It has been learned thus far that the Reverend Collins has no degree from an accredited religious institution, but is a graduate of a mail-order divinity course.
At reading the report at her home at Rosings, Lady Catherine de Bourgh gasped and clutched her heart. Darcy had no intention of letting the invented scandal reach an indictment against the pastor, planning to somehow throw cold water on it and have the cleric exonerated. But, knowing the press, he suspected that the allegation would live on in most people’s minds, since scandal, even when proven false, often has a life of its own.
To be certain that Mr. Collins suffered sufficiently, Darcy put an alternate plan into operation. It went into effect as Mr. Collins was leaving the hospital two nights later, after suffering a severe case of hives from all the emotional turmoil regarding the sermon research.
Mr. Collins returned home to find Mrs. Collins tasting a new vintage of her home brew of elderberry brandy which calmed her nerves. He took a gallon jug of it to his bed where he remained for two days.
Darcy arranged that Mr. Collins would be enticed, when he was out of bed again, to go to Room 4 of The Royal Arms where a person would be waiting to make a substantial contribution to his church. Mr. Collins went there, wondering who the generous benefactor would be, but more about how much the sum was.
Darcy had planned to hire a lady of the evening to be waiting for Mr. Collins in Room 4, but when he asked Deidre, the buxom bar maid at the Meryton inn, if she was available that evening, she replied, “I regret to turn down business, but I have a previous commitment with the mayor.”
He’s married, recalled Darcy. “I know of no other lady of my trade who is not previously occupied this evening,” she went on. “The vice mayor, secretary, finance minister, and the members of the village council are all on holiday today and are going to spend the evening with ladies of my trade. It is the anniversary of Meryton’s founding, you know.”
Darcy had known but forgot. There was nothing for it but that Mr. Darcy himself should meet with Mr. Collins that evening in Room 4 at the inn. He recalled one of the mottoes by which he lived: If a job needs to be done and done properly, it is always best to do it yourself.
Darcy hired two men sitting with mugs of ale at the inn and told them what their duties would be later that night. Not wanting to reveal his identity to Mr. Collins that evening, Darcy selected a suitable frock and hat from Mrs. Darcy’s wardrobe. Putting it in a suitcase, he took it to the inn and upon entering Room 4, disrobed down to just his flag shorts, then donned his wife’s costume and a blonde wig.
Darcy waited for footsteps outside the room and upon hearing them, anticipating they were those of Mr. Collins, turned down the gas lamp in the room. When the door opened and he saw the parson entering the room, Darcy flung himself on the cleric as the two men he had hired appeared in the doorway and saw the parson in an intimate situation with an unknown woman of uncommonly attractive countenance.
The two men left and Darcy removed his wig and showed his face to Mr. Collins, saying, “If you engage in any future adventure such as you imposed upon me and my family, I shall have your conduct here spread throughout the village and district, supported by two witnesses. Further, you must as of this moment release the young Irish of their financial obligation to you and no longer require them to do any further research for you on any subject, as well as pay them out of your own purse and not my aunt’s, for their services rendered thus far.”
Mr. Collins gasped, red-faced, and gave his word, swearing on the Bible if necessary, that he would comply with Mr. Darcy’s demands. He sheepishly left the room, then the inn, and took a carriage home to Hunsford. He deeply regretted to himself the entire adventure of his sermon research but, perhaps most of all, that he had been misled by Mr. Darcy and there would be no generous gift for him after all from an unknown benefactor. He was, he thought ruefully, too trusting.
Upon arriving home, a short carriage ride from the inn, Mr. Collins found Mrs. Collins to be asleep in their bed. He proceeded to invade not her, but her brandy supply.
Darcy returned to Pemberley by carriage in the early hours of the next morning. Elizabeth awakened from her slumber in their bed and watched as her husband transformed from a lady of the night back into a gentleman.
“Did it go well?” she asked.
“As we both planned,” he replied, then climbed into bed and pressed his flag against her with kisses. “We shan’t have any more mischief out of Mr. Collins.”
