Anne could still remember how incensed Mama had been when Miss Elizabeth Bennet had dared to challenge her arrangements. Not only did Elizabeth defy Lady Catherine in word, she had married cousin Fitzwilliam. Secretly, Anne had been relieved. An arranged marriage to her first cousin, while considered an excellent catch, was not to her liking. Mr. Darcy was more than ten years her senior, and quite frightening. While Anne had eventually gotten past her fears, the prospect of marrying him never gained appeal. It was only her strong friendship with the younger Georgiana Darcy that had made visits to Pemberley enjoyable. Now, even correspondence with her cousin Georgiana was forbidden. It had been through the kindness bestowed by Mrs. Collins that Anne had smuggled letters out of Rosings. Unfortunately, all of that had come to a crashing end when Mama had a falling out with Mr. Collins, the vicar whose living was dependent upon Lady Catherine’s favor.
Anne could not even recall what had caused the disagreement. Usually, Mr. Collins agreed with everything Mama wanted, nearly falling over himself in an effort to please her every whim. Tapping the feather end of her pen against her chin, Anne pondered what exactly had happened, only to be beset by another fit of sneezing. It would be prudent to include some sort of apology in the letter, but perhaps it did not really matter. Anne simply needed Mr. Collins to return to Rosings… the sooner the better. With the absence of William and Charlotte Collins, Mama had focused her attention completely on Anne. With Fitzwilliam Darcy no longer an option, another husband must be found for Anne.
At first, Anne had been unaware of her mother’s schemes, but was not surprised when Lady Catherine had mentioned a replacement for Mr. Collins the day after she had ordered his removal.
“My dear Anne, you must accompany me to greet our new vicar. He is the second son of the Duke of Markinham and quite near your age. I have deemed him an acceptable addition to Rosings. His station and connections make him an advantageous acquaintance…or perhaps more. I have instructed your maid to have the yellow brocade pressed for the occasion.”
Anne had wrinkled her nose at the thought. She hated that dress, it made her appear sallow and well beyond her nineteen years. The heavy embroidery felt as if she were wearing a suit of armor and heading into battle. While she did not dislike the idea of marriage, Anne had hoped for some semblance of personal choice, affection must be had between two persons. She had seen how cousin Fitzwilliam looked at Elizabeth Bennet and wanted that sort of love between herself and any future husband, not some stranger picked by Mama. Fortunately, it had not come to pass. To say that death is lucky sounds a bit macabre, but for Anne, it had been a saving event. The very morning they were due to expect the new vicar, a letter arrived, announcing the unexpected death of Lord Markingham’s eldest son. The intended vicar, now heir to the estate, sent his regrets as duty to his family now took precedence. With her plans ruined, Lady Catherine had angrily tossed the missive into the fire, grumbling about ingratitude as the flames licked the paper.
Now, over a fortnight later, Rosings had gone without the services of a priest. Church had been cancelled, weddings postponed indefinitely, and funerals had gone unconsecrated. However, Lady Catherine gave no thought to the people under her charge as she kept herself secluded, allowing anger to fester. Sighing, Anne dipped her pen once again into the ink. If Mama was not going to be responsible, then Anne must take up the reins. Mr. Collins must be given an apology and asked to return.
~Seventeen~
Meanwhile, at Longbourn….
Mary Bennet woke early and donned her favorite old gray work dress. Frayed and stained, it had long been suggested that it be discarded, but Mary kept it all the same. It was the very dress she had worn when she had first met Atlas. Having thought her a scullery maid, Mary laughed at the memory now, but at the time, it had stung her pride. Tying an equally aged apron over, she headed down to the kitchens. Normally, Mary was scheduled to spend this day of the week at the surgery in Meryton, but with her own wedding a mere fortnight away, it was necessary to tend to last minute details. Later, she would change into something more appropriate and make one last visit to the new vicar. She wanted everything to be perfect.
