Mr. Philips, the Meryton attorney, had always had a liking for his often overlooked third niece, Mary Bennet. The eldest two nieces were preferred by their other relations, the Gardiners, and often invited to London. Not that this would have met with his disapproval, he also liked Jane and Lizzy, but there should more be done for Mary, he often thought.
Then, one day, a Mr. Collins, the sole heir of Mr. Bennet, came visiting the Bennet family. Mr. Collins offered the Bennets an olive branch, including his hope of marrying one of their daughters, preferrable a pretty one. Of course, he didn't mention the latter, at least, not at first.
He was a rather stout young man, not handsome, but not altogether unpleasant in his looks. Nevertheless, whenever he opened his mouth, out came a lot of nonsensical sentences, consisting mostly of praise for his esteemed and noble patroness, a certain Lady DeBourgh, hitherto completely unknown to the Bennet family.
But that didn't matter. What mattered, was that Mr. Collins, besides talking nonsense, looked constantly after Jane and Lizzy with greedy eyes, sometimes as well after Kitty and Lydia too, but this only after one morning when he had encountered a not all too much embarrassed Lydia in her nightgown.
He choose to completely ignore Mary, a fact that vexed her without an end. She had it in her head to become one day the wife of a clergyman and Mr. Collins seemed exactly fitting for that, particularly because of the entailment of their home, Longbourn, of which, as already has been told, Mr. Collins was the heir.
She tried all the best she could. She spoke to him, whenever there was an opportunity. She spoke of the bible, of Fordyce's sermons, she tried every religious theme, even philosophical ones. But to no avail. Mr. Collins would not listen to her. He went so far as to tell Mary in no uncertain terms, that she was tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt him into matrimony. Instead, he made it clear to all members of the family, that he would propose to Lizzy, since Jane was designated by her mother as good as being engaged to a certain Mr. Bingley. But that is another story.
Eventually, Mary began to consider. Perhaps Mr. Collins wasn't just a good choice for a husband at all. Perhaps even a clergyman, in general, would not suit her anymore.
Mr. Philips was a little surprised, but not all to much, when some day Mary knocked at the door to his study. She had done this before.
Mary came straight to the point.
"Uncle, what can be done against the entailment? You are a lawyer, you must know."
"Well, Mary, this is difficult. There are only two possible scenarios. First, Mr. Collins dies before your father. In this case, there would be no other heir and the entailment would be broken. As the eldest, Jane would inherit Longbourn."
"Very good. I'll consider this. However, it is of no importance to me who of us would inherit. We all stand to each other. But you said there are two scenarios?"
"The other is, if Mr. Collins would voluntarily relinquish his entitlement to Longbourn. Set out in writing, of course, and signed by himself. But, as far as I got the measure of him, I cannot imagine he would ever do so."
"Neither can I. But perhaps..."
Mary was lost in thougts. She thanked her uncle and walked back to Longbourn.
The following day, the family was a little bit surprised, that Mary didn't much practise on the pianoforte, as this was normally her favourite activity. Instead she retired to her room and did some paperwork. She also used an opportunity to slip into her fathers study when he had left it for a few minutes. She didn't stay for long there, however, and when her father came back, she was gone.
A few days later, the five sisters, as well as Mr. Collins, were on their way to Meryton. Jane, Lizzy, Kitty and Lydia had managed to escape Mr. Collins' unwelcome attentions by setting a very fast pace - they were trained, meanwhile - and walking ahead. Mary was left with Mr. Collins, who was not a very good walker and seemed to be very bored, exceptionally. Moreover, he was exhausted. Halfway between Longbourn and Meryton, they came to a crossroads. The track to the right lead into a nearby piece of wood.
"Do you want to rest for a while, Mr. Collins?", asked Mary. "There happens to be a little hunter's cabin, which my father uses sometimes. It is not far away. There are also some books in there."
Mr. Collins was not very much interested in these books, just as little as to be in Mary's company any longer. But he saw his opportunity to give the insolent girl a piece of his mind. He would make it unmistakeable clear that he was not interested in her. So he accepted to walk the few steps to the cabin. A little rest on a bench would do him good, after all.
A few minutes later they arrived at the cabin. Mary opened the door (it did not come to Mr. Collins' mind to ask why she had the key to the door), showed Mr. Collins in and - staying outside, she closed the door and locked it again. Mr. Collins was trapped.
There was only a little window at one side of the cabin, which was open, coincidentally, but by far not big enough to let a rather stout man like Mr. Collins pass through.
Mary went to the window and said, from outside:
"Well, Mr. Collins, it seems you made a mistake here."
She opened her handbag and produced a pistol, pointing at Mr. Collins with it.
"I'm done with you, Mr. Collins. You will never inherit Longbourn and you will never marry one of my sisters. I'm going to shoot you now. Do you have anything to say?"
Mr. Collins looked perplexed.
"Have mercy with me, Miss Mary. You cannot do this. I am a clergyman and my patroness, the esteemed Lady Catherine DeBourgh will be most seriously displeased when I am dead."
"Her Ladyship's opinion is of no interest to me", answered Mary. "I'd very much like to kill you on the spot. You look at my beloved sisters as if they were common whores. And you insulted me in the worst possible manner. But you shall have a chance. First, you must excuse your bad behaviour."
"Yes, yes, of course. I'm so sorry, Miss Mary. My behaviour has been unpardonable."
"Very good, Mr. Collins. But that is not all. You must give up your claims of our home, Longbourn. To this purpose, I have set up a document. You have only to sign."
With this, Mary took the papers out of her bag and handed them, together with a pen, through the window to Mr. Collins.
Mr. Collins hastily scribbled his signature upon the document and handed it back to Mary.
"And you have to cancel your plans of marrying into our family. To settle this once and for all, there is another document."
Mr. Collins signed the respective document without hesitation and gave it back.
"Well done, Mr. Collins. I'll let you live. But you have to wait a little longer before you will be let out. After all, I've been on my way to my uncle's in Meryton and I'm going now. Goodbye, Mr. Collins."
Mary turned away and walked the rest of the way alone, until she reached the home of Mr. Philips. Inside, she knocked again at her uncle's door.
"Here are some documents, dear uncle, which should be of some interest to you. Please handle them carefully and take the necessary steps. Oh, and before I forget, here's the key to a certain cabin in the woods, half a mile away, you know which I mean. When you are at leisure, I'd recommend you take a look in there. But don't wait too long."
With these words, Mary left her surprised uncle and entered the drawing room, where her sisters and aunt were already settled together, drinking tea.
"Where is Mr. Collins?" asked Jane.
"Oh, he decided to go after his own business", Mary answered. "I do not know where he has gone. To be honest, it doesn't concern me very much."
Mr. Collins came back to Longbourn later that evening, muddled and shaken. He went immediately to his room and was no more to be seen that day.
At breakfast the next morning, the family waited for him to no avail. When Mr. Bennet eventually knocked at the door to his room, the room was empty. Mr. Collins had left Longbourn. He never came back to all of Hertfordshire.
Mary smiled.