The next day, Mr. Collins visited Lady Catherine de Bourgh at Rosings. “Ma’am, my research for the sermon on temptation and temperance has turned out, like, badly. Basically, it suffers from insufficient substance. I believe, you know, it would be prudent to give it up, if you will.”
Said Lady de Bourgh, “You do not have the pastoring credentials you led me to believe. But I will continue to retain you as pastor, for the time being. Until perhaps I shall find a replacement. But you shall receive a reduced salary.” Mr. Collins was relieved to learn at least that he had not lost his position. He might find Mrs. Collins employment, to supplement their reduced income.
Lady Catherine said further, “You must give your sermon with research thus far gathered, so that it will cause all the Bennet’s scandal.”
“But, if you will, I will give the sermon without naming names.”
“I shall allow that, so long as the Bennet sisters will be recognized and exposed nonetheless.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sean saw Darcy in Meryton and approached him.
“Pippa and I have decided to return to Ireland to live.” Said Darcy, sincerely, “Elizabeth and I shall miss you both very much, but I think you have made a wise decision. There is no place like home. But will you be sorry that your father is buried in England? You might not be able to visit his grave often.”
Sean replied, “Where someone is buried is of no consequence. The grave only contains one’s body, not one’s soul.”
Said Darcy, admiring the Irish lad even more, “You would make a fine minister.” The Darcy’s had the O’Reilly’s for a weekend before their departure for Ireland. Pippa brought a farewell gift from her and Sean, a rather tall package wrapped in brown paper. The Darcy’s could not guess what it contained.
“It is a very small gift to thank you for your kindness to us,” said Sean.
Unwrapping the package, he revealed the gift to be a rather homely-looking plant whose green leaves were spiked and contained what looked like gray spots.
Seeing that the Darcy’s were unfamiliar with the plant, Pippa explained.
“It does not surprise us that you may never have seen the plant. We are, and our father was, quite at home with it on our and his travels. It is an aspidistra.” Sean further explained. “It grows in the shade, is very tolerant of neglect, and almost impossible to kill. It is found in most middle-class British homes and rooming-houses. It is a symbol of both the lower and middle class that are victims of the upper-class money-world that has it as its mercy. You people excluded, of course. Pippa and I are, as was our father, Socialists in a Capitalist world.”
Pippa explained: “The aspidistra is a symbol to be free of the curse of money and the chasm between the have’s and the have not’s. It is to remind you of us and those like us.”
Said Sean, “Keep the aspidistra flying!”
“Sean thought of giving you both a more personal parting gift, but he will only tell you what it is.”
Darcy said to Sean, “Now you have us curious, or at least I am.” Sean took Darcy aside and whispered, “Pippa and I are into yoga for exercise and meditation. There are some positions that lend themselves quite well to… You know what I mean.”
Darcy said, “I am again astounded at your general knowledge.”
“I’ve heard there are such positions,” Darcy whispered back. “Perhaps you could describe them to me before you leave.”
Sean, again in a whisper: “I should be glad to demonstrate them to you.
My favorite ten positions, at least.”
Darcy thought about the invitation. Temptation? Then he gave his final whisper: “I think, merely describe them. Do not show, but tell.”
Sean’s final whisper: “If that is your wish, I shall do so.”
Pippa thought she knew about what they were whispering. Elizabeth had no idea, but whispered to the Irish lass: “They are such dears. Always thinking of us.”
That night in bed, Darcy and Elizabeth discoursed on the O’Reilly’s who were to depart from Pemberley in the morning. “As you know, dearest, I seldom make quick favorable assessments of strangers or those I hardly know. But Sean and Pippa are, as I had suspected, really without guile. They are sincere innocents in an often hard and mean world. I think they both even may be too good for this world.”
Elizabeth agreed and thought the same of her husband. Did Mr. Darcy have stronger feelings for Mr. O’Reilly than friendship? Elizabeth wondered about that. Many men, she thought, have feelings for other men but do not physically act on them. If it goes farther, she would not judge. Love is love. And times change. After all, we are living in the Nineteenth Century. What is forbidden today may be fully accepted tomorrow.
