Chapter XXXVI

N othing could be more distasteful to Bennet than to brave the detestable Arthur Philips in his domain. Loath though Bennet was to suffer any further contact with the man, he also knew that there was little choice but to confront him, even on such questionable information as that presented by the news of George Wickham's meeting with him. There was nothing he could do to further punish Philips, Bennet knew, for he would deny everything, and no one would take the word of a man who was being transported for excessive debt and an attempt to abduct a gentlewoman. Hopefully, however, he would think twice before involving himself in another plot targeting Bennet's family. If Bennet achieved nothing more than that, it would be worth the trouble and degradation he would endure.

? "Do you wish for my company?" Darcy had asked. "He may not have much more respect for me than he does for you, but the word of a nephew of an earl might intimidate him into better behavior."

? "Perhaps I should join you too," offered Fitzwilliam. "If the nephew of an earl will affect him, I cannot imagine the son of an earl would go amiss."

? "I will own that I have no taste for this," said Bennet, nodding to each in turn. "I spent my life preaching forgiveness and mercy—threats do not come easily to my tongue. Yet, there is little other choice in this matter, for if I do nothing, my lack of response may embolden Philips."

? "If he even knows of his peril," rumbled Fitzwilliam.

? "There can be no doubt of it," disagreed Darcy. "Philips must know by now that we have apprehended Wickham and mean to see him pay the price for his actions. If he is a man of any intelligence, he must understand that we would learn of their association. For that matter, had Wickham any notion it would improve his situation, he would not hesitate to speak of his confederate."

? "Confederate is a strong term, Darcy," said Bennet. "I suspect Philips tried to use Wickham for his own ends, though I suppose the sentiment between them was mutual."

? Darcy nodded but did not respond. For several moments, Bennet considered what he must do, grateful to the other two men for their forbearance. In the end, he made the only decision he thought he could under the circumstances.

? "While I thank you for your offer, I believe I should confront him alone."

? This was how Bennet found himself standing outside Philips's establishment, wishing he were anywhere else, but knowing for his peace of mind and that of his daughters, there was no other choice. Bennet also found it necessary to moderate his anger toward Philips for putting him in this position—not only was the anger itself ungodly, but Bennet had preached that contention was of the devil from the pulpit more times than he cared to remember. Yet here he was about to put himself into a situation where contention was inevitable.

? To take his mind away from such thoughts, Bennet regarded the edifice before him. The building was clean and well maintained, appearing prosperous, yet not an establishment of a man of excessive wealth. This entrance led to the office—there would be another entrance, likely in the back, to the living quarters attached to the man's business. The one benefit of the arrangement was the ability to avoid the man's wife, who he had heard was rather silly. Philips had no children that Bennet had ever heard of, meaning his branch of the Philips family would die out with him, and he would leave the business to a clerk. Good riddance, Bennet supposed, for the Meryton Philipses—or at least the most recent two generations—had not been men of integrity.

? At length, knowing it was best not to loiter outside the shop, Bennet stepped forward and opened the door. It was best to say what he had to say and leave the man's presence. Forever with any luck.

? "Good day, sir," said a sandy-haired clerk when Bennet entered.

? Bennet judged the man to be perhaps five and twenty with pleasant features, a typical man of country law, learning the specifics of the law but with no flair for the subject. Bennet was familiar with such men, for he had been one as a parson, a man engaged in caring for his flock without the ambition to ascend into the upper echelons of the church.

? "Is Philips with a client?" asked Bennet, knowing it would be best to avoid any unnecessary chatter.

? The clerk appeared taken aback, though he did not falter. "No, he is busy on a matter of importance and has asked not to be disturbed."

? Bennet nodded. "Then I shall enter myself. A word of advice: make yourself scarce, for this is not a social call, nor will it be pleasant."

? Appearing to understand something of the situation, proving Philips had likely spoken of him, the man nodded and excused himself, moving to a part of the office as far from Philips's door as he could. He did not, Bennet noticed, look back even once, proving that he was an intelligent sort, and far more so than his master. Bennet ignored him, turning to the door before him, and after squaring his shoulders, entered the room without knocking.

