A three-chaptered story. I've already written it - with a lot of sentences taken from Miss Austen, either completely or twisted to fit my plot (which, by the way, is mine, don't steal it, etc.)

I thought some Balance was needed when it came to how JAFF treated poor Mr Collins. :-)


Kent, mid-October

Michaelmas was just past, and William Collins was content. The tall and heavy-looking young man of five and twenty had taken orders the previous Easter and had soon afterwards found himself a situation. It had been, on the whole, relatively easy to attain. On hearing some of his fellow clergymen complain of the lady in whose power it was to grant the position, he had endeavoured to sketch her character and, after having ascertained that a dash of disguise and a lot of false praise would set him up forever, decided that he would put his scruples aside and apply for the fine living she was in the fortunate position to bestow.

Her Ladyship had been taken in, and he was now, at five and twenty, the happy beneficiary of the living at Hunsford. His patroness had been a little miffed upon realising the servile clergyman she had approved of did not actually exist but, as she was too proud to admit she had been outwitted, she acted as though a vicar who wrote his own sermons and dared have a different opinion from hers was what she had wished for all along. Many of the parishioners were not fooled, but the situation suited them quite well, and if they smirked, it was only once she had turned her back.

Still, Lady Catherine de Bourgh's displeasure lingered, and she felt in need of a holiday from her clergyman. On remembering he was the heir of an estate whose current owner had five daughters of marriageable age, she suggested that he took a leave of two weeks in order to visit his cousin and consider marrying one of his daughters. Perhaps she hoped that, by gaining a wife, he would lose interest in his flock's well-being. She could then once again be the only influence on them.

If this were what she hoped, she would be disappointed. However, even a gentleman in possession of a modest income could be in want of a wife, and William was inclined to somewhat follow his patroness's advice. Since he did not know what their accomplishments were, he was uncertain if one of his cousins would suit him; nevertheless, it would be a good thing to reconcile with his family.

He had never met the Bennets and thus did not know what kind of gentleman his cousin was. His late father had described him as a cruel man unwilling to lower himself in any way, but the two men had had a falling out for reasons that were quite obscure to William and perhaps his father's view could have been coloured by resentment. The fact that Old Mr Collins had been an illiterate and miserly sort of man could also have played a part here—he could simply have been jealous of Mr Bennet's lot in life. Once again, William thanked Heavens for the education he had received.

He had a precise idea of what he wished for in a wife: a lady who would be willing to care for the parishioners alongside him and who would be useful in the running of the house. Though he could afford to have servants, he hoped they could spare a housekeeper and a head cook. He did not expect his wife to spend her day in the kitchen; however, it would be best if she were able to have some notion of what happened there in order to oversee it. This economy would allow him to better provide for their children, for he could not rely only on his planned inheritance. After all, his cousin could still father a son and even if he did not, it would be irresponsible to sell parts of the estate to provide for dowries or inheritances for his daughters or younger sons.

Still, he was curious to have a look at the property that, God willing, he would inherit someday. Moreover, two weeks away from Lady Catherine did hold some appeal; thus he decided to write his cousin a letter.

As he put pen to paper, he hesitated. Should he be straightforward, or should he use disguise as he did to gain employment? If Mr Bennet were all his late father had said, it would be better to lower himself. However, if the man were a decent fellow, the idea of appearing a fool in his eyes did not sit well with William. In the end, though, that strategy prevailed, as well as the hope that, if his latter supposition were correct, his cousin would be enough amused by his letter to wish to meet him in person. Thus, he began.

Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent,
15th October.

Dear sir,
The disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late honoured father always gave me much uneasiness, and since I have had the misfortune to lose him, I have frequently wished to heal the breach ...

Hertfordshire, one month later

When Collins arrived at Longbourn at the time he had announced, the whole Bennet family was gathered to receive him, and he was politely welcomed. His air was perhaps too grave and stately for the occasion and his manners very formal, but until he knew more about his family, he would hide behind them. Though his cousin said little, his daughters were more disposed to talk, and Collins was pleased to converse with them. It did not take him long after being seated to realise that the family could be divided into two groups—the mother and younger sisters in one, the father and elder daughters in the other. Of the middle daughter, he knew not what to think. For the time being, he decided to go on with his observation, complimenting his hostess now and then about her daughters and her taste. He thought he could detect some annoyance behind Mrs Bennet's pride—was it that she suspected him of having ulterior motives, of making the inventory of what would possibly be his someday?