Elizabeth asked Mr. Darcy regarding Pippa: “Did you find her society to be tempting?” Darcy replied, “I looked at Pippa and my thoughts and emotions were of and for you. I did not stray in my words or deeds, even in my heart. I wish, I hope, you will believe me.”
“I do. As I wish and hope that you believe me that I was not tempted by Mr. O’Reilly’s countenance or manner. He was a gentleman to me, always.”
“As Pippa always was a gentlewoman to me. I do believe you did not stray, neither in thought nor deed.”
They spoke thus even though knowing that both of the Irish were flirts. They made their protestations while each crossed their fingers behind them.
In their bed that night, the O’Reilly’s discoursed on the Darcy’s.
“Did you have special feelings for either of the Darcy’s?” asked Sean.
“Just feelings of strong friendship,” Pippa replied.
“It was the same for me.”
She said, “But, also, I did not want to tempt either Mister or Mrs. Darcy.”
“Nor I. They are good people and so very much in love.”
They then began making love with each other, their fingers crossed. Shortly after the Irish departed to return to Dublin, Mr. Wickham received a small parcel at Mansfield Park. It was light in weight, wrapped in brown paper, and tied with string. There was an unsigned note outside the paper that read:
Mr. Wickham, you wanted the shirt so badly. Wear it in good health and fond memory. I’m keeping the shamrock shorts and bluejeans.
Wickham took the unopened parcel to his lips, then his tears fell onto it. Chapter Twenty-Seven As Mr. Darcy spent some of his time walking and playing toss-a-ball with Max at Pemberley Park, or at the animal shelter in Lampton, Elizabeth began spending some time at the library in Lampton. Needing some occupation to take her mind off of her loss of a child, she decided to volunteer there, to reshelf books if nothing else.
Elizabeth visited the Lampton library almost daily and became friends with the librarian, a cheerful woman about as round as she was small, by the name of Miss Dorothy Bailey. They frequently discussed books, learning what each other’s favorites were. romances, while Miss adventures.
Elizabeth told her that her Bailey said she preferred favorites tended to be
histories and historical While working at the library, even on her first day there, Elizabeth took notice that a small girl about six years of age was seated at one of the tables, leafing through books. The girl was plain, with long brown hair that looked unkempt, and her dress tattered and almost in rags.
Elizabeth became taken by the girl’s big brown eyes that seemed to watch as she shelved books or took charge of the desk when Miss Bailey was away on an errand. As soon as their eyes would meet, the girl’s lowered and returned to the book she was holding.
In collecting the books the girl left on the table where she sat, Elizabeth noted that they were all picture books. She asked Miss Bailey about the girl and her choice of reading material.
“I doubt very much that she can read,” explained Miss Bailey. “She may never have had any schooling.”
“At first I thought she might be your daughter.”
“Dear no, I am not a mother, nor a wife. I don’t know why no man has taken much of an interest in me, I am such a prize.” Elizabeth chuckled, discovering the delightful sense of humor the woman had. As the days passed, the urchin kept returning to the library and Elizabeth kept wondering about her. When one day Constable Feeley visited the library to take out a book on martial arts, Elizabeth asked him, nodding that she was referring to the girl who was leafing through another picture book.
“I don’t know her full story,” Feeley replied, “but I’ve heard from others who have talked to her in the village… She is called Heidi, from nearby Plympton, where her parents lived, immigrants from Germany. He earned very little money as a handyman.
“They had two children after Heidi, but became too poor to be able to keep her, so they chose to keep her younger brother and sister and sell her to a couple in the town, then left. I’m sure they were heartbroken to leave her, and to sell her to strangers, but they had no recourse if they were to keep bread and milk in the stomachs of the younger members of their family. I’m sure the sale did not net them much. So then she wandered about and found the library here to be something of a home.”
