My dearLizzie—
There are such comings and goings! Were it not the case that you are safely away from that horrible man, I would be in a dreadful state. Thank God in his wisdom you talked to Mynheer Meyers, and he advised, with his knowledge of the law and common sense, that Collins could not force you to wed, notwithstanding the court decree. I received a brief note from Mrs. Gardiner that you secured a position—oh, to know more, but with Collins vowing retribution, it’s for the best I know not where you are. But my love will follow you always.
The odious man came today, on the very date of the court decree—what a pompous fool he is. Straight to our door he came and demanded you present yourself so he could take you as his wife. He had purchased a common licence (most likely through his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who, he said, is related to the Archbishop of Canterbury) and used the court decree as the allegation there was no impediment to the marriage. He intended to drag you to the Meryton church and make poor Rector Wilkinson wed you at eleven in the forenoon!
His face turned purple—I tell you the same colour as a turnip!—when I told him, in no uncertain terms, that you had gone away. To where I did not know. That you had taken a position and wanted nothing to do with him. He shouted and blustered and tried to force himself into the house in order to search for you. Adam was obliged to physically restrain him—bless that young man’s heart. Oh, I was so cruelly abused; Collins felt nothing for my nerves!
After abusing me so abominably to my face, he went away muttering he would bring the magistrate and ‘see me on the street’ and other such expressions that no clergyman should e’er repeat. I sent Sarah to fetch Mr. Phillips and retired for tea in the parlour. But hardly had Hill set out the tea things and Mary poured; then there came a great hullabaloo as you’ve never heard and a fierce pounding on the door. Collins returned with Sir William Lucas. ButMr. Phillips, dear brother, came at the same instant and explained to Sir William that you had gone off; that naught could be done except Mr. Collins seek redress in the court of Chancery. All other parts of the decree still held: that our occupation of the dower house was settled by the court and that he, Collins, had no legal right to turn us out. Such shouting, gesticulation, so much anger and resentment. He cried that he must wed, that he had only four weeks to find a bride and have the banns read, that the common licence was wasted being written in the name ‘Elizabeth Rose Bennet’ and could be used to wed no other.
This altercation took place on the porch, and a crowd of people from the village assembled to hear the rantings and ravings of the lunatic. But, as I watched in fear for my fluttering heart, I noticed a sly smile cross Sir William’s face when Collins said he was to be master of Longbourn, but to achieve his proprietorship he must marry. Sir William invited Collins to his house for dinner and also to take up his abode with the Lucases until he had sufficient servants in the Longbourn manor to see to his needs. Sir William is a very artful man, and all for what he can get. And he intends, I’m sure, to get Collins as a son-in-law wed to his daughter Charlotte, who has long sought to become mistress of Longbourn. At three and twenty, she otherwise is destined for spinsterhood. That I should be forced to make way for her!
But Lizzie, I would rather sleep in the hedgerows than have you married to that man. I fear he may be violent, and poor Charlotte may have a hard time of it, that they may never be happy together. It’s my consolation we have the dower house, that Jane is safe in Bakewell, and dear Mr. Bennet will, in time, recover by the grace of God.
My dear sister, Hattie, has invited us to dinner. After such an awful day, to relax in the bosom of my family will be like heaven. Wherever you are, may God keep you safe and in good health, mydearest child.
Your loving Mama
Oh, dearest Mama, to bear the impendence of Collins. I should be there, not here running away from him. Impossible! Her mother told her to go, that she would shieldherfrom that horrible man. Elizabeth, on finishing this letter, instantly seized the other, and, opening it with the utmost impatience, read her sister Mary’s words:
From: Longbourn, Hertfordshire
Dear sister—Lizzie,
Mama asked me to write. She’s feeling the stress of all the to-ings and fro-ings. I told her to lie down, so here I am, writing this in her stead. Where shall I start—are you having a great adventure? No, of course not. You had to travel post to London—is it really as awful as Mama said, sitting squashed in a carriage with servants, tradesmen, and all those unwashed bodies? Ugh! It would be more than I could bear.
But Mama told me to write of Mr. C (you know who I mean). We were woken early by a kerfuffle in the lane. Adam was loudly arguing with Mr. C, who was attempting to take away our horses. He sneaked into the stables, harnessed them, and sneaked back into the lane. Of course, Buttercup made such a fuss, neighing and stamping her feet. She’s such a difficult horse for strangers to handle, but I find her adorable. Mr. C called for the constable, calling us thieves, swindlers, and felons. But Sarah had already been sent off to the smithy to fetch Mr. Blackland and also Uncle Phillips. Sir William also came, and a great squabble outside our door ensued.