His next offence, though, was pointed more directly. He found the dinner to be very good and had asked which of his cousins was to be thanked for the excellence of the meal. He was shortly answered by the vexed mater familias that none of her daughters ever set foot in the kitchen, as they could afford a cook. He apologised but, though she softened, felt she remained displeased. Truth to be told, he could not be entirely pleased by this information. His eldest cousins were proper and charming young ladies, and he could have entertained the idea to court them, if not for the dawning suspicion that he would need to hire a cook, perhaps even a housekeeper, if he married one of them.

Still, it would not hurt to be at least on friendly terms with them, and, anyway, he did not think he would have the heart to evict them completely from their home if they were still living there at the time of their father's death. He was shaken from his thoughts by his cousin's enquiries. Mr Bennet had kept silent at first; now that the servants had left the dining room, he asked him about Lady Catherine. Given that he had probably made more than one reference to her in the letter he had sent, he was not surprised by this enquiry and answered truthfully.

"I have never in my life witnessed such behaviour in a person of rank, such affability and condescension, as I have myself experienced from Lady Catherine. She has graciously and publicly approved of both the discourses which I had already had the pleasure of preaching before her." He paused, remembering with a smile how the great Lady had contained her annoyance at hearing him contradict her.

"She also asks me from time to time at Rosings to make up her pool of quadrille in the evening. Lady Catherine is reckoned proud by many people I know," myself included, "though she always endeavours to appear affable; indeed, she did not see any objection to my leaving the parish for a week or two to visit you." If anything, she must relish every moment of my absence.

"She has even condescended to advise me to marry as soon as I could, provided I choose with discretion," he continued, trying to control his urge to smirk. "She made a point to approve all the alterations I made in the parsonage and has even made some suggestions to that effect." Though there is no way I would add any shelves in the closets upstairs.

"That is all very proper and civil," said Mrs Bennet, "and I dare say she is a very agreeable woman. It is a pity that great ladies in general are not more like her. Does she live near you, sir?"

"The garden of the rectory and those of Rosings Park, her ladyship's residence, are only separated by a lane," replied Collins who wished, not for the first time, that the parsonage were on the opposite side of the village. "The grounds are well-manicured, and I often walk them on Sundays."

"I think you said she was a widow, sir? Has she any family?"

"She has one only daughter."

"Has she? Who stands to inherit the estate, then?"

"Miss de Bourgh will, as well as other property."

"Ah!" cried Mrs Bennet, shaking her head, "then she is better off than many girls. And what sort of young lady is she? Is she handsome?"

He could not disparage Miss de Bourgh, yet he would not lie; after a pause he decided to let another speak for him, hoping it would amuse his cousins.

"Lady Catherine says that, in point of true beauty, Miss De Bourgh is far superior to the handsomest of her sex; because there is that in her features which marks the young woman of distinguished birth. She is unfortunately of a sickly constitution, which has prevented her from being much accomplished. Her former governess, who is now her companion, has informed me that she could not have failed to be proficient in anything she would have deigned to learn. Miss de Bourgh is as amiable as her mother, if not more. She often drives by the parsonage in her phaeton and never fails to greet me."

"Has she been presented? I do not remember her name among the ladies at court."

"She has not. The air of the city does not agree with her health, which, as I told Lady Catherine one day, has deprived the British court of its brightest ornament. I am happy to offer now and then those little compliments that are always acceptable to ladies. They never fail to move her ladyship, and it is a sort of attention which I conceive myself peculiarly bound to pay." Collins smiled broadly. Lady Catherine knew very well that his compliments were only meant to tease her, and her suppressed fury in these occasions was entertaining in the extreme.

"It is happy for you that you possess the talent of flattering with delicacy," said Mr Bennet. "May I ask whether these pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the moment or are the result of previous study?"

"They arise chiefly from what is passing at the time and, though I sometimes amuse myself with suggesting and arranging such little elegant compliments as may be adapted to ordinary occasions, I always wish to give them as unstudied an air as possible."

Mr Collins could see that, though his cousin maintained the most resolute composure of countenance, he was listening to him with keen enjoyment, occasionally sharing an amused glance with his second eldest. What William could not discern was whether he laughed at him or with him.

