19. Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

Mr. Collins stood abruptly, causing Wickham to jump back, and made his way out of the Assembly Rooms. He ignored the curious glances and a couple of smug looks from the local men as they saw him leaving alone, his head held high. He stomped across the floor, ignoring the decorations and the music, and burst out into the cold, quiet night.

The streets of Meryton were empty, and Collins shivered, pulling his coat tighter around him. It was chill, and the night was dark despite the clear skies, but he was too angry to care. At least the sky was clear, he thought bitterly. It would not do for him to slip on the ice and fall in the street, the object of everyone's scorn and mockery.

As he walked through the dark, quiet streets, Collins' mind raced. He had been isolated by the community since the day he had ordered the Bennet women from his house. Not a single one of his tenants had even come to pay him their respects, nor had he been invited to visit anyone. He had been shunned, and Collins' fury knew no bounds. It was not his fault – it was not! – that he had been placed in an impossible position, that he had been forced to evict his own cousins from the house in which he had lived. No, he had been forced into this position by their disgraceful disrespect, and why should he be held responsible?

His mind whirled with the list of those who had wronged him. Elizabeth Bennet, for refusing his proposal. Darcy, for pretending to be something he was not. Bingley, for coming to Netherfield and bringing Darcy along. And all the people of Meryton, who had scorned him since that day. Charlotte Lucas' public insults had been the last straw.

No, he was alone. Alone and abandoned, deserted by those who should have been his friends. Perhaps he should have made more effort to get to know the community before he had to evict the Bennets, but he had thought it only appropriate to keep to himself while they were in mourning.

Things would have to change. Collins' mind roiled with his anger, and he realised he was walking in circles. He forced himself to stop, to think.

There was only one thing he could do. He needed to go back to Hunsford to settle his affairs anyway, and he would visit Lady Catherine. His patroness would surely be sympathetic to him, and when she heard what he had endured, how he had tried to do his duty, she would surely take his side. He would return to Hunsford, and he would explain everything to Lady Catherine, and she would no doubt call down the fires of Hell on Darcy's head for what he had done.

He turned and walked back to Longbourn, head held high. Though it was late, he packed his bags, moving grimly from room to room. He could not stay here. He was not welcome, he knew that. He had no friends here, no one to support him. Lady Catherine, though, she would be supportive, he knew. She would sympathise with him and his position, and she would surely have something to say about the Bennet girls going off to London with Darcy and Bingley.

Finally, his bags packed, Collins stood in the hallway of Longbourn and looked around the cold, empty house, the servants not even interested enough to enquire when he would return. He took a deep breath and closed the door behind him, setting off for Hunsford. Lady Catherine would be supportive, he knew, and he would have much to tell her.

It was a cold, miserable journey back to Hunsford, travelling by post and then a hired gig from Bromley. The landscape around him was bare, the trees stark and leafless, and a cold wind blew across the fields, causing Collins to bundle himself more closely into his coat. The skies were grey and lowering, and the roads hard and rutted. The cold, crisp air bit at Collins' cheeks, and he found himself wishing that he had not been forced to travel. But he had no choice. He had no one to help him, no one to support him. He was alone, and he was miserable.

At last, the coach rolled up to Rosings Park, and Collins stumbled out, his legs stiff and sore. He had never made such a journey before, and he was uncomfortable and unaccustomed to it. He hurried to the front door of Rosings, shivering in the cold, and pounded on the door. When it was opened by the footman, he pushed his way inside, unable to bear the cold for a moment longer.

"Mr. Collins," the footman stared at him, startled, and Collins realised belatedly how he must look. Unshaven, his hair untidy, his coat wrinkled, and his cheeks red with cold, he must be a pitiful sight.

"Take me to Lady Catherine," he demanded, and the footman hesitated.

"Of course, Mr. Collins, but perhaps you would like to freshen up first?"

"Take me to Lady Catherine," Collins insisted, and the footman gave in, leading the way through the grand hall and up the sweeping staircase. Collins was barely able to keep up, his legs still stiff from the journey, and he burst into the drawing-room where Lady Catherine sat, gasping for breath.

