by Jann Rowland
“Well, I feel sorry for your sister,” said Mrs. Bennet with a sniff of disdain. “To be tied to a man such as Mr. Collins for the rest of her life must be the bitterest of all evils. The rest of us are well rid of him, for he is as abominable a man as ever lived!”
“If you recall,” said Jane, “Mary agreed to marry Mr. Collins to save the family. Mr. Collins is . . . distasteful, perhaps, but Mary’s sacrifice allowed us to keep our home after Papa passed.”
“If only he had not been such an objectionable man!”
“We all have our crosses to bear,” said Mr. Bingley. The man appeared amused at his mother-in-law’s antics, though Elizabeth knew he did not disagree with her regarding Mr. Collins. “Perhaps we should leave the subject of Mr. Collins behind, for to belabor the point is not productive.”
“Yes, you are right, Mr. Bingley,” said Mrs. Bennet. “Let us leave Mr. Collins to his own devices.”
“Excellent! Now, to further what Jane has already informed you, let me reiterate that you are welcome to stay with us as long as necessary. Our move to our new home will take place at Michaelmas; we would be pleased to have you with us when that time comes.”
Mr. Bingley turned to Elizabeth. “I suppose now that Longbourn is closed to you, the question of where to marry does not now include Longbourn church.”
With a sigh, Elizabeth allowed it to be so. “As I informed Lady Susan, the venue is not important, though I might have wished to marry here, where my elder sisters have married.”
“We shall need to inform Kitty too,” said Jane.
“Kitty will marry from my brother’s house,” said Mrs. Bennet. “I received a letter from him last week to that effect.”
“Mrs. Gardiner is assisting with the preparations,” said Mr. Darcy. “When I visited Mr. Gardiner, we spoke a little of that matter.”
“Then we only need to settle where you will marry, Elizabeth,” said Mr. Bingley with a smile. “If required, our new parish should be able to accommodate you.”
“When I return to London,” added Mr. Darcy, “I shall procure a common license, which will allow us to marry in any location.”
“A common license!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet.
Though her mother made no further comment, Elizabeth was certain she was a little disappointed at William’s mention of the license. In her mother’s mind, a man as high as she imagined William to be must be capable of securing a special license; Elizabeth decided it would not be prudent to mention that Lord Matlock had—as a joke—offered to facilitate the purchase of just such a document!
“In our situation, a license would be more practical,” said William, unaware of her mother’s turn of thought. “Though the reading the banns would suffice if the situation were stable, it is more difficult with your move to the north.”
“Then you may put the decision aside to consider at your leisure.” Mr. Bingley turned a grin on his friend. “Now, Darcy, I wish to know how you found the conditions at the dower house. I have only visited it once, but it seemed sound when I was there.”
“It is sufficient for the moment,” said William. “As I take my meals here and retire there only to sleep, I require little.”
“Good, good,” said Mr. Bingley. “Your residence there will only be a matter of a few weeks, so it should not inconvenience you much.”
“And I must return to London to see to the settlement and the license,” said William. “But I shall not do that until my aunt appears to confront us.”
Elizabeth could see from the moue of distaste which curled his lips that the prospect was not a welcome one. It was not for her either, especially should Lady Catherine, a woman she had never met, attempt to come upon Elizabeth alone and without his support.
“Do you suppose she will come here directly?” asked Mr. Bingley.
The Darcy siblings sported identical grimaces which informed every one of their opinions. “My aunt will set off for Netherfield the very hour Mr. Collins’s promised letter arrives,” said William. “I would expect her to arrive here by this evening or tomorrow morning if Mr. Collins sends the letter express.”
“Aunt Catherine is a . . . forceful woman,” said Georgiana, in what Elizabeth suspected was a classic understatement.
“Should I bar her from the estate?” asked Mr. Bingley.
Though he frowned anew, William shook his head. “Better to let me deal with her than expose the staff to her abuse. I shall bear the brunt of her displeasure and send her on her way. I also shall write to my uncle, informing him of our suspicions.”
“That will not prevent her,” observed Elizabeth.
