The Challenge of Entail

by Jann Rowland

  “Elizabeth is my most capable and intelligent daughter, Collins,” said Bennet, his patience evaporating. “Continuing to slander her will not help your cause—quite the opposite.”

  “Would it further help my cause to remind you that you have cheated me of my inheritance?” spat Mr. Collins.

  “No one was cheated of anything,” replied Bennet with a sigh. That he had suspected Collins might have come here for some purpose associated with the entail was nothing less than the truth. This visit was not as amusing as he had expected. “There was a legal proceeding available for my use, and I did so to protect my family. While I recognize how this has affected your own prospects, and I do sympathize, I do not apologize. Longbourn has been in my family for more than two centuries—with God’s permission, it shall be so for many years longer.”

  “Legal proceedings? There is nothing legal about what was done to me.” Mr. Collins glared at him with self-righteous indignation. “I have been cheated, sir. Cheated! Stripped of my rightful place as heir to this estate. Shall I stand by and endure this travesty? No, it shall not be! With my patroness’s advice, I had thought to try you, to test whether you are a reasonable man, or a thief, as my father always told me you were. By marrying your eldest daughter, both claims may be satisfied—both my claim on the estate and your family’s continued association with it.”

  “There is no legal claim you may make on the estate,” replied Bennet. “And I will thank you to avoid using such language.”

  “My claim is honorable and just!” Mr. Collins stood there, glaring at Bennet, and by this time, Bennet was equally disgusted with his cousin. There would be a break anew over this, and given the specimen standing before him, Bennet could not but welcome it.

  “Hear me, Cousin! If you will betroth your daughter to me, this will all be resolved. I will promise to care for any of your remaining daughters and your widow.” The parson’s gaze found Elizabeth, his contempt a physical entity. “Even your second daughter, though I own that she has offended me grievously.”

  “And what of the offense you have given us?” demanded Elizabeth. “Jane cannot stand the sight of you!”

  “Silence, foul Jezebel! Or I shall throw you out to starve in the hedgerows, promise or no promise!”

  “There is no circumstance under which you will be in a position to throw anyone out,” growled Bennet, drawing the incensed parson’s eyes back to him. “Longbourn is mine to do with as I wish. I broke the entail to provide for my family. It is unfortunate you feel you have been ill-used, but everything has been done in accordance with the law. You have no complaint.”

  Mr. Collins glared at him, the muscles in his jaw working. Then he spoke: “If you do not satisfy me, I shall bring suit against you, Mr. Bennet. By betrothing your daughter to me, you keep the estate in the hands of your descendants and provide for your family. If you do not oblige me, I will gain Longbourn through the courts and see you are all removed at once!”

  “If you feel you have just cause,” said Bennet, “I invite you to do so at once. But I warn you, Collins, you will be wasting your time and money. There is nothing you can do. I suggest you resign yourself to your profession.”

  “You will hear from me again, Mr. Bennet. With my patroness’s assistance, we shall cleanse the stain of you and your loathsome progeny from this estate!”

  Then with one final contemptuous glance, Mr. Collins turned and strode from the room, brushing past Elizabeth as if she were not there. For a moment, Bennet thought to follow him and give him his richly deserved reward. Instead, he contented himself with striding to the door and calling for the butler. Mr. Hill, good man that he was, had stationed himself nearby, anticipating his master’s need of him.

  “See that Mr. Collins packs his bags and leaves within the hour. Should he make any more claims or if he importunes my family again, you may throw him from the house.”

  “Very good, Mr. Bennet,” said Hill. There was a fleeting smile of satisfaction on the man’s face, then he turned to carry out his orders. Bennet reentered the study and sat heavily in his chair.

  “There is no basis for his argument, is that not correct?”

  Bennet smiled at the note of worry in his daughter’s voice. “No, there is not. Or at least that is what your uncle has informed me. Do not worry, Lizzy. I shall go to Meryton and acquaint him with these events and seek his opinion.”

  With a nod, Elizabeth rose and left the room. A sigh of annoyance preceded Bennet’s departure himself. Though Phillips had been certain, Bennet desired whatever reassurance his brother could provide.

