NO PLACE LIKE HOME
Darcy regarded the man before him with a hidden cynicism.Why in heaven’s name is Bingley always gone when Collins appears on the doorstep?It was early for callers, although not terribly so. Mr Collins was clutching a letter in his hand as if it were a torch at midnight.
“Mr Darcy—my wife…she has asked for me! One of your servants delivered the letter from her this morning. I came as soon as I could.”
Mr Collins shoved an envelope at him. Darcy did not deign to accept it, although he was relieved at its existence.
“I will send a servant up to notify her of your arrival,” he said.
It was not long before Mrs Collins appeared; her complexion was much paler than it had been the evening before, Darcy noticed. Still, she was probably very close to being fully recovered.
“My darling!” Mr Collins cried, hurrying to her. “Here, sit. Should you be up?”
“I am well enough,” she said softly. “I find myself fatigued of lying abed, and have longed to take a turn out of doors.”
Darcy had been about to excuse himself to give the couple privacy, but at these words, he hesitated. An idea had been brewing in his mind, and this seemed an opportunity to put it into action. Before Mr Collins could propose a walk in the garden, he made his own suggestion.
“I was just about to take my cattle out for an airing, and have the chariot brought around,” he said. “I daresay if you bundled up warmly, it would be a pleasant morning for a drive, and perhaps a visit with a neighbour. The sun is out, and the weather is fine.”
“Oh, but I am not certain whether Mr Jones would approve,” Mr Collins worried aloud.
Mrs Collins appeared surprised at the proposal—as indeed she should have been. Darcy had made no such overtures before, and nothing about his behaviour in the past suggested an intent to give the Collinses any preponderance of his attention.
Because he was nothing if not direct, however, he gave them yet another reason to agree.
“I have heard some of the more foolish gossip,” he added. “It seems to me that the neighbourhood would do well to see a united front within the Collins family.”
Mr Collins appeared confused, but in Mrs Collins he saw recognition of at least one of his reasons for offering. Mrs Bennet had claimed that her marriage was at risk and that Bingley’s flirtation had progressed beyond mere civility; here was an opportunity for her to be seen out and about with her husband, quelling any such rumours. Furthermore—and it was simple fact, and not a boast—she doubtless would like for them to be seen in Darcy’s company. After all, he was atthe pinnacle of the social stratum of Meryton and not unknown amongst theton; being seen with him on a pleasure outing would be a boon to anyone’s reputation.
“I do want to go,” she said, looking up at her husband pleadingly. “I am feeling so much better today.”
“Whatever you wish, my dear,” Mr Collins agreed, putting forth no further arguments—it plainly not being entirely lost upon him, either, the visible advantages of being seen in such friendly association with a Darcy.
Very quickly thereafter they were on their way, the three of them tucked in upon the chariot’s broad bench. His matched team made good time, and it was not long before they were trotting up the drive at Stoke, where they greeted warmly by Fanny Ashwood and her husband—a slight, older man with a weak chin and balding pate. A maid brought in refreshments—which he noticed Mrs Collins hardly touched, while Mr Collins indulged with enthusiasm. The Ashwoods repeated, again and again, their joy at seeing Mrs Collins looking so well; she agreed that she was longing to be back at Longbourn, and despite Mr Jones’s advice that she stay abed, she was done with illness and would return home this very day.
This particular outcome was not to Darcy’s liking, but he was stoic in company, realising he ought to have expected it.
After their visit with the Ashwoods was concluded, and rather than returning to Netherfield immediately, Frost turned onto a side lane that was a little too narrow for the carriage, and so rutted that before long Mrs Collins was looking askance at him for sending them on this course. It was not far from Stoke—it would have been much quicker, in fact, had they gone on foot rather than taking this track, the only vehicle access. It was certainly out of sight of all themain thoroughfares, remaining practically hidden from view until one was nearly upon it. They pulled up at a derelict cottage that appeared as though it was in danger of toppling over. The roof had a very obvious blackened hole on one side, improperly boarded. One of the beams holding up the porch was damaged, and a makeshift post appeared to be holding it up. Other boards were missing or rotten, and the whole thing listed worryingly to one side. The paint was peeling, the signs of decay obvious. “I find this house a marked contrast from the impressive estate we have just visited. Mr Collins, would you allow any of your tenants to live in such conditions?”
Mrs Collins, he noted, bit her lip, looking somewhat alarmed. Mr Collins was indignant at the very suggestion. “It is ridiculous. It ought to be knocked down or rebuilt, one or the other. The boards covering that roof are, plainly, not performing their office. Water is probably flowing in with every rain, rotting the place from the inside out and causing further damage.”
“I cannot imagine what desperation would drive a person to live in such a wreck of a home,” Darcy added.
Mr Collins shook his head in abject disapproval.
It was Mrs Collins who seemed to hold an inkling of what this little detour might mean. “This is not…not Lizzy’s home, is it?”
“It is,” he confirmed.
“I had no idea,” she murmured.
“Oh, you had an idea. You simply did not wish to think about it,” he charged, struggling to control the fury coursing through him.
Mr Collins began sputtering. “What? Of course we did not know. We offered our home to her! She refused it!”
“She refused it after she heard how little she was wanted there.”
Mr Collins reared back. “It was unfortunate she chose to eavesdrop at a particularly vulnerable moment for Mrs Collins.”
