Mary Bennet and the Substitute Vicar

by Carrie Mollenkopf

  “Hmm… well I do hope Charles Bingley shares your sense. He was present when we found the body. I was rather impressed with his firm display of control in a crisis. It has changed my opinion of him entirely.”

  “What do you mean? Charles has always been the most courteous of gentlemen.”

  “Exactly… but he can be firm as well. Charles practically threatened to tie Collins down if he did not compose himself.”

  “Hmm… well that is something to consider… but another time. Allow me to change my dress and we can be off.”

  *****

  Within the hour, Atlas and Mary were back on the road to Meryton. However, Atlas noticed a strange silence about Mary once the curricle began to move. It was as if she was holding back some pent up emotion.

  "Penny for your thoughts?” Atlas inquired with caution.

  It was a moment or two before Mary replied. Her eyes, focused on her lap as if threatening betrayal, observed hands twisting a pair of gloves into knots.

  “I know this must sound incredibly selfish, especially with the demise of a Godly man, but what will happen to us?”

  Atlas pulled the carriage to a stop. He could see the damp splotch where a single tear had escaped Mary’s eyes as she struggled to relay her thoughts.

  “Us? Mary… we are fine. Nothing has happened to us.”

  “But…but... Without a priest…How can we be married? The wedding is just weeks away… everything has been planned. May be God does not want us to marry? “

  “Shhhh…. Don’t say such foolishness. It was not God’s doing that Reverend Morton was murdered. Four weeks is a long time. All that means is we have plenty of time to find another. Does it really matter who performs the ceremony?”

  “I suppose not… but it must be a minister. It won’t feel proper without…. And we don’t have one.”

  “I promise you that everything will be as it should. Do you trust me?”

  Mary eyed him suspiciously, the doubt of his promise clear on her tearstained face, but she nodded affirmatively.

  “That’s my girl. Now, we have important work ahead of us. The sooner we discover who is responsible for Reverend Morton, the sooner we can focus on the wedding.”

  Mary wiped her eyes and blew her nose into the handkerchief Atlas proffered before urging the horse into motion once again. He had made what he hoped was a convincing argument, but self-doubt threatened his own resolve. It seemed that one deadly delay after another was keeping him and Mary apart.

  *****

  All was quiet when they arrived at the surgery. Unusual to be sure for a Monday afternoon, but as Atlas had closed the clinic to non-emergencies in order to be a part of the church council selection, they were blissfully alone. Alone, save for the corpse of Reverend Morton that awaited examination.

  Entering through the rear service door as to not draw attention from the street, Mary and Atlas soon stood over the sheet covered body.

  “Are you sure about this? After all, the previous victims were strangers… this was a friend,” Atlas asked before removing the covering.

  “I am sure, but I would prefer to be as least invasive as possible.”

  “Agreed. Besides, when we found him the cause of death was rather apparent, but it does not hurt to be thorough.”

  “Yes, especially when someone rather unexpected is admitting to having done the deed. I still find it hard to believe that Mr. Collins is capable of killing anyone. He’s so….well… weak.”

  “People do the most unusual things when they are desperate. I have heard of cases in which mothers have lifted great weights to save their children.”

  Mary only sighed and nodded as Atlas finally removed the sheet enough to expose the upper half of Reverend Morton. Fully dressed as was found, he simply appeared to be sleeping peacefully. The only glaring suggestion to the contrary was the series of deep purple bruises on his neck.

  “Sir Philip took Reverend Morton’s neck cloth as evidence. Mr. Collins had it in his hands when discovered. Hmmm… now that I think of it… that is a bit odd.”

  “How so? He must have used it to strangle our poor reverend.”

  “Look at the bruises carefully. They are clearly the outline of a person’s hands, yet there is no blood. I remember the neck cloth being crusted with blood.”

  “So, what was Mr. Collins doing with it?”

  “Just waiving it about in hysterics.”

  “That sounds very much like him.”

  Atlas gently peeled back the lid covering one eye to confirm his suspicion. Mary gasped as she noticed the whites had speckles of red shot through it.

