From the day Lizzy was born, her mother accused her of being wilful and disobedient for defying her and being born a girl. There were three more girls after Lizzy?Mary, Kitty, and Lydia. In Fanny’s mind, because she was not the heir she expected, Elizabeth had defied her and was the cause for her failure to produce an heir.
Bennet did what he could to protect his second daughter from her mother’s vitriol. He would send her to his wife’s brother Edward and his wife Maddie in London as often as he could. At first Fanny was happy the daughter she disliked was absent, until Jane complained, in what seemed an innocent remark at the time, that she felt excluded.
Thereafter, each time Elizabeth was allowed to visit the Gardiners, Jane had to be included as well. Elizabeth never minded—she loved her older sister and was her best friend. It seemed Jane would try to intercede on her sister’s behalf when their mother was being particularly harsh, but it always seemed to have the opposite effect of what Jane intended.
Bennet wished he had the strength to stand up to his wife, but the simple fact was he did not have it in him. It was the reason he had not told her about the ridiculous letter he had received from his cousin, William Collins, the heir presumptive of Longbourn, beneficiary of the entail on the estate.
Bennet pulled the letter out and read it to amuse himself again.
6 August 1810
My dear Cousin Bennet,
The disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late honoured father always gave me much uneasiness, and since I have had the misfortune to lose him, I have frequently wished to heal the breach; but for some time I was kept back by my own doubts, fearing lest it might seem disrespectful to his memory for me to be on good terms with anyone with whom it had always pleased him to be at variance.
My mind, however, is now made up on the subject, for having received ordination at Easter, I have been so fortunate as to be distinguished by the patronage of the Right Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh, whose bounty and beneficence has preferred me to the valuable rectory of this parish, where it shall be my earnest endeavour to demean myself with grateful respect towards her ladyship, and be ever ready to perform those rites and ceremonies which are instituted by the Church of England.
As a clergyman, moreover, I feel it my duty to promote and establish the blessing of peace in all families within the reach of my influence; and on these grounds I flatter myself that my present overtures are highly commendable, and that the circumstance of my being next in the entail of Longbourn estate will be kindly overlooked on your side, and not lead you to reject the offered olive-branch.
I cannot be otherwise than concerned at being the means of injuring your amiable daughters, and beg leave to apologise for it, as well as to assure you of my readiness to make them every possible amends—but of this more when I see you in person.
If you should have no objection to receive me into your house, I propose myself the satisfaction of waiting on you and your family, Monday, November fifth, by four o’clock, and shall probably trespass on your hospitality till the Saturday sennight following, which I can do without any inconvenience, as Lady Catherine is far from objecting to my occasional absence on a Sunday, provided that some other clergyman is engaged to do the duty of the day.
I remain, dear sir, with respectful compliments to your lady and daughters, your well-wisher, cousin, and friend,
William Collins
Rector, Hunsford Parish
Each time Bennet reread the missive it cheered him up thinking about how he would be able to observe the ridiculous man for himself in little more than a month. He had never seen such a mixture of servile, obsequious pomposity. The man had somehow achieved ordination, yet from his veneration of his patroness he seemed he held her above God Almighty.
Bennet knew he would have to tell his wife before the man showed up, as he had responded to his letter, inviting him to visit so he could see the man for himself. He would tell her a day or two beforehand, telling her the letter had only just arrived as it had been misdirected.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
‘Why on earth did I agree to join the Bingleys?’ Darcy asked himself for the tenth time since departing London with Miss Bingley and the Hursts in his coach with him. He had received an express from his friend begging him to convey his sisters and brother to the estate.
Darcy was sure Miss Bingley had convinced her brother not to collect her and the Hursts so she could ride with him. Now he had to endure her inane chatter and the overpowering scent she used for upwards of three hours. He thanked God Carstens, his valet, was riding Zeus besides the carriage in case the harpy got too much for him.
He had much to worry about; he had some weeks ago rescued Giana from the clutches of that libertine George Wickham and his sister was still very fragile. His Aunt Elaine, the Countess of Matlock had convinced him to go to Netherfield, saying she and her daughter Tiffany, less than two years older than his sister, would help her to recover. The last thing Darcy wanted was to be stuck anywhere within the reach of the cloying Miss Bingley.
After Miss Bingley attempted to rest her knee against his, Darcy rapped on the ceiling and the coach halted. He did not wait for a footman; he opened the door and leapt out of the cabin without assistance.
“Carstens,” he gave his valet a pointed look. The valet was sure Miss Bingley had been overfamiliar—again. “I find I am in the mood for exercise; please change places with me.” It was the matter of a moment for the valet to dismount. Zeus nickered as his master took the reins from Carstens.
There was no missing the pinched look on Miss Bingley’s face when the object of her obsession—well his fortune, his estate, and his town house were what she craved—was replaced by his manservant.
Darcy swung himself into the saddle in one fluid movement and led off with his driver following him. Miss Bingley stewed in her anger. Not only was Mr. Darcy riding his huge black beast, but he was not riding next to the window where she—the future mistress of Pemberley—was sitting.
Just over halfway to their destination, they stopped to water and rest the horses. As soon as the door was opened and the step placed, Miss Bingley jumped from the cabin and made for Mr. Darcy, attempting to attach herself to his arm like a limpet to the hull of a ship.
As it was difficult to miss the orange monstrosity headed toward him, Darcy strode into the inn, using his long legs to their full advantage, well ahead of her and into the necessary before she reached the door of the establishment.
By the time he ventured into the room where tea was being served to the travellers, the Hursts were on one side of the table and Miss Bingley on the other. The only empty chair was next to the woman, but Darcy would not sit there. He nodded to them and made his way outside, ostensibly to check on his servants and horses.
After Miss Bingley hurried her sister and brother out of the inn, she tried to sidle up to him to grasp his arm, but Darcy turned just in time. She ended up looking more ridiculous than normal as she grasped air.
“It is time for us to move on,” Darcy announced before the woman could recover and make another attempt at his arm. He turned and walked toward Zeus who was being held by a stableboy.