Pushing open the green baize door that separated the kitchens from the rest of the house, Mary entered a room teeming with wonderful aromas and bustling activity. With the matter of finances no longer a pressing concern, Longbourn estate now boasted a full complement of servants. No longer did those who had remained loyal work themselves to the bone. Mary returned greetings and smiles from the new maids as she went and bestowed a hug upon the portly cook.
“Good morning Mrs. Kincaid. I see that you have everything well in hand, is there any way I can be of assistance?”
“Oh Miss Mary! You should be thinking about other things than what goes on down here!” Maybelle Kincaid replied with affection. Longbourn’s cook had spent many a sleepless night comforting the middle Bennet child and had a deep love for the one who she now called mistress of the house. Mary had often escaped the dramatics of her family in the warm kitchens, learning to cook along the way. At first, new servants gawked in surprise at the lady of the house joining them in their labors, but it had only deepened their respect.
“I have time enough to visit my old friend. Besides, what would a wedding be without your personal touch?”
“I cannot argue with that,” the cook agreed and opened the cold larder where a tiered cake was in the early stages of construction.
“It will have marzipan turtledoves and tinted roses for decoration. My masterpiece.”
Mary beamed with appreciation and gave the cook a peck on the cheek before grabbing a mass of rising dough and forming it deftly into individual portions. The feel of the soft bread rolled easily as Mary twisted it into the knots favored by her father. It was at this task that Bridget, now assistant housekeeper to the aging Mrs. Hill, found her and announced the presence of a visitor in the parlor.
“At this early hour? Who is it?”
“It’s that Mr. Collins. He said he had a matter of utmost importance to speak with you about.”
“Indeed… I shall go to him immediately.”
Mary wiped her hands on a damp cloth and removed her apron. The state of her work dress could not be helped, as there was no time to change, but Mr. Collins was hardly worth the effort to impress. No doubt he had some complaint which he considered a dire emergency.
Entering the parlor, Mary found her visitor seated calmly in her father’s favorite chair. Mr. Collins did not bother with pleasantries as was customary, but remained where he was and waved one of two folded papers in his possession in her direction.
“Ah there you are Miss Bennet, not one for punctuality I see, but perhaps you will be more diligent once you have read this,” he spat with an uncharacteristic display of venom.
Mary narrowed her eyes as she took the proffered missive. What had happened to the meek and simpering creature that had practically begged a positon only a week ago? Choosing her own chair, Mary silently read the short letter…no it was more of a note…of resignation. Blinking in disbelief, she re-read the paper again, as if to truly believe what she saw. Reverend Stephen Kendrick had abandoned his post as vicar of Meryton… and placed the blame entirely upon her.
To church council of the town of Meryton,
It is with great displeasure that I must immediately vacate the position of vicar. In the solitary week in which I have resided in the Parrish, nothing but misery and rejection has befallen my existence. I can only see it as a direct message from the almighty that I am not suited to this post and was made the offer of it under misleading conditions to which I must place responsibility for such upon the person of Miss Mary Bennet. It was through her very convincing offer of the post that I had even considered the viability of acceptance. The terms of house, salary and quality of church members was given as quite acceptable, however nothing further from the truth was so upon arrival. Miss Bennet has proven to be false in her acceptance of God’s definition of
genteel womanhood in every way imaginable. I have been forced to live in a Spartan cell with no privacy, sustenance or compensation. This level of existence is simply not acceptable for a fellow person, save a man of God. It is a wonder that my predecessor had not expired earlier due to such unbearable conditions. May God have mercy upon the people of Meryton in their search for someone willing to minister to them.
Sincerely,
Stephen Kendrick
His reasons were painfully blunt and direct, but Mary believed that had he voiced them, a solution could have been found. Many of his complaints truly had nothing to do with her, but rather, the most difficult personage of one Reverend William Collins. Unfortunately, his attack upon her specific person stung. Turning back to the man she now believed had become her nemesis in life, Mary attempted to curtail her rising anger. Taking a deep breath and considering her words carefully, she threw down the resignation and faced Mr. Collins.
