As the lady had never had a man who was interested in her regardless of her dowry, she responded positively to William’s overtures.
Her father and brothers were very protective of Imelda. They would not separate William Bennet from her because she thought herself in love, but one of the sons traced his sister’s suitor back to Meryton, and to Longbourn. It was there he learned about William Bennet’s penchant for gambling.
Armed with that knowledge, Mr Collins had an ironclad settlement drawn up. Some of Imelda’s dowry was used to purchase a farm just outside of Faversham, on the opposite side of the town to Wild Oaks. The rest was placed in the four percents and for her lifetime, the balance would remain there, the interest to be used for her allowance. If she passed before her husband, the money would go to any children they had, and if there were no children, it would revert back to KingsleyCollins, or his son and heir, if he was no longer in the mortal world.
When William Bennet was told about the structure of the settlement, he had not been happy. However, as he was almost out of funds, he needed to marry the ugly woman, or he would be destitute: hence, he signed the settlement. They were married by common license a fortnight later and moved to the farm.
When the reason for the restrictive settlement was revealed as being due to what his father related about his gambling, he decided to change his family name to Collins. From that day, he was called William Collins, and the farm was Collins Farm.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
As one who blamed anything he did on others, his wife became a target for his scorn, and he treated her very badly. As much as Imelda’s father and brothers wanted to intercede, they knew that legally they could not.
Imelda birthed a son a little over a year after the marriage. A few years later, she became with child for the first time since birthing her boy, but neither she nor the babe survived. Right after she was laid to rest with her ancestors in the cemetery next to the church patronised by Wild Oaks, the Collinses associated with Wild Oaks broke any connection they had with William Collins. They were willing to see Imelda’s son, but in an act of selfishness, William refused to allow his son to associate with those who did not want to be in his own company.
Being one who did not want to accept responsibility for his own actions, Collins told his son, named Clem William, the tale of how his birthright had been stolen from him. The story was one he created of whole cloth once news that his father had entailed Longbourn reached him. That none of what hesaid was true, did not stop it becoming part of the family’s lore.
Even though the balance of his late wife’s dowry was still protected in the funds, rather than use any to educate his son, Collins took the quarterly interest and used it on himself. Nothing was used for his son, as had been intended. What he did not drink, he gambled. Thanks to an entail on Collins Farm, he could not pledge all or part of it to cover his debts, and neither could he sell it. The entail his father-in-law had put in place when he had purchased the farm would last for four generations.
Because he could not mortgage the farm, he borrowed money where he could. There were money lenders in Faversham to accommodate those who frequented the local gambling hell. Seeing that Collins more often than not was unable to pay all his debts, it was not an uncommon event to see William Collins battered and bruised at the orders of those to whom he owed debts of honour.
Before his son reached his majority, William Collins had been certain he was about to win and win big. That led him to borrowing a large amount from a new money lender, one who did not know him.
He borrowed more than two thousand pounds against his farm, all the while knowing full well that the farm could not be touched. Suffice it to say, he lost everything, and then some. By pledging more of his farm, another thousand pounds was borrowed to cover his losses and try to win back some. He lost it all again.
When the man tried to collect, and came to call in his debt, it was discovered he had been lied to. When it became clear that Collins was well aware that he was barred from borrowing against the farm, the creditor was not impressed. As soon as the money lender realised that the debtor would never have a way to repay a fraction of what he owed, he sent three of his most brutal men to go see Collins and express hisdispleasure.
The former Bennet, now William Collins, met his end at the hands of the three men working for the money lender. As the man was certain he would never see his money, ending Collins to make an example was the best value he would receive for his three thousand pounds.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Over the years, successive Collins men were formed in the mould of Clem William Collins, the son of the former William Bennet. That is to say they were nasty, abusive, and illiterate. No one after Clem William Collins knew of their connection to the Collinses of Wild Oaks, and the former never mentioned it to his wife and children. Hence, knowledge of their family in the area died when Clem William passed away.
The family who owned Wild Oaks may have made themselves known to their cousins had any of them been worth knowing. With the knowledge that that unfortunate branch of their family was a disgrace to the Collins name, any reference to a connection between the two families was erased.
The one thing each generation of the descendants of the late William Collins shared was a fervent belief in the tale of woe he had spun to his son. It passed from father to son in each successive generation. Not one of them ever questioned the family lore, no matter how outlandish it was. Instead, they blindly accepted that the Bennets were the devil and lived with the resentment it created.
By the time Clem Collins, who had become the owner of Collins Farm when his sire, who used to beat him and his mother regularly, married Ophelia Lester in late 1782, the belief that the Bennets hadstolenhis birthright was as true to him as was his breathing.
His wife became with child a few months after theirwedding and on the fifteenth day of December 1783, a son arrived in the world. He was named William Clem Collins. The tradition in the family was to always use those two names for the firstborn son, alternating which appeared first, from generation to generation. The father was Clem William.
Collins was a drunk who, like Collins men before him, blamed all ills he created on everyone other than himself. He especially held those thieving Bennets responsible for the fact he was a farmer and not, as he should have been, the gentleman master of an estate.
As he was illiterate, all letters he received were taken to the curate of the church in Faversham, a Mr Fergus Davidson. On this day, he did the same, and as was his wont, he never asked, he just shoved the missive into the curate’s hand.
The curate read the contents of the letter to him, telling of how Mr and Mrs Bennet had lost their lives in a very unfortunate carriage accident. Davidson already did not like Collins, but to see the looks of glee as he heard about the deaths made the curate want to kick the man out of the church.
To say that Collins was very pleased was an understatement. It was only right that some of those who stood between him and his birthright should be dead. If only the son had also been with them in the conveyance and had been taken as well. If it had been so he would be the owner of his birthright, and he would fulfil the dream of his ancestors to reclaim that which they deserved to have. “Serves ‘em right. They stealed my estate. I want ya to reply and tell ‘em it be good they be with the devil,” Collins sneered.
“I am a man of God, I will not write anything of the sort,” the curate responded.
Collins growled, ripped the letter from the clergyman’s hands, and stalked out of the church.
Within an hour Collins returned with a large man. Hewas someone who would do almost anything for the promise of some grog. The man could read to a certain extent—enough so Collins would know the curate had written what he wanted—but writing was beyond him. “Now, ya write what I tell ya, or we make sure ya never write agin,” he threatened.
Under duress, Davidson wrote what Collins dictated. When the letter was complete, he handed it to the man who had forced him to write those vile and unchristian words.
He snatched the letter from the clergyman and Collins passed it to hisfriend. Although he could only identify a word or two here or there, it was enough that he got a sense of what was written, and it seemed the curate had written what he had been told to write.
