B00BKPAH8O EBOK

by Winslow, Shannon

  “Exactly! I can see this Mr. Tristan Collins now,” said Kitty, evincing horror at the specter before her mind’s eye. “The man is his brother to the very core, and he will be here in less than a month!”

  6

  Alternative

  A vision out of the past likewise rose up before Mary’s eyes. Yet her recollections of the former cleric of Hunsford were somewhat more charitable than her sister’s. Although she flattered herself that her taste and judgment had since improved, there was a time when the former Mr. Collins – Mr. William Collins – had admittedly sparked her interest. He seemed to her then a serious, scholarly man with a comfortable home and an agreeable situation to offer. Being wife to a clergyman would have suited Mary’s humble ambitions very well. And, considering the added satisfaction it would have given her to redeem the Longbourn estate for her family, she could not help feeling disappointed when Mr. Collins chose to bestow his affections elsewhere.

  With the benefit of hindsight, however, she realized it was primarily the situation, not the man himself, that had attracted her. Yet she still believed she could have been happy with him, or at least content. In that respect, she fancied she was not so unlike the practical-minded Charlotte Lucas, to whom had gone both the husband and the cozy parsonage instead. Perhaps things might have turned out differently for Mr. Collins as well had he chosen someone else for his wife. That could be said for any man or woman, she supposed. Marriage: how much of happiness or torment seemed bound up in that one, irrevocable act. The proof of it was everywhere about her to be seen.

  Kitty called her back from these reflections. “Mary, are you listening? I prayed that Mama was wrong, and that he might turn out to be thoroughly married after all. But you see he says he travels alone and makes no mention of leaving family behind, only business. You must help me!”

  “And what am I to do on the occasion? The man is coming; I cannot stop him. Besides, just because Mama has got it into her head that you will marry him, does not make it so. Mr. Collins may have something to say in the matter. Perhaps he is more interested in claiming his property than acquiring a wife. Or perhaps he will not find your charms as irresistible as you imagine. If worse comes to worse and he does make you an offer, you could always refuse him like Lizzy did the other Mr. Collins.”

  “I thought of that, but it will not do. I am not strong like Lizzy; I never was. And with Mama so determined, I cannot take the chance that my resolve may fail me in the end. No, it will be altogether safer if the situation can be avoided in the first place.”

  “Just how do you intend to manage that? Will you parade yourself before him as the most disagreeable creature in the world, or will you run away?” scoffed Mary.

  “Yes, in a manner of speaking. I plan to take myself completely out of his road. Since Mama does not know Mr. Collins comes so soon, I shall persuade her to let me travel north to visit my sisters. I had a letter from Lizzy saying Mr. Darcy is now in London and will be stopping here before he returns to Pemberley. So it is easily done. Then I shall stay away as long as possible and try my best for someone else – anyone else. Meanwhile, you shall have Mr. Collins all to yourself.”

  “To myself? Do you imagine that I have designs on the man, then?”

  “No, and yet you may happen to suit one another. At any rate, considering our differing views on the first Mr. Collins, it seems far more probable that you shall like his brother than that I should. Promise me that you will try for him, Mary, please.”

  “I will make no promise of the kind! I will be civil to the man, certainly, just as I would any other one of God’s creatures. You must ask no more than that of me.”

  “Only one other thing. Will you at least swear not to let slip to Mama what I have told you?”

  Mary pursed her lips, contemplating the question and the untenable position into which she had been placed. She had half a mind to march back into the house and hand the evidence over to her mother. After all, the letter was her rightful property. Yet, as little as she could condone being made an unwilling partner to subterfuge, she approved the idea of a coerced marriage even less. Kitty had her sincere sympathy there, and it seemed nothing worthwhile would be accomplished by reporting her misconduct. At length Mary answered, “If it all goes wrong, you alone must bear the blame, Kitty. I will take no share of it.” She sighed. “But neither will I betray your confidence.”

