Master of Longbourn

by Leenie Brown

  “Kitty will help you this time, and then the next time you wish for a book, you need not even ask. Just avail yourself of them as it brings you pleasure. I would never deny a man of learning the opportunity to discover something new.” He sighed. “There is nothing quite like that feeling.”

  Kitty smiled at the faraway look in her father’s eyes. He often wore that sort of expression when he started speaking of books and learning.

  She rose from the bed and slipped her feet into her slippers, before bending to kiss her father’s cheek and whisper an I love you. Since he had fallen ill, she had promised herself that she would tell him that every time she parted from him.

  Mr. Collins opened the door for her and then after closing it, scurried to walk next to her.

  “I must apologize for taking you away from your father.”

  “I am happy to be of service,” Kitty replied with a smile she hoped would help him feel more at ease.

  However, it seemed to have the opposite effect on him as he started straightening his coat. He was such a nervous gentleman. But then, if his father had been unkind, how else might he be?

  Her brows furrowed at the thought. The cats at the inn had grown less friendly and slightly mean since Tommy Archer had begun tormenting them. Recalling one particular little tomcat, however, caused her expression to smooth. Not all of them were so unfriendly. That one timid little tomcat, who was not yet a half year old, was just as gentle as ever when you could find him. He spent much of his time tucked into some shadow as if he were afraid to be seen. In fact, Shadow is what she had begun calling him when she saw him prowling the streets.

  “What sort of book do you wish to read?” Kitty asked as they descended the steps.

  The gentleman near her stumbled but caught himself. “I.. I.. am not certain. I will know when I see it, I suppose. I am uncertain what sorts of books your father has.”

  Kitty stepped down the two steps to join him at the bottom of the stairs. He really was a very tall gentleman.

  He pushed back the hair that fell forward on his forehead. It was a lovely shade of brown. Not dark, but not too light either. In her opinion, it suited his colouring quite well.

  “Are there any topics in particular which you enjoy studying?” Kitty asked as they walked down the short hallway to her father’s study. For a talkative fellow, he currently seemed to need a great deal of prompting to speak.

  “I would rather not say.”

  Kitty’s eyebrows rose, and she looked at him curiously. What topic was so dreadful that he could not share it?

  “It is not an inappropriate subject. No, no. It is not that at all.”

  It was, however, a subject that stirred the man’s nerves from the way words were falling from his mouth in explanation.

  “How could the subject of a book cause offense to me?” she asked, interrupting his litany of words.

  “No, no. I did not say that properly. It is not that it will cause offense. It is rather that the topic is about a subject that might stir emotions.”

  Kitty’s brow furrowed. “It would be far easier for me to help you if you told me what the subject was.”

  A severely pained expression crossed his face as he whispered,“Estate management. Perhaps something on agriculture.”

  “Oh.” Now, she understood. He did not wish to bring up the fact that her father was gravely ill. It was awkwardly endearing. “I understand. You studied to be a parson, not the master of an estate.”

  He nodded. “I took some classes because I knew one day I might need them. But, I thought I had years to learn from watching parishioners and spending quiet evenings reading.”

  The image of this large yet gentle man sitting before a fire on a winter’s evening with a book in his lap and a mug of something warm at his side reminded her of her father and wrapped her heart with comfort. It was good to know that her home would be left to such a man.

  “I think Papa keeps those books on these shelves.” She led him to a bookcase just to the left of her father’s desk and opened the doors.

  “Thank you,” Collins said, stooping down to look inside. “Ah, this might be a good place to begin,” he said as he pulled out a large tome.

  “You should take a moment or two to look around, so that if you come down in the middle of the night with just a candle, you will be able to find what you seek.”

  “An excellent idea,” he mumbled.

  She watched him walk around the room, stopping now and again to peer at some title or another.

  “Are there any novels?” he asked.

  “I did not think you enjoyed novels.” Had he not said so this afternoon?

