“B-b-but I am a member of the clergy,” he claimed as he tried to puff up his chest, “and my beneficent patroness, the honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, told me it was acceptable to condescend to visit my poor relations. She is never wrong.” It was a most ridiculous statement. No one is never wrong.
Before Bennet could respond in anger, the Earl had come outside unnoticed. “You ignorant sycophant, she is, in fact, neverright!” the Earl bit out; his anger controlled but awesome to behold.
“How dare you speak of that great lady in such a manner? Just who are you to slander my patroness so?” Collins demanded, obviously not recognizing the clues he was addressing a peer.
“As you do not have the sense to be introduced first, I will elucidate you. I am Reginald Henry Andrew Fitzwilliam, the Earl of Matlock and brother to your termagant of a patroness, and I am head of the Fitzwilliam family!” boomed the Earl.
At this, Collins bowed so low he almost kissed the ground. Everyone watching was amazed he did not actually topple over. “Y-y-your Lordship! I did not realise I was talking to an illustrious personage such as yourself. I would have never...” Collins stammered, not daring to look directly at the Earl.
“That is why sensible people wait to be introduced before they make fools of themselves.” The Earl cut the parson off, who was, it was noted, sweating even more profusely than before.
The man had turned white with fear, but once he regained some of his colour he turned to Bennet and requested a room so he could rest from the road. Now it was Bennet’s turn to let out a guffaw. “Are you really so dim as to think I would accommodate one who shows up at my door uninvited and so clearly unwanted?” he asked with little patience. “There is a perfectly good inn in Meryton.” The kindness of his granting the information was all he was willing to offer.
“Please, Cousin. I did not bring money for an inn, and I can ill afford it as well as food on a lowly parson’s income,” Collins begged, almost as if he was on the verge of tears, though it was hard to tell with the beading of sweat that had begun to trickle down his face.
Bennet pinched the bridge of his nose and conferred quietly with Fanny. “We will allow you three days, Collins, but there are conditions.” Bennet could see Collins was about to speak so he continued before the parson could utter a word. “Firstly, before you join us you will fully bathe, and you will do so every day you are here. Secondly, you will not importune any friends or family residing in this house or any of our guests, but most especially my daughters.
“I will never approve of you marrying anyone under my protection, and though the entail is a moot point now, I want you to know even were it not I would never have allowed such a union. These conditions are not open for discussion, so if you do not agree please leave now. If you stay and do not follow my conditions, you will be tossed out of the house forthwith.”
Collins looked affronted, but at least had the good sense to nod his agreement. He would follow the rules, for now at least. Hill led him to a guest chamber in an unoccupied guest wing, as far from the rest of the family and their invited guests as possible.
He was amazed at the apparent wealth the Bennets had; he could not fail to notice the house was more than triple the size his honoured father had told him it was. The furnishings and artwork spoke of wealth, and the number of servants he saw in their neat liveries rivalled, even exceeded, what he saw at Rosings. This was all meant to be his! He would do whatever he had to in order to ensure that it would be.
Collins was trudging behind the housekeeper, fuming at the disrespect he, a member of the clergy under the patronage of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, had been accorded. The more he thought about it, the more resentment built up in his narrow-minded brain and filled it to capacity because while he was certain he was above all reproach and had proven to all his superiority, the truth was he could only handle so much information at a time.
‘The nerve of my own relation! What disrespect he is showing to a man of the cloth and his heir no less! He would do well to please me, so I do not throw his spawn out as soon as he is dead. My beneficent patroness was correct, ladies as low born as his wife cannot bear sons, so just as my honoured father said the interlopers must be foundlings my cousin is using to steal what is mine.’ He was, even more, affronted when he observed his chamber was as far away from where everyone was housed as could be.
As he sat in his chamber fuming, waiting for his bath to be drawn. He was scheming, as much as one with such mean understanding could. “I will show them,” he said to the chamber walls, “this will all be mine, not bequeathed to some interloper who claims to be Bennet’s son.
“Lady Catherine and my esteemed departed father were correct! I will not stand idly by and allow conveniently found orphans to be passed off as sons to take what is mine by right. I will put an end to this travesty!”
Collins, who had been introduced to Tom and James when he arrived, ignored the family resemblance the boys had to their parents as this did not fit the narrative in his head. Tom resembled his father very closely while James had more of the Gardiner looks about him.
The fact there was visual as well as documentary proof of the twins’ parentage, verified and confirmed by the courts in the ill-fated attempt his father had made to challenge the breaking of the entail, would not deter someone like Collins. It was not often he let uncomfortable things like truth and facts get in his way. In this way, among many others, the sycophantic parson emulated his patroness.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
After his distasteful bath, which he was still fuming about being forced to take, he believed bathing above once a week was an unhealthy practice, Collins dressed in as clean a set of clerical garb that he had and exited his bedchamber.
The bumbling parson was shown to the yellow drawing room where all of the family and friends were assembled. He was the only one who did not know yet that in six weeks the Darcys and the Fitzwilliams would be family to the Bennets as well.
As he stumbled in past the doorway of the drawing room, looking very surprised at seeing so many extremely fashionable people therein, the Earl asked Bennet to introduce his cousin to his family, as was his right to request being the highest ranked member present.
Under normal circumstances, there was no formality between all of those assembled but given Collins’ seeming reverence for rank the Earl had decided to cow him some more. In turn, Collins was introduced to a Countess, a Viscount, and a Viscountess, the Darcys who were niece and nephew to his esteemed patroness, and then the rest of the Bennets.
He almost started to drool when he was introduced to the ladies, each one more lovely than the next. Lastly, he was introduced to the Gardiners, Bingley, and his sister Louisa and her husband, Harold Hurst.
As his small brain almost overloaded with so many highborn personages and so much beauty before him, he realised when Elizabeth Bennet was introduced, it was mentioned she was engaged to Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley. This he knew could not be so. Had not his esteemed patroness informed him many times that her nephew Darcy was betrothed to her own magnificent daughter, the Rose of Kent?
He determined there must be a mistake, or he was alarmed at what feminine arts and allurements the hussy used to make Mr. Darcy forget his duty to his aunt. “Did you say that Cousin Elizabeth is engaged to my esteemed patroness’s nephew, Mr. Darcy?” he asked indignantly.
“Yes, that is what I said,” Bennet agreed with an amused smile as he and the rest of the assembled people had a good idea of what was coming next.
“That must be a mistake,” he announced with more conviction than he had yet shown as he grovelled before Darcy. “My good sir, your most esteemed aunt and my beneficent patroness has told me many times you are, and have long been, engaged to her daughter, the Rose of Kent and the most magnificent jewel in the crown of the British Empire, Miss Anne de Bourgh.”
Before anyone else could refute the dim-witted parson, the Earl took it upon himself to intervene. “Collins, when you arrived and told me youresteemedpatroness is never wrong, what did I tell you?” the Earl demanded; his expression most stern.
“But surely, that was a jest, your Lordship?” Collins gushed, again profusely sweating as he genuflected.