? "I told you not to disturb me!" was Philips's snarl, delivered without bothering to even look up.

? "Yes, your clerk mentioned your instructions. He was intelligent enough to avoid trying to prevent me."

? Philips froze, and with exaggerated slowness inserted his pen into the inkwell. Only then did he look up, regarding Bennet with the same sneer he wore at their last meeting.

? "Bennet. I might not have thought you possessed the courage to beard me in my domain. Should you not be at your pitiful estate, playing at being a gentleman?"

? "Trust me, Philips," said Bennet, "I wish to be anywhere else than in your office. Unfortunate though it is that I must confront such a poor excuse of humanity as yourself, events left me little choice."

? Philips sniggered, a contemptuous sound. "Then perhaps you should be explicit. I have as little desire to be in your company as the reverse."

? "You know why I am here, Philips. In plotting against me, you did not take enough care to ensure no one knew of your meeting with Wickham."

? "Wickham?" Philips appeared deep in thought, but his sneer never wavered. "Is he not that new man of the militia? You should speak without disguise, Bennet, for I know little of him."

? Had Bennet not been aware of the man's character, he might almost have believed his protests. Philips was a smooth liar to be certain.

? "Oh?" asked Bennet, arching an eyebrow at Philips's dissembling. "I have it on good authority that he met with you in this very room, on the testimony of several of his compatriots. I also know of your little tête-à-tête at your wife's soiree."

? "What of it? Wickham approached me, wishing for advice on the matter of his inheritance and your friend Darcy. When he told me all, I sent him on his way with the knowledge that he had no standing to sue."

? "Is that all that happened? You know nothing of any further mischief Wickham planned? Plots against my daughters, perhaps?"

? "No," was Philips's curt reply. "If he has importuned one of your daughters, I am sorry for her, though I cannot say I am surprised, given their descent. The little baggage provoked him with her wiles I will warrant."

? Furious, Bennet put his hands on the desk and leaned forward, staring daggers into Philips's eyes. "Never speak of my daughters in such a way again. I am not a violent man, but I swear I will defend them if you so much as insinuate a stain on their honor."

? "I tire of this, Bennet," said the man in a show of nonchalance. "Let me be clear so you can leave me in peace. I know nothing of this Wickham's actions, whatever they comprised. As I have no desire to so much as speak to you or your daughters, you may be assured that I mean them no harm. Now, is that good enough or need I swear an affidavit attesting to my innocence?"

? Bennet eyed the insouciant man and shook his head. "Then I suppose I must accept your word, as strange as that may sound, for I doubt I will ever receive the truth from you. There is one more matter I must discuss with you, then I will join you in wishing we are never in each other's company again."

? "What is it then?"

? "The matter of Longbourn's disposition. I have proof of your grasping nature and that of your father in old Collins's hand. He left me a letter in which he betrayed the original conspiracy in which your father was complicit, and your own attempts to convince him to leave Longbourn to you."

? "What of it?" demanded Philips. "This must be no mystery to you. If I had gained access to Collins, feeble-minded like your grandfather, I would have succeeded, and you would even now be toiling in your pitiful parish, lording your supposed superiority over the poor souls unfortunate enough to live in range of your mutterings."

? The man's audacity knew no bounds.

? "Unlike you, Philips, I was content with what I had. I understood I should have been a gentleman, yet the church is an honorable profession. I was satisfied with that life and would have continued had matters been different, content with my lot. Being a man of conscience, I endeavored to discharge my duties to the best of my abilities.

? "The law is also an honorable profession. Unfortunately, there is nothing of honor in the character of the man occupying this office."

? Philips regarded Bennet with contempt mixed with fury. That he did not respond was a matter Bennet considered no less than fortuitous, for he did not think he possessed the patience to deal with any more of his contempt.

? "Understand that I am barring you from Longbourn forever. Do not presume to show yourself there again, or I shall call the constable to arrest you for trespassing. Never do anything to provoke me to move against you—keep my daughters' names out of your mouth, and never plot against them again. Should you do so, I will bring the full weight of every power I can muster upon your head. Since I count among my friends the son and the nephew of an earl, and the nephew will soon become a son by marriage, I advise you to fear my retribution. Consider this your only warning.

