“What did Lady Catherine say?” Mrs. Collins asked, still appearing perfectly composed.
Darcy hesitated, realizing he should have used the walk to compose a polite way to impart Lady Catherine’s words.
“She denied saying it was spoonfulls, I take it?” Richard asked.
Darcy nodded. “She did.”
“But she did say it,” Miss Lucas said, looking about. “I was sitting with Miss de Bourgh. I heard Lady Catherine say it.”
“Be that as it may,” Darcy said. “I am convinced the matter was an accident. Forcing Lady Catherine to admit to exact wording will change nothing.”
Miss Lucas looked mutinous, but Mrs. Collins and Elizabeth both nodded.
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Collins said.
Darcy wished there was something to thank him for. “Mrs. Collins, may I speak to you in private, please?”
She nodded, standing. “This way.”
Darcy could feel Elizabeth’s eyes on him as he left. Mrs. Collins led him to a small parlor and closed the door. Once they were seated, Darcy held out the page his aunt had supplied.
“Lady Catherine has refused to act as executor,” he said. “She has also declared you must vacate the parsonage in one week.”
Mrs. Collins accepted the paper, glancing at it. Her brow furrowed. “I can easily be packed within a week.”
Darcy did his best to hide his surprise. Despite her apparent cool-headedness, he’d expected a less measured response. “I could go back to her, to negotiate for longer.”
She shook her head. “I’m sure if you thought that possible, you already would have.” She frowned. “While I can be packed, I’m not sure about transportation.”
“I can arrange it for you,” he offered, pleased to find a way to begin making amends for his aunt’s behavior. “Can you give me an idea of what you need to bring?”
“What I brought here fit on one large wagon,” she said, still frowning thoughtfully. “Can I act as my own executor? Do I need someone?”
“I think you do. I would be willing to act for you,” Darcy said, seeing a way to dispense with the remainder of his familial debt to her. He knew he was in no way bound to atone for his aunt’s ill manners, but he didn’t care to permit such wanton injustice to stand.
She regarded him for a long moment, as if assessing his offer. “That is generous of you. Thank you.”
Mrs. Collins stood, Darcy immediately rising as well. Not heading to the door as he anticipated, she crossed the room to a window, looking out. She fingered the curtains with a sigh.
“I will miss this view.” Her voice was wistful.
While Darcy attempted to think what might be said to that, she turned to face him. The light behind her, he couldn’t see her features well. She was an outline of a woman, framed in the drape of serviceable cloth, untouched by lace or trim. Beyond her, the meadows of Kent rolled away.
“There is a complication,” she said, her voice touched with strain for the first time. “I am probably pregnant, and expect to have the baby in six or seven months. I hadn’t told Mr. Collins yet, or even my sister or Elizabeth, wanting to be completely sure.”
Darcy raised his eyebrows. That was a complication indeed. He didn’t know the details of Mr. Collins’ will but, especially if the child turned out to be male, there could be considerable confusion. “I see,” was all he could think to say.
“I realize this complicates the matter,” she said. “For one, though I know the five hundred pounds my father gave for my marriage is still mine, will the rest of it go to our child or to me? For another, Mr. Collins was heir to Elizabeth’s father’s estate, and the child may be male.” She shook her head. “I understand if you wish, in view of my news, to rescind your offer to act as executor.”
“The offer stands.” Darcy wasn’t a man to shirk duty so readily.
Even against the backdrop of light, he could see her smile. “Then my gratitude still stands.”
***
With Mrs. Collins’ assistance, Darcy gathered all documents relevant to his role of executor, including a document that described the entail of the Longbourn estate. Darcy set his servants to the task of arranging transport and general assistance for her. He then set out to call on a local attorney. He offered the documents and explained the situation carefully, hoping the man was up to the task of consulting on the matters before them. To Darcy’s mind, good attorneys dwelled only in London.
“There is no problem with you being executor,” the attorney said when he finished consulting the documents. He eyed Darcy with a slight twinkle of amusement in his eyes that Darcy found offensive. “An executor usually gets a fee. I expect you won’t wish to insult Mrs. Collins by not accepting one?”