"Mr. Collins." The lady looked up, startled at his sudden entrance, and Collins could see the instant disapproval on her face. He could not blame her, but he had not the time to make himself presentable. He needed her support, and he needed it now.

"Lady Catherine," he said, "I am come to you in the most desperate of circumstances. I beg you, please hear me out."

"Of course." Lady Catherine's voice was frosty. "Sit down, Mr. Collins, and tell me what has you in this state."

He took a seat, and the footman hastened to serve him tea. Collins wrapped his fingers around the teacup, feeling the warmth seep into his cold hands, and took a sip of the hot liquid. It burned his mouth, but he didn't care. He needed to be warm.

"Lady Catherine," he began again, and now his voice was steady. "You know, of course, that I now the owner of Longbourn."

"Indeed," Lady Catherine said, and Collins felt the weight of her disapproval. She had made her displeasure quite clear, when Mr. Collins wrote to advise her that he had inherited. It was quite inconvenient for Lady Catherine to have a curate in her parish instead of her chosen clergyman, after all. "I did suggest that you should marry one of your female cousins. Has that alliance occurred?"

"No, your ladyship," Collins said. "I was most pleased to make the acquaintance of my fair cousins, and indeed, I became quite enamoured of the second eldest, Miss Elizabeth. I waited a respectable time after her father's passing before I made her an offer of marriage, which she refused!" He struggled to contain his bitterness. "I was astonished, Lady Catherine, for it had always been my understanding that my cousins were not well dowered and that a marriage to me would be a great improvement in their situation. I am sure you cannot imagine the rudeness with which Miss Elizabeth rejected me."

Lady Catherine's eyes narrowed. "Indeed."

"But," Mr. Collins said, determined to convince Lady Catherine of the virtuous manner in which he had acted, "I accepted her refusal and turned my attention to the next eldest sister, Mary, who had in fact already intimated to me that she would look with favour on my suit."

"I am sure you acted with the utmost propriety, Mr. Collins," Lady Catherine said, and Collins could not help but feel warmed by her approval.

"Thank you, Lady Catherine. I endeavoured to do so, but I regret to say that Miss Mary also rejected me when I offered my hand."

"Dear me." Lady Catherine gave him a penetrating look, and Mr. Collins had the uncomfortable feeling she knew he was leaving quite a lot out. "That must have been very uncomfortable for you, Mr. Collins, especially with the young ladies in question still residing beneath your roof."

"It was most improper!" Mr. Collins agreed. "A quite untenable situation, I'm sure your ladyship will agree. So I, ah, was forced to ask them to remove and stay with other family members, with whom they are quite well supplied, I assure you!"

Lady Catherine's eyes narrowed further, and Mr. Collins rushed on. "Indeed, Mrs. Bennet's sister resides a short walk from Longbourn, but they did not go to her. The eldest Miss Bennet had become engaged - without my blessing, as she was still in mourning! - to a Mr. Bingley who was renting Netherfield, a nearby estate, and they took up residence there, quite scandalously."

"Netherfield?" Lady Catherine tilted her head. "Bingley? I know that name. Is not that where my nephew Darcy was staying, this autumn?"

Mr. Collins hid a victorious little smile. "Indeed, Lady Catherine, and it grieves me to tell you that since your nephew has been in the neighbourhood, Miss Elizabeth Bennet has done her best to throw herself in his way."

"Unconscionable!" Lady Catherine exclaimed, finally becoming animated. "And yet, you thought to marry this hussy?"

"Lady Catherine, if by marrying Miss Elizabeth I was able to remove her as a distraction to Mr. Darcy, I would gladly have sacrificed my future happiness in such a cause," Mr. Collins said piously.

"Indeed," Lady Catherine said, her voice cold, and Collins felt better.

"But she rejected me, Lady Catherine, set upon her pursuit of your nephew, and now I am told that she is resident in London as his guest, while I am treated as a pariah. None of my neighbours has called on me, indeed, I have not received one invitation to dine!" Mr. Collins managed to rein himself in before telling Lady Catherine that all of Longbourn's servants had left with the Bennets; Lady Catherine had strong views on persons who could not manage their own servants.