By tea-time he had his answer, for Mr Bennet was glad to take him into the drawing room again and, when tea was over, glad to invite him to read aloud to the ladies. Given the annoyed looks his host threw him, William Collins had no doubt he had not been seen through yet and could only blame himself—and his silence—for it. Deciding that his cousin's enlightenment would wait, Collins readily assented to his request, and a book was produced. Everything announced it to be from a circulating library and, after remarking that it had been a long time since he had last opened a novel, he began to read. He had an agreeable voice, the story was entertaining, and his audience seemed pleased. Only the middle girl—Mary, he remembered—appeared to regret his choice and was looking longingly at a book of sermons which rested on a nearby table. Goodness! Does she believe that, as a clergyman, I ought to read only religious or moralistic texts? He hid a smile and went on with his reading. The family listened to him attentively, even the youngest two who had not stopped whispering and giggling together at dinner. After a while, though, he heard the youngest—Lydia, that was it—loudly whisper to her sister that, for a clergyman, he was not too stuffy and that it really was a shame that he had not chosen the Army as his profession. She then turned towards her mother.

"I so love a man in a red coat! I shall walk to Meryton tomorrow to ask when Mr Denny comes back from town."

Her sisters tried to hush her, but Collins merely laid aside his book.

"I take it that you have had enough of reading for tonight, and I am afraid my throat is becoming parched. Perhaps it is better to leave the other chapters for another time."

Then, turning to Mr Bennet, he enquired whether it would be agreeable to him to play cards or some other game. Mr Bennet offered to play backgammon, observing that he acted very wisely in leaving the girls to their own trifling amusements. Mrs Bennet and her daughters apologised most civilly for Lydia's interruption and promised that it should not occur again if he would resume his book. Mr Collins reaffirmed his desire to rest his voice but remarked that a game that would allow for the participation of all would be preferable, and soon afterwards he was seated at another table with Mr Bennet and his three eldest daughters for a game of spillikins.

Longbourn, the following morning

Collins woke up feeling refreshed from his travels. He had slept admirably well—Mrs Bennet may not like him because of who he was, but she had her pride and would not give anyone any reason to believe that her hostessing skills were poor. He thought of his plan to determine if he could find a bride amongst his cousins and wondered again whether it was such a good idea. He decided to reconsider the idea later in his stay, after all he had met the ladies only the day before. However, a quarter-hour's tête-à-tête with Mrs Bennet before breakfast made him reconsider once again. As he was telling her of his parsonage-house, he had let slip that he had hoped to find a bride in Hertfordshire. This produced from her, amid very complaisant smiles and general encouragement, a caution against her eldest daughter, who was likely to be very soon engaged.

He answered as vaguely as he could, and she seemed to think that he would be interested in pursuing one of her other daughters, which put him high in her good graces. She hinted that Elizabeth, next to Jane in birth, might be an agreeable partner.

Cousin Elizabeth seemed to be a witty, clever, yet proper young lady; he would be happy to further his acquaintance with her—and he thanked Heavens that Mrs Bennet did not suggest he spent more time with her favourite daughter, for he would have had a hard time not rolling his eyes. He had clearly identified Cousin Lydia in that position and did not think he could speak to the girl more than five minutes before wanting to strangle her, hit her on the head, or send her to the nursery—or all of that together. These kinds of actions would certainly not do for a man of the Church.

Lydia's intention of walking to Meryton was not forgotten, and his cousins—four of them, anyway, for Mary had determined to stay home and practise her skills at the pianoforte—had planned to visit their aunt in the neighbouring town. He was to attend them, at the request of Mr Bennet. They had been together in the library after breakfast, and his cousin seemed at first alarmed on seeing his sanctuary thus invaded but quietened on seeing that Collins merely settled with a book without disturbing the leisure and tranquillity that were always to be found in that room. After a couple of minutes, he had commented.

"You are different from what I expected given your letter's content."

"And you are very different from what I would have expected had I relied only on my father's description."

