Chapter 13

W illiam Collins could not believe how large his future inheritance was. The manor house was far greater than he had envisaged, based on the stories his father had told that the estate did not earn more than two thousand pounds per annum. Even though he did not let Mr. Fitzwilliam know he was aware his future was not assured as the rector of the Hunsford parish, he did recognise that. If he had to help his cousin leave the mortal world to achieve his aims, so be it.

It had been Lady Catherine who had advised him to seek peace in his family, but she had told him no more than that. Collins had decided the great lady had implied he should marry one of his cousins. It was frustrating that he hardly ever saw her or Miss Anne de Bourgh, the Rose of Kent, any longer. The latter he would see when she occasionally passed by his parsonage in her low, pony-pulled phaeton, but she never stopped. He could not understand how it was he almost never received an invitation to dine at Rosings Park. He was sure that was a result of Mr. Fitzwilliam imposing his will on Lady Catherine. He snapped himself out of his reverie and looked around.

Collins was not pleased that none of his cousins were awaiting his arrival in the drive as was his due as a clergyman and heir to the estate. He was contemplating how he would make a graceful exit from the gig when he heard the front door opening. Rather than any of his cousins, he saw the two most enormous footmen he had ever beheld exit the house. If his cousin employed men such as these, exerting his will may not be as simple as he imagined it would be.

Biggs and Johns kept their faces schooled even though they had seen the instant the man, who the master had informed them was known as a coward, saw them. His face had lost what colour it previously had and the man looked rather frightened.

The two were not violent men, unless there was a good reason to be so. Like they had in the army, if they needed to make sure one they protected was safe from harm, they, and the other guards employed with them, would do what they had to do.

Perhaps his cousin would live longer than he had planned, but not if he could help it! As soon as he was married to one of the five daughters, he would come live at Longbourn. That would give him many more opportunities to make sure his cousin would meet with an accident.

Collins late honoured father had gleefully told him each time he had received a note regarding the birth of another Bennet daughter. Luck and God had been on the Collinses side because when there had been twins born to Mrs. Bennet, his father had told him how they had both been girls. It was right and just that entails always favoured males. Females were too weak-minded to ever be able to manage something as complicated as an estate, or anything else without the guidance of a man for that matter.

He had to admit that Lady Catherine with her high rank as a peeress and vast intelligence was a possible exception, but then again, she had her nephew to run the estate. However, Collins was sure the nephew made no decisions without consulting her first.

Biggs and Johns stood back while the parson lumbered his way off the gig's bench. They maintained stoic countenances no matter how much they felt like guffawing at the inept man .

Just as Collins reached the ground, he had another rather unpleasant shock. Two more rather brawny footmen arrived to take his trunk. They picked it up as if it weighed nothing and disappeared around the side of the house with it. He was about to object that due to his position his trunk should be carried in the front door, when he looked at the two mountainous men standing before him. He closed his mouth and said nothing.

"Follow us," Biggs commanded.

Inside the entrance hall Mr. Hill took the clergyman's outerwear, including his wide brimmed hat. He too schooled his features when he noticed the man's attempts to tame the few hairs he had on his crown to disguise the fact he was balding.

"Do you have a card, Sir?" Hill asked even though he was well aware who the man before him was.

"Why would I need a card?" Collins puffed himself up. This was not how he had imagined he would be received in his cousin's—soon to be his own—house. "Mr. Bennet is expecting me!"

"I do need your name to announce you, Sir," Hill averred.

"Mr. William Collins," he stated churlishly.

The butler led him to a door and pushed it open. He announced the guest's name and then stood back. Collins had puffed up his chest in anticipation of finally being received as he believed was his due. As he looked at those standing before him, he froze and his bluster evaporated.

"Mr. Fitzwilliam?" Collins blurted out. "W-what brings you to my home…I mean my cousin's home?"

"Since when do I owe you an explanation regarding where I go or who I see? I did not realise I needed to report all of my friends' names to you for your approval," Richard barked.

Collins shrank back, the last thing he wanted to do was anger Mr. Fitzwilliam. It was an unforeseen complication. How was it his cousin was connected to his patron? Then he looked around, instead of five young ladies as he expected, he saw three and three unknown young men. He assumed one of the two older men was his cousin and the older lady his cousin's wife. He decided to take control back.