"You have been most ill-used, Mr. Collins. "

"Thank you, your ladyship," Collins said, and he felt a little better. "I was even forced to leave the local Assembly early. I was most insulted. I was offered no welcome, no hospitality, and I could not stay. None of my neighbours would even speak to me, Lady Catherine. I have been quite abandoned by those who should be my friends. Only one man, a Mr. Wickham, spoke to me, and he only to complain about Mr. Darcy, who he said had treated him unfairly."

"Mr. Wickham?" Lady Catherine raised an eyebrow. "I have not heard of this man."

"He is a lieutenant in the militia, your ladyship," Collins said, "and he told me that he had been raised by Mr. Darcy's father, but that Mr. Darcy had treated him unfairly, and I must say I am inclined to believe him, for Mr. Darcy has certainly not acted as a gentleman towards me. I must say, Lady Catherine, that I was most surprised at the extent of Mr. Darcy's attentions to Miss Elizabeth, for surely he could not consider such a match. Miss Elizabeth is a gentleman's daughter, to be sure, but she has no dowry to speak of."

"It would be a most inappropriate match," Lady Catherine said coldly. "I thank you, Mr. Collins, for bringing this matter to my attention. I will certainly take action to correct my nephew's unfortunate misapprehension and detach him from this most unsuitable entanglement."

"An excellent notion, Lady Catherine," Collins said, but her ladyship was not yet done.

"However," she said, and she tapped one slippered foot against the carpet, "I must insist that you return to Longbourn at once and take up your duties there. You are the master of that estate, Mr. Collins, and it is your duty to ensure that it is well run. "

"Yes, your ladyship," Collins said, bowing his head. He had no desire to return to Longbourn, not to that empty house, but Lady Catherine had ordered it and he could not refuse.

"Good day, Mr. Collins," Lady Catherine said, lifting her chin.

He blinked at her for a moment, then jumped to his feet and bowed, backing out of the room.

"Your servant, Lady Catherine," he said, and she inclined her head. "Thank you, Lady Catherine. I am sure that you will..."

"Good day, Mr. Collins," Lady Catherine said again, and he had no choice but to leave, the footman closing the door behind him.

As he was shown to the front door, Mr. Collins straightened his back. Lady Catherine had ordered him to return to Longbourn, but she had also made it clear that she would be taking action.

Indeed, he thought smugly, Elizabeth Bennet would be sorry she had ever treated him so harshly. Lady Catherine would certainly let her know in no uncertain terms that she should not have been pursuing Mr. Darcy.

And Elizabeth, Elizabeth would be crushed and humiliated, and come slinking back to Longbourn, begging his pardon, and begging him to marry her after all.

It was what he deserved, Mr. Collins thought with a swell of vindictive satisfaction. She would come with her head bowed and her spirit broken, and he would chastise her for her wilful ways, for her defiance, for her refusal to bend to his will. Oh, he would marry her, for he had told Lady Catherine that he would make one of the Bennet girls his wife, and Elizabeth was the one he wanted. But he would make her regret the day she had ever dared to defy him.

"Mr. Collins," the butler said, and he came back to himself with a start, realising he had been standing there smiling to himself for several moments. "Your coat, sir? "

"Thank you, Marchbanks," Collins said. "Lady Catherine has been most generous."

"Indeed, sir," Marchbanks said, and Mr. Collins could not help but feel that he was being humoured. The man must know his place! "This way, sir."

He followed Marchbanks to the door, where the footman helped him into his coat and hat, handing him his gloves and scarf.

"Good day, sir," Marchbanks said, opening the door, and Collins stepped out into the cold, his boots crunching on the snow. The footman closed the door behind him and he flinched at the chill, pulling his scarf up over his nose and mouth. It was very cold indeed, he thought, but he was warmed by his thoughts. Oh, Elizabeth Bennet would come back to Longbourn all right, and she would come to him on her knees, begging him to marry her.

Collins took a few steps, his boots crunching on the snow, and imagined Elizabeth, her proud and wilful spirit crushed, falling to her knees before him in the front parlour and pleading with him. "Please, Mr. Collins," she would say, "please marry me, sir, I will be a good and obedient wife to you."

