacherous fiend,’ Mr. Darcy thundered, ‘of all the wicked things to do, to turn the family of a man not buried for an hour out of their home, the man is not a Christian!’

  Upon reading the letter Mrs. Bennet had herself become mo
re and more agitated until concluding, she threw it upon the floor with a dramatic shriek and fainted back into the chair, Lydia and Kitty rushing to assist her.

  ‘How could Mr. Collins behave in such a way?’ Jane said, ‘it is truly awful, he must surely know that mother had no income of her own to speak of, we shall have nothing.’

  Elizabeth stood in silence, this was Mr. Collins’ revenge for her spurning of him, she felt deeply saddened, knowing that though acting far from the principles of Christian charity, the clergyman was acting well within the realms of the law. All she could do was look sadly down as around her the family descended into worry and grief over Mr. Collins’ words.

  ‘He is a scoundrel,’ Mr. Darcy said, ‘an utter scoundrel, I have a good mind to go to the inn immediately and confront him.’

  ‘It would only make matters worse,’ Elizabeth said, ‘he would simply have us removed from the house tomorrow, he believes his charity lies in giving us one month’s notice.’

  ‘He cannot be allowed to do this.’

  But it was indeed within Mr. Collins’ rights to do just as he was doing, Mr. Bennet had no male heir and with Longbourn entailed, this meant that Mr. Collins had become its rightful owner the moment that Mr. Bennet had breathed his last, he reading this fact gleefully in the announcements columns of the paper the previous week.

  Mr. Collins now found himself once more in the vicinity of Longbourn and whilst he had no intention of spending much, if any, time in the district he found a considerable satisfaction in knowing the he had undoubtedly caused considerable distress in the Bennet household that evening, the cruelty of his actions hard to comprehend.

  It was now two days after the funeral and a cloud hung over Longbourn, both literally and metaphorically.

  It had rained almost constantly since Mr. Bennet’s funeral had taken place, the grey clouds rolling over the district causing the mood at Longbourn to sink to even greater depth of despair. Mrs. Bennet had spoken very little, merely lamenting the loss of her beloved home which would be a tragedy on a par with that of losing her husband, for he and Longbourn were so entwined that one could not imagine them apart, his portrait, now hanging in the parlour, looking down upon them.

  But in Meryton a meeting was about to take place which could well change the sorrow of the family into joy as Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley paid a visit to the clergyman resident at the inn.

  ‘We are here to see Mr. Collins, it is a matter of some urgency,’ Mr. Darcy said to the innkeeper, who disappeared into the back lodgings, returning momentarily and waving the two gentlemen through.

  There they found the clergyman at his breakfast and he rose to greet them as they entered.

  ‘Gentlemen, you no doubt bring word from Mrs. Bennet, won’t you sit down?’ he said, himself sitting and looking at them expectantly.

  ‘It is not word from Mrs. Bennet that we bring,’ Mr. Darcy said, ‘but rather word from your patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.’

  ‘Lady Catherine de Bourgh?’ Mr. Collins said, looking somewhat vexed.

  ‘Indeed, may I be permitted to read you the correspondence she has sent in reply to a letter which I myself took the liberty of sending her on the day of Mr. Bennet’s funeral, when your own demands arrived at Longbourn.’

  Mr. Collins did not know quite what to say, he had not expected such a visit, an offer perhaps to buy Longbourn or a grovelling approach, imploring his mercy upon a penniless family. But he had not expected this.

  ‘I shall begin,’ Mr. Darcy said.

  My dear nephew,

  I was pleased to receive your correspondence, and I ask you to convey my condolences to the Bennet family, and to your wife Elizabeth, who I have grown more fond of these past months than I can say.

  You know that at first, I was sceptical as to the marriage, yet I see it has made you happy, and I thank her too for the way in which she took care of Anne during our visit to London in the autumn.

  It is a most unfortunate and unhappy set of circumstances which you relate regarding Mr. Collins. I was unaware of the precise details of the will, though he had intimated that Longbourn would be in his inherit. Nevertheless, to cast out a family into destitution upon the day of their mourning is beyond reprehensible.

  I have taken the liberty of informing the Lord Bishop of Rochester as to the circumstances which you find yourself under, but I will take it upon myself to ensure that should this most wicked of acts be followed through then I, as patron of the parish on Hunsford, will do all in my power to appoint a new rector to the living, and ensure that Mr. Collins does not remain at my disposal.

  I hope that you find this a satisfactory course of action and that its threat will be enough to dissuade Mr. Collins of his course of action.

  With my affection to you, dear nephew, and to Elizabeth and the child, who is no doubt imminent now.

  Lady Catherine de Bourgh, etc.