? "Furthermore, I suggest you keep your dealings with the gentlemen of the neighborhood strictly legitimate. While I have no notion of how you conduct your business, I shall not hesitate to inform my neighbors of the truth of your character should I hear anything of deceitful dealings with any of my fellows. Do not test me, Philips, or I shall ruin you."

? "Get out!"

? "Trust me, I have never been happier to leave a place in my life. Remember my warning, Philips, for it is not an idle one."

? With that, Bennet turned and with no further words, left Philips's office, closing the door behind him. Taking in a huge breath of relief, Bennet scanned the room, noting the clerk still occupied his position as far from the door as he could. A thought occurred to Bennet, and he approached the man.

? "Son, I have no notion how you get on with Philips," said Bennet, drawing the clerk's attention, "but if he gives you any trouble or is in any way difficult, or if he even reprimands you for allowing me to enter, seek me out. I have connections that can assist you in finding alternative employment."

? Bennet produced a card and presented it to the clerk, who took it reflexively, his eyes widening when he saw the name printed on it.

? "Philips is an acceptable mentor," said he, licking his lips in a clear sign of his nervousness.

? "Then I wish you well. If you ever require my assistance, please reach out. I will be happy to assist."

? With that, Bennet nodded to the man and let himself from the building.

"Collins," interrupted Bennet, "please, there is no need for such excessive praise. When you visited last month, you impressed me as a man who knows his duty and executes his position well. Since I must replace my current parson and you require a new position, it seems the perfect solution to both our problems."

? The way Collins regarded him, Bennet thought he was excited and uncertain how to release that excitement without the excessive praise that appeared to be part of his character. It had been a trifling matter in the end, for Bennet had sent a letter to the man now before him, offering him the position at Longbourn church, and had received an affirmative—and grateful—reply only a few days later. By Lady Catherine's admission to Darcy, she had wished to replace him, so Bennet supposed she also benefited from his offer, though he would not guess how she reacted to the news that Collins's new parish would be under Bennet's patronage. After a short time settling his affairs in Kent, Collins had arrived at Longbourn to take up his new position, and his excessive thanks were all that were effusive, obsequious, and extreme.

? "I do not know what to say, Cousin," managed Collins at length.

? Bennet eyed him, understanding that this was the crux of his problems, though he could not understand how Collins, with his upbringing, had grown to become so socially inept. He was, which left Bennet no choice but to try to teach him how to behave.

? "Let us sit, Collins," said he, inviting his cousin to take his chair. "Believe me when I say I do not intend to ridicule, but can I assume this inability to summon the proper response predates your acquaintance with Lady Catherine?"

? Though he grimaced at Bennet's question, Collins did not shy away from it. "From my earliest childhood, I have felt... awkward in the company of others, with little understanding of what I should do in many situations."

? "Did your father not teach you?"

? Bennet's question, curious not accusatory, prompted Collins to an honest reply.

? "My father had many sterling qualities, but he was always engaged in the parish's management and had little time for such lessons. The foundation of my knowledge of the word of God came from his mouth, which I used to gain entrance into the seminary. Beyond that, however, he left me to my own devices."

? It was not an unusual tale, Bennet supposed, though Collins's father had done him a disservice. There were many men who treated their work as more important than their children, immersing themselves in it to the detriment of their families. Collins, to his credit, spoke of it as a matter of fact and with no discernable resentment. That Collins was an excellent parson Bennet had already determined, even if he struggled to know what he should do in the face of problems—no one had all the answers to life's challenges, after all. For all that his father appeared to do for him in his life and the success he had achieved, it appeared the elder Collins failed in perhaps the most important duty a man had to his children—Collins had prepared his son to follow in his footsteps and become a parson, but in a real sense, he had never taught his son how to be a man.

? "Then it appears you have some learning to do, Cousin," said Bennet aloud.

? "Learning?" asked he, appearing confused.

? "Do not concern yourself over it. Mr. Smith, your predecessor, is a good man who has many years of experience and wishes to take you under his wing until you learn what you need to know about the parish. If you watch him, I am certain you will learn how to comport yourself through his excellent example. I am also eager to assist."

