Mr. Collins nodded and walked to the front entry where Yarby met him.
“Please make yourself comfortable in the parlor while I find Mrs. Pulson to see about some tea. I shan’t be a moment.”
***
Mr. Collins took the most comfortable seat and studied the furnishings of the parsonage. He had visited the reverend Mr. Dudley here only once, when he first came to meet the Bennets, although he did not like to dwell upon that trip. The painful memory of his cousin Elizabeth’s stinging rejection of his marriage proposal still rankled. He saw a bit smugly that, aside from a new rug, next to nothing had been done to improve the parlor. Mr. Bennet was either too stingy or too unaware of the need to upgrade the furnishings.
The door opened and in walked Mr. Yarby, bearing the tea tray himself. Mr. Collins’s mouth fell open. Did they not even have a maid? He saw Yarby smile.
“My sister, Mrs. Withers, would be serving us, but she seems to have gone for a walk. Aside from our cook we keep but one other servant in the kitchen, Ellen, but her hands are up to her elbows in sudsy water at the moment. I told her not to worry; I would serve you myself.” He set the tray down and began to arrange the cups.
“We kept four servants at my old parsonage,” said Mr. Collins, smugly. “But I suppose the living here is not as grand.” He saw the rector took no offense at his comment.
“It is a huge step up from my salary as a curate, I assure you,” Yarby said, laughing. “Amelia and I are more than content with our situation.” He poured the tea and handed his guest a cup. “Sugar?”
Mr. Collins put two heaping teaspoons in his cup and stirred it noisily. “Tell me, do you plan to hire a curate? It would put you out only another forty or fifty pounds per annum.”
“Oh no, we have no such plans at this time. If I were to take on another parish nearby, then, yes, I should need a curate to give the sermons at one while I speak at another, but I am unaware of any openings at present to which I could present myself as a candidate.” He took a sip of his own tea before continuing. “Besides, are you not looking for a new living? With your wife expecting your first child, I can only imagine you would be well pleased to find a position near her family here in Meryton. If I knew of an opening, I should certainly defer to you before taking on another congregation myself.”
Mr. Collins stared coldly at his host. “You seem to be up on all the village gossip, I see.”
Mr. Yarby stammered an apology. “Forgive me, sir, I did not mean to offend. Miss Bennet and I walked together into Meryton the other week, and she did mention your…situation. No details, of course, just that you had departed Hunsford Parish. I did not mean to speak out of turn, and be assured I shall keep my ears open for any suitable living for a man of your vast experience.”
Mr. Collins gave a tight smile. “Indeed, we rectors are all dependent upon the mercy of others, are we not? But I have high connections, be assured. Mr. Bennet’s two oldest daughters are married to wealthy and influential men, you know. I have no doubt but Mrs. Collins and I shall find a very advantageous situation quite soon.”
“I shall add you to my prayers, naturally.”
“Naturally.” Mr. Collins took another sip of tea. “Your cottage is in great need of freshening if you will forgive my saying so. Mr. Bennet is likely unwilling to put out the necessary coin, but if you are still here when I assume Longbourn as my own—I am sure you know I am the heir presumptive—you may be assured of my paying as much as twenty pounds to bring some new life into these dingy rooms.”
“You are so kind, but in fact, Mr. Bennet is being most generous with us. New fabrics and wall papers have already been ordered. I told him he need not bother, but he insisted. My sister is taking tremendous enjoyment in overseeing the improvements. No, Mr. Bennet has been a most accommodating patron, believe me. We dine with him and his daughters once or twice a week, and Amelia has become close friends with Miss Bennet.”
Mr. Collins scowled. “Indeed. How lovely for you.” He cleared his throat. “You are not wed, correct?”
“Yes. Not only have I not yet fallen in love, but I realized it would not be prudent to marry on a curate’s salary.”
“It would behoove you to find a suitable young woman and start a family as soon as possible, now that you have your own parish,” Mr. Collins said, in an unctuous voice. “It sets a good example to your congregants to have their parish priest happily married.”
“Well, I should like to find the right woman and be truly in love with her, not just marry for convenience or appearance’s sake.” Yarby shifted a bit in his seat. “That is—one should be certain it is a good match in every respect, don’t you agree? That takes time.”
“Oh, happiness in marriage is more a matter of chance than anything else, I believe. Why, my Charlotte and I knew each other but a day or two before I decided she was the one. Let me assure you we are quite content with each other. And, as you mentioned, she is going to make me a father—another important example to set in your parish.” He smiled proudly, awaiting the expected congratulations. But Yarby only nodded.
“Indeed,” Yarby finally said, “I am fond of children and hope to become a father myself.”
Bland conversation continued while both men had now finished their tea. Mr. Collins had a vague notion that he had already overstayed his welcome, but he was not eager to depart. He reached over and took the last piece of seed cake.
“Now, I had some thoughts on your last two talks from the pulpit I wish to share with you,” he said, and between bites began to drone on disapprovingly about the shocking nature of Yarby’s uplifting sermons.
So enraptured was he by his own voice, Mr. Collins failed to notice Yarby’s small sigh or that the new rector was only listening with half an ear.
Chapter 10
“Mrs. Withers is here, sir.”
Mr. Bennet happily set aside his work for the unplanned visitor. “Thank you, Hill. Please send her right in.” He smiled and rose as the lady entered. “Good day to you, Mrs. Withers. Have you come to see Mary? I believe she is out just now, calling on neighbors.”
“Forgive me for intruding on your work, Mr. Bennet, I came to see you. I shan’t take but a minute of your time.”
“Not at all, I was just doing some estate work. You make a most pleasant distraction, I assure you. Please have a seat.” He motioned to the chair next to the window opposite his desk. Amelia sat with her reticule perched on her lap. “Would you care for some tea?” he asked.