  “What is that?”

  “Petechial hemorrhage, a common occurrence in one who has been strangled, but there are other medical causes. It can manifest anywhere on the body if there is trauma.”

  Mary wrinkled her nose, but did not comment. However she was glad when Atlas replaced the eyelid. The vision still swam in her brain, red eyes that were reminiscent of a monster in a novel. Assisting to turn the body over, Atlas pulled down the collar of Reverend Morton’s shirt to expose the back of his neck in its entirety. The bruising extended well down the back of Reverend Morton’s neck, nearly to his shoulders. For a moment, Mary had an image of heavy hands pressing their thumbs into the base of the priest’s throat. Unable to breath, the old man would have died horribly and slow. As soon as the vision faded, Mary began to chew her lip in thought. Something was not quite right.

  “Atlas?”

  He had been watching her intently. Atlas Sutton knew when Mary had taken a notion into her head and always it was something valuable to consider.

  “What is it? I know that look… you’ve thought of something.”

  “I may be completely wrong, but hear me out. How much pressure does it take to choke someone? Can you demonstrate on me?”

  “Really Mary, that is quite extreme don’t you think?”

  “I trust you not to harm me. Call it an experiment. From what we have seen, the assailant must have been facing Reverend Morton and relatively strong. Although he was an old man, I would not have considered him without the ability to defend himself. The pattern of bruising also suggests that Reverend Morton was either sitting down or the killer was taller than he. Place your fingers about my neck in the same way.”

  Atlas did as he was bid, but applied no pressure to Mary’s delicate throat. He could feel her pulse, strong and regular beneath his fingertips. Immediately he saw what she meant. As a man in possession of average sized hands, his fingers were able to touch on the nape of her neck, but not extend far down her back. The culprit must have had very large hands.

  “Mary, how tall would you say Mr. Collins is?”

  “No more than an inch or two taller than I. Somewhere about five feet seven or so?”

  “Yet, Reverend Morton is well over six feet. It would be extremely difficult for a man of Collins’ stature to choke a person so tall.”

  “Indeed. I have also had the discomfort of taking dinner with Mr. Collins. His hands are reminiscent of Vienna sausages, hardly a match for the damage done to our Reverend. He simply could not have achieved the desired result, even if he had wanted to. However, that still does not answer the question as to why would a man admit to killing someone if he did not?”

  “What say we find out? I promised Sir Philip that I would evaluate Mr. Collins today. His behavior was a bit beyond a normal reaction to shocking discovery. Something tells me that there is more to his confession than actual guilt.”

  ~Eight~

  Mary and Atlas chose to walk the short distance to the county public building that served the multiple functions of hall of records, general town meetings as well as jail. Upon arrival, they were waylaid by the constable on duty as Charlotte Collins was seated in the next room, awaiting private conversation with her husband. Asking to see the silk neck cloth that had been removed from the scene, they were interrupted by the arrival of Sir Philip Evans. After exchanging greetings with his goddaugh
ter and her fiancé, Sir Philip led the couple into his private office and bid they be seated.

  “I have come to file the formal charges against Mr. Collins. I take it that you were able to confirm the cause of death?” he explained with a sigh.

  “You may want to delay that for now,” Mary announced with a wry smile.

  Sir Philip, although he disliked the notion, had grown accustomed to Mary’s involvement in the criminal investigations that had best Meryton in recent years. Always his favorite of the Bennet girls, he had more than once pondered how far she would have gone in the world had she been born a boy. Fortunately, for the nerves of her parents and his own, Mary had curtailed her actions with the announcement of her marriage. However, as a doctor and medical examiner, Atlas Sutton only indulged his bride to be in her eccentricities. In the end, Mary was generally right, and he sincerely hoped it was so again. Gesturing for her to continue, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. It was not even tea time and he was exhausted.

  “Mr. Collins could not have killed Reverend Morton, and we can prove it.”

  Between the two, Mary and Atlas convinced Sir Philip of their findings, but he still had questions.

