Page 11 of Bitterness of Spirit

With Boxing Day close, Mr. Wilson proved his generosity by purchasing gifts for each family member as well as for the Longbourn servants. His rushed arrival caught him unprepared, so he bought everything from the Meryton shops, to the equal delight of his nieces and nephews and the shop owners.

For the first time, Lydia received all the bonnets she wanted and a couple of reticules without having to fight over them with Kitty.

In vain, Mr. Bennet tried to temper his guest’s generosity. However, Mr. Wilson appeared to find gratification in pleasing those around him.

Mr. Collins returned the day after Christmas when his noble patroness allowed him to leave Rosings. To the Bennets’ discontent, he claimed his usual room at Longbourn. He insisted he could not stay overnight in the same house with his intended and would not consider taking a chamber at the local inn.

“I apologise for any inconvenience, but I find it proper to stay at Longbourn when I happen to visit here,” Mr. Collins uttered. “My cousin Mr. Bennet did not mention anything to me about another guest, so I assumed my usual room would be free.”

“You must not apologise, Mr. Collins. It was I who came impromptu. I shall gladly move to the inn,” Mr. Drake Wilson offered.

“And we did not expect you to return so soon, Mr. Collins,” Mr. Bennet declared.

“I did everything I could to come back immediately after the Christmas service. Even Lady Catherine approved of my coming, despite the bad weather. Besides my dear relatives and this lovely property that I shall inherit sometime in the future, I now have another strong reason to be in the neighbourhood as often as I can. I do not know if you are aware that I shall be married soon…”

To the others’ despair, Mr. Drake Wilson found a strange enjoyment in encouraging Mr. Collins to speak further; therefore, for about half an hour, they heard little but his expectations of being the happiest of men, Lady Catherine’s advice, her ladyship’s generosity, the windows at Rosings, and its park. Happily, after a third glass of brandy, Mr. Collins asked permission to retire—blaming the fatigue of a long journey—and remained there until dinnertime.

Mr. Drake Wilson rented several rooms at the Meryton Inn for him and his servants; despite his sister’s opposition, he was pleased with the arrangements. He was a private man with several habits that were not easy to accommodate in a house full of people. But his absence was immediately regretted by his relatives, and he was readily welcomed when he returned in the evening.

On Boxing Day, Longbourn’s dining room was crowded. The Philipses, the Lucases, and several officers were invited. Mr. Collins, without an invitation, was at the centre of the table, unsuccessfully struggling to draw attention to himself. Mr. Drake Wilson did nothing obvious, yet all eyes were often upon him.

“There is no greater joy for a man than to find the lady of his heart and secure her affection,” Mr. Collins declared ceremoniously one evening. “I must say, I have never been as happy in my life—except when Lady Catherine granted me her protection and offered me the trust of the living near Rosings.”

“I imagine as much,” Sir William replied, “as there is no greater joy for a man than to see his daughter happily married.”

Mrs. Bennet turned pale. “Oh well, some people are luckier than others. And some only pretend they are happy instead of admitting they only took what was left.”

A moment of silence fell over the room; then Mr. Collins began again. “I am sure Lady Catherine will be pleased with my choice of wife. Her ladyship always insists on the importance for a clergyman to have an appropriate woman by his side.”

“You should call yourself a fortunate man, Mr. Collins,” Mr. Drake Wilson injected. “I hope that, once you are married, you will give more attention to your wife and less to Lady Catherine. To be honest, only today I heard you speak of her ladyship thirty-seven times. A little too much—would you not agree?”

The statement left everyone dumbfounded and speechless. Mr. Collins gulped several times, Sir William looked lost, and Charlotte blushed. Mr. Bennet’s amusement was masterfully concealed behind his glass of wine.

Mr. Wilson continued calmly. “I was wondering: As you will one day inherit Longbourn, do you plan to move here and leave Lady Catherine? Do you think she would approve of that? She might take it as a betrayal. And how will you manage without her ladyship’s guidance?”

Mr. Collins had difficulty regaining his voice. “I had not thought of that…I cannot…I shall never leave Lady Catherine. She will surely need my presence…I never considered such a cruel perspective…it is just that…”

“Well, I trust you have plenty of time to give it proper consideration since I expect you to have no such worries for at least twenty more years. I was being curious; forgive me if I troubled you.”

“You were wise to bring up this subject, Mr. Wilson. I shall consider it carefully and even speak with Lady Catherine about the matter. Her opinion is always excellent, which is why I mention it so often. I believe one cannot show enough gratitude to the person who has bestowed her generosity upon him. Would you not agree?”

It was Mr. Wickham who spoke up unexpectedly. “I agree with Mr. Collins. I am forever grateful to my godfather, Mr. George Darcy, for his endless kindness and generosity towards me.”

Mr. Wilson turned to him with apparent curiosity. “George Darcy was your godfather?”

“Indeed,” Mrs. Gardiner answered. “I forgot to mention to you that Mr. Wickham grew up at Pemberley. His father was Mr. Darcy’s steward. We had the pleasure of sharing some tender memories a few days ago.”

“That is a surprise. I knew George Darcy quite well, and I am pleased to hear people speak so highly of him,” Mr. Wilson declared.

“I confess I never heard anyone speak ill of my godfather. And for me, he was a true guardian angel. He offered me his affection and his protection. He planned for me to join the church, and he left me a living. I am not sure if you are familiar with the village of Kympton?”

“I am…and how does it happen that you changed careers? Did you abandon the church?”

“No. Sadly, the new master of Pemberley did not inherit any of his father’s excellent traits. He refused to grant me what was rightfully mine and disregarded his father’s wish. So I was left without any means of supporting myself, and I needed a friend’s recommendation to join the militia. I am grateful for friends I can rely on in times need.”

Mr. Wilson looked shocked. “You mean young Darcy simply denied you the living? With no explanation, no compensation at all?”

“Well, he indicated that he never trusted I would take the path of the church. He said he could not see me making sermons,” Mr. Wickham replied after a brief hesitation.