“One shilling,” Darcy said promptly.
“That’s not a fee. That’s a token.”
“Haven’t you ever given legal advice for that amount?” Darcy’s tone was abrupt. He had the strong suspicion the man was amused by his situation.
The attorney smiled. “Yes, when I was first starting out and desperate for clients. Even then, only for something less complicated than what you will be doing. Mrs. Collins is lucky to have you helping her.”
Darcy gestured, waving the compliment away. As Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, he did not need the praise of a country attorney to know his self-worth. He knew his offer sprang from the laudable cause of doing his part to compensate for his aunt’s unmet responsibility, and out of sympathy for Mrs. Collins. “And Mr. Collins being the presumed heir of an entailed estate, how does that affect the situation?”
The attorney took on a thoughtful expression. “There are two aspects to Mrs. Collins’ situation. One is the inheritance. Mr. Collins’ will is surprisingly clear on that, considering that half of its length consists of praising Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Mrs. Collins inherits everything, even if she has twins. The will couldn’t even reasonably be contested, since it considers the possibility of children.”
“And the second aspect?”
“If she has a son, he will become the heir to Longbourn. If the son dies before he is old enough to write a will, the estate goes to Mrs. Collins, since this entailment ends with the heir to Mr. Bennet. In that case, Mrs. Collins will own Longbourn.”
Elizabeth’s home, Darcy thought. He shied away from the idea of Elizabeth being forced from the home she loved. Still, should it ever happen, better Mrs. Collins and a son of hers have it than Mr. Collins. Darcy shook off such thoughts. When last he was in Hertfordshire, Mr. Bennet’s health was unwavering. There was no reason to think Mrs. Collins’ possible son would inherit the entail anytime soon.
“Thank you for your time,” Darcy said, standing.
“The pleasure was mine, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy made his way out, stopping with the clerk to pay the attorney’s fee, which he had no intention of recovering from the estate. It was considerably more than a shilling.
Chapter Four
Anne told me that I don’t like being corrected.
A week was enough. Darcy had a wagon for Mrs. Collins’ possessions. Richard took the mail to London earlier in the week, meaning Darcy’s carriage would comfortably accommodate the three women traveling from the Hunsford parsonage with him. All that remained was to survive one more evening at Rosings, with his aunt. He had yet to forgive her callous behavior.
When they repaired to Lady Catherine’s favorite parlor after dinner, Anne touched Darcy’s sleeve before he could seat himself.
“I shall retire now, I think,” she said, offering a watery smile. “I’m rather fatigued.”
“I told you to eat more,” Lady Catherine said, seating herself in her customary straight-backed throne-like chair. “You are tired because you don’t eat enough. Darcy will never marry you if you look like a stick.”
Anne’s smile turned brittle. She didn’t look tired to Darcy. He rather thought her fatigue grew from Lady Catherine’s extra obsession with her dining habits that evening.
> “Yes, Mother,” Anne said, crossing to kiss the air somewhere near her mother’s cheek. “Travel well, Darcy,” she added.
Darcy nodded. He’d advised them at dinner that he would be setting out unfashionably early. His aunt had harped on it, despite her usual advice that one must always travel as early as possible. “Thank you, Anne. It’s been a pleasure, as always.”
Anne awarded him a real, if brief, smile and left the room. Her companion, Mrs. Jenkinson, followed her. Darcy seated himself across from his aunt, though he was resolved to tell her goodbye, thank her for her hospitality and retire. He was too annoyed with her to want a tete-a-tete, no matter what good manners dictated from a guest.
“I saw how Anne smiled at you, Darcy,” his aunt said before he could speak. Shrugging, she folded her hands in her lap. “Anne said that--”
“I am not going to marry her,” Darcy said. He regretted even sitting, but he wouldn’t sneak from her house without having said farewell, and his aunt would not be awake when he left in the morning. Why she must select one of his least favorite topics, he didn’t know. Perhaps she knew she was in the wrong over her behavior with Mrs. Collins and wished to drive him off so he wouldn’t speak on the subject.
