by A K Madison
Collins stood, gathering what he could of his dignity. “I shall be visiting my relations at Lucas Lodge. I shall expect to take possession of the premises at noon tomorrow.”
“I shall be waiting for you here at noon tomorrow, sir.”
Collins made a jerky bow in Elizabeth’s direction, turned, and left.
Elizabeth found she had to sit down suddenly. “Lizzy? Are you quite well? Should I call Mrs. Hill?” Her uncle was at a loss. “Tea! I shall call for some tea.”
Mrs. Hill brought a proper tea tray, including some sandwiches, in short order. “Miss Elizabeth, you have not eaten yet today. It is a wonder that stupid man did not somehow get the better of you. Please eat at least one of these good sandwiches.” The housekeeper poured the tea, served Elizabeth the sandwiches, and stood aside to watch her eat. Mr. Philips sat down opposite her with his own tea and sandwich.
“Lizzy, I know you and I have never been particularly close, but I have not seen you this way. Did that man truly distress you? I hope it was not my own crudeness. I felt obligated to use those shocking terms to let him know that we hold him in contempt—himself and his illustrious patroness. I shall never forgive myself if I have caused you undue distress. But Lizzy, he had it coming.”
Elizabeth smiled. “You are perfectly right, Uncle. He did have it coming, and you handled it beautifully. I understood precisely what you were doing, your language did not distress me, and I was more than pleased with the results.”
“What is it, then, child? Something has happened to upset you.”
“Uncle, I shall confide in you something that I have not even told my dearest Jane. I will undoubtedly share it with Mr. Darcy, perhaps sooner rather than later. Mr. Collins visited us in November a year ago and made me an offer of marriage. There is something about the man that makes me wish I could run screaming every time I see him. I cannot bear to be around him. Today, for example, he took my hand. Rather than bowing over it as a gentleman would, he put his disgusting mouth on me.” She shuddered delicately. “He is odious. And I do not like the way he looks at me.”
“I have no daughter, but if I did have one, and if she confided that in me, I should tell her to trust her instincts. You had best do that, Lizzy. And do tell Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy chose that moment to appear as if he had been summoned. “What will you tell me?” he asked from the door. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Philips. We have stopped for luncheon, and the others are on their way to Netherfield. I came to fetch Elizabeth.”
“My niece has had an exceedingly unpleasant conversation with Collins, the erstwhile parson who is now here to take over this estate tomorrow, sir. She has just confided in me that she finds him revolting, and I suspect she will tell you the same thing.”
“What has happened?” Darcy sat beside Elizabeth and took her hand. “Has he disturbed you in some fashion? I thought he was not to arrive until tomorrow.”
“That is what we all thought, Fitzwilliam. He arrived today with some ridiculous assertion that he would forbid our marriage in his capacity as head of the family.”
“Head of the family—what nonsense is this?”
“Mrs. Hill saw which way the wind was blowing and made haste to summon Uncle Philips, who arrived with my parents’ marriage articles and ours in hand and disabused Mr. Collins of that notion. None too gently, I might add. Uncle, you will find that Mr. Darcy has a fine sense of humor, and he deserves to hear the story. However, I beg you to save it until some evening when the gentlemen are lingering over their port and the cigars are especially good. I do not believe I can hear it all again and retain my ladylike demeanor.”
“Cigars and port? Lizzy, when your young man hears what I said about his aunt, he is more likely to call me out than to thank me—or if I am not sufficiently a gentleman, he will chase me out of town with the flat of his sword.” Uncle Philips shook his head.
“Not likely, sir. You could not have been more severe on my aunt than I have been myself. I shall relish hearing the tale when we are all at leisure. But I am angry with Collins for having caused you distress, Elizabeth. Where is he?”
“Well, I refused to serve him any tea—and in fact gave him only a tumbler of water. And on my mother’s behalf, Uncle Philips refused him a bed here on the grounds that he was not to be trusted in a house full of ladies. The last we saw of him he was on his way to Lucas Lodge. He knows the way.”
