by C. J. Hill
“I confess, Mr. Attwood, I am now most intrigued in this method of improving the state of the poor; as you say - maybe it is better to help them raise themselves than to allow them to languish in a life as limited in prospects as it was for their forebears. I shall broach this subject with Sir Lewis; he is always interested in improving the quality of life for our tenants wherever he sees fit so to do, as am I, and I know he will join me in approving and assisting your friend in his devotion to do good for this particular young man.”
Mr. Attwood quickly responded to her offer, not wishing to appear as one seeking alms.
“Your ladyship is most kind in your wish to assist a heretofore unknown clergyman and his desire to improve the lot of this young man but I am mortified that you must presume I broached the subject with you only to achieve this end. I assure you that it is not so; it arose merely from our conversation, nothing more. Please do not allow me trespass upon your good nature or that of his lordship and cause you to feel a sense of obligation to someone so far outside your expected area of benevolence. While my friend would be overjoyed at the prospect of having the means of helping the young man further along his life’s path, he would not expect such assistance to come from so great a distance.”
He watched as Lady Catherine quietly basked in the praise; to be of use to such a hopeless case and to be able to say that it was she who had made it happen was of such a satisfactory nature as to more than amply repay any outlay on her part.
Slightly smiling, she queried him further.
“And may I be permitted to know the young man’s name, and his history, when you have learned of it? I am sure Sir Lewis will want to know as much as possible about our protégée.”
“I shall write to Reverend Huxley to ascertain the particulars of the case and to convey your very generous offer as soon as you give me leave to do so. To be able to grant the boy his secondary education will be a great gift, I assure you madam, and very graciously given.”
“I shall speak with my husband directly and you shall have your answer by next week. Pray do not hint of it to your friend until then; my husband can be recalcitrant about such matters, especially when it is not something that directly affects us here at Rosings Park, but I am confident that he will see my point about the benefit to everyone for us to embark upon this journey together. Pray, call for tea in one week’s time and you shall have my answer and the particulars of our encumbrance.”
Reverend Attwood inferred from this that their meeting was at an end and immediately stood while Lady Catherine rang for his coat and hat. He left the house with a feeling of great happiness which augured so well for his friend and the unsuspecting recipient.
XXVII
Hunsford Parsonage
May 20th ~
Dearest Lizzy,
How quiet we have become since you and my sister left us a week ago. I feel almost akin to Lady Catherine in my deserted state but nowhere near as voluble about it, I assure you! I have many times this week felt my loss as I have faced the old lady alone without my friend with her pert opinions and indomitable spirit! I do hope that you are returned to Longbourn safely and found your family in good health and I am sure that your father rejoiced openly when two of his daughters passed over the threshold. It was so pleasant to have your company once again, Elizabeth; although my position offers me many avenues with which to occupy myself, I find myself alone much of the time and your welcome presence reminded me of that fact. Do not think that I am bemoaning my fate for I am content with my life here, but only that I miss my dear friend with whom I have passed most of my life to date.
I do have an earnest request to make of you, however, one with which I sincerely hope you will feel able to assist me and not refuse completely when you discover what it is.
As you are aware, I knew as little as did you when I met and married William; his situation, character and morals I could only vouchsafe through his connection to your family and my father’s approval which was, to tell the truth, rather immediate and unquestioning. I find, Lizzy, that my words spoken to you somewhat in jest not so many months ago, are now returning to spite me; that, in actual fact, it may be better to know as much as possible about the person with whom you are to spend your life, rather than as little! While my thinking on this subject was sound for someone not expecting to enter the married state and innocent as to the consequences of such shallow knowledge, I now have cause, upon being actually in that state, to consider that relevant information about one’s spouse regarding their family, connections and friends before the marriage might be somewhat beneficial to one’s peace of mind.
Many times I have wondered about William’s family; his mother died when he was young, he has revealed that much to me, but other than a brief summary after we were married regarding his father’s character, he makes it very clear that further enquiry is not welcome. It is as if when William came to Hunsford, he cast off all previous attachments from his childhood and youth and become a re-formed person to fit his new position in life. He had no one from his side of the family at the wedding ceremony and he continues to be reticent about revealing anything about his previous life to me. For someone who has lived in the world for six and twenty years it seems unthinkable that he could have survived without so much as one old friend to invite to his wedding!
I confess that I have also had my curiosity piqued recently through some innocent remarks made by Mrs. Hall concerning the fact that everyone in the village was curious to meet their new parson as he had been sought after most particularly by her ladyship, even though he was new and therefore unskilled in his profession when he received her offer of the living at Hunsford.
I am now in a fever of inquisitiveness, quite unlike anything I have ever experienced before, to understand something about his connections to Lady Catherine; in particular, why she was so interested and insistent upon William receiving the living at Hunsford. However, when I foolishly approached Lady Catherine with the hope of understanding from the source, she was most reluctant to reveal her motivations, as was William when I later asked him. He assured me that the connection is very slight and nothing about which I should concern myself. Unfortunately, he speaks without understanding my character. As you know, Elizabeth, I am not one to be placated unless satisfied with the answer!
