“Nephew?” Mr. Wickham scowled. “Do you mean Darcy?”
“You know the scoundrel, do you?” cried Mr. Collins.
“Unfortunately, I do.”
“That devil’s spawn was behind it all! In quick order I was commanded to Westminster, for there was an investigation into my ordination. Leading the inquiry was Bishop Darcy, the uncle of the man himself. Was that coincidence? I think not! They accused me of buying my ordination!”
“Did you?”
“Of course, I did! It is done all the time! I had some money my miserly father left me. All those funds gone, and for nothing!” Mr. Collins seethed. “Do you know they sat me in a chair and examined my knowledge of Scripture as if I were a child in Sunday school? It was an insult to my dignity.”
“I take it you did not do well.”
“Trick questions, all of them! Besides, why should I remember my lessons? Is that not why we have a Bible? This was all a personal vendetta against me by the Darcy family. And do you know why? Because Mr. Darcy wanted the woman I was to marry!”
“Really?” Mr. Wickham was intrigued. “What woman was that?”
“My cousin, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. She was with me the day we met in Meryton.”
“Hmm . . . the lovely blond lady?”
“No, that was her sister, Miss Jane Bennet — now Mrs. Bingley. Miss Elizabeth has brown curly hair and a light and pleasing figure.”
“Ah, the one with the fiery eyes! I remember her! Yes, I can see why Darcy wanted her. Too bad, old boy.”
“That is not the worst of it,” growled Mr. Collins. “At the same time as the investigation into my ordination, Mr. Darcy’s lawyers were devising a way to steal Longbourn from me! You see, I was the heir to Miss Elizabeth’s family estate. But there was a clause prohibiting immoral conduct in the entail, and Mr. Bennet, assisted by Mr. Darcy’s lawyers, was successful in breaking it, using the supposed ‘assault’ in Hunsford as an example of my so-called ‘ethical deficiencies.’ I was left with no living and no expectations!
“Therefore, when the bishops in Westminster offered me the choice of suffering defrocking or going on a mission, what real choice had I?”
“So, let me understand you,” said Mr. Wickham. “Mr. Darcy managed to steal your living, your inheritance, and your woman.”
“That is a fair estimation of the calamity that has befallen me.”
Mr. Wickham laughed. “By God, if your story does not sound like mine! It seems you and I are brothers of a sort, for that devil from Derbyshire did the same thing to me!” At Mr. Collins’s inquiry, Mr. Wickham related his off-told tale, which, gentle reader, does not bear repeating here.
“To the devil with Fitzwilliam Darcy!” declared Mr. Collins after Mr. Wickham finished. “But, what are your plans now?”
“Well, I cannot return to England; that is certain. But it matters not. I mean to make my fortune in the New World. And you? Do you still plan to proselytize to the Red Indians?”
“What choice do I have?” Mr. Collins complained. “I cannot eat otherwise. My income is dependent upon the Church.”
“Hmm . . . have you any money?”
Mr. Collins became wary. “A very little. Being a parish priest is not the most lucrative situation in the world. Why do you ask?”
“Ha! I will wager you have more that you say! There is always a little in the poor box, what?”
Mr. Collins could not help but smile. “True. After all, who is a better representative of the ‘deserving poor’ than I?”
“A man after my own heart!” Mr. Wickham lowered his voice. “My trouble always has been that I had no help. Working by oneself is too hard. But if two clever fellows combined their funds and joined forces — ” He waggled his eyebrows.
Mr. Collins smiled. “I begin to comprehend your way of thinking, my dear sir. What do you have in mind?”
Mr. Wickham looked about. “Not here — too many ears. Let us postpone this conversation until we have more privacy. How about a drink, eh? I have a bottle of wine in my trunk. I have been saving it for such an occasion. Let us drink to our partnership!”
Mr. Collins laughed an evil laugh. “Our Lord commands us to enjoy the fruit of the vine, so lead on, George!” He extended his hand.
Mr. Wickham took it. “Billy, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
And thus was a notorious fellowship born, ready and willing to reap whatever the New World had to offer.
Oh, Canada!
The End
About the Author
Jack Caldwell is an author, amateur historian, professional economic developer, playwright, and like many Cajuns, a darn good cook. Born and raised in the Bayou County of Louisiana, Jack and his wife, Barbara, are Hurricane Katrina victims who now make the upper Midwest their home.
His nickname — The Cajun Cheesehead — came from his devotion to his two favorite NFL teams: the New Orleans Saints and the Green Bay Packers. Always a history buff, Jack found and fell in love with Jane Austen in his twenties, struck by her innate understanding of the human condition. Jack uses his work to share his knowledge of history. Through his characters, he hopes the reader gains a better understanding of what went on before, developing an appreciation for our ancestors’ trials and tribulations.
Jack is the author of two Jane Austen-themed books. PEMBERLEY RANCH is a retelling of Pride & Prejudice set in Reconstruction Texas. THE THREE COLONELS is a sequel to Pride & Prejudice and Sense & Sensibility.
When not writing or traveling with Barbara, Jack attempts to play golf. A devout convert to Roman Catholicism, Jack is married with three grown sons.
Jack’s blog postings — The Cajun Cheesehead Chronicles — appear regularly at austenauthors.net.
Other Novels by Jack Caldwell
Available now from Sourcebooks Landmark:
PEMBERLEY RANCH
THE THREE COLONELS — Jane Austen’s Fighting Men
* * *
Coming soon from White Soup Press:
THE COMPANION OF HIS FUTURE LIFE
ROSINGS PARK
THE LAST ADVENTURE OF THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL
PERSUADED TO SAIL
THE CRESCENT CITY SERIES:
THE PLAINS OF CHALMETTE — a prequel to Crescent City
BOURBON STREET NIGHTS — Volume One of Crescent City
ELYSIAN DREAMS — Volume Two of Crescent City
RUIN AND RENEWAL — Volume Three of Crescent City
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