  Chapter VIII

  “Ignore him,” was Phillips’s short reply when Bennet informed him of Mr. Collins’s threats. “Legally speaking he has no case and will only embarrass himself by bringing suit, and that is if he finds a solicitor willing to take him on.”

  “And what of his threat to involve his patroness?”

  “Do you know anything of the woman?”

  “Only that she is wealthy and the sister to an earl. Though Mr. Collins praises her to the skies, I suspect she is meddling and dictatorial, not accustomed to disappointment and eager to direct everyone she meets. What influence she holds in society is a mystery.”

  “Women have much less influence in society than men—at least in matters such as this.” Phillips held up his hand when Bennet made to speak. “I understand your concern, Brother—yes, this talk of an earl is troubling, for as you know, the peerage often has sway with the courts.

  “Again, it is my professional opinion that there is nothing Mr. Collins can do. Everything was done within the law and within the boundaries of decades of judicial precedence. While it is possible an earl might have his way, a case such as this would be difficult to overturn. Furthermore, I suspect an earl would know better than to involve himself in a dispute involving naught but his sister’s parson. Such matters must be beneath such a man!”

  Relieved his brother had the same opinion he possessed himself, Bennet thanked him and departed. Soon after, he dismounted at Longbourn and entered the house, where he found another kind of madness occurring in his home.

  “Oh, Mr. Bennet!” cried his wife as soon as she caught sight of him. “I have heard what that wretched man said to you. Are we to be evicted from our home, forced to rely on my brother for our survival?”

  “No, Mrs. Bennet. We are not.”

  In the years since the entail had been ended, Bennet had found it effective to silence his wife when her nerves got the better of her in such a fashion. Mrs. Bennet, surprised at his abrupt denial, ceased her wailing and looked at him, shock mixed with hope. Bennet did not allow her to wait long for his explanation.

  “I have just come from speaking with Mr. Phillips,” said he. “In the matter of Mr. Collins’s threats, he agrees with me. There is no basis for a lawsuit, and Mr. Collins will only embarrass himself should he persist.”

  “Then we shall not be forced to leave?” asked Mrs. Bennet, her hopeful tone almost pitiful.

  “No, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet, stepping forward and sitting by her, taking her hand to provide comfort. “Longbourn is ours. Nothing will change that.”

  A deflated Mrs. Bennet showed him a shy smile. “Then that is well.”

  “Indeed, it is. Perhaps a rest would be advisable after this morning’s excitement.”

  “It would,” said Mrs. Bennet. “I believe I shall retire for a time.”

  And that was the end of his wife’s hysterics. When she had gone, Bennet was left with his three eldest daughters. Elizabeth, as was her wont, was indignant, while Mary appeared more than a pair for her. Jane, on the other hand, displayed her typical serenity, though a tightness about her eyes spoke to the strain she had endured at the hands of his senseless cousin. Bennet sighed and smiled at them all.

  “Though I will own I thought my cousin might make some attempt to persuade me to reinstate him,” said Mr. Bennet, “I did not know he intended to marry
Jane to gain Longbourn anyway. Regardless, I shall ensure Mr. Collins never importunes us again. And Jane,” said he, turning to his eldest, “though you have heard me say it before, let me do so again so there is no ambiguity: I will never require you to marry someone you do not wish to marry if he be Mr. Collins or any other man. Do not concern yourself on that score, my dear, for the choice is yours.”

  “Thank you, Papa,” replied Jane. “I did not doubt it, though I will own Mr. Collins proved to be far more . . . tenacious than I might have imagined.”

  “That he did,” replied Bennet, feeling the urge to chortle. “Well, well, it seems Mr. Collins provided us some excitement, after all. For my part, I will be happy to dispense with odious cousins for the foreseeable future.”

  Then with a smile for them all, Bennet returned to his study and closed the door, retrieving the book he had been reading when he had been so unceremoniously interrupted. A little peace and quiet would do him a world of good too.