“What exactly did you do to make him leave? Was the compensation offered to you not enough that you felt the need to make another’s life miserable? Have you no regard for anything or anyone besides yourself?” Mary demanded in a voice that was hardly more than a whisper, but hissed with caged rage. How dare this little wretch of a man call himself a priest?
Rising from his seat, Mr. Collins straightened his coat and flicked an imaginary fleck of lint from his sleeve. He refused to meet her gaze as his resolve and arrogance at the triumph he had felt wavered slightly. It was only the secret knowledge of his imminent return to Rosings that allowed for any sense of control.
“I? Miss Bennet, surely you comprehended the plainly spoken words of Mr. Kendrick? I believe he finds you at fault...not me. I should think you would take this incident as an opportunity for reflection upon your own actions. All of this medicine and higher learning… such an inappropriate thing for a woman… not to forget running an estate….”
Mr. Collins’ voice tapered away and silence reigned supreme for a moment as Mary realized the truth of the situation. Mr. Collins had deliberately set the young man against her. While Mary had always hoped that her cousin had put the matter of Longbourn behind him, it was clear that he harbored a lasting resentment over the loss of the estate. It was strong enough to result on vengeful actions. Seething in anger, Mary wanted to throw the nearest object at Mr. Collins’ thick skull. However, it would not change anything. Taking her silence as acceptance of his advice, Collins continued his lecture.
“Indeed. Over the past weeks I have also come to share that opinion. Therefore, I am also leaving. It seems that Lady Catherine de Bourgh has found that my guidance in all matters concerning Rosings is of the utmost importance and she is unable to do without my services any longer. Therefore, Charlotte and I must cut short our holiday in Meryton return to Rosings immediately.”
Mary stared in disbelief for a moment before waving him away. She wanted him gone from her sight forever.
“Well… I suppose you are quite satisfied with yourself. You have done as much damage to this family and town as possible for one of your pathetic existence. While I may not be the finest example of what it means to be a lady… or a child of God, you sir… are an abomination! Get out and do not return… ever!”
Mr. Collins mouth dropped in outrage, but no words escaped as he saw the fire in Mary’s eyes. For a moment, he feared for his safety as he saw her attention flicker about as if she were searching for a weapon. Instead, he turned up his nose and gave a perfunctory bow before seeking his escape. It was only after the echo had died away from the sound of the front door closing that Mary realized the full impact of what had transpired. There were less than fourteen days until her wedding and now there was no one to officiate. Sinking slowly to the floor, she began crying uncontrollably.
*****
Bridget, in the months in which she had been employed at Longbourn, had never liked the Bennet’s relation. From the beginning, he had been overbearing and smug, even daring to criticize her Catholic beliefs. When Mr. Collins had demanded entry to Longbourn that morning, the newly appointed housekeeper had known his intentions were of no positive nature. Now, as she stood outside the ajar door to the parlor where her mistress sat weeping, a fierce desire to go after the man and beat him soundly was nearly overpowering. However, as the futility of such an action was realized, Bridget focused on practicalities. Overstepping her station, she entered the parlor and sank beside her young mistress, allowing Mary the comfort of her arms until the tears abated.
“I always feel better after a good cry, but that man is a weasel and not worth your effort. I am sure there is a special place in hell just for him!”
Mary stifled a giggle at the prospect of fiery flames licking the feet of Mr. Collins for all eternity. It was an uncharitable thought, but right now she needed to turn her misery to a solution. While it was not the norm to be friends with a servant, Mary had for some months considered Bridget, aside from Atlas, to be her only friend.
“I appreciate your concerns, but how am I to be married without a vicar? I must have a church wedding… it wouldn’t be proper.”
