The crisp parchment gave a faint rustle as Mr. William Collins dipped his quill into the inkwell, leaving, in his haste, a small pool of ink upon its rim. The soft scratching of his pen echoed across the quiet room as he began to address his letter to his former Cambridge colleague, George Wickham.
“My dearest Mr. Wickham,”he wrote, with an air of consequence entirely suited to his present satisfaction,
“I hope this letter finds you in good health and high spirits. I write to you from my current abode in Norwich, though I must confess my stay here shall soon come to an end.”
Collins paused a moment, not from hesitation, but to savour the importance of what he was about to relate, allowing himself aself-satisfied smile as he imagined Wickham’s curiosity properly engaged. With a hint of arrogance, he went on to say,
“I am pleased to announce that, due to my own accomplishments and certain distinguished connections, the Right Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, widow of the late Sir Lewis de Bourgh, has taken me under her patronage.
As a result, I am humbly honoured to have been entrusted with the promise of the living of Hunsford, in Kent, and I shall ever strive to show my utmost respect for her Ladyship. I shall abide by the doctrinal teachings of the Church of England, officiating its sacraments to the best of my abilities.”
Mr. Collins felt his chest swell with pride at the thought of his new position, his posture unconsciously improving in response to his own words, and his penmanship grew more elaborate with each line.
“Furthermore, I have had the honour of visiting her Ladyship at Rosings, a most grand and impressive estate, and can report that Hunsford Parsonage, my future dwelling, lies less than a mile away. The residence itself boasts well-kept gardens, trees of considerable height, and no fewer than two servants to attend to my needs.”
As Collins penned these words, he imagined Wickham’s astonishment at his good fortune, and lingered, perhaps longer than necessary, upon each detail, as though determined that none of his advantages should pass unremarked. Satisfied with the impression he had made, Collins continued in a more genial tone.
“Nevertheless, my dear friend, I must not forget to convey my warmest wishes for your own success. I do most sincerely hope that you shall soon find a post befitting your education and station. Pray consider this an open invitation to continue our correspondence, as I am eager to hear news of your own endeavours.
May fortune smile upon you as it has upon me, and may our friendship endure across the miles that separate us. I remain, as ever, your most devoted and humble servant.”
Mr. Collins concluded his letter in terms of careful civility, signing it with a flourish:“William Collins”.
***
Three days later, in Milton.
George Wickham sat at his writing desk, the letter from William Collins—boasting of his newly acquired position as vicar of Hunsford—laid open before him. He tapped his quill lightly against the inkwell, considering for a moment before setting it down with quiet decision.
The notion of Darcy’s likely reception of what he was about to propose afforded him a moment’s private satisfaction; yet the matter required care, and he turned to it with deliberate attention.
“Dear Mr. Darcy,
I trust this letter finds you in good health and in the continued enjoyment of your prosperity. I am obliged to you for your recent reply, though I confess myselfdisappointed that the steward’s position has been filled. I must beg leave to apologise for the presumption of my former request, which, upon reflection, I perceive to have been ill-judged.”
Wickham paused only briefly before continuing, his expression composed, his tone measured.
“It has since occurred to me that my inclinations may be more properly directed toward the Church, a profession for which my education, I trust, has not left me entirely unprepared. Should an opportunity present itself, I would consider it both an honour and a duty to devote myself to such a path.
I understand that a living at Kympton, within your patronage, may in time become available, and I would not presume to press my claim beyond what you deem proper. Yet, if you should think me not wholly unworthy of consideration, I would be grateful to be remembered when the matter is next under review.
Alternatively, I have reason to believe that a situation in Shrewsbury may soon be within my reach, though I would not willingly enter upon any engagement without first seeking your guidance, which I have long valued."
If, therefore, you should feel inclined to favour me with a word of recommendation, I would endeavour to justify your confidence by the utmost propriety of conduct.
I remain sensible of the advantages I have already enjoyed through your family’s kindness, and would notwillingly forfeit the good opinion which has, I hope, not been entirely withdrawn.
Allow me to add that I remain, dear sir, your most obedient and humble servant.”
Wickham concluded, signing his name with the same elaborate and familiar flourish that had long distinguished his hand.
He set down the quill and regarded the page with a faint, composed satisfaction, as though the matter had been arranged with as much advantage as circumstances would permit.
***
The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow upon the worn oak desk as Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy held a letter before him. The paper was slightly crumpled, and the ink had spread in places where the quill had pressed too heavily into the parchment. With a furrowed brow that spoke of concern and curiosity, he read attentively the uneven scrawl that lay before him.
Darcy’s eyes narrowed, recognising the familiar tone of the writer. He continued, now with an edge of caution, his attention fixed upon each phrase as though something of consequence might lie concealed within it. He read “a living at Kympton, within your patronage…” God forbid.