  Kitty relaxed. “I knew I was right to trust you, and nothing will go wrong. You shall see.”

  “Hmm, I cannot help thinking you are quite mistaken there, and that I might pay the price for this misadventure in the end. Now then, what do you mean that I should do with this?” said Mary, waving the stolen letter before her sister’s nose.

  “Oh, heavens, I don’t care. Keep it, burn it, or give it to Mama after I am gone. Say it had been misdirected at first. Whatever you think best. Just give me enough time to make good my escape.”

  ~~ * ~~

  With her sister’s cooperation assured – limited though it might be – Kitty wasted no time applying for her mother’s unwitting acquiescence to her plan as well. She made her request in form after dinner, asking for permission to travel to Pemberley when Mr. Darcy should be returning thither.

  There was nothing odd in the request. Mrs. Bennet had very frequently – and very willingly – spared her fourth daughter from home to visit her sisters to the north, always with the hope that she would catch a rich husband for herself whilst she was away. It had seemed far more likely that such a thing should come to pass there, amongst the Bingleys’ or the Darcys’ acquaintance, than in the dull society of Longbourn and Meryton, where one could not expect to encounter anything superior to a penniless second son of a country squire. It had all come to naught, however, and the heir to Longbourn, who otherwise held no noble distinction and presumably little fortune, was all she had in view for Kitty now. Mrs. Bennet’s permission was, therefore, more difficult to procure than expected.

  “May I go, Mama?” asked Kitty again.

  “There is nothing for you in Derbyshire, you know,” said Mrs. Bennet. “Years of trying, and not a single offer to show for it. No, you had much better stay here and prepare for Mr. Collins’s arrival. If my plan succeeds, this will be your home from now on, so you might as well get used to the fact that there will be no more of this traipsing about the countryside.”

  Kitty, whose spirits were about to fail her, made one last tearful attempt. “Very well. If that is what the future holds for me, then let this be my farewell tour. Allow me to visit Pemberley and Heatheridge one final time before taking up my duties here. You would not deny me this last request, would you, Mama?”

  “Good gracious, child, the way you carry on, anyone would think you had a death sentence hanging over your head instead of a wedding. I am sure Mr. Collins is a fine, respectable young man, just like his brother was.” Kitty sobbed all the louder. “And you will be lucky to get him. I see no occasion for all this wailing and blubbering. Still… if it means that much to you, I suppose you may as well go. I want you at your best – well rested and cheerful – when Mr. Collins arrives.”

  7

  The Farnsworths

  Kitty’s design thus set into motion, the pact between the sisters was later sealed by an embrace and an expressive look exchanged as they parted. Mary then climbed into Mr. Farnsworth’s comfortable carriage for the short drive back to Netherfield.

  When underway, she drew Mr. Collins’s letter from her reticule, where she had concealed it, and studied its contents again. One phrase caught her particular attention. I travel alone. Kitty was wrong to presume so much from that line; it could mean any number of things. If the man had a wife and a clutch of small children, it was not to be supposed that he would needlessly expose them to the risks of so long a sea voyage. No, one could not depend on his being single.

  If he should be, though, what then? Mary’s fancy was not permitted much of a meandering on that question. She very shortly called it back i
nto line with the answer.

  Even if Mr. Collins were discovered to be single, the next step in Kitty’s logic was equally flawed. She had it worked out that Mr. Collins would be available for the asking, and that he would be so obliging as to marry whomsoever he was directed to – the same assumption their mother made, only with a different object. The idea that he might be made to care for herself, Mary all but dismissed. It was not that she underrated her own assets, only that they were of a type not as yet known to inspire romantic intentions.

  As near as she could make out, young ladies were only considered desirable when they kept to the graces men had assigned them. They were allowed to be the fairer sex, and to excel in the arts of conversation and flirtation. These were hardly Mary’s strong suits, however, as well she knew. According to her experience, a gentleman did not appreciate having his presumed superiority challenged in any other realm, even slightly.

