“I did, but before I could meet many of those in attendance, the bloody colonel kicked me out,” Saunderson replied sourly. “Just because I stared at this woman with a huge red mark on one cheek. It was before I could meet anyone of consequence other than Sir William Lucas, the one who is the magistrate.”
In Wickham’s mind, Colonel Forster was a prig in the ilk of Darcy. There was the so-calledHonour Pledgehe had had to sign—which he would of course ignore—and to send Saunderson away just because he was staring at some chit with a defect on her face was in his mind, uncalled for. Knowing he would gain no more useful intelligence—he could not approach Captain Carter or Colonel Forster with the type of questions he asked these two—Wickham made an excuse to leave before he would be expected to purchase ale for the other two men.
What he had learnt was enough. It was a town like he had imagined, so Wickham was certain he would greatly enjoy his time when the regiment moved to Meryton in Hertfordshire.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
With Lady Catherine’s order that he was not to call at her home before eleven in the morning, Collins left his parsonage the next day so that he would arrive at the mansion at exactly the permitted time.
The closer he got to the manor house, the more his anticipation for what the great lady would do for him built. He was certain that she would travel into Hertfordshire and forbid Cousin Bennet to marry, and of course, his cousin would have no choice but to obey. He conveniently forgot how his cousin had derided his noble patroness.
Unlike the time he had called before commencing his journey into Hertfordshire, the knocker was back up on the door. Collins used the knocker hanging from one of the two large oak doors.
The butler opened the door and looked at the sweating parson.
“I am here to see Lady Catherine,” Collins stated pompously. The butler should know that; why did he have to tell the servant his purpose?
“Please follow me to the mistress, Mr Collins,” the butler intoned.
Collins missed that the man had not said ‘to Lady Catherine.’ Seeing the big difference in the artwork and décor as they walked, Collins could not understand why everything was so much more subdued. Did not Lady Catherine tell him that the way she decorated was a mark of her rank and superior breeding?
The butler led the confused parson into the drawing room he was used to entering.
It all looked very different. Collins froze. Where was Lady Catherine’s ornate chair? Why did the furniture and décor in the room look so different? Where was the lady herself, and why was he only seeing Miss de Bourgh, Mrs Jenkinson, and two people, a man and woman, unknown to him? He remembered himself and began to bow in the manner his patroness demanded. The fact she was absent did not stop him.
“Mr Collins, are the King or Queen present?” Anne asked firmly.
“Why, n-no, Miss de Bourgh. Why would you ask that, and where is my beneficent patroness?” Collins managed, his confusion was growing.
“First, the way Lady Catherine demanded you bow is reserved for royalty, so by her requiring you bow in that way, and you acceding to her demands, you were both technically committing treason.” Anne had to force herself not to laugh when she saw the look of abject terror on the parson’s face.
“As to where Lady Catherine is, she is in an asylum for the insane,” the man drawled.
“How dare you jest about that great lady, a Peer of the Realm, in that disrespectful manner. You dare address me when I have not asked to be introduced to you?” Collins blustered. He could not believe that his patroness was insane.
“Anne, will you introduce us to this oddity?” Matlock requested.
Before Collins could reprimand the unknown man for speaking to Miss de Bourgh so informally, or the older lady for smiling at him, Miss de Bourgh spoke.
“Uncle Reggie and Aunt Elaine, this is Mr William Collins, the rector of the Hunsford church, the one who thinks that my mother walks on water. Mr Collins, may I make known to you my uncle and aunt, Lord Reginald Fitzwilliam and Lady Elaine Fitzwilliam, the Earl and Countess of Matlock,” Anne introduced smugly.
Collins did the only thing he could, he fainted.
When Collins was revived, he was seated on a chair—it had taken four footmen to get him off the floor—and to his chagrin, his humiliation had not been a dream.
“Mr Collins, I need you to listen to me without making a comment until I have said what I need to say,” Matlock commanded.
All Collins did was nod his head silently as he shook with fear.
“My niece spoke the truth.” Matlock stated succinctly. “My sister is in an asylum, and there she will remain until the end of her days. As it is a family matter, I will not go into the reasons; you will just have to accept there was sufficient justification for us to do what we did. You were following a false god. One who stole from you in more ways than one. Firstly, rather than you paying her half of your annual income, she was supposed to pay you two hundred pounds per annum in addition to what you earned from tithes and the glebe. She was effectively pilfering four hundred pounds per annum from you. Then, there is the money you thought she was investing for you. She did not; Lady Catherine actually used your money to buy more hideous artwork. All of her gaudy, classless, and ostentatious items are to be sold. As soon as that occurs, the money she stole from you will be returned. Did you never wonder why she would not allow you to ask questions?”
Not knowing if he was allowed to speak, Collins nodded his head.
“Now, ask what you will,” Matlock allowed.
“I needed Lady Catherine to stop my cousin…” Collins related what he had been about to ask of his former patroness.
“Firstly, had my sister still been mistress here and tried to forbid your cousin from remarrying, she would have been laughed out of your cousin’s home for the same reason that I assume you were, Mr Collins. Neither of you has standing to deny your cousin the right to remarry. As the estate is entailed, it cannot be your birthright. You are the heir presumptive, not the heir apparent,” Matlock explained. “Also, before I forget, my sister was never a peer, she was just like you, a commoner.”