"William Collins at your service. Who are all these people in my future home?" Collins enquired. What he had not expected was laughter from those assembled in the room. Why was his patron joining in the amusement at his expense?

Bennet decided it was time to end the charade. "Mr. Collins, this is not now, nor has it ever been your future inheritance." Seeing the spluttering parson was about to object to his words, Bennet raised his hand and gave him a quelling look. "Besides Mr. Fitzwilliam, whom you already know, I will introduce those with whom you are unfamiliar before we proceed. I, as you may have guessed am your very distant cousin, Thomas Bennet, master and owner of this estate." Bennet saw Collins was about to interject. He nodded and Biggs and Johns stood either side of the man. It had the intended effect; Collins snapped his jaw closed. "My wife, Mrs. Priscilla Bennet, Mr. Philips, my solicitor, and his son Elias Philips, his head clerk." Bennet inclined his head to each he mentioned. "Now to our children."

A feeling of dread washed over Collins. Children ! It could not be, surely the other two younger men were married to some of the daughters. That must be it! Two daughters were simply not present.

"I did not realise two of your daughters are married, I had thought to come and admire them and select one to be the future mistress of my estate," Collins stated.

Of all of the possible reactions to his statement, laughter and giggles had not entered the lexicon of the reactions he assumed he would see. Collins looked at those in the drawing room with a befuddled look on his face. What was the joke? How had he missed it?

"None of my daughters are married!" Priscilla informed the dullard with a little asperity laced in her voice. "We," she inclined her head to her beloved husband, "have been blessed with five children, all of whom you see standing before you. Three daughters and two sons ."

For some moments, Collins could not react other than his mouth flapping open and closed and no sound being emitted. These must be changelings! His father had been clear the Bennets had only birthed daughters. That was it, they were imposters and William Clem Collins would not stand idly by while his birthright was stolen from him.

"Your attempt to make me recede by having these two imposters swapped for the daughters I know you had, will not succeed. You will not be gratified…" Collins closed his mouth before the next words were uttered when the footmen each gripped one of his shoulders.

"For reasons known only to himself, your father lied to you," Bennet stated slowly so the words would be absorbed by his idiotic cousin. "With each birth, including my sons, I notified your father because I was aware he refused to accept the true nature of the entail. I had believed, no hoped, once he was aware I had not one but two sons his delusion would die. I should have known it was too deeply rooted for him to accept reality." Bennet shook his head. He saw Collins was about to let loose a vitriolic response, so he looked to Biggs and Johns.

Collins felt the hands grip his shoulders harder. "You be silent ‘till Master done talkin'," Biggs growled in his ear.

Regardless of the outrage he felt, Collins knew he would be far worse off if he did not comply with the order from the terrifying man. He nodded his agreement to hold his peace, for now.

"Collins, unless you are blind you can see that Henry, my eldest, is the splitting image of me and Tommy has many of his mother's features in his looks," Bennet proceeded. "Not only that, we have statements attested to by Mrs. Brown, the midwife who delivered my children, as well as Mr. Jones, the local doctor who examined them soon after they were born. All of that being said, I never needed to substitute males for any of my daughters. The entail on this estate is not now, nor has it ever been, in favour of heirs male. Even had we, as you tried to imply we did, had been blessed with five daughters, nothing would have been different.

"Your belief you will ever inherit this estate or any other Bennet property is completely erroneous. Just because you want to believe something, does not make it true."

It felt to Collins like he was being pummelled by the big men on either side of him as verbal blow after verbal blow was landed by his cousin. Could it be his father had not told him the truth? Surely not.

"And I am supposed to take your word regarding the entail?" Collins bit out as he held onto a sliver of hope what he had just been told was not factual. He did not refer to the supposed sons as he knew not how to address that shocking revelation. It could not be all of the hopes and dreams for the Collins line to be landed had been for nought.

"No, you do not have to take my word," Bennet averred calmly. "Let me reintroduce you to Mr. Philips and his son, Elias. They have an official copy, as stamped genuine by the Court of Chancery, of the entail documents. As you are in fact not in the line of succession, I have no obligation to allow you to read the terms of the entail. However, if it will end this obsession the Collinses have had with my estate, I will do so." He nodded to Biggs and Johns who guided Collins to a settee.

It was hard to make his legs move as his whole world came crashing down around his head. Collins did not want to believe his father and grandfather before him had been so wrong about this subject. Once he was seated, the solicitor and his son sat on either side of him on the settee .