My second curiosity concerns his connection with your family, which is the root cause of William ever entering the village of Meryton and, consequently, our marriage. Please relieve my suffering, if you feel that you are able, and request from your father whatever information he can provide regarding my husband’s connection to your family and the entail of Longbourn. William is, as you are aware, uneasy at being next to inherit your estate but is unable, or unwilling, to impart the reasons for it.
And so you see, Lizzy, how disturbed your friend has become after only a week of solitude! So much so that she has allowed her mind to wander and in so wandering, to wonder about her connections to two other families and how they could have an impact upon her life if God should decide it should be so. To be utterly reliant upon William and his position in this society in which we now find ourselves, concerns me greatly. What should become of me if, God forbid, anything should happen to him, since I know not what family connections are on his side?
I hope that you will consider my request and relieve my concerns in your next letter. I await it with impatience!
With love to you and all your dear family.
Your friend, Charlotte Collins
Longbourn House
May 29 ~
My dear Charlotte!
What a tumult of emotions your letter contained. I quite felt your frustration and determined resolve to discover the truth behind the family into which you are so newly introduced. If it can be called a family as, as you say, the only family to which my cousin ever alluded was to his father who appeared to be a most bitter gentleman, unhappy in life and certainly not much mourned by my cousin, it seemed. But I digress from my purpose.
I spoke with my father about your request and he was much alarmed, thinking that some dreadful event had occurred between my cousin and you to promote such concerns about his past! He has little regard for Mr. Collins or his family, as you are well aware, but has been most successful at keeping the connection a secret until Mr. Collins’ visit last year; indeed, we had little knowledge of his existence until then, only that someone by that name would inherit Longbourn. Such things are best left unspoken, my father believes.
He assures me, and would have me make clear to you that, although he has no regard for the Collins family in general, he has no reason to suspect any misdeeds by Mr. Collins in particular and believes him to be of good reputation and above any reproach. Indeed, he cannot recall any slip of gossip linked to his cousin.
However, with regards to Mr. Collins senior, my father was most reticent, refusing to elaborate upon his feelings of ill-will towards that gentleman, or the reasons for them. I learned only that he was married to my great-aunt Amelia - of whom I have never heard a single mention until today! - and that it was a most unfavourable match which displeased my grandfather and consequently, my father, greatly. Further than providing these meagre snippets, my father would not go and I knew not to importune him any further.
I left him in great thought in his study with my parting wish that he consider my friend and her predicament of ignorance as to her connections; connections she had trusted because we had introduced her to Mr. Collins as one of our family. I do hope that he feels the pang of guilt as I intended, and contacts you himself with the details; he is a recalcitrant letter writer, I must warn you, and if he does write, you may be happy in the knowledge that you are in receipt of one more letter than I have ever received from him!
Dear Charlotte, do not concern yourself and worry over what may be a simple family quarrel blown out of all proportion over the years and generations. I am sure that Mr. Collins is a sensible, stable man who has nothing to hide from you; he says there is nothing to concern yourself with and so you should take him at his word. Please do that for me as I cannot bear to think of you in such a torment of curiosity and worry.
I await your next letter with anticipation but I may not receive it for some time as I am to tour the Lake District with my aunt and uncle Gardiner very soon. I have been eagerly anticipating this visit since my aunt mentioned it at Christmas; there is nothing I like so well as new scenery and quaint country towns.
With fondest regards,
Elizabeth
Longbourn House
June 17th ~
Dear Mrs. William Collins,
I hope this finds you well and content in your new situation in life, and that your marriage has upheld its promise for felicity and security.
I have no doubt that Elizabeth has relayed to you already the outcome of her conversation with me and her request regarding Mr. Collins’ connection to our family. I have found, after much thought, that her parting words to me have struck a chord, forcing me to feel that I should inform you as much as I am able about your husband’s family and his past life. Marriage is a difficult trail to blaze, and without knowing the person with whom you are blazing it, I can vouchsafe from experience, it is an almost impossible task.
Herein follows the Bennet’s side of the story – I cannot presume to know the Lucas’ side. However, before you read on be aware that the information herein is of a sensitive nature, both for my family and for your husband who may, or may not know the particulars set out below. What you do with this information is, of course, up to you but I would advise discretion and foresight in your decision to use of any part of it.
I am the eldest son of ten children and, before me, my father was the eldest son of a family of thirteen. When my father was twenty five his youngest sister, Amelia, was only five years old and looked upon him more as a father than her brother. When their father died, quickly followed by their mother, as the youngest child, and the only female of that age group, Amelia automatically stayed with her eldest brother and his wife, who now resided at Longbourn, and she became as one of their own children.
