Collins accepted with alacrity, feeling the compliment ofreceiving such notice keenly.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
“Mr Jacob Whitlow, emissary of the Right Reverend Grace, the bishop of Kent, and Mr Collins,” Rosings Park’s butler intoned.
Whitlow raised his eyebrows as he watched the way Mr Collins bowed repeatedly to the lady sitting on her version of a throne, and then her parson remained in his bow waiting for her to acknowledge him. Whitlow gave a normal bow and waited.
Out of the corner of his eye, Collins could see the way his fellow clergyman was disrespecting his patroness. Just before he was about to say something, Lady Catherine greeted him, and quite deservedly, sniffed towards Mr Whitlow. As he stood up, Collins could tell how annoyed his patroness was at the rudeness of the other clergyman. To make up for it he bowed a few more times.
“I see that the letter which caused the Bishop to send me hither understated rather than overstated the problem we have in the parish of Hunsford,” Whitlow announced. “Mr Collins, do you report what your parishioners tell you to Lady Catherine?”
“And why should he not? I am a peer of the realm and entitled to know all about those I rule over,” Lady Catherine insisted imperiously.
“I have heard that your sermons emphasise the deference to be paid to your patroness, and why it is the parishioners’ duties to tell you all your patroness desires to know, is that true?” Whitlow addressed Collins, ignoring the lady’s nonsense for the nonce.
“Why yes, it is ordained that I must do my duty to Lady Catherine,” Collins stated proudly. He had almost forgotten why he had come to see the great lady. “My cousin and the courts ignored you, Lady Catherine. Against your commands,they have stolen my estate from me.”
“This is not to be borne!” Lady Catherine screeched. “Have the curate I approved of summoned, and then you will join me when we go put these nobodies in their places…”
“Lady Catherine,” Whitlow interjected. “As of this day, you are barred from appointing anyone to a position in the church. You and this poor excuse for a clergyman have broken church law with regards to confidences between a parishioner and a clergyman. In addition an uneducated woman like yourself is not qualified to write a receipt, never mind a sermon to enrich the spiritual wellbeing of a flock.” Both Lady Catherine and Collins had similar looks of shock on their countenances while their mouths hung open. Whitlow continued on while he had silence. “You madam are the wife of a knight so you are a commoner, not a peer. The title you retained from being born the daughter of an earl is nothing but an honorific.”
He turned to Collins. “You have broken more canon law than I care to enumerate. Once I make my report to the Right Reverend Grace, the bishop of Kent, losing your parish will be the least of your worries. You worship a mortal above our Lord God, and that, sir, is heresy. If you are not defrocked, I will be surprised, further to that, I cannot rule out excommunication!”
“B-but s-she t-told m-m-me s-s-s-she w-would s-s-sack m-me,” Collins stammered out.
“If you knew anything about church law you would know a living is for life and only your Bishop may remove you, as I am sure he will. You two have made a mockery of the institution of the church and all for which it stands! It gives me no pleasure to speak to a lady in this manner, but in using that appellation for you, I am applying it liberally. In all my years of serving in the Church of England, never have I been so disgusted by aso-calledmember of the clergy! I take no leave of either of you! I send no compliments to you from mybishop. Neither of you deserve such attention. The bishop, nay the whole church is most seriously displeased!” With that the clergyman spun on his heel and marched out of the drawing room leaving two stunned people behind him.
“How dare you allow that man to speak to me in that fashion,” Lady Catherine screeched as soon as she found her voice.
All Collins could do was allow his mouth to flap open and closed as he attempted to replay the events from the time he received the letter stealing his birthright from him until this very moment. Lost in his own world, Collins slowly turned and exited the drawing room.
“Where do you think you are going? I am not finished with you yet! Did I give you leave to go, and how dare you show your back to me?” Lady Catherine ranted.
Anne de Bourgh was pleased no one had noticed her sitting quietly with Mrs Jenkinson while her mother and Mr Collins performed. This had been most amusing, and with the way the two behaved, that was really saying something. She had much about which to write to Uncle Reggie. It was time to put her plans into motion before her mother made the whole of the family look ridiculous, or even more so.
She had a feeling her mother had finally slipped the final bonds which tethered her to the rational world.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
It had begun to snow, mixed in with sleet before Collins was halfway back to the parsonage. Earlier when he stumbled out of the manor house, he had not bothered to take his hat, gloves, or coat. As he walked aimlessly towards the groves rather than the parsonage, he tried to understand how things had gone so very bad for him.
Had he not listened to his late father and revered those who were ranked higher than himself in society? Even though he had barely passed his classes at school, and then theseminary he had attended, he had done so. It was not his fault he had not been offered a curacy like those who had been in his class. This fact left him with only one option, to take one at the school where he had studied. He had eventually taken his orders, on his third and final attempt. The Bishop had told him if he could not pass the examination, he would need to find a different profession. He had known just enough to be admitted into the holy orders. Then, he had been sent along with others to meet the mistress of Rosings Park who was seeking someone to prefer to the living in her gift.
He had been the one to be singled out by Lady Catherine! Since being in her employ, he had done everything she asked so that Lady Catherine would not remove him…he remembered what Whitlow had said. She could not sack him! Had he put his faith in one who was not worthy of it? Surely not, but then again, everything bad which was occurring was tied to his listening to Lady Catherine.
It was then he noticed how cold he felt. Collins found himself wandering along the path to the glade. Other than the noise the snow and sleet made as it fell against the stark leafless trees and the ground, there was no noise of insects or amphibians to be heard. Suddenly he felt very tired, so he sat on one of the benches around the frozen pond. All he needed was to rest for a little while…
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Lord Matlock, his two sons, and his nephew sat in a coach which turned into Rosings Park on the final Friday of January. They had wanted to arrive two days earlier, but thanks to the snow and sleet storm, the journey had been delayed.
As much as Darcy had been loath to leave Hertfordshire just when Miss Bennet was changing from full to half mourning, the duty to his family trumped his personal desires. Giana had remained behind, where she was being hosted at Longbourn until Darcy returned to the area.
On arriving under the large portico at the mansion, the four men were surprised to see what looked like a search party forming. “What is this about?” Lord Matlock demanded.
Recognising the Earl, the butler bowed before him. “We are trying to locate the parson, Mr Collins. The last time he was at the manor house was the afternoon the snow and sleet began. He left without his outerwear and never returned to the parsonage. He has not been seen since,” the butler reported.
Lord Hilldale, the Colonel, and Darcy decided to join the search while Lord Matlock followed the butler into the house as footmen removed the trunks from the coach and brought them inside.