  Was it too much to ask for unwanted suitors to leave the Bennet family in peace for a time? It was too much by far, or so it seemed to Elizabeth, for the next day saw the return of the suitor who had been forgotten in the wake of Mr. Collins’s sudden arrival and precipitous departure. That he did not come alone did not at all soothe Elizabeth’s ire.

  As Elizabeth watched the officers enter the room, she noted the composition of the company was altered from the last time they had come. Lieutenants Wickham, Denny, Chamberlayn, and Sanderson were all present as they had been the last time, but Captain Carter’s absence was noticeable. The smirk with which Mr. Wickham greeted them suggested a reason, and when Elizabeth reflected on how the captain had cut their visit off the last time, she thought she knew the answer of why he was not with them that day.

  Greetings were exchanged, and the visitors sat down with the family, Mr. Wickham claiming the nearest seat to Jane, while the others looked on and snickered. The white-hot flame of anger came over Elizabeth at this latest evidence of the cunning of these men, directed at Mr. Wickham, the instigator of it all. Knowing Jane was not at all disposed to this man, Elizabeth vowed he would not even get an iota of her attention.

  “Thank you for your gracious welcome, as always,” said Mr. Wickham after a few moments of desultory conversation. “However, I must own to confusion, for I understood you were hosting a houseguest at present. Is Mr. Collins hiding, or is something keeping him from greeting us?”

  “Mr. Collins!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet, the indignation clear in her voice. “That man is gone, and we are all relieved!”

  “Ah, then he has left Longbourn.” Mr. Wickham shook his head in mock regret. “How unfortunate. I had hoped to converse with him, for you know, there was a time when I thought I might be a member of that venerable profession. Alas, it was not to be.”

  “You may regret his absence if you wish, Mr. Wickham. But I assure you, we do not.”

  “Has he made himself disagreeable?” asked Mr. Wickham. Watching the gentleman, Elizabeth was certain Mr. Wickham was well aware of how Mr. Collins might have worn out his welcome. For some reason, he was taking a perverse measure of enjoyment in learning of his rival’s departure.

  “Indeed, he has,” said Mrs. Bennet. “He importuned my Jane improperly, you see.”

  Then Mrs. Bennet descended into a long-winded explanation of the events of the previous day, ensuring the assembled officers understood exactly the extent of Mr. Collins’s crimes against the Bennet family. Several times during her mother’s recitation, Elizabeth thought to interrupt, for her indignation had gotten the better of her grasp of proper behavior, leading her to be much more explicit than Elizabeth thought necessary. Elizabeth understood the difficulty of interrupting her mother when she was in this state, however, and thus she stayed quiet. When Mrs. Bennet’s words trickled to a halt, Mr. Wickham was quick to fill the void.

  “It is unfortunate, Mrs. Bennet, that your family was subjected to such disgraceful conduct.” Far from offended on the Bennet family’s behalf, Mr. Wickham gave all the signs of glee. “It is unfortunate, but I suppose one cannot choose their relations, can they?”

  “No, but they may hold them at arms’ length, Mr. Wickham,” said Mrs. Bennet. “Mr. Collins was estranged from my family before his coming, and he will be forever unknown to us after. I would not host him here again for any price!”

  “Excellent,” said Mr. Wickham. “That is likely for the best. Now that I consider the matter, perhaps it is best I do not speak with him. I cannot imagine a man capable of such horrors as you have indicated can have anything at all uplifting to say.”

  Then Mr. Wickham turned to Jane and the full effect of his charm was unleashed. “You, in particular, must be relieved at Mr. Collins’s departure, Miss Bennet, for unless I am mistaken, his attentions were fixed upon you.”

  “I have no wish for Mr. Collins’s presence, Mr. Wickham,” said Jane—if Mr. Wickham expected more, there was none forthcoming. It did not daunt him in the slightest.

  “Nor would I have thought you would be. An exceptional family such as yours would not wish to associate with a lout. I commend you, Mrs. Bennet, for seeing through his façade to the heart of this man and acting to rid yourselves of him. It shows an uncommon greatness of mind.”