  “I do not on most occasions, but I have been considering your sister’s words and find that I cannot appropriately evaluate my like or dislike if I do not read some novels.”

  She tipped her head and looked at him curiously. “You would read a novel to please my sister?”

  He nodded. “She is not the only one who admitted to liking them.”

  “Do you mean you would read one for me?” She could not contain her surprise.

  “Should I not discover the things that my cousins enjoy?”

  He was looking a bit like he was going to sink into a shadow just as Shadow did when there was a loud noise.

  “Why, yes, of course.” Her brows furrowed. “Should I then read a book of sermons?”

  She blinked. His smile when he was not in company with her sisters and mother was rather attractive.

  “Only if you wish, Miss Kitty. You need only ask, and I shall lend you one of mine. However, you may find it dull, and I would not wish to task you with something arduous.”

  Kitty returned his smile. “That is very kind.” She waved a hand to a shelf next to the door. “Papa keeps the novels near the door with the poetry books, so that I do not need to disturb him when I wish to return one and get another.”

  “How wise,” Collins said crossing to the shelf. Then, turning to her, he said, “No, I shall not select it. I shall trust you to choose one for me that will please both yourself and your sister.”

  “You are certain?” she asked as she began looking through the books on the shelf, trying to determine which novel might suit a man such as Mr. Collins. “Oh,” she said as her eyes fell on a book she felt was perfect for him. “Evelina,” she said, handing him the book. “There is a parson in it.” A very kind parson, much like she imagined he would be.

  “Indeed?” He took the book from her and tipped it this way and that as if it were some sort of oddity.

  She nodded when he looked her direction.

  “How interesting,” he muttered as he paged through the book, looking rather pleased.

  That look of pleasure, for some reason, made Kitty inexplicably happy, and as they parted ways — he to find a place to read, and she to return to her father to let him know that she had completed her task — she sincerely hoped Mr. Collins would enjoy the novel and not just suffer through it on either Lydia’s or her account.

  Chapter 5

  “Is this a favourite novel?” Bingley asked the next day as he sat in Collins’s room waiting for the man to don the clothes he had laid out on the bed.

  Collins shot him a wary look as he tucked in his shirt tails. “I do not know, but she selected it for me because she thought I might enjoy it. Does it qualify? Have I completed my task?”

  Bingley chuckled and turned the book over in his hand. “Yes, it qualifies. Did she say why she thought this book would appeal to you?”

  “Yes, yes.” Collins’s head bobbing up and down vigorously. “She said there is a parson in it.”

  “Just that it had a parson? No other reason?”

  “Just the parson.”

  Bingley shrugged. “That is enough I suppose.”

  Collins took his waistcoat from Darcy. “You truly think this waistcoat with these breeches is good?”

  “Yes,” Bingley said from behind the open book he held. “Not every piece of clothing
must be of identical colour.”

  “Are you certain?” Collins looked at his breeches and the tan of the waistcoat he was buttoning. To him, tan was worn with brown, not black, breeches.

  “Does Darcy wear all one colour?” Bingley asked, snapping the book closed and tossing it on the bed as he crossed to where Collins stood before the mirror. “She selected a good book. You might enjoy it.”

  “You have read it then?” Collins tilted his head up while peering down his nose into the mirror, attempting to watch Bingley begin tying his cravat.

  “Portions. It’s not dull.” Bingley’s brows furrowed and one eye closed. “No, that is not right.” He untied the neckcloth and began again. This time, he wore a pleased smile upon completion. “Not so good as my man does, but presentable.” He stepped back. “What do you think?”

  Collins leaned toward the mirror. The knot was not so very different from how he usually tied it, but it was more pronounced with a bit more fluff. “It seems fitting.”

  “Do you have a pin?” Bingley asked.

  “I am a simple man. I fear I do not.”