? "That is generosity itself!" cried Mr. Collins.

? "It is perhaps kind, Cousin," said Bennet, his tone rebuking Collins with no harshness. "It is also the duty of any man when confronted with a situation in which he may offer his assistance. Your father, it appears, failed to offer many of life's lessons. I shall not judge him, as I know nothing of his situation and your upbringing. To offer my patronage is no more laudable than a man caring for his wife and children or fulfilling his duty.

? "Now, the first lesson you must learn is how to offer thanks." Bennet grinned. "I have never met the lady, but I can imagine Lady Catherine expects excessive deference and receives it as nothing more than her due."

? "Yet, you say you have not met her."

? Bennet laughed, delighted that Collins had relaxed enough to voice a witticism.

? "Given what I heard from Darcy, it is not difficult to predict her behavior. Please understand that I am not like Lady Catherine; I do not require disproportionate praise, nor do I expect flowery statements designed to inflate my ego. When another does something for you, offer thanks, but do so in an unpretentious manner. That shows gratitude far more effectively than grandiose statements, which can often appear contrived."

? The light of understanding shone in Collins's eyes. "Thank you, Bennet, I shall accept your advice in the manner you offered it."

? "Excellent! Now, I believe Mr. Smith is eager to make your acquaintance. Shall we repair to the parsonage?"

? Collins voiced his agreement using succinct words that were almost sensible, and they departed from Longbourn. Given his eagerness and willingness to receive instruction, Bennet was certain that Collins would prove to be an excellent spiritual guide for the parish. With a sensible wife, he would go far. Bennet did not consider himself a matchmaker, but perhaps he could guide Collins in this as well.

In time, Bingley hastened to add to the stable of engaged men living at the two estates in Hertfordshire and Mr. Bennet was pleased to give his assent to the younger man. From what Elizabeth could tell, her father had kept to his promise to go easy on Mr. Bingley, given their agreement when he proposed to the other man's eldest sister. Elizabeth knew he had enjoyed himself much more at Mr. Darcy's expense when giving his consent, but she was not of a mind to press him on this matter. Two weeks after Mr. Collins's arrival, Longbourn welcomed a most surprising visitor.

? "I thought to come and offer my apologies in person," said Lord Matlock after Mr. Darcy performed the introductions. "My sister was wrong to involve herself in the disposition of your estate, especially considering her reasons were no less than farcical."

? "Yes, well, as I have told Darcy here—" Mr. Bennet exchanged a grin with his future son-in-law "—every family can boast a member they might prefer not to acknowledge."

? "Never were truer words spoken." Lord Matlock shook his head in exasperation. "What is even more galling is my other sister, Darcy's mother, was not like Catherine, for she was a lovely woman, unassuming and pleasing to all. How they got on so well I shall never know, for there were no two sisters more dissimilar.

? "Of the matter of her challenge of ownership of the estate, you may rest assured that I instructed Catherine to desist and warned her of the consequences of disobeying me in this matter."

? "Thank you, my lord. Now that my cousin is out of her sphere of influence and will not support her, all her schemes are at an end. But I thank you for acting to curb her."

? "It is far from the first time and will not be the last."

? Lord Matlock paused and gazed around the room, noting the composition of the party, their positions, and closest partners. Mr. Darcy was with Elizabeth, and Jane and Bingley were together as always. As Louisa was with her father and the three unmarried and unattached ladies were in close conference together, no one who was not a simpleton could misunderstand the arrangements and not draw certain conclusions. The earl proved that he possessed ample powers of discernment.

? "Pardon me if I am stating the obvious, but I sense an intelligent hand at work. Darcy, is there something of which you have not informed me?"

? Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bennet shared a look and burst into laughter, the rest of the company looking on with amusement.

? "I had wondered how long it would be before you noticed it, Uncle."

? The earl leaned back in his chair showing Mr. Darcy a mask of disapproval, though belied by the twinkling of his eyes. "So there is."

? "There is, indeed, my lord," said Bennet with aplomb. "Not only has Miss Bingley favored me by accepting my suit, but it appears I am to gain sons-in-law soon thereafter."