Uncle Philips got to his feet. “I must be on my way. Give your old uncle a kiss, Lizzy, right here.” He pointed to his leathery cheek. “I shall see everyone in the morning, and I am prepared to turn the place over to Collins.” Elizabeth kissed her uncle, and he patted her hand. “Sit quietly with that young man of yours and see that you finish your sandwiches. You will need your strength for tomorrow.”
When Uncle Philips had left, Darcy sat next to Elizabeth and gave her sandwiches until she declared she could eat no more. He then rang for Hill and requested more tea, which she brought immediately. Only when he judged that Elizabeth had eaten a proper meal did he question her, and then only gently. “Collins gave you a hard time, my dearest?”
“Not really. What he was saying was so preposterous that I had a hard time not laughing at him. Such a pompous, ridiculous man.”
“Your uncle seems to have put him in his place.”
“My uncle had things to say that I cannot put into genteel terms, Fitzwilliam. And oh, he said them well.” Elizabeth blushed at the thought of the previous conversation. “I believe he would be judged creditable by any sailor in His Majesty’s Navy.”
“That must have been difficult for you.”
“Well, it should have been more difficult than it was. He is a lawyer, you see, and while he does not argue cases before the bar, he is eloquent. He chose his words to great effect, and he used them well. Oh, he could have made his statements in a far more gentleman-like manner, but he chose instead to heap scorn where it belonged.” Elizabeth folded her hands. “I had the sudden feeling I was in the presence of a master of his craft, his craft being words.”
“I hope you also felt safe, dearest. Your uncle is one of a group of men who will allow no harm to come to you or your sisters or your mother. I number myself among that group. I am only sorry I was not here when Collins came. It sounds as though you have formed a disgust of him.”
Elizabeth sighed. “It is always better to have people as friends than—than otherwise, and I have tried at least if not to like him, then to tolerate him. He is, after all, married to a dear friend whom I would hate to lose. But since the time when he came a-courting, and we danced at the ball, I have had to suppress the feeling he was trying to place himself closer to me than what is appropriate for civilized persons.”
“And that is true for the time when you visited at Hunsford?”
“Yes. Today, for example, he took my hand, and rather than simply bowing over it as a gentleman should, he put his nasty mouth on it. I wanted to snatch it away and scrub it on my apron!”
“That is unseemly behavior indeed. I shall have a word with the Hills and the other servants who are accompanying you to Rose Cottage. For now, I think it would be best if none of you, including your mother, were alone in his company.”
“I did call Susan and ask her to sit by the window. I did not gauge Mr. Collins’ reaction to that. Perhaps he had none.”
“It was wisely done.”
Elizabeth sat for long minutes with her head on his shoulder, simply allowing herself to be calmed and soothed. “You are tired, my Lizzy,” Darcy said at length. “You have had so much upon your shoulders, and now this stupid man has arrived to cut up your peace still further. When we are wed, I promise you we will have an interval set aside for ourselves alone, for rest and refreshment. Shall you like that?”
“So long as I can be with you, my dearest, I shall like anything.”
He kissed her soundly, and when they had sat quietly for a few more minutes, he finally said, “I believe your work here is finished. Are you
ready to leave, or do you need some time to compose yourself or say goodbye?”
Elizabeth stood. “I have seen to it all. I am ready.”
After a few words exchanged with Mrs. Hill, Elizabeth Bennet left the place of her birth for the last time. While she might return eventually for visits, she would never live there again.
They were merry at Netherfield that evening, though their merriment was tinged with a little sadness. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner arrived in the late afternoon, and everyone enjoyed a casual family dinner. Mr. and Mrs. Philips were also in attendance, and Mr. Philips related his conversation with Collins to the other gentlemen over cigars and port before they joined the ladies.
“It is truly clever, sir,” said Darcy. “And you are to be commended for a masterful set-down. But you were also entirely correct in what you said to me earlier today. Elizabeth dislikes and fears this man.”
“What did she have to say after I left?”
Darcy went on to relate Elizabeth’s feelings in her own words, and by the time he had finished, every man at the table was nodding.