It was so sad a story, Elizabeth nearly wept as she worked on that afternoon. Several weeks passed, and as cool weather of autumn approached, Elizabeth saw the girl shivering as she sat looking at the pictures in books. She also looked under-nourished, and Elizabeth had been wondering where the girl had found food. Or shelter.
“I allow her to sleep here,” said Miss Bailey. “In a back room where I keep a cot and blanket. Heidi washes herself from the wash basin I keep fresh every morning. I’ve seen her go to a restaurant nearby where the owner responds when she knocks on his back door and gives her leftovers from the previous night. It isn’t much because most people who frequent the establishment are poor, as most locals here are.”
Elizabeth returned the next morning with a sweater and jacket for Heidi, as well as a package containing some beef and potatoes from the dinner she had had the night before with Mr. Darcy. The girl looked at her with eyes not quite so sad and said, “Thank you, Ma’am.”
What more could she do for the child?, Elizabeth wondered, even began to agonize. Find someone to take her and give her a permanent home?
As they talked together at times, the girl never opened up to Elizabeth about her abandonment nor her months alone since then. Elizabeth told Mr. Darcy about the girl. He stroked Max behind the ears as he listened, and the puppy began to make sounds as if he were purring, like a contented kitten. He said he sympathized about the girl’s plight and would give it some thought.
Elizabeth asked, “Could we perhaps bring her to Pemberley and give her some minor employment, perhaps helping cook in the kitchen? She could have one of the small unused servants’ rooms.”
“A capital idea!” replied Darcy.
At the library later that morning, Elizabeth spoke to Miss Bailey about the plan.
“I’m sure Heidi would think the offer to be a gift from God. It could reassure her that someone loved her. You or God or both, I am not certain.”
Elizabeth sat with Heidi and spoke to her of her offer to come work and live at Pemberley.
Heidi got up from her chair and hugged Elizabeth around the waist, tears in her eyes.
“And you will be my Mommie?” The notion grew inside Elizabeth after Heidi came to Pemberley and she became more fond of the girl as the days passed. After a week, Elizabeth came to a decision regarding the girl, who was a conscientious kitchen maid and became more cheerful as she became more confident in her safe future, despite
Elizabeth not promising to be her mother.
Elizabeth sensed that a new feeling of rejection came over Heidi, most likely remembering that from her parents.
Darcy looked at Elizabeth as they had dinner.
“You’ve become fond of Heidi.”
“I should say my fondness has become even more-so.”
He smiled at her, placing a hand on hers.
“You lost a child, why not gain one?”
Elizabeth almost cried out with joy. “Adopt her? You should not mind?” Elizabeth had wondered, gravely, that her husband might consider Heidi to be unworthy of becoming a Darcy, because of the vast chasm between their social status. It had kept them apart for so long, until they both had come to terms with their pride and prejudice.
“Not only would I not mind, I would welcome Heidi as our daughter. Seeing how happy it would make you, makes me happy, too.”
Elizabeth rose from her chair and went to her husband, embracing and then kissing him.
“If she turns out as well as our adopted Max, we shall be more than blessed with Heidi,” he said.
He said it by way of jesting, Elizabeth sensed, yet knowing it would be so. It was another proof that they could read each other’s minds.
Said Elizabeth, “I shall teach her to read and write. If she learns basics as fast as Max has, she will be ready to run for Parliament in no time.”
“Is that a requirement for public office?” Darcy quipped. Heidi received the good news in the kitchen by reaching out to hug Elizabeth again, but Elizabeth fell to her knees and took the urchin in her arms and began kissing her.
Heidi kissed her back. “I love you so much, Mommie.” That evening, Mr. Darcy sat reading a book by the fireplace in the parlor, Max curled up asleep in his lap. Elizabeth sat at the writing table near them and wrote her sister Jane a letter. Heidi sat in a high-back chair beside her, holding a doll and her head nodding as she started to fall off to sleep, the sleep of a child feeling safe and warm and loved.
Elizabeth wrote:
Clouds Over Pemberley Page 17