Darcy bit back the angriest of the retorts he wished to make, forcing a calm he did not feel—and simply looked at the pair of weak-willed ninnies sharing his carriage.
“Fanny said it was needful of repair,” Jane said weakly. “She said it was Lizzy’s own pure obstinance keeping her from living at Stoke. That it would be a Christian act, to just let her learn her lesson and live in the dower house until she comes to her senses.”
“Have you ever known your sister to be stupid? Ridiculous? So stubborn that she would deliberately put herself in harm’s way to prove a point? Or,” he bit out, “could it have seemed to her that anything at all was better than putting herself entirely in the power of people who had already proven themselves greedy and selfish?”
Mrs Collins’s eyes were brimming with tears—not snotty-nosed sobbing, either, he noted. She even cried prettily. Mr Collins was torn between comforting his wife and defending their honour.
“I say, sir, we did not know how bad?—”
“How did I, a stranger to this area, learn? I will tell you how I discovered it. I asked. Ivisitedit. I saw it for myself. It is obvious you have never once called upon her since she was widowed.”
“Her marriage was not her choice,” Jane cried. “Her widowhood was a release! It meant freedom for her. It was not the same as losing someone she loved.”
Darcy’s tone was arctic. “’Tis simply unfortunate that this ‘release’ from a man whom she had cared for, for years, also meant losing her home, her place in the community, and learning that the family whom she loves chose to replace all tender feeling for her in favour of gossip from Fanny Ashwood.”
Mrs Collins buried her face in her husband’s shoulder. “I want to go home,” she sobbed, the sound muffled. “Please, take me home to Longbourn.”
24
PLANS UNVEILED
Naturally, Darcy had no intention of returning his passengers directly to Longbourn; for one thing, Mr Collins’s carriage was still at Netherfield Park. For another, he felt they owed Elizabeth more than to abandon her now. They had travelled perhaps three miles before he spoke, waiting until Mrs Collins was at least no longer crying pitifully.
“Perhaps you are wondering why I would involve myself in a matter that, to all appearances, is none of my business,” he said into the quiet surrounding him. “I shall attempt to explain. From the very beginning, from the first moment I may almost say, of my acquaintance with her, Fanny Ashwood’s manners impressed me with the fullest belief of her arrogance, her conceit, and her selfish disdain of the feelings of others. Succeeding observations have built annoyance into a nearly immoveable dislike. An injustice to one of your family members has been perpetrated almost before our very eyes, and I despise injustice. Mr John Ashwood was requiredby law and by honour to provide the dower house for your sister—and to provide it in a liveable condition. Instead, his wife has been allowed, almost encouraged, to spread her malicious nonsense, without a soul standing up to her.”
He allowed his words to hang in the air, but then delivered to them a more palatable opinion. “You are indisputably the leading inhabitants of this neighbourhood. I felt confident that if the Collins-Bennet family truly understood how awful her living situation is, they would see at once that matters cannot stand as they are now.”
“Of course we will not allow it to continue,” Mr Collins said, clearly glad to have an opening to defend himself. “Now that we know her plight, we shall insist she come home to Longbourn.”
“That of course is one option for her.”
Both Mr and Mrs Collins looked at him blankly. “What other option is there?”
“Why, I wonder, should the John Ashwoods be relieved of all responsibility? They have betrayed the Ashwood family name, and many in the community have, thus far, blamed the widowed Mrs Ashwood for their failures.”
“I agree,” Mr Collins said, nodding almost eagerly. “It is not right.”
“Upon my first introduction to the community, Mrs Elizabeth Ashwood was described to me as an eccentric, over-proud female who snatched up a wealthy if elderly husband when her father was dying.”
“That is not true,” Mrs Collins protested immediately. “Papamadeher marry Mr Ashwood.”
That is not quite true either, Darcy thought, but since it was not quite false, he let it go in favour of his broader objective.
“I was told,” he continued, “that she was excessivelyspoilt throughout that marriage, and henceforth refused to share her home with the new mistress of Stoke out of jealous pique. It is said that her aim is to make her relations appear awful in order to force them to build a new, grander home, when all the while she is more than welcome at Stoke, and that Ashwood is put in the position of either caving to her ‘impossible’ demands, or appearing mean before others. These observations are, plainly, the work of her chief detractor, Mrs Fanny Ashwood.”
“It is difficult to believe that Fanny could have said such things,” Mrs Collins objected, although her protest was delivered uncertainly.
“On the contrary, after observing her only briefly, I find it the easiest conclusion to draw,” Darcy challenged. “She simply worked upon you in a different fashion. Come now, you must have heard some of the whispers that have been circulating about her.”
“I have always refused to discuss Lizzy with anyone.”
“Including your mother?”
Mrs Collins looked at her feet. “Mama has always been too severe with Lizzy. She does not mean half of what she says, and I pay little attention to her complaints.”
Darcy held onto his patience with effort. “Do not you realise that between your mother’s ‘complaints’ and the Ashwoods’ poisonous rumours, it has been far too easy to relegate your sister to the edges of society? She is barely accepted or thought acceptable, and except for her own inherent goodness, she might already be ostracised by everyone!”
Mrs Collins looked near to bursting into tears again, and so he plunged ahead. “Your offer to bring her home to Longbourn is an excellent idea. I only think it best you telleveryone who will listen that you feel terrible about ruining Mrs Ashwood’s independence solely because her husband’s family refused to provide her a watertight home. My idea is not a grand one. John Ashwood isnotimpoverished. Heclaimsto be a gentleman. He can and should repair that house, bring it up to an acceptable standard. Not only that, but he should repair the adjoining stables, and make a vehicle and coachman available for her use. Can it have escaped you that she was required to walk to Netherfield to see to your comfort? That she must beg rides from neighbours?”