Elias Philips proffered the document. "You can see the seal of the Court of Chancery on each page," he pointed out. He opened the document to the second page. "Read this clause," Elias pointed to the relevant place, "and the next four."

Collins saw all of his dreams, and those of the Collinses before him, vanish in a puff of smoke. No matter how he wanted it to be otherwise, the entail was unambiguous. It was exactly as his cousin said, in fact, worse. Under the terms of the entail, a Collins could never own Longbourn, or even purchase all or part of the estate.

He looked across to where the Bennet sons were seated watching him intently. There was no denying they each looked like one of their parents. Based on the documents in his hand, his cousin had the right of it. He never had the need to prevaricate about the existence of his sons. That led Collins to ask himself why generations of his family had persisted in their insistence a Collins would inherit Longbourn one day. It was a question the answer to which William Collins could not divine.

All he could hope for now was he would be able to marry one of the daughters. Mayhap there was a path to inherit through his marriage. "I accept that the entail does not allow me to inherit and that you have two sons," Collins rasped out. The words stuck in his craw, but there was no getting around the facts.

"It is long overdue for that realisation, but I appreciate it nonetheless," Bennet inclined his head.

"Does the exclusion to inherit apply to a husband of one of your daughters?" Collins enquired hopefully. "As an honoured clergyman, I am an excellent prospect for one of them, and I do not care if they have small portions."

"Mr. Collins allow me to be rightly understood. You will not be permitted to importune any of my daughters with a proposal of marriage," Bennet barked. "My wife and I will never sanction a match where my daughters did not have an inclination to marry. You, sir, would never make any of them happy, and as such, there is nothing to speak of. Besides," Bennet looked from Mary to Fitzwilliam standing next to her, "one of our daughters will soon be unavailable for anyone else to marry."

"As to your question regarding a son-in-law inheriting, ignoring the existence of Henry and Tommy, for the same reason you are not in line to do so now, as you are not of the body of the current master of the estate, the answer is no," Philips related. "Marrying a Bennet does not make you one."

It felt like he had been punched in his belly as his last hope was gone. Collins slumped back against the backrest of the settee. What was he to do now? His cousin would not even allow him to propose to one of his daughters, never mind marry one. What a blow, they were all so beautiful. For a moment Collins considered a compromise, but he saw the way the giant footmen were watching him and that idea was quickly relegated to the rubbish.

"Mr. Collins, although you do not suit for one of my daughters," Priscilla added gently, "you are a clergyman and I am sure you will find a wife who will be happy to join her life with yours. It is certain God has ordained a match for each of us."

"You may remain at Longbourn tonight, but if you choose to be in Meryton for the length of time you mentioned in the letter, then you will need to decamp to the inn," Bennet stated. He saw his cousin was about to protest, and more than likely regarding the cost, so he continued before Collins spoke. "As we did not write to tell you not to come, I will pay for the room and board at the Red Lion Inn, that is, if you choose to stay in the area."

After a little cogitation in which he realised there was no good reason to remain at Longbourn and as his cousin would be paying, Collins agreed to decamp to the inn in the morning .

Now the question was, what to do about his future.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

After tea and refreshment, at which Collins had more biscuits and pastries than any other present, he followed Mrs. Hill up to his guest chamber to rest for a while so he could go over everything in his head again.

"It could have been more difficult for him to accept the truth than it was," Philips mused a few minutes after the drawing room door had been closed behind Collins.

"Now I will have to see if he finally decides to correct his deficiencies as a clergyman," Richard observed. "It will be interesting to note if he still behaves in such an obsequious manner in my aunt's presence after today.

"As the Collinses had clung to the fallacious belief for three or four generations, it must have come as a blow to this Collins that their beliefs had been constructed as a house of cards," Henry opined. "What motivated the father to dissemble to the son about us having been born?"

"We will never be sure as Clem Collins has been gone these four years, but I suspect it was related to his delusion he had inherited from his father before him," Bennet surmised.

Bennet thanked the two Philips men for being present and then the two boarded the Philips' carriage to make the one mile journey to their home. Cilla invited Richard to remain for dinner, something he agreed to without delay. Soon a Longbourn groom was on his way to Netherfield Park with the message.

It was not only the dinner, Mrs. Bennet set a very fine table, but the opportunity to spend more time in Mary's company.