“Oh, really? Your mother and I agreed you should marry.” Lady Catherine’s tone was firm.
“As you say, my mother agreed. I didn’t. I only concede her agreement binds me to consider Anne. I have done so.”
“That wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you about, but since you brought it up, I will do so.”
Darcy frowned. His supposed engagement to Anne wasn’t what his aunt wished to speak about? That was unusual.
“Anne told me she doesn’t want to marry you, but would feel honor bound to do so, if you want the marriage,” his aunt said. “I told her you expect her to. I thought you would want the marriage. You aren’t likely to find a better dowered wife.”
“I don’t need a dowry at all. I’m rich enough.” He was not only surprised by Lady Catherine’s words, Darcy realized, but a bit stung. Why wouldn’t Anne wish to marry him?
“You can never be rich enough.” Lady Catherine added an empathetic nod to her statement. “I’m disappointed you both feel this way, but I will bring Anne to London this autumn for a season. There was no point to having a season when I thought she was going to marry you.”
Darcy stared at her for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “Thank you, Aunt Catherine. I hope Anne finds a worthy husband.” He’d never seen her so reasonable when crossed. Remembering the supposed engagement wasn’t what she wished to speak on, he asked, “What were you saying about Anne?”
“Anne said I told Mr. Collins spoonfuls. Mr. Collins obviously believed it. I asked Mrs. Jenkinson and she didn’t remember. Perhaps she decided not to remember. Richard was there as well. When I asked him before he left, he claimed I said spoonfuls. I asked him why he hadn’t corrected me, and he said he wasn’t certain what the medicine was or how much I may have diluted it. Anne told me that I don’t like being corrected.”
Darcy kept his face composed. “I agree with her.” Seeing the strength of Lady Catherine’s reaction, he said gently, “You made a mistake. We all do that.”
“A man died because of that mistake.” She looked down at her folded hands for a long moment. “I can’t face Mrs. Collins. I can’t go to her and tell her that I’m sorry I killed her husband, and it might have been her.”
“Her and her baby.”
“She’s with child?” Lady Catherine looked up, obviously surprised.
“Probably. She thinks she is two or three months along.”
Lady Catherine relaxed slightly, as if knowing she’d almost killed a possible baby was somehow better than having almost killed a certain one. “She can’t be sure, then.”
Her reaction rekindled Darcy’s ire. His aunt had admitted her part in Mr. Collins’ death, yet she’d still done nothing for Mrs. Collins. “Have you filled the living yet?”
“No. What has that got to do with it?” Lady Catherine’s belligerent façade was back in place.
“Make someone pay for it.” She started to protest, but he put up a hand. “You don’t have to sell it to the highest bidder. You can choose among those who want it. Sell it and give the money to Mrs. Collins.”
“He could have died at any time,” Lady Catherine said, somewhat exasperated. “He didn’t even look fit. A fit man likely wouldn’t have succumbed to laudanum.”
Darcy was sure anyone would have been felled by the amount of laudanum Mr. Collins drank. He tamped down a hasty retort, seeking a logical one instead. There was no point in aggravating his aunt to the point she lost all ability to be reasonable. “We will never know, but we can know she would be better off if he’d even lived a short time longer.” He kept talking, not permitting his aunt to voice whatever was on her tongue when she opened her mouth. “I know because I looked over Mrs. Collins’ books. She was spending less on the two of them than the tithes they received. If he had lived a few more years, she would have reasonable savings.”
Lady Catherine looked at him for a long while. Finally, she shrugged, turning away. “Oh, very well. It will be better than talking to her.”
“Thank you, Aunt Catherine. It’s the right thing to do.”
She nodded, still not looking at him.
“And thank you for your hospitality.”
She sniffed. “If only I could say it was the usual pleasure having you.”
Darcy hid a smile. Standing, he crossed and bid her good night, kissing her cheek. As he left the parlor, he turned his mind to the morning’s journey.