“It is nothing but the classic coward’s aggression,” said Gardiner. “He is moving to intimidate her by crowding her too closely. How vile it is when done to a woman, who will have a natural modesty that does not wish to be impinged upon and who may have been taught never to say or do anything unpleasant, even in self-defense.”
“It has become clear to me over this afternoon that we need to take some additional steps to protect the Bennet ladies,” said Darcy. “Mr. Hill would certainly watch over them. But he does not strike me as the best man for the job. How much do you suppose it would interfere to add a footman or man-of-all-work to their servants?”
“A sound idea,” said Mr. Gardiner.
“We can certainly spare two strong footmen for the task,” said Bingley. “I should like to have them work on shifts so that one keeps watch at night while the other is available during the daylight hours. They can either continue to sleep here or perhaps there is room to set up a couple of beds in the cottage temporarily.”
Darcy shook his head in exasperation. “I have no idea what this buffoon has in mind. Just how seriously does he feel obligated to my aunt? He is, after all, about to inherit a rather substantial property. What does he need from her? On the other hand, I believe we must take him seriously. He is the proverbial loose cannon aboard ship. One cannot judge how much damage he will or will not do.”
Emerson swallowed the last sip of his port. “Had you not planned to stay in the neighborhood until the wedding?”
“Yes. I have no reason to be anywhere else.”
Bingley stood. “Let us join the ladies. It appears to me we must exercise eternal vigilance. Pray that Mrs. Collins arrives soon. I have understood that it is she who wears the trousers in that family. I shall arrange for two men to start tomorrow evening.”
Chapter 19
“Good morning, Miss Bennet. Miss Mary.” Fitzwilliam Darcy had been haunting the hall outside the breakfast parlor at Netherfield for a half-hour when his intended and her sister made their appearance. As he stood aside to allow the ladies to enter first, Mary gave him a speaking glance and thrust something small into his hand as she passed. They had quiet conversation and plenty of sleepy smiles, and Mary soon grew tired of conducting any conversation and allowed the lovers to smile at each other all they wished over their coffee cups. When everyone had finished eating, Darcy stood. “Miss Bennet,” he began formally. “I wonder if you would care to accompany me to the stables. There is one there who would claim an acquaintance with you, and he has missed you sadly.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Let me just steal a piece or two of this lovely fruit, and we shall be on our way. Mary, I will return before Mama is stirring, I am sure.”
Darcy offered Elizabeth his arm, and they were soon out of the house. As they rounded the back of Netherfield and approached the stables, Elizabeth could hear Sirdar’s welcoming nicker before she caught sight of him. As they approached, she saw that two grooms stood by, and two horses. Sirdar tossed his head in greeting. The other horse, smaller, was equipped with a side-saddle and stood by in well-mannered quiet, evaluating the stranger.
“Miss Bennet, may I present Noor,” said Darcy with a smile, stroking the neck of the smaller horse. “That means ‘Light.’ She has come all the way from Pemberley, and from now on, she will be your horse. She has the honor of being my betrothal gift to you.”
“Noor,” said Elizabeth softly. “You are a beautiful, beautiful creature. I have never seen a more beautiful horse.” She turned and threw her arms around Darcy. “Thank you. Oh, thank you so much!” Then she fell to stroking the mare’s neck and shoulders, crooning softly. An apple was conjured from a pocket for Noor, and Elizabeth turned to Sirdar. “I did not forget you, my old friend. Here is yours.”
“It is well not to hurt his feelings, he is so devoted to you. But Noor is your companion from henceforth, and you may ride her when you wish. Of course, I hope that will be soon and with me.”
She smiled up at him and he tossed her into the saddle. Noor was a chestnut, with mane and tail nearly blonde, and she seemed to glow from within in the early morning sunlight. Darcy and Elizabeth rode off together in wordless companionship, their smiles speaking for them.
“I do have a riding habit,” Elizabeth finally said. “But I should probably get a new one.”
“Mary is in on the secret. She has given me a pair of your gloves, dearest.”