  Judging from the woman he had chosen to wed, Mr. Harrison Farnsworth was no different. Mrs. Farnsworth had been pretty enough and charming in a quiet sort of way, but she certainly had been no threat to her husband’s authority, his strength of will, or to his mental prowess. Although Mary believed he had lately learnt to value her own abilities to a greater extent, it was only because they served his purpose in an altogether different role. He did not see her as a woman so much as an educator of his children. In that capacity, he could appreciate her talents. In that capacity, he had taken to consulting her and was even willing to be sometimes guided by her advice.

  They had their moments of concord, she and her employer, and yet she could not depend on them. His moods were now so changeable that she never knew which person to expect, the old tyrant or the new man of enlightenment.

  ~~ * ~~

  Two more weeks passed away, and two more Sundays at Longbourn. Kitty had made good her escape to the north, and Mary still held custody of the stolen letter from Mr. Tristan Collins. She had decided that delivering it after the fact, as her sister had proposed, would only involve her further by requiring lies which she feared she could neither tell convincingly nor reconcile with her conscience. Better to leave well enough alone, to simply let it be thought that the letter had been lost somewhere on its long journey.

  “Mr. Farnsworth wishes to see you in the library, Miss,” announced the butler upon her return to Netherfield Hall that Sunday night.

  Mary was taken aback. A command appearance before her employer was not at all what she had intended that the rest of her evening should entail, but rather a book before her quiet fireside. “Very well, Haines,” said she with a sigh. “I will just take my things up to my room first.”

  At that moment, Miss Lavinia Farnsworth bustled into the hall, holding her skirts and clucking her tongue. “No, Miss Bennet; that will not do. My brother was most insistent that you should come to him the instant you arrived. Now, give your things over to Clinton there, and go in at once.”

  “As you wish, then, Madam.”

  “It is as Mr. Farnsworth wishes, Miss Bennet.”

  Mary handed her coat and bag to the footman without further comment, and made her way to the library. At the massive mahogany door, she straightened her hair and smoothed her skirt before knocking.

  “Enter,” came the directive from the other side.

  “You wished to see me, sir?” said Mary, pushing open the door.

  Mr. Farnsworth sat in his usual place, behind the regally proportioned desk that stood in the exact center of the heavily draped and wood-paneled room. “Ah, Miss Bennet,” he said, rising. He motioned her to a chair opposite himself. “Do come in and sit down. You must forgive me for summoning you at such a late hour, and on your off day too, but it could not be helped. I am for London early in the morning, and I needed to see you before I go.”

  Mary took the chair he offered her, glad that he appeared to be in a tolerably good humor. “Is it something urgent, sir? About the children?”

  “Well, important if not urgent,” he said, leaning against the edge of the desk with his arms crossed. “And it does concern the children, most particularly Michael.”

  “Michael, sir?”

  “Yes, I wish you to excuse him from his music lessons, effective immediately, and you will tell your Monsieur Hubert the same when next he comes.”

  “Excuse him from studying music?” Mary repeated in some confusion. “But why?”

  “Because he has requested it, and personally I see no reason that a boy in his situation…” He stopped and turned a sharp eye on Mary. “Look here, Miss Bennet, I hardly think I need to justify my decision. I have told you my wishes and that should be enough.”

  Mary stiffened. “Yes, sir, if those are your instructions, they will be carried out exactly.”

  “Just like that? What, no importunate questions or remonstration? You have no comment of any kind on the matter?”

  “Nothing that could be the least bit relevant.”

  “This is a surprise. I thought sure we were in for a fight, but it seems I have at last hit upon a subject about which you profess to have no opinion.”

  “You mistake me, sir. It was not my intention to imply that I had no opinion, only that any opinion I may possess can have no material bearing on the case.”

  “Yes, I thought there was more. Now we are coming a little nearer the truth.”

  “The truth? The truth is that what I think does not signify in the least,” said Mary, maintaining a calm exterior by force of will and with considerable difficulty. “As you have made abundantly clear, Mr. Farnsworth, your opinion is the only one that matters.”