Uncle Phillips was so calm; I do not know how he kept his temper. Mr. C was shouting, Sir William blustering, Mr. Blackland grumbling about being away from his forge, and Adamremonstrating with Mr. C to restrain his foul language in front of the women who gathered, gawking at the altercation. What a brouhaha!
It settled down when Mr. Phillips showed the entail to Sir William and the codicil to the court decree, which reaffirmed the conditions of the entail: that Mr. C had possession of the buildings, estate, and black cattle—all else was personal and belonged to Mr. Bennet. Oh, you should have seen Mr. C, his face growing redder and redder (I was peering through the window). He claimed we left nothing in the house (although we did leave some furniture and crockery); that he needed a carriage; that there were no horses or even a cart; and that there were no servants. Was he expected to cook his own food?—he, a gentleman landowner! After an hour, Mr. C and Sir William went away muttering together. Mr. Phillips came into the house to reassure Mama all was well. Poor Mama was almost in tears, so we fixed her tea and had a nice biscuit freshly baked by Mrs. Hill.
Kitty and Lydia were giggling, thinking the whole affair great fun. I must agree with them, but Mama was so very distressed, so I took the girls upstairs to work on their lessons. Dear Lizzie, I miss my big sister so much. If Mr. C marries Charlotte, can you then return? Please, please!
Love and hugs from your sister, Mary.
Oh! Thank heavens they are safe, that Mr. Collins cannot throw them from the dower house. She herself could not be safe untilshehad left England’s shores well behind. Then Mr. Collins could not retrieve her. Say, four months to the Cape, and he must be married by then, else he shall lose Longbourn. Pray theHindostanandDromedaryleave these waters as soon as maybe, but we’re likely to remain here some time longer. The wind blows very hard and is very squally, and the motion of the ship is very violent indeed. Elizabeth sat on her cot; shefelt tears line her cheeks.
“Miss Bennet! Pray, what ails you, miss? Oh, do tell us!” exclaimed Hannah, bustling into the chamber with Master Henry and young Beth. “Is the tidings so dreadful, then? Shall I bring you a drop of wine, miss, to steady your nerves?”
She burst into tears, but recollecting herself, she turned to the maid and the children, who were staring at her with dismay. “On the contrary, Hannah, all is well. I felt the immediacy of our departure with letters from home, from my mother and sister. I succumbed to some sadness of leaving and worries over the journey. With Mrs. Bent ill and Mr. Bent poorly, I felt keenly the responsibility of caring for the children. But selfish me! We can together care for them. Come, let me tell them a story whilst you walk the poop and quarterdeck.”
“Oh no, miss, the quarterdeck ain’t for the likes of me.”
“Hannah, I spoke to the Captain. He says you sleep in a poop cabin so you can share the decks above, which are the poop and quarterdeck. Go—the children will be my comfort.” Elizabeth wiped her tears away. From the shelf above the cot, she retrieved Tommy Thumb’s Pretty Song Book. “Shall we singMary, Mary Quite Contrary? I have a sister, Mary. I miss her so much…”
Chapter 5
St. Helen’s Road, May 20, 1809
“’Tis a fine sight, is it not?”
Startled, Darcy turned from the taffrail of the quarterdeck, where he was gazing at theHindostan, which was anchored some ten chains away, tossing fitfully in the gusting wind. “I beg your pardon?”
The gentleman, an officer of the 73rd Regiment, chuckled. “My apologies, sir! I was referring to the very fine figure of that young woman promenading on the quarterdeck of theHindostan. She’ll have all my ensigns in love with her before we reach the Bay of Biscay!”
“Indeed, sir,” replied Darcy, who was pleasantly engaged in viewing the same lady. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet, accompanying Mrs. Bent.” He turned fully to the officer and bowed: “Fitzwilliam Darcy, commissioned as judge-advocate, deputy to Mr. Bent.”
“Lieutenant Colonel Maurice O’Connell, commander of the regiment currently boarding both this vessel and theHindostan, over yonder. I am to be commissioned lieutenant governor once we reach the colony.” The colonel was dressed in his full regimentals; he possessed a pleasing visage with powdered hair of medium length. Altogether a well-turned-out, rather dashing gentleman. “Fitzwilliam…” he continued, “any relation to Major Richard Fitzwilliam? I met him briefly in the Peninsula while with the 2nd Battalion.”