William fixed her with an affectionate smile. “No, but it will forewarn him of her intentions, for I suspect she will go to Snowlock when I do not oblige her. It will also remove her ability to attack me for going against the family’s wishes.”
“She will regardless,” said Georgiana with a derisive huff.
“Yes, I dare say, she will. If she thinks I will bow to her whims—though I cannot imagine how she could—then she is in for a rude awakening.”
With that stated intention, Mr. Darcy retired to the library soon after to write his letter. Having been denied her wish to farewell the scenes of her youth, Elizabeth would have liked nothing more than to defy Mr. Collins and walk on his lands just to spite him. This she put aside with reluctance, for while Mr. Collins did not bestir himself to inspect his lands, Elizabeth knew a chance meeting with him would put her at needless risk. Thus, she retired to the sitting-room with Jane and her mother, though she was not eager to hear her mother lament her ill-usage at the hand of Mr. Collins.
When Mary entered the room only a short time later, Elizabeth reflected she should not be surprised to see her, certain she knew why her sister had come. That Mary was uncertain of her reception was marked in her hesitant manner, and while Mrs. Bennet regarded her eldest with coolness, Elizabeth knew Mary could not be blamed for what had happened.
“Mary,” said Jane, rising when she saw her sister.
In true Jane peacemaker fashion, she approached Mary and caught her up in an embrace, which Mary returned with obvious relief. Elizabeth, no more inclined to blame Mary than Jane, rose and followed suit, and while Mrs. Bennet remained distant, Elizabeth could see her mother softening as a result of their actions.
“Thank you, Jane,” said Mary, her voice so soft as to render her difficult to hear. “I feared you would all wish to have nothing to do with me.”
“Nonsense, Mary,” was Jane’s firm reply. “I do not blame you for yesterday’s events, and I am certain Lizzy agrees with me.”
“Of course,” said Elizabeth, giving the assurance she felt her sister needed. “There is nothing to forgive. You have always welcomed us at Longbourn.”
Behind Mary, Elizabeth saw William enter the room, trailed by Mr. Bingley. The gentleman had been notified of Mary’s presence, it seemed, and had responded to learn what brought her here.
“I have,” said Mary. “Though I understand you will all wish to avoid my husband, I hope that this event will not cost me my sisters and my mother.”
Even Mrs. Bennet appeared to be moved by Mary’s pleading tone. “No, we would not wish to be sundered from you forever.”
“It is not my wish either, Mary,” said Elizabeth. “I am very fond of Longbourn, as you know; I would not wish to be forever barred from the estate.”
“Your sister speaks the truth, Mrs. Collins,” said William. “At the same time, I am compelled to note that your husband has insulted my fiancée and your sister, and I cannot sit by and allow it. At the very least, he owes her an apology.”
“I cannot agree more, Mr. Darcy,” said Mary. “It is for that reason I have come.”
“Then you should sit and inform us what has happened,” said Jane.
The company situated themselves together, Jane ensuring Mary was among them and not separated to appear the supplicant. It was also clear to Elizabeth that William sat by her side as a statement,
one that Mary did not miss, for she directed a fond smile at Elizabeth.
“It seems, Lizzy, that you have found yourself an able protector. I hope you recognize what a blessing that is.”
“I do,” affirmed Elizabeth, understanding the thrust of Mary’s words.
Though she had never considered the matter in such terms before, Elizabeth thought about what it must have been like to have Mr. Collins as a husband under the thumb of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Anything the lady said, Mr. Collins would obey without a hint of hesitation, his wife’s opinion treated as an afterthought if he deigned to hear it at all. The situation had improved with their subsequent removal to Longbourn after her father’s death, for Mr. Collins had transferred his need to have someone direct him to Mary, as Lady Catherine ignored him more often than not. Still, Mary had no protector, for Mr. Collins was no man to offer any woman protection of any sort.
