If that was not bad enough, his aunt and uncle had not minced words about his shortcomings as a master and father.
It was more than twenty years past when Uncle Henry pointed out that a Collins could never inherit Longbourn, his excuse for not troubling himself with the estate had been negated, yet he had not changed anything.
What smarted more than anything was when both Aunt Felicity and Uncle Henry told him that their late brother, his father, would have been ashamed by the way he behaved. However, that was not enough to motivate him to leave hischair and take charge of his estate like a good master should. Regardless of what had been said, he still sat in his study, a book in one hand and a glass of port in the other.
The problem of how to get Fanny to amuse him was one for another day. Nothing he had attempted so far had borne fruit.
At least, silly Lydia was still indulged by her mother and provided a certain level of entertainment. Unfortunately, other than being brash, vulgar, and at times, crude, his youngest daughter had done nothing too amusing of late. He was sure in time she would.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Richard Fitzwilliam was seated in his study inspecting his main ledger when his butler entered, and after a bow proffered him the salver which contained a missive.
He removed the item and thanked his butler. Richard examined the seal. It was a de Bourgh crest, but the one Anne used. Why would Anne be writing to him, unless it was his aunt having forced her daughter to seal the missive and write the direction. That thought almost caused him to tear the epistle into pieces and toss them into the fireless grate in his Rumford fireplace.
He stayed his action and decided to read it, just in case it truly was from Anne herself. Richard broke the seal and opened the letter. He was pleased he had not given in to his first instinct. It was written in Anne’s hand.
26 July 1811
Rosings Park
Richard:
I need you to save me. Before I elaborate, I have sent expresses to your father, William, and Albert de Bourgh.
In a desperate attempt to retain Rosings Park,mydearmother is scheming to attempt to marry me to her idiot parson. To that, she has appointed, without the authority to do mind you, a man so obsequious that he would make her normal sycophants seem like they had a backbone.
She tried to demand that he marry me and conduct the ceremony as well. As much as he is a buffoon, Mr Collins, that is his name, has told Mother that the wedding would not be valid unless performed by another clergyman. He has apologised more than 100 times that he is unable to follow her orders. I know not who is more upset he is unable to do as she demanded, her or him.
As you and Albert are closest (your estate is closer than any of the other family properties and Albert is in Canterbury), I ask you to come put an end to this madness as soon as may be.
It is urgent because I am sure my mother is seeking some clergyman of low morals who will marry us without my consent. I also believe that with some more browbeating, Mr Collins will eventually agree to her demands, as I am certain she will be unable to find another dishonourable clergyman to perform the travesty of a ceremony.
With cousinly love,
Anne
As he stood, Richard pushed his chair back with such force it banged against the bookcase behind him. He walked over to the one wall and removed his sabre in its scabbard from the mounting on the wall. He also shoved a pistol into his belt.
His aunt’s greed had pushed her too far this time. She was fit for Bedlam, and Richard meant to defend Anne. His first stop would be the parsonage at Hunsford to run off the lackey, then he would confront his aunt. With any luck, de Bourghwould be on his way soon.
In case his aunt planned to order some of her footmen to stop him, Richard had several of his footmen, including the two largest, former sergeants in the army—John Biggs and Brian Johns—ride with him. The two were mountains of men and would intimidate any of his aunt’s minions even without the additional men. As he rode, he thanked his late uncle for giving him an estate seven miles from Rosings Park.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
It took less than an hour to reach the parsonage attached to the Hunsford church. His sabre prominently displayed, the two giant footmen behind him, while the other three men remained with the horses, Richard pounded on the parsonage’s door. A woman, the cook and housekeeper in one person, identified herself after she nervously opened the door.
“I am here to see Mr Collins. Is he home?” Richard demanded.
“Aye sir, he be in his study preparing for his wedding,” the woman stated. Seeing the serious looks on the men’s miens, the servant began to sweat and shake.
“You are not in trouble,” Richard said gently. He had not meant to scare the servant in this fashion, that was to be reserved for the bumbling parson. “Go about your business, and we will see your master. Which way to the study?”
The relieved woman pointed down the hallway and then scurried away.
His aim was to put the fear of God into the sycophant, so Richard kicked the door of the study open, causing the corpulent, sweating, malodorous man to jump and begin sweating even more profusely.
“H-how d-dare y-you?” Collins stammered. As soon as he noticed the giant men behind the one who had kicked in his door, he shrank back in fear.