  Farnsworth pushed off the desk and back to his feet, his eyes flashing. “Aha! There it is. I knew you disapproved.”

  “I did not say so, sir.”

  “Of course not. That would have been too straightforward, too honest, too much like a man would do. Instead you show me this…” He gestured at her with his hand. “…this dignified bearing, this martyred expression. I suppose this is your elegant little female way of driving home your point. This is how you choose to torture me.”

  “I do assure you, sir, that I have no pretensions whatever to that kind of elegance which consists in tormenting a respectable man.”

  “So you do not pretend to torment me?”

  “No, sir.”

  “And yet you do. Hmm.” He sank into the chair behind the desk again. “Very well, Miss Bennet, I must take you at your word, and you must take me at mine. Perhaps I have lately given the wrong impression, becoming too lax. I will by no means, however, brook any interference in the management of my children, not even from you. Have I made my position plainly understood?”

  “I believe so, sir. There will be no more music lessons for Master Michael. Neither will there be any interference tolerated from me. And should you ever again desire to hear my opinion, you will ask for it. Does that correctly sum up your wishes?”

  He looked heavenward and sighed. “What can I say to such a speech, Miss Bennet, except that you try my patience exceedingly?”

  “Yes, sir. Will that be all, sir? I am really rather fatigued and I would like to retire.”

  As if she could not be soon enough removed from his sight, he covered his eyes with one hand and waved her off toward the door with the other.

  The feeling was mutual. Mary left thinking him the most exasperating individual she had ever had the misfortune to encounter. He insisted on stirring up a fight where there wasn’t one, and dragging insolence from her lips that she would otherwise have left unsaid. He claimed he would brook no insubordination, and yet he tempted her to it at every turn.

  What was the point of the slow and careful progress they had made toward tolerance, understanding, and a good working relationship if it could all be undone in the space of a few minutes? And over such a ridiculous piece of business too. What was the man thinking of, cheating his son out of a solid foundation in music? Yes, she had an opinion on the subject, and another time perhaps he would get an earful
of it… whether he asked for it or not.

  ~~ * ~~

  Mr. Farnsworth was gone in the morning, leaving Mary only his children and his sister to deal with for the succeeding week.

  Miss Lavinia Farnsworth always had a word of instruction or criticism to give, especially when the master was away. She politely withdrew to the shadows in his presence, but she became more and more emboldened by his every absence, as if she each time inherited another thin slice of his bravado and the duty to use it in his stead.

  In her person, Miss Farnsworth was a younger, more delicate reflection of her brother – minus the beard – with the same strikingly juxtaposed dark hair and light eyes. Mary had befriended Lavinia when the lady arrived at Netherfield immediately after Mrs. Farnsworth’s death. On the face of things, it was a natural pairing, the two being within a few years of each other in age, and from roughly the same social stratum. Mary felt a real compassion for her as well – a stranger to the house and forced by tragic circumstances to unexpectedly step into her sister-in-law’s shoes.

  Lavinia had welcomed the extended olive branch in the beginning. Later, however, she seemed embarrassed by the connection and was at great pains proving to everybody that Miss Bennet was nothing whatever to her. Mary always wondered if it had been the lady’s brother who had put her off the friendship, not thinking a governess a suitable companion for his sister.

  Nowadays, she made it her goal to stay out of Miss Farnsworth’s way as completely as possible. Since Mary was always in the schoolroom – a place that apparently held no interest for the acting mistress of the house – it was easily done.

  She stood on firmer ground with the children. Although Master Michael could be difficult and Miss Gwendolyn defiant of late, they were predictably so and not beyond Mary’s ability to manage. Being acquainted with the deficiencies of their father and the early death of their mother, she could not be surprised by or even much resent their misbehaviour. And Grace more than made up for the other members of the family. For her sake, Mary was prepared to put up with the faults and vagaries of all the rest.