He’d made certain the journey from the Hunsford parsonage to Lucas Lodge would run as smoothly as possible. He could have hired horses on the road, but with plenty of time to plan, he’d arranged for his own horses to be available. He’d done so for his sake and that of Mrs. Collins, but also to show Elizabeth she was wrong about . . . what had she called it? His selfish disdain for the feelings of others.
He was resolved Elizabeth would see he could care about people’s feelings if he so chose. He would be courtesy itself. He would employ the same civility with Elizabeth, Mrs. Collins and Miss Lucas as he would with any guests in his carriage. Despite how Elizabeth had scorned him, Darcy wouldn’t ignore her. He would treat her just like Mrs. Collins.
No, he mused, heading down the hall toward his room. That was wrong. Mrs. Collins, as a recent widow, deserved more respect and consideration than Elizabeth. He would treat Elizabeth just like he treated Miss Lucas.
***
The following morning found Darcy at the parsonage bright and early. Still, everything there was nearly ready by the time he arrived. He admired the efficiency of the three women, though he suspected Miss Lucas had very little hand in it. He wondered how much Elizabeth had. Was she a skilled organizer, up to the task of managing a large household? Surely, someone as intelligent as Elizabeth would be. She’d likely learned little from her mother, but must have gleaned something from her father and her friend, Mrs. Collins. Having seen Mrs. Collins books, Darcy knew she was the very soul of efficiency.
Inspecting the wagon, he was amused to see Mrs. Collins was bringing back crates of chickens. There was also a desk, which she’d apparently brought from Lucas Lodge, and various boxes with clothing, linens and china, but the bulkiest items were the crates of chickens. He understood the logic of her transporting them, but he hadn’t expected it. Miss Lucas commented that her sister had sold the larger livestock, because they could get a better price here than in Hertfordshire. As she chatted about the price they got for the pigs, Darcy was glad he wasn’t called upon to transport them. He added practicality to Mrs. Collins’ attributes.
His inspection of the wagon completed, Darcy saw everyone settled in the carriage and they set out. In deference to her station and probably condition, Mrs. Collins was seated beside him. Darcy suppressed thoughts of having Elizabeth at his side, doing his best not to watch her where she sat
opposite Mrs. Collins.
Miss Lucas, across from him, started the trip reading a book. He hadn’t considered her bookish and was surprised, but said nothing. Not long into the trip, she shamefacedly announced she was feeling sick. Darcy had the carriage and wagon stopped and encouraged her to walk a bit. This was not to show Elizabeth how considerate he could be, but common sense. No one would be comfortable if Miss Lucas was ill in the carriage.
Miss Lucas set off down the side of the road, Elizabeth beside her. Darcy tried not to watch Elizabeth’s figure as she walked away. When Mrs. Collins approached him, he turned to her, welcoming the distraction.
“Thank you for being so understanding,” she said.
“It’s a common problem,” he said. “I used to suffer from it myself, but I found if I looked out of the window at distant objects, it helped.”
Miss Lucas and Elizabeth turned back toward them, the former still looking a bit pale.
“I still haven’t spoken to anyone of my condition,” Mrs. Collins said in a low voice. “I would ask you to remain silent on the subject when we reach Hertfordshire. I would like to tell my parents first.”
He nodded. “Of course.” There was no strain in agreeing. Darcy was not a gossip. Besides which, he had no one in Hertfordshire to tell.
“I’m sorry to delay us,” Miss Lucas said as she and Elizabeth drew near. “I can continue now.”
Darcy suspected she wasn’t truly feeling up to the ride, but hoped looking out the window would help. “Perhaps if you set aside your book and take in the scenery you’ll be more comfortable,” he said, assisting her back into the carriage.
She gave him a grateful smile.
Once they were all seated again and the carriage in motion, Elizabeth and Mrs. Collins made a notable effort to engage Miss Lucas over the scenery. It was a pleasant enough area of Kent, but not exceedingly interesting. After a short time, conversation over it dwindled. With a sigh, Miss Lucas opened her book.
Believing in Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 3