  After these words of sycophancy, the officers moved in a manner which appeared like a coordinated battle maneuver that might have made the French tyrant proud. Mr. Wickham turned his attention only on Jane and began to speak with her, while Mr. Denny addressed Elizabeth, Chamberlayn spoke to Mary, and Sanderson to Mrs. Bennet. What inane babble Denny said, Elizabeth did not know or care, for her attention was upon her elder sister.

  The sudden unleashing of Mr. Wickham’s charm was as if he had lit a candle, the flame casting light on the room, illuminating it to remove the blackness of night. It was so pronounced that Elizabeth was instantly suspicious of it—such a sudden change in one’s manners spoke to extensive practice, and what could that mean other than to deceive? The longer the man spoke to Jane, the more irritated Elizabeth became. The one saving grace was that Jane appeared as unaffected by Mr. Wickham as she ever had, her answers coming in short sentences or one-word acknowledgments of whatever the man said. Would that she would inform him she was not interested! But the Jane Elizabeth knew would never be so open.

  “Tell me, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Denny by her side, “is this Mr. Collins so objectionable as this?”

  Elizabeth turned to the officer and regarded him, wondering if he would reveal something Mr. Wickham would not wish to become known. “Do you speak of the tale my mother related, or of prior knowledge of our visitor?”

  Mr. Denny laughed and said: “The portrait your mother painted was succinct, but Wickham mentioned meeting him in Meryton yesterday. His tale was amusing, but some of us wondered if it was possible for a man to be so ridiculous.”

  “Ridiculous Mr. Collins was,” said Elizabeth, considering how best to elicit the information she wished to obtain. “Jane suffered from his constant attendance more than anyone else in the family. As you can apprehend for yourself, Jane’s position is fortunate, one which sometimes brings unwanted attention from those with whom she may not wish to associate.”

  “Yes, I can well imagine it!” Mr. Denny shook his head, his rueful glance at Jane betraying his own disappointment. “I might have tried my luck with your sister, for she is quite a fine woman. Unfortunately . . .”

  Mr. Denny’s meaningful glance at Jane told Elizabeth all she needed to know, her own gaze following Mr. Denny’s to where Mr. Wickham was still plying her sister with his trade. It was fortunate, she reflected, that Mr. Denny seemed to speak without thinking, for he was a positive fount of information. That he did not mean to be was clear, but Elizabeth did not care for how she had manipulated him into telling her what she needed to know. It was in defense of a beloved sister.

  “Thank you, Mr. Denny,” said Elizabeth. “I have found our conversation fascinatin
g, as always.”

  The same as the last time they had spoken, Mr. Denny appeared to have little understanding of her meaning. Elizabeth did not give him an opportunity to reply, however, for she was eager to insert herself between Mr. Wickham and the object of his prey. The incline of her head she gave to excuse herself was less than it should have been, but by this time Elizabeth was tired of all the officers and could only force herself to give him that much deference.

  “Jane,” said Elizabeth as she stepped up to them, nodding a greeting at Mr. Wickham, perhaps a little tersely. The officer favored her with a bright smile, but Elizabeth was certain it was brittle in nature.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” responded Mr. Wickham before Jane could speak herself, “we were just speaking of you, and now you appear before us. This is a fortunate happenstance.”

  “You were?” asked Elizabeth, knowing the skepticism in her voice was reaching his ears. “It is impossible to guess of what you may have been speaking, for I cannot imagine there is anything of interest you can say.”

  “In fact, your sister was a wellspring of information,” said Mr. Wickham, echoing Elizabeth’s thoughts of just a few moments before. “In the past few moments, I have learned of your love of walking, your prowess in debating literature, and your loyalty to your family. Why, your sister even informed me of your role in driving off that simpleton Collins!”

  When Elizabeth glanced at Jane, she received an apologetic shrug in reply and thought she understood—Jane had been deflecting Mr. Wickham’s attention by speaking of her. While Elizabeth was uncertain she wished a man of such an ambiguous character as Mr. Wickham to know the details of her habits, she could not fault her sister for redirecting his attention.

  “It was, in fact, my father who opposed Mr. Collins,” replied Elizabeth. “I was only peripherally involved.”