At this Mr Bennet had scowled, and William had smiled. "I gather that the dislike was mutual. Still, sir, I hope you will not bear me any ill will for not having been straightforward with you. My only excuse is that I was unsure of the reception I could expect, and—"

"Yes, yes. Well, there is no harm done," his cousin had cut off, visibly eager to return to his own book. "Still, I wonder how much time my girls will need to realise that you are far from the fool your letter implied you were. I should hope that Elizabeth would be the first to discern this, for she has a little more quickness than her sisters, but I fear she is not known to reassert her first impressions. My Jane, set as she is to see only the good in people, is more likely to be the first to do you justice.

On hearing some noise in the hall, he had asked Collins to go with his daughters and the latter, as much a walker as a reader, had readily agreed. Mr Bennet waved him off, reminding him to tell him which of his daughters would see through him first, and down the path the cousins went.

Meryton, less than half an hour later

Their time passed in civil conversation until they entered the market town. Upon reaching their destination, the younger girls immediately wandered up the street, their attention split between their quest of the officers and their admiration of new items in the shop windows.

They soon all but ran to a young man in uniform walking with a gentleman. The rest of the group caught up with them, and all the appropriate introductions were made. The officer was the Mr Denny of whom Lydia had wondered about during the former evening, with him was his friend Mr Wickham whom he had met in London. That gentleman had a fine countenance and very pleasing address, but William noticed that his young cousins were not fully interested in their new acquaintance until he declared that he had just taken a commission in the local regiment of the Militia. To his consternation, William also discerned that his cousin Elizabeth seemed no less interested in the newcomer than her younger sisters and only expressed herself in a more restrained fashion. He had thought she would be less superficial than that. Only cousin Jane seemed unaffected by the officers, though she was all amiability with them.

Then something strange happened. Miss Bennet had thrown a glance at the main street's end and blushed. Glancing himself, William saw two riders approach and surmised one of them must be the oft-mentioned Mr Bingley. When the gentlemen saw the ladies, they neared their group and began to speak with them—or rather Mr Bingley, for it was only he that spoke, enquiring after Cousin Jane's health, explaining he and the other gentleman had been on their way to Longbourn. His friend, whose name he did not hear, confirmed it with a bow but froze when his eyes met Mr Wickham's. Both gentlemen changed colour, one reddened, the other paled. Mr Wickham, after a pause, touched his hat, the newcomer barely nodded in reply. After a minute or so, Mr Bingley took leave, and he and his friend rode on. Most of the company did not seem to have noticed that first exchange, though the pensive look on Cousin Elizabeth's face made him think that she had at least. Mr Denny and Mr Wickham then walked with the cousins to Mrs Philips's house, where they parted company. Along the way, Collins overheard that the gentleman who acted so peculiarly on the street was a Mr Darcy.

William was introduced to Mrs Philips, who invited her nieces and him to a card party the next evening where the officers of the —shire would be present. On her nieces' entreating, she promised she would have her husband make sure that Mr Wickham would be present at the gathering. Mrs Philips reminded him much of her sister, and William would have preferred staying at Longbourn and discussing with his cousin Bennet to spending an evening with her, but he saw no polite way to extricate himself and accepted the invitation as graciously as he could. Perhaps, he reasoned, this would be the occasion to learn more about the curious interaction between Mr Wickham and Mr Darcy.

His first thought was to ask Cousin Elizabeth for her opinion, but she had attached herself to Cousin Jane's arm, and both ladies were already on their way. Resigned, he offered Cousin Kitty one arm, Cousin Lydia the other, and listened to their praise of Mr Wickham, in comparison to whom every other officer was deemed a "stupid, disagreeable fellow," while his cousins Jane and Elizabeth conversed together ten paces in front of them, not near enough for him to listen to their conversation.

When they arrived at Longbourn and recounted what had occupied their time, Mrs Bennet asked William how he had found her sister; he highly gratified her by praising Mrs Philips's manners and politeness. In truth, though both ladies were quite vulgar, he had been moved by their attentions. As uncouth as they were, they were sincere, and he could not recall having been welcomed with so much attention and sincerity as he had received in Hertfordshire.