  His eyes grew wide as he saw Darcy produce a pin from his pocket. It was not ornate or bejewelled, but merely golden in tone with a knot at the top.

  “I could not,” Collins protested with a shake of his head.

  Bingley raised one brow and gave Collins a disapproving look that made him wish to slip into the shadows.

  “Stand up straight, man,” Bingley commanded.

  Collins’s eyes grew wide, and he did as instructed. Where was the pleasant fellow who flopped easily into armchairs?

  “This knot looks even better when the tails are pinned…just…” Bingley pushed the pin through the fabric, “so.” He gave a sharp nod of his head and smiled. “Much better. She will be impressed.”

  Collins had to agree. The pin did add a dash of something to the cravat. It was rather flattering. But…

  “I feel foolish,” he muttered. “I am not…” He stopped short as Bingley once again leveled a disapproving look at him.

  “You are,” Bingley said with some force, “the master of Longbourn – not officially, of course, and we are not wishing that to happen any time soon. However, you must believe it, for it is your future. You are the master of Longbourn. The heir apparent.”

  Collins swallowed and nodded.

  “And the master of an estate must look the part,” Bingley added.

  Again, Collins nodded. He was not confident it was entirely necessary that he be dressed so finely, but he was not about to say that to Bingley and earn yet another look of displeasure.

  Darcy chuckled. “You will have to forgive my friend. He is nearly as bad as his sister when it comes to fashion. Not quite a dandy, but…”

  Bingley scowled. “Appearance is important for one attempting to shift his position.”

  “I will not deny the fact,” Darcy agreed. “However, one does not need to be quite so militant about it.” He turned to Collins. “The knot would be just as appropriate without the stickpin, but we are on a mission to turn at least one head, are we not?” He lowered his voice, “And amongst the three of us, Bingley is the expert at turning heads.”

  Bingley laughed. “No, that would be your fortune,” he retorted. “If one cannot be the most smartly turned out chap in the room then he should follow Darcy’s example and be the richest.” He smirked. “Especially since he is no longer the tallest.”

  Bingley folded his arms and gave Collins one final scrutinizing look. “You are at least two inches taller than Darcy when you stand straight. Do not hunch. Broad shoulders and ample height should be displayed. Carry yourself with authority.”

  “Can I not just wear these colours and a pin?” Collins pled. “I am not equal to the task of total reform in one evening.”

  Bingley shrugged. “It is a start. But, you have to admit there is something in an officer’s carriage that demands attention.”

  Collins nodded and drew his shoulders back some. This was perhaps going to be harder than he had thought. For so long he had been attempting to hide his size and indeed his presence by becoming small. Standing so boldly felt not only awkward but a trifle dangerous.

  “One thing at a time,” Darcy assured him. “You must become the best you that you can be. No one,” he shot a look at Bingley, “expects you to become what you are not.”

  “Right, right,” Bingley muttered. “I do have a tendency to throw myself into a project wholeheartedly. I shall endeavour to keep my enthusiasm in regulation.” He shook his head. “But, there is potential here.”

  “Potential?” Collins questioned. “Potential for what?”

  Darcy nodded. “He is right. You are not an unattractive gentleman.”

  Collins shook his head. It could not be true. How often had he been teased for being too large and too awkward? He was nothing more than a lumpy pudding, was he not? He looked from one gentleman to the other, who nodded in response to the question he felt in his heart and was clearly written on his face.

  “I have written to my uncle regarding my betrothal and the state of Mr. Bennet’s health,” Darcy said as they moved to the door to exit the room to make their way to the sitting room where they would wait until dinner was ready. “He is settling matters regarding Rosings and will likely need to consider what to do with the living you now hold once…” He said no more as he pulled the door open.

  Collins blew out a breath. “I know it is a blessing,” he whispered as they entered the hallway, “but I cannot help feeling…” He shrugged. It felt utterly wrong to be grateful to be gaining something at the expense of the loss of a man like Mr. Bennet.