? "The same ceremony would be my preference," interjected Mr. Darcy.

? "As I already said, I will not marry in the same ceremony as my daughters. I mean to give them away to their future husbands, and I cannot do that if I am a participant."

? "When did this happen, Darcy?" asked the earl, ignoring the banter between them.

? "The day after my return from Kent," replied Mr. Darcy.

? "Then I suppose I must thank you for refraining from informing me until after I confronted Catherine. I must be even more grateful you have not yet informed her. Given her general demeanor and the offense she dwelt upon ad nauseam, I cannot imagine her anger should she have known of your engagement to a woman who is not Anne."

? "I would not do that to you."

? "Good. Though I hope you will forgive me, I shall leave you to your own devices, for she will be impossible. Please inform me of when you mean to tell her, for I must visit the estate in Ireland; I suspect I will appreciate the barrier of a sea between myself and Catherine when she learns of your intention to end all her cherished hopes."

? "That is wise, Uncle. I shall be certain to let you know of it at the first opportunity."

That was not the end, of course. Darcy's acquaintance with his uncle was of such intimacy that he had predicted his lordship's reaction, despite Lady Susan's pledge of support. The opportunity for Lord Matlock to voice his concerns arrived that night after they returned to Netherfield. As the rest of the company had retired, his uncle sought him out in his chambers for a private conversation, a bit of restraint Darcy appreciated, though he did not expect their meeting to devolve into an argument.

? "You know why I am here, Nephew, so I shall not sport with your intelligence and prevaricate. I will own that Susan mentioned something of the possibility of you returning to London engaged, and she even said something last week, I must suppose after you confirmed your engagement. While I might wonder why you did not inform me directly, it was easier to allow Susan to confront me with it. I suppose, now that I think on it, she failed to explain the truth without disguise for some mischievous reason of her own, likely wishing me to discover it myself. Now that you confronted me with the reality, I must ensure that I am satisfied with your reasons for acting as you have."

? "My reasons are simple, Uncle," replied Darcy. "Miss Elizabeth holds my heart, and I offered for her because of it. You know I do not appreciate most of society and had little success finding a wife amongst the morass of young ladies on the hunt for a husband."

? The earl shook his head. "Yes, I know it well. Your characterization of society is nothing less than a generalization, Darcy. Not all young ladies are selfish and grasping—there are excellent ladies among them."

? "There is no need to state it, Uncle, for I am not unaware. Yet I will stand by my opinion that Miss Elizabeth is at least the equal of any of them, and far superior to most, notwithstanding her position in society."

? It was several moments before the earl responded, his earnest regard suggesting he wished to further state his point but had no wish of offending.

? "Please pardon me, Darcy, for I found your young lady engaging and intelligent. However, though she is the daughter of a gentleman by the technical definition, she was not born to the estate. Are you certain you have chosen correctly?"

? "I am," said Darcy with no trace of hesitation. "You are familiar with the Bennets' history, Uncle, and you know that had Mr. Collins not stolen the estate from the Bennets, Miss Elizabeth would have been a gentlewoman from birth. Given this and her father and grandfather's position as parsons, I do not consider her as lately raised to the status of a gentlewoman. By demeanor, manners, comportment, intelligence, accomplishment, and all other factors that matter, she is a gentlewoman."

? "I can see you are determined, not that I would have thought anything else." The earl nodded and rose. "Then I offer my support."

? Lord Matlock grinned and added: "As Susan has already promised her support, there is little I can do, regardless. She will be a sensation if nothing else; my wife will take great pleasure in parading her before all the sour matrons and debutants who failed to catch you."

? "If you say that as a compliment," said Darcy wryly, "I am afraid you missed your mark. I shall be proud of Miss Elizabeth regardless, so I suppose it is of little matter."

? "That is the spirit, son! Now that I think on it, I am anticipating this more and more all the time. It is only unfortunate that we must wait until the season next year to introduce her."

? "If you will pardon me, I shall disagree."

? "As I knew you would."

? The earl laughed and excused himself, citing his need to find his bed and depart in the morning.