  Mr. Collins snatched the letter from Mr. Darcy’s hands and read it through himself, it was most certainly not a forgery and as he digested the information contained within, he turned a particularly nasty shade of scarlet.

  ‘Preposterous,’ he cried, ‘how dare you, Longbourn is rightfully mine.’

  ‘Indeed, perhaps it is,’ Mr. Darcy said, ‘but throwing a family out into destitution is not your right, no man should consider such a thing, let alone a man of your position.’

  ‘How dare you,’ Mr. Collins said, ‘how dare you!’

  ‘But you accept the terms?’ Mr. Bingley said.

  ‘It seems he has no choice,’ Mr. Darcy said, ‘now what word should we take back to Longbourn?’

  Mr. Collins paused for a moment, seemingly unable to speak.

  ‘I…I… very well, the family can remain, I shall still be alive when that dreadful woman passes to the grave, and her daughters are married off.’

  ‘I am sure some arrangement can be reached,’ Mr. Bingley said, and the two gentlemen stood up.

  ‘If that is all, then we shall wish you a good morning,’ Mr. Darcy said.

  And leaving the enraged Mr. Collins behind, they departed from the inn for Longbourn, where they found the Bennets in a dejected mood.

  ‘Fitzwilliam, where have you been?’ Elizabeth said, ‘I thought you were only taking a walk to Meryton.’

  ‘We have some news for you,’ Mr. Darcy said, finding the family gathered in the parlour.

  ‘What news?’ Jane said, ‘Charles? Why are you smiling?’

  ‘Mr. Collins has this morning renounced his claim on Longbourn, it appears that the arrangements did not agree with him.’

  ‘You mean?’ Mrs. Bennet cried, ‘you mean, we are not to be put out onto the streets, left homeless and destitute?’

  ‘It would appear not,’ Mr. Darcy said.

  At this all of the Bennet sisters leaped up and embraced one another, they could not believe their ears at the good fortune and as the celebration continued, Elizabeth took her husband aside to enquire as to the nature of the agreement.

  ‘What did you say to him, you have not bought us out of misery, have you? Mother would not wish that.’

  ‘No money has exchanged hands, I merely presented him with a letter which informed him of his fate should he follow through with his plans for Longbourn.’

  ‘What sort of fate?’ Elizabeth said.

  ‘One worse than death, at the hands of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, but come now, let us not dwell upon Mr. Collins, we must join the celebration.’

  But at that moment Elizabeth let out a cry and clutched to her stomach, the rest of the party now falling silent.

  ‘Heavens above,’ Mrs. Bennet cried, ‘the child is coming. Quick, Mr. Wickham, run to the village and fetch Doctor Dukes, Mary, boil water, Kitty, fetch linens, and Jane, assist your sister to her bed, come now.’

  It was as if the news of the Longbourn’s saving had reanimated Mrs. Bennet and as the bearer of five daughters, she knew well enough what to do at that moment, sending Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley out in
to the garden, the best place, she said, for men at such a time.

  Elizabeth was now lying upon her bed, the contractions having begun, she had not thought herself due for another week or two but the excitement of the last few days had clearly caused the child to wish an entrance into the world.

  The linens and hot water were duly brought and now the family gathered around a Longbourn bed, not to witness death but to see new life.

  Mrs. Bennet held her daughter’s hand, and instructed her to breathe deeply, as Elizabeth let out another cry of pain, Jane holding her hand upon the other side of the bed.

  Mary declared that she would rather not watch, though she had read much about it in books, and so she acted as go-between for Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley, Mrs Bennet having categorically forbidden their presence until the baby was safely delivered.

  It took an hour or so before Doctor Dukes arrived with Mr. Wickham, by which time things were well in progress.

  ‘You seem to have everything in hand, Mrs. Bennet,’ he said as he entered the room.

  ‘Doctor Dukes, when you have given birth as many times as I have, you learn the art far better than a man of science ever could from any number of anatomy lessons,’ she said.

  ‘Are my services not required?’ The doctor said, smiling.

  ‘They are indeed,’ Elizabeth cried, ‘I have never felt such pain.’

  ‘Then you must do as your mother tells you, Elizabeth, breathe and push,’ the doctor said, opening his medical bag and preparing to assist with the procedure, further hot linens and water being brought in considerably unnecessary volume.

  We, like Mr. Darcy, shall not be privy to the continuation of the birth, but suffice to say all passed as smoothly as could have been expected, Doctor Dukes, despite being a man, having excellent clinical skill, having assisted at almost every birth in Meryton for the past twenty years he had been in practice, the younger Bennet girls his own work too.

  At five o’clock Mary ran downstairs to inform Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley that the mechanics of the birth had now been completed, there being a new baby to meet upstairs.