Whereas Mr. Collins would bow and scrape and agree to anything Lady Catherine said, William would stand firm and refuse to allow his aunt’s poor behavior. When Lady Catherine came, as they all believed inevitable, Elizabeth doubted William would even allow his aunt to speak to her. Mr. Collins, by contrast, would step aside at the first hint of the lady’s displeasure, allowing her to assault his wife in whatever manner she saw fit.
“It was some time before Mr. Collins calmed enough that I could speak to him,” said Mary. “I will not lie to you all—he was as incensed as I have ever seen him, and he said many things of you, Lizzy, words which I shall not repeat.”
“Were there any threats inherent in his comments, Mrs. Collins?”
Mary turned a considering gaze on William, who had posed the question. “If by threat, you mean an intent to act against my sister, then no. Whatever my husband is, he is not a man of violence. Such thoughts would never cross his mind.”
When William nodded, Mary continued: “His thoughts were more fixed on the response he thought your aunt’s displeasure would take. I am certain you will not be surprised to hear that he still esteems her as a woman of tremendous nobility, and even more, he is terrified of how she might act, feeling her ladyship will blame him for allowing you to turn your attention to Elizabeth and away from Miss de Bourgh.”
“That is possible, Mrs. Collins,” replied William with a curt nod. “I will remind you, however, that Mr. Collins is now a gentleman in his own right; thus, there is nothing Lady Catherine can do to exert her will on him, regardless of what she may claim. Given the laws around the gifting of livings, she had no power even when you were at Hunsford.”
“That is the argument I used to sway him.” Mary paused, as if marshaling her arguments, and spoke again, saying: “Through my efforts, Mr. Collins has become convinced that it would be best to support you and Elizabeth in this, Mr. Darcy, and part of my reasoning to him is that we are not beholden to Lady Catherine any longer. Though I am embarrassed it has taken him this long to recognize it, I believe my efforts have been successful.
“Besides, I believe I have convinced him of the benefits of the situation.” Mary colored, but she bravely continued to explain. “Having Mr. Darcy as a brother is not an insignificant matter to a man of Mr. Collins’s position.”
One look at William informed Elizabeth that Mr. Collins was not likely to realize the benefit to which Mary alluded, and by Mr. Bingley’s countenance, she was certain he wished for as little contact with Mr. Collins as his friend. That Mary also understood this, she knew, though Elizabeth knew her husband would not. As it was, no one saw fit to dispense with Mary’s polite fiction.
“Given this, I have also convinced Mr. Collins that an apology is necessary, and I beseech your permission to allow him to come to Netherfield to offer that apology.”
“You were to come to dinner tonight!” said Jane with a gasp. “I apologize, Mary, but with all that had happened, it had quite slipped my mind.”
“That is understandable, Jane,” replied Mary. “If you do not wish to honor our engagement, I cannot blame you. But I request leave to make amends to the extent possible, given the situation.”
William turned to look at Elizabeth, his gaze questioning, giving Elizabeth to understand that the choice was hers. Few things were more repugnant to Elizabeth than to allow William Collins to make his apology to her, for she wished to have nothing to do with the man; furthermore, she was certain his words would be everything insincere, offered because he felt he had no other choice. For the sake of family harmony, however, she decided it would be best to allow him to do so, for she did not wish to lose her ability to see her sister.
“If Mr. Collins wishes to apologize,” said Elizabeth, “I shall listen.”
Nodding, as if he expected her answer, William turned back to Mary. “As Elizabeth wishes it, I shall agree.”
“Darcy,” said Mr. Bingley, though his whispering tone was loud enough for them all to hear, “you are not married to her yet.”
The company all laughed, breaking a little of the tension in the room. Though he laughed with the rest, Mr. Darcy could not be diverted from his purpose.
“Perhaps I am not, Bingley, but that does not mean I do not have an interest in Elizabeth’s wellbeing.” William turned back to Mary and said in a voice authoritative, yet kind: “Elizabeth will hear Mr. Collins’s apology, but there are to be no references to my aunt, my cousin, or any words unrelated to his contrition for his behavior.”