  Darcy clapped him on the shoulder. “Both Bingley and I know how painful such a blessing can be. You are not alone.”

  Not alone were very comforting, but rather strange words, to Collins. He had not been alone all his life. He had been surrounded by people, but he had rarely felt the acceptance that was being offered to him now. Other than Miss Lydia and Miss Mary, the Bennet family, as well as these two gentlemen, had been very accepting of him.

  Would that not just make his father beside himself with amazement?

  The thought of his father spitting and sputtering over such a thing as his son being welcomed into a family made the right side of Collins’s lips lift into a small smirk.

  “Oh, Mr. Collins!” Mrs. Bennet cried as he entered the sitting room. “You look very handsome this evening, does he not, Mary?”

  At such a welcome, Collins felt as if he should back out of the room, but he did not. Nor did he allow himself to curl inward for Bingley’s brow was slightly raised, and he had no desire to disappoint his tutor. He had always wished to do his best with every lesson – not that his best was always as good as what was expected.

  Mary shot an angry glare at Kitty and then, forcing a smile, replied. “As handsome as always, do you not think so, Lydia?”

  Mrs. Bennet gasped and glared at her middle daughter who was batting her eyes innocently and smiling a saccharinely sweet smile.

  He should perhaps relieve the young woman’s apprehension and tell her that he had no desire to marry her. Of course, he should not do that now. Her mother would not appreciate such at thing being canvassed openly. But perhaps later, he could find a time to speak to Mary in confidence. For now, he simply muttered his thanks and quickly found a chair in which to sit so that he could feel less conspicuous without angering Bingley. He could also feel the need to speak rising within him, and he was not certain what exactly would come out of his mouth if he should open it.

  Lydia tossed her head. “He looks as if he is trying to be something he is not.”

  Mrs. Bennet gasped once again and then made a pretty excuse to extract herself along with Mary and Lydia from the room.

  “I have never seen Mama look so displeased,” Kitty whispered to Elizabeth once the door to the room had closed.

  “Nor have I,” Elizabeth replied, “and I have tested her patience many ti
mes.” Her lips curled upward slightly.

  Apparently, his cousin Elizabeth was not entirely penitent for having caused her mother some consternation.

  “I must apologize for my sisters,” Kitty said, turning to Collins. “It is as my mother said. You do look handsome.”

  Such a compliment was just what was needed to make him feel as if all the work and awkwardness might be worth it. Unfortunately, it was also all that was required to set the words to flowing.

  “Thank you. You are very kind as are Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley. It is their doing that I am dressed as I am. I am afraid that I am a rather simple man and not so familiar with what is considered fashionable or unfashionable. As a parson, I saw no need to be intimately acquainted with such things. As long as my clothes were well-fitted and not overly worn…” He clamped his lips closed at the sound of Bingley’s soft cough. “I merely wished to say I am appreciative of both your compliment and the help I have received.” He again pressed his lips together before they could run away with some other thought.

  “I had not thought that gentleman discussed fashion,” Kitty said, turning her lovely eyes away from Collins and looking to her older sisters in confusion.

  “We do,” Bingley answered. “Perhaps, however, not so much as ladies do.”

  “It is not just your valet who dresses you? You decide what you like and do not like?”

  Collins could not help smiling at the innocence in her voice. It was as if she had never considered what topics of conversation gentlemen might discuss.

  “A good man is indispensable,” Bingley replied. “They are a great source of knowledge, of course, but they do look for guidance from the gentleman they serve, much as my sister’s maid does for my sister.”

  “Oh.”

  Her lips were such a lovely shade of pink and formed an o so sweetly. And her eyes, her clear blue as a deep lake on sunny day eyes, were delightfully wide. Collins was certain there was no expression or countenance that could be found to be more perfectly beautiful than hers.

  “I have begun reading Evelina,” Collins said, turning the conversation and, thankfully, her eyes back to him.