When the time came for her to be introduced to society she conducted herself with such pretty airs and graces that she was admired wherever she went and soon had many suitors, many of whom were also enticed by the knowledge that she was part of the then-prosperous Bennet family and had a generous settlement to her name. She, however, was a sensible girl and looked beyond surface manners and tried to discern the true identity of the young men who were so eager to make love to her.
She finally decided, quite calmly and seemingly without much in the way of romance, upon a man, a widower I believe, more than ten years her senior, but only of very modest means called William Collins; a lawyers’ clerk but with some hopeful prospects in the city. Why she settled upon this particular man and his obviously limited means was never discovered or discussed but once her mind was decided, apparently, there was nothing to deter her from her object. Even though she knew his circumstances and how her manner of life would be because of it, she insisted upon marrying him. They, of course, were quite comfortable living within their means upon her interest in the 4 per cents and his small income in a modest but suitable accommodation outside the city. They were, I believe, quite happy for a time bringing forth several children but were, sadly, blessed with only one who survived infancy – your husband, William Collins.
Naturally, these multiple tragedies began to take their toll upon the couple and, mingled with their lifestyle which increasingly far outstripped their income, problems began to unfold. Amelia, more than once begged her brother to provide them with more money from the Longbourn Estate , requests he was unable to satisfy as they required more than he could support; the estate was not prospering as well as it once had, expenses increased every year, and money was becoming scarce.
When her brother died, Amelia then applied to me for aid from the estate but I was just as unable to accommodate her requests for the same reasons as my father. Her husband by that time was drinking heavily to mitigate the woes of his life, and clearly found this refusal by me to be unreasonable. He called upon me and threatened that if I should die an untimely death he would not hesitate in acting on his young son’s behalf, as his guardian, to claim the Longbourn entailment for the Collins family, evicting my family in the process.
This veiled threat so incensed me that I forthwith refused any connection with the Collins’ family, most especially with my young aunt whom I considered to be the most at fault for encouraging her husband in such high-vaulting ambition when I also had a young family to protect with what little remained of the prosperity of Longbourn. I struggled to provide a comfortable home and living for my family and certainly did not intend supporting the excessive lifestyle that my uncle had decided was his right to follow.
This, however, was only a part of the cause of the long-held feud between Mr. Collins and me. The other part, which caused a permanent rift which, as you know, has recently been breached by Mr. Collins’ extension of the olive branch, was that upon the death of my aunt, when your husband was nine, his father did not consider informing us of our loss. When I discovered, through the newspaper and mails, about my aunt’s death from pneumonia, I was understandably outraged and informed Mr. Collins senior that his omission had left a scar that would never heal. I felt certain that while I was alive I would never entertain any truce concerning that man. And so I did not, until word of his death came through Mr. Collins’ first letter to me advising that he was to pay us a visit to heal the breach now that he had lost his father.
This, then, is the unvarnished and truthful cause and effect of the ill feeling and rift between our two families, and why I was interested to meet with Mr. Collins if only to see what type of man he had become under the parentage of such a man as I knew his father to be.
While your husband has some interesting characteristics, he does not appear to be a spiteful nor mercenary person as was his father and I should, i
f you would consider my advice, count those missing detrimental aspects rather as positive attributes regarding the character of the man you married. He has done exceedingly well not to have turned out more like his father considering the close relationship they must have had over all of those years together after my aunt died.
This letter, I truly hope, Charlotte, allays at least some of your fears regarding your new family and what lies beneath the surface appearance. I am sure that Mr. Collins is an honourable man and his intentions are only of the best towards you and your future together.
I wish you health and happiness, and know that Elizabeth wishes for you the same.
Respectfully yours,
Mr. Bennet.
XXVIII
Secretly, as she carried out her duties about the Parsonage, Charlotte re-read the two letters from Longbourn so many times as to make them almost unreadable in parts. She carried them around in her pocket and withdrew them as often as she could to remind herself of the kind thoughts and information sent to her by her dear friend and Mr. Bennet.
For many days she mulled over the difficult information received and tried to understand just how it must have been for Mr. Bennet to know that his aunt had married so beneath her station and to a man so outwardly avaricious. The fact that Mr. Collins senior had also resorted to drink confirmed Charlotte’s own suspicions regarding her husband’s reluctance to discuss his father or their mode of living before he went to university. How degrading and depressing it must have been for a young man trying to make his way in the world without the support of a loving and steadfast father.
Charlotte understood that many families were not as fortunate in their situation such as she had enjoyed in her years at Lucas Lodge, but the sordid information contained beneath the politic surface of Mr. Bennet’s letter confirmed all that she had suspected about her husband’s home life, circumspect as his explanation had been to her. He had been cut off from any communication with those who might have helped him in his struggle to improve himself, inheriting the antipathy between his father and Mr. Bennet without completely understanding the reasons why.