  “What of the bloody neck cloth?”

  Atlas removed the piece of silk gingerly from the box in which it had been locked. It was spattered with rust colored stains intermingled with a crusty yellowish film. Mary took one glance at the threadbare cloth and giggled slightly.

  “Oh its blood alright… blood and snot.”

  “Mary is quite right. Reverend Morton must have blown his nose recently. Nasty to be sure, but not related to his death. He was strangled, but by a person much larger than Mr. Collins.”

  “Well that is only a partial relief.”

  “Partial?” Mary inquired.

  “Yes, while one man is innocent, a killer is still out there among us… identity unknown.”

  *****

  William Collins had spent the hours of his incarceration in deep reflection. He had much for which to feel guilty. Having awoken in a plain cell with a barred door, he at first had believed it were some strange dream, or perhaps death itself. After a moment, clarity returned along with the morning’s events. How could his carefully planned life have gone so wrong? Blaming himself and his selfishness, he had sunk to his knees to beg for God’s forgiveness.

  “My dear Lord, I am unworthy of your notice. My actions in the past have been only to further my position in society. I should have gone into law, as my father suggested, but no, I believed that the church would allow access to the great houses and confidences of my betters. For this hypocrisy I am deeply sorry.”

  Collins paused for a bit, as if expecting some sort of answer from the divine, but was met with silence, prompting him to continue. Shifting on the hard stone floor, he raised his eyes upwards again.

  “I am also sorry for coveting the two eldest Bennet women and the estate. You were most correct in sending a plain, good woman my way and relieving me of the burden associated with Longbourn. Yet, my pride would not be satiated as I gloated in the patronage provided by Lady Catherine de Bourgh, a most esteemed lady, and quite right in her dismissal of such a wretch. Of these sins I admit my fault and promise to take on modest work with devotion to my dear Charlotte should you see fit to release me from this prison.”

  Just as Mr. Collins verbalized his final plea, the scrape of wood against stone was audible behind him. Turning at the sound, his face fell when he realized that the responsible party was not a divine entity arriving to save him, but rather Mary Bennet and his wife Charlotte.

  “My dear, I have come to take you home.”

  Mr. Collins did not speak, but continued to stare in openmouthed silence. How had Charlotte secured his release? Did she not realize what he had done? Had no one explained his guilt?

  Mary nodded and looked behind her as Atlas and Sir Philip joined the women. Allowing Atlas to pass, the young doctor knelt beside Mr. Collins and peered into the frightened man’s eyes. While he appeared relatively normal, Atlas was unsure as to his mental stability. Taking one limp wrist in his own hands, Atlas counted steady heartbeats, but also took the opportunity to examine Mr. Collins’ hands. Not only were the fingers short and pudgy as Mary had stated, the finger joints were unusually swollen for a person of his age, suggesting a form of rheumatism in addition to general weakness. Nodding to Sir Philip, that the findings were indeed correct, the magistrate made a formal announcement of release.

  “Yes Mr. Collins, you are free to go. Dr. Atlas and Miss Bennet have examined Reverend Morton and determined that it is not possible for you to have harmed anyone in the manner in which he died. As a fellow priest, you must have been overwrought by the discovery of such a heinous deed. My apologies for the arrest, but it was protocol.

  At first, the kneeling man did not appear to comprehend, but as retaliation dawned upon him, his countenance appeared to flicker between relief and a barely concealed rage before years of social conditioning took hold. Reaching out to Charlotte, he grasped her hand and slowly rose, dusting off his soiled clothing from where it had met the floor.

  “Ah, yes, I am sure it was a simple misunderstanding. It was indeed the correct course of action. In my delirium, I may have done harm to myself or another. Quite right thing to do,” he agreed and shook hands with all persons present, even Mary and Charlotte.

  “I suggest you go home and rest. A small dose of laudanum would not be inappropriate to ensure sleep,” Atlas advised as Collins exited the cell.