His countenance softening a little, William regarded Mary with a look that was not devoid of compassion. “I understand your desire to remain close to your sister, Mrs. Collins, and I should not dream of coming in the way of your familial relationships. Having said that, I should inform you that I am not impressed with your husband and have little desire to endure his society more often than I must. Elizabeth joins me in this opinion.
“Thus, while you will always be welcome in our homes, our welcome for your husband is predicated on his behavior. Absent an improvement in his manners and a sincere change in how he treats Elizabeth, we will endure him only when necessary to project the illusion of family unity.”
Mary returned a slight smile and nodded. “That is understandable, Mr. Darcy. I hope you will not blame me if I do not intend to share your words with my husband. I believe it is best to allow him to believe whatever he wishes.”
“Yes, I can understand your position, Mrs. Collins.”
“Thank you. Then there is only one other matter I should relate to you. As Mr. Collins would not listen to me most of the day yesterday, I could not prevent him from dispatching a letter to your aunt, informing her of the day’s events. Though I am not aware of what he wrote, I cannot imagine she will greet the letter with anything other than extreme prejudice.”
“Of that, you are correct, Mrs. Collins,” said William, his lips lifting in a hint of a wry smile. “As my acquaintance with my aunt is lengthy, I am well aware of her ways and cannot imagine you are incorrect. I shall do my best to prevent her from setting out for Longbourn when she inevitably leaves Netherfield in disappointment, but I fear I shall find limited success.”
“No, I cannot imagine she would not visit us,” said Mary. Then she rose to her feet. “Now, if you will excuse me, I should return to Longbourn. If it is acceptable, shall I send Mr. Collins by this afternoon?”
Jane exchanged a glance with Mr. Bingley, and the gentleman, understanding her question, nodded to her silent query.
“There is no reason to alter our plans. Please come to dinner tonight as we had originally planned. Mr. Collins can express his regrets at that time.”
A grateful Mary nodded and embraced Elizabeth. “Then I shall depart. Elizabeth, if I might request a moment of your time, will you walk me to the entrance?”
Certain she knew what Mary wished, Elizabeth nodded her acceptance and joined her sister. They walked through the halls in silence, Mary seeming to be pondering weighty matters before her sister turned to her when they reached the entrance hall.
“I wished to take this opportun
ity, Lizzy, to apologize to you on behalf of my husband. It has not missed my attention that he has often sought to impose his will upon you and not only in the matter of this business with Mr. Darcy and Lady Catherine. I thank you for your forbearance, for I know you often kept your own counsel when you might have wished to speak instead, and I apologize that it was necessary to do so.”
“Mary,” said Elizabeth, “I believe there is no need for your apology. You have always made me welcome, assuring me of my ability to return to Longbourn even when your husband had made comments to the contrary. I have always known I could rely on you.”
The nod her sister returned was filled with gratitude. “And I would like you to know that you will always be welcome at Longbourn, regardless of what my husband says.” Mary paused, as if uncertain whether she should continue to speak. “It has always struck me that it may have been best if you had been the eldest, for no one loves Longbourn as much as you do.”
“And yet you have been seeing to its management since Papa’s death,” said Elizabeth. “I cannot imagine I would have done better than you, had I been in your position.”
“Thank you,” said Mary.
“And I thank you,” said Elizabeth. “Part of my purpose for staying at Longbourn was to view a few of the vistas I love so well again before I must depart.”
“Let nothing stand in your way,” said Mary. “As Netherfield is a little distant, it may be best to find some means of coming to Longbourn other than your own feet, but once you are there, you may walk to your heart’s content.”
“Do you not know?” asked Elizabeth with an impish smile. “I am an excellent walker—three miles is no object.”
Mary laughed and shook her head. “No, I suppose it is not.”
“I must own,” said Elizabeth, “I am concerned for your wellbeing, Mary.” At Mary’s questioning glance, Elizabeth elaborated: “Perhaps I am speaking out of turn, but I do not think you are any more enamored of your husband’s society than anyone else in the family, and yet you must endure him as your husband.”
The look with which Mary regarded her was considering, and for a moment Mary did not reply. Then she sighed and looked away.