“I do have a cousin….” Bridget offered with a wink, knowing that Mary would find disapproval. But, her employer needed to find strength… and irritation was usually what made Mary Bennet perform her best.
“Oh Bridget! You know we cannot have a Catholic service… but it would cause a stir!” Mary chuckled at the idea, but secretly tucked it away as a last resort. Bridget was right, her wedding would happen, no matter what. Rising, and returning the borrowed handkerchief she had used to dry her eyes, Mary gave her friend a hug and went to find Atlas… after all, it was to be his wedding too. Together, they would find a solution.
~Eighteen~
Mary pounded on the thick oaken door to Longbourn’s best guest chamber with a ferocity that bespoke imminent calamity. Immediately, it opened to reveal a half dressed and unshaven form of Atlas Sutton, her intended groom. For practicality, as well as personal happiness, Atlas had moved out of the garret lodgings above his surgery and into Longbourn. With Mary’s parents still in residence, it was deemed quite acceptable as the wedding banns had been announced. Fearing a medical disaster of grand proportions he was surprised when Mary pushed him back inside and closed the door behind, turning the key.
Relieved, but equally curious, Atlas awaited an explanation as he buttoned his shirt. While Mary was not innocent to the human body, he insisted upon propriety until after their marriage. However, Mary was oblivious to his dishabille as she paced the room.
“We have a very serious problem….” She began, but paused as if suddenly realizing how compromising their current location would appear should they be discovered.
“Do we? I hope you will elaborate upon this.”
Mary pulled the now crumpled letter of resignation from her apron pocket and handed it to Atlas for his perusal. After quickly scanning the contents, he shrugged and returned it.
“So? I was not particularly impressed with him from the start. How did you come by this?”
“Mr. Collins…. He smugly threw it in my face, but I have a suspicion that he was behind the whole thing.”
“Well, he did want the Meryton living for himself.”
“That is what irritates me most… Mr. Collins is returning to Rosings today. Apparently, Lady Catherine has had a change of heart and wants… no that is not quite right… according to Mr. Collins, she “demands” him back.”
“Well, I did not like him either.”
“Oh Atlas! Can you not see! We do not have a vicar and our wedding is less than two weeks away!”
Atlas grimaced. He had not considered that, but refused to allow Mary’s obvious distress cloud his thinking.
“We still have another option. Do you remember the other candidate? The one not chosen by the council? Percival something or other, I believe his name was.”
“Oh Atlas, I knew there was a reason I loved you! I shall write to him immediately, but what if he has taken
another post?”
“We must be of positive mind. Now go off and write your letter so I can arrange a rider to deliver it today.”
Mary kissed him soundly on the mouth and just as quickly left the room. Shaking his head in disbelief as she left, Atlas finished his dressing in solitude. He was relieved that a potential solution was at hand, but also felt a worrisome fear that the wedding would not take place.
“I swear, I will abduct her to Gretna Green if one more problem arises,” he announced to the empty chamber, but seriously hoped it would not come to that.
*****
The Reverend William Collins returned to the Meryton vicarage to find his wife Charlotte busy packing their few belongings into a trunk. It was indeed fortunate that they traveled lightly as to have nothing impede their journey back to Rosings as the ducal carriage was to arrive that very afternoon to expedite their arrival. He could hardly contain his joy at the prospect of returning to Rosings Park. It truly must have been God’s will entering Lady Catherine’s heart to invite him back. Of course, there would need to be some changes made. There would be no more late evening calls to the old lady’s bedside when she suffered from insomnia. Nor, would he tolerate her condescending tone in regards to his mannerisms. Most importantly, Anne de Bourgh must be married off respectably. With Anne gone from Rosings, he need not fear another attempt to usurp his position. It was high time that young lady did her duty. It was with this plan of action that he entered the main bedchamber where Charlotte was trying to close an overstuffed box filled with linens.
Mary Bennet and the Substitute Vicar Page 8