  Nodding, Mr. Collins passively allowed Charlotte to lead him out of the building and into the carriage bearing the crest of Lucas Lodge. Within moments, only the dust cloud turned up by the carriage wheels bore any witness to the occurrence, leaving Atlas and Mary standing alone in the street with Sir Philip Evans.

  “Well he seemed to take that rather well,” commented the magistrate in disbelief.

  “A bit too well,” agreed Mary as she continued to peer down the road. Somehow, Mary knew that this was not the last encounter she’d have with Mr. Collins. That man had a habit of causing undue distress for the Bennets every time they met.

  *****

  As soon as the Lucas’ carriage was in motion, Mr. Collins released a tidal wave of emotion. Having held his composure in order to maintain appropriate social behavior, he now unleashed his pent up rage upon his wife.

  Charlotte Collins, in the over three years since her wedding, had long been used to the mood swings that possessed her husband. In most cases, she completely understood what is was to be a person that must comply with the whims of others. Considered a plain woman, and well past the age considered marriageable when Mr. Collins’ proposal came, Charlotte saw herself as lucky. Knowing full well that she had not been his first choice, nor was he any girlhood fantasy. However, as two people of a similar situation, the match had been relatively amiable. A few episodes of unchecked temper were a small thing indeed, when life as a dependent spinster was the alternative. Now, as her husband ranted about the morning’s events, Charlotte simply sat quietly and nodded in agreement.

  “Oh Charlotte! It was simply terrible to have come upon the body of a man I had so esteemed. And then! Then to be accused of doing the very deed! It was too much to bear. Any man would take a temporary leave of one’s senses. How could they have believed me capable of such things? I am most affronted by the injustice.”

  “Well dear… you did admit to it. If it were not for Mary and Dr. Sutton, you might still be in jail.”

  “I was not myself… I suppose that I must give gratitude where it is due, but the desecration of the human form is an abomination. Dr. Sutton’s soul is in peril for doing it, despite being occasionally convenient for the police. It is also most unseemly for Miss Bennet to be involved in such matters. Perhaps she will see sense once married.”

  “I believe Dr. Sutton encourages her study of science and medicine.”

  “Hrumph. I do consider myself blessed that you have no
such inclinations. A minister’s wife must take care to safeguard her reputation at all times. That is a concept that Miss Bennet seems to have forgotten. Perhaps a spiritual visit with both of them is in order… but not until I have recovered from my ordeal.”

  “Yes, dear, I most certainly agree, but there is another matter that you must consider before any such conversation.”

  “I cannot imagine what would be more important than the saving of two souls bound for damnation.”

  “The Meryton living has yet to be filled. I am sure that you will be in the highest consideration if…well… it is not my place to suggest.”

  Charlotte played the demure lady with a fine hand. She had long learned how to manipulate her simple minded husband to do her bidding… and believe it was his idea entirely. Now, she waited for his encouragement of what may save them both.

  “Charlotte… dear… I have always taken your advice with the greatest of consideration, do continue.”

  “Perhaps… as there is no other person available… you might volunteer, unpaid of course, to fill in for Reverend Morton until the selection process is complete. A substitute so to speak.”

  Mr. Collins appeared to take his wife’s idea into deep contemplation, and did not immediately reply, as a plan formulated in his head. Someone had to give Reverend Morton a proper funeral. And who would see to Sunday services? Wasn’t Mary Bennet’s wedding scheduled for less than four weeks’ time? Surely everyone would see him as the answer to their problem…or should he say “prayers”?

  ~Nine~

  Three days later…

  The shocked residents of Meryton filed slowly from the churchyard after paying their last respects to a beloved member of the community. Mary and Atlas were among those who remained afterwards to attend a now pressing meeting of the church council. For most of the solemn ceremony, Mary had carefully observed those who had shown for any unusual behavior. By some small miracle, the cause of Reverend Morton’s demise had remained secret. Sir Philip Evans and performed the distasteful duty of informing the community and promising no interruption of religious services until a permanent successor was found. A general town meeting had been held the day after the discovery, but the investigation as to the responsibly party was still in its infancy.