They rode through the sunshine and shade of the lane. “She is perfectly splendid, and her manners are superb.”
“She is a Pemberley horse.” Darcy smiled. “Georgiana rides her daughter, who resembles Noor somewhat.”
“Well, I love her already.”
Their ride was soon over, and when they returned to the stable, Elizabeth spoke softly to the mare. “What were you telling her?” Darcy smiled.
“I am simply promising her that I will be back to see her and that we will ride out again. I want her to know she can depend upon me.”
“We had best get back to the house.” He paused for a moment and looked at Elizabeth seriously. “For now, my dear, if you are not riding out with me, please be sure to have Tom or one of the other grooms accompany you. We need to be vigilant until Collins is put firmly in his place.”
The migration of the Bennet ladies to Rose Cottage from Netherfield was almost an anti-climax after the weeks of preparation. Everyone—the Bennets, the Bingleys, the Gardiners, and Darcy—simply strolled down the lane from Netherfield to the cottage. Mr. Hobbs and his assistant stood smiling in the front garden. Much to everyone’s delight, bulbs of daffodils, crocus, and narcissus had been sleeping below the garden, and all were beginning to come into their glory. Mr. Hobbs had taken that in stride and set the other plants accordingly, leaving the bulbs to bloom as naturally as possible. Mr. and Mrs. Hill stood smiling at the front door. Jane gave Mrs. Bennet the keys, fewer in number than those at Longbourn but attached to an elegant new chatelaine. Then she kissed her mother fondly and stood back with everyone else to allow Mrs. Bennet to enter alone.
She went by herself from room to room on the first floor, touching those items which were familiar and admiring the things that were new. Her face, usually so open, seemed a closed book to her daughters, and when she had made the circuit of the main floor, she returned to the group waiting at the door and said, “Please do not stand on ceremony. Do come in.” And turning to Mrs. Hill, she said, “Could we have tea, please?”
Mrs. Hill replied with a curtsy. “Cook is laying out a collation in the dining room, ma’am.”
“Thank her for me. In fact, when you have a moment, ask her to come in. I wish to see how she is faring in the new kitchen.” She turned. “Come in, come in, everyone, and let us have luncheon.”
Mary, who had been looking around in her own right, slipped over to the Bingleys and kissed each of them. “The piano is in the back parlor,” she said quietly. “I shall play
a little music to accompany our luncheon.”
Soon, people were casually seated in the front and back parlors and the dining room. Darcy, handing Elizabeth a well-supplied plate, said, “What about that bench in the front garden? It is time we tried it out, and it is certainly an improvement over the pile of lumber it replaces.”
Elizabeth smiled, and they were soon seated, heads together, on the comfortable bench overlooking the small knot garden. “That must be the sun dial. It is delightfully fanciful, and I am certain Mama loves it.” Elizabeth busied herself feeding grapes to her beloved and to herself. As they talked of this and that, they heard a carriage approach, and soon Uncle Philips drove up in his gig with Aunt Philips.
“Tis done,” he said as he came into the garden. “And it was done for the best.”
“I am so glad to hear you say it, Uncle! Was it difficult?”
“Not really, not after yesterday. It is all straightforward and governed by legal documents, the will and so forth. He wanted to argue about some of the items your mother took—such as your father’s library contents—but we had his signed postscripts to the letters his wife had written specifically giving you those items. He quibbled over having to take over the servants’ wages as of midnight, so I threw him a few shillings. He expressed some anger that you had “lured away” the servants you brought here, but again, I had the letter from his wife and the note from Lady Lucas.”
Aunt Philips murmured a greeting and went into the house, and Darcy stood so that the older man could be seated. “I will tell you one thing,” said Mr. Philips shaking his head. “I pity the members of Longbourn Parish and the clergy, too. He means to force Dr. Price into retirement as soon as possible, he has ordered that young curate fellow to leave the parsonage immediately. He will no longer pay Longbourn’s portion of the man’s salary. Mark my words, he intends either to put his own man in or to take the parish over himself.”