Yes, Mr. Collins thought. Yes, that would be the way of it. He would marry her, and she would be his wife, and he would break that proud, wilful spirit of hers. She would submit to him, oh yes she would. She would warm his bed and bear his children, and she would look after his household, and she would bow her head and obey him in all things.

"Please forgive me, Mr. Collins," she would say, and he imagined her kneeling before him, her hands clasped and her head bowed. "I promise, Mr. Collins, I will never be wilful or defiant again. I will obey you in all things, Mr. Collins. Please, Mr. Collins, I beg you, I will be a good wife to you." And she would bow her head and wait for his command .

Yes, Mr. Collins thought. She would come crawling back to him, and she would be sorry, and he would have her in the end. He had always wanted her, after all, though her wilful spirit did not suit him. But he would break her of that. She would be meek and submissive, she would obey him, and she would be a good wife to him. Oh yes, she would obey him in all things once he was done breaking her spirit.

"Sir?" the driver of the waiting hack said, and Mr. Collins started. He had been imagining Elizabeth, her head bowed and her hair down, her eyes cast to the ground as she knelt before him, beaten and submissive. He shook himself and smiled at the driver.

"Thank you," he said, and climbed back up into the hack-chaise. Yes, indeed. Elizabeth Bennet would be very sorry for the way she had treated him.

Lady Catherine's lips thinned in anger as she watched Mr. Collins' hack-chaise disappear down the driveway. She had always intended that her nephew would marry her daughter. It had been intended from the cradle; Darcy was destined to be her son-in-law. Anne was a quiet girl, but she adored Darcy, and he had always treated her with affection. Her health was delicate, but Darcy was a man of great wealth and influence, and she knew he would not begrudge the expense of doctors for Anne.

And now this little upstart, this chit of a girl, had dared to set her cap at Darcy. Lady Catherine was well aware that Darcy could have his pick of anyone, up to and including a duke's daughter, so she had never been concerned about the possibility of him being entrapped by an unsuitable girl. He was far too proud and fastidious, she had always thought, to be interested in a mere country squire's daughter, but she supposed that it was natural enough for a man to want a healthy young wife.

"Marchbanks!" she called, and the butler appeared as if by magic. "Tell Mrs. Jensen that we will be leaving for London tomorrow. She is to have the cases packed."

"Very good, my lady." Marchbanks bowed and withdrew, and Lady Catherine sat back in her chair. She had quite lost her taste for tea, but she picked up her cup and sipped for a moment, looking around her. The opulent surroundings were a testament to her wealth and status: fine lace curtains at the windows, the richest of carpets underfoot, the chairs and sofas upholstered in luxurious silk, the elegant tea service of the finest china and silver. She sighed, putting her cup down, and then her thoughts turned to what Mr. Collins had told her.

Lady Catherine rose and made her way out of her drawing-room. She swept down the hall and knocked on her daughter's door, entering at Anne's soft "Come in".

"Mother," Anne said, rising from her chair at her dressing-table.

"We will be travelling to London tomorrow, Anne," Lady Catherine said. "To Darcy House. I will be speaking to your cousin about his intentions."

Anne lowered her eyes demurely. "Yes, Mother."

"He will marry you," Lady Catherine said. "I will not allow it to be otherwise."

"I am sure you will succeed, Mother," Anne said quietly. "I will go to bed early tonight."

"Good," Lady Catherine said. "I will instruct your maid to pack for you. "

"Thank you, Mother," Anne said softly, and Lady Catherine left her daughter's room, feeling a fresh surge of anger. Anne was a biddable girl, always obedient to her mother. She would never have dared to defy Lady Catherine as Elizabeth Bennet had apparently defied Mr. Collins. Anne would indeed be a perfect wife for Darcy, quiet and obedient, never arguing or defying him.

She would go to London, Lady Catherine resolved, and she would speak to Darcy herself. And she would speak to the Bennet family, and make them aware that they had overreached themselves. Elizabeth Bennet had dared to defy Mr. Collins, but the chit would not dare to defy Lady Catherine de Bourgh.