Page 38

Hertfordshire

Fitzwilliam,

Do not be concerned; the reason for my letter has nothing to do with Rosings Park, Hunsford, or any of the residents of that area. I am seeking your advice and possibly assistance with an issue which has come to the fore where I am currently being hosted.

Like I had told you I would, I played the fool the Bennets expected, to a certain degree. One of them, however, was able to see through my veneer in short order, but that is not the subject of this missive.

Although I have not met your cousin, Mr Darcy, I have seen him briefly. I have, though, heard much about him, or more to the point, much about his behaviour since he has been in the area.

Fitzwilliam pinched his eyebrows together. “What have you done this time, William?” he asked his room aloud. He needed to keep reading for the answer.

I have five female cousins, daughters of my cousin, Thomas Bennet. A few times I heard the second in age speak in a very disparaging way about your cousin. Then, the morning two days ago, I observed something between your cousin and a man who was to join the militia (there is a regiment of the Derbyshire Militia encamped in the market town for the autumn and winter), and again, Cousin Elizabeth automatically blamed your cousin.

Last evening, Mrs Phillips (sister to my cousin’s wife) had a card party in her home. Mrs Bennet, her daughters, and I were in attendance.

I noticed that the man I had observed in Meryton, who had at first reacted with fear when seeing Mr Darcy, marked Cousin Elizabeth for special attention. I am not proud of eavesdropping, but I felt I would be remiss had I not. The man told my cousin, whom he had met only briefly the day before, a tale of woe with your cousin painted as the blackest of villains. I will not give you details in a missive.

“Damned Wickham!” Fitzwilliam thundered. Even before Collins listed the name of the man, just from what he had said so far, Fitzwilliam was certain it was that libertine to whom Collins was referring. He went back to the letter.

I hope you know the name of the man, George Wickham. As all my senses were screaming that the man was not being truthful (he kept contradicting himself), I sought out a knight who used to be a tradesman. I told him an admittedly embellished tale of what occurred when the militia was encamped near Faversham (the town near my father’s estate), and he said that he would warn the tradesmen and fathers based on what I told him.

This morning, before writing to you, I asked Cousin Mary (the one who saw through my act and who I hope to one day make my wife) to take a turn in the park with me.

When we were out of earshot of the chaperone, I asked her why her next older sister seemed to dislike your cousin. She corrected me and told me the word was ‘hate’, and told me why. The first time your cousin was seen in the area was at an assembly. When his friend suggested he dance with Cousin Elizabeth, rather than just send Mr Bingley on his way, he uttered a vile and ungentlemanlike insult, well within her hearing. (I will not put the words in writing here.)

You must know she is a very intelligent young woman, but his slight wounded her deeply. Hence, when Mr Wickham wove his tale, she believed everything because she was looking for anything to confirm her very poor opinion of your cousin. Had she not already felt so negatively about him, she would have been able to see the contradictions and lack of logic in Lieutenant Wickham’s tale.

If you can spare some time, I would appreciate you coming to call on me here. I think my cousin needs to hear the facts about Mr Darcy and Mr Wickham from one who knows the truth of the situation. I remember that you told me that Mr Darcy is more brother than cousin; hence, I suspect you know everything about this matter.

In case you are unable to come hither, I will ride to London to see you.

I trust it was not an impertinence writing to you.

William Collins

“Barker!” Fitzwilliam bellowed for his batman.

“Aye, Colonel,” Sergeant Barker responded as he entered the room where his colonel was seated.

“As soon as I see General Atherton, we will be leaving London. I would think we will be away for at least a sennight,” Fitzwilliam instructed. “I will ride to my cousin’s house and borrow his older, spare carriage for us to use. There are also some other things I must take from Darcy House. Once the general approves my leave, and I take what I need from my cousin’s house, I will return to collect you with the conveyance. It will be two hours at the most until we are on our way.

As he suspected, the general gave Fitzwilliam up to a fortnight away, with the option to extend the time if needed. From regimental headquarters, Fitzwilliam rode to Darcy House.

Mr Killion, the butler, knowing that Colonel Fitzwilliam had almost as much authority as the master, stood aside and allowed the colonel to enter. When he was told to have the spare coach made ready for travel, the butler conveyed the orders without question.

Fitzwilliam made for his cousin’s study and retrieved the spare key for the safe behind his desk from the secret place where it was hidden. He opened the safe, and thanks to his fastidious cousin’s way of organising everything, he soon had the items he had come to collect. With that, he locked the safe, replaced the key, and exited the house. He found the carriage with its two matched greys ready before the house. He instructed one of the footmen to tether Invictus to the back of the conveyance, and they were off to his barracks.

Barker had everything ready by the time Fitzwilliam arrived. It was not long before the trunks were lashed to the coach, and they were on their way to the town of Meryton. The batman was grateful he was sitting in the cabin with his colonel and not on the box with the coachman.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

Clem and Bethany Collins had moved to the dower house at Collins Hollow soon after returning from their wedding trip. Most days, they came to the manor house, where Clem the younger would work with his father, and Bethany would assist her mother-in-law with the duties of the estate’s mistress.

On this day, the four Collinses were seated enjoying the midday meal when the butler entered the dining parlour, an epistle on his salver. He proffered it to the master.

Collins took the missive and thanked the retainer who withdrew. “It is from William,” he informed his family members.

“Clem, we all know you want to hear about how William was received at Longbourn, so if you would like to read it now, go ahead; none of us will be insulted,” Ophelia said with a smile.