The Philips's home, the evening after

Mr Bennet, on hearing about the invitation, had made no objection to his daughters' engagement with their aunt. Mr Collins had been conveyed with them to Meryton and listened with annoyance to his cousins' speculations about Mr Wickham's presence that evening, while he still wondered about the strange reaction the officer of the —shire had displayed the day before. His cousins' curiosity was answered as soon as they set foot in the drawing room for their aunt told them the gentleman had accepted the invitation and was now in their uncle's study. Cousin Lydia and Cousin Kitty all but squealed in delight; Cousin Elizabeth's reaction, though also pleased, was more dignified. Cousin Mary seemed curious about the man who had her younger sisters in rapture, and Cousin Jane threw a glance to her next eldest sister.

They were soon all seated and, as his cousins were discussing with their aunt, Mr Collins found himself at leisure to look around him. He was struck by the size and furniture of the apartment and, when asked by his hostess about his thoughts, he declared without thinking that he might almost have supposed himself in one of Rosing's parlours. Mrs Philips inquired about what Rosings was, and who its proprietor was. Once he had answered, she declared herself flattered by the comparison—which greatly relieved Collins for, given her Ladyship's taste, it had not been meant as a compliment.

He was then asked to speak more about his patroness, her mansion, and his own residence, and did so until the other gentlemen joined them. Mrs Philips listened to him attentively, redirecting him on that subject when he tried to move the conversation to a more palatable subject, and he soon resigned himself to answer her questions about Rosings and its dwellers as well as he could. His hostess expressed no little interest in Lady Catherine, but he could not tell if it was for her sake or his. His cousins appeared bored. He could not blame them for that and regretted that his earlier slip seemed to have curtailed all intelligent discourse for a time.

At last the gentlemen entered the room, and Collins could as well have become invisible. The officers were all handsome men with agreeable manners; his cousins' attention focused on the newest amongst them, Mr Wickham, who outshone his fellows.

William observed with no little interest that Mr Wickham was quick to attach himself to his cousin Elizabeth and hoped he would have the occasion to either discuss their conversation with her or overhear them. For now he kept Mrs Philips company, listening to what she had to share of the local gossip. She was easy to please—some compliment here and there was enough to make her happy.

When the card tables were placed, he was asked by Mrs Philips to partner her husband at whist. He quite liked the game and had played it often while he was at university, but he regretted that he could not join the other table where Cousin Elizabeth sat, still at Mr Wickham's side. Cousin Lydia was on the man's other side, and he hoped, without believing in it too much, that his youngest cousin would have some additional information to share at the end of the evening. He tried to listen to them but could only hear some exclamations; it led him to be mostly inattentive to his own game. He did apologise several times but felt confident Mr Phillips had got the impression that he was a very poor card player. How vexing!

He thought he had heard his cousin mention Mr Darcy. When the whist party was over and they joined the lottery table, he endeavoured to find himself near Cousin Elizabeth in the hopes of overhearing what Wickham told her. He could not sit between them, for that would defeat his purpose, and chose to take a seat at her other side. Alas, the conversation the young lady had with her other neighbour seemed to be at an end. He then had to answer Mrs Philips's enquiries about his success at cards. When he told her that he had lost every point—it was not accurate, but it was certainly how he felt—his hostess expressed some concern, but he waved it away and said that his pride would recover when he would next play with Lady Catherine.

This must have spurred a low-voice enquiry from Mr Wickham, for he heard Cousin Elizabeth speak to that gentleman. Collins endeavoured to listen to her and, on hearing his name, focused his gaze on the card table and his ears on his neighbours.

"... he certainly has not known her long."

"You know of course that Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Lady Anne Darcy were sisters; consequently that she is aunt to the present Mr Darcy."

"No, indeed, I did not. I knew nothing at all of Lady Catherine's connexions. I never heard of her existence till the day before yesterday."

"Her daughter, Miss de Bourgh, will have a very large fortune, and it is believed that she and her cousin will unite the two estates."

This was welcome information for Collins who did not know of that relationship. Lady Catherine spoke about her nephews with fondness but had not called any of them by name. The villagers mentioned some of them and, as he had other things to worry about, he had not endeavoured to discover who the rest of them were. He wondered if Mr Wickham's statement about that hoped-for alliance was accurate. If it was, neither she nor her daughter was open about it.

He must find a way to learn about this conversation and about the local gossip regarding Mr Darcy. Learning facts about that gentleman, or at least things that were not biased in favour of the man, could be of use to him some day. The more he knew about Rosings, the better. Cousin Elizabeth was now explaining to Mr Wickham how she had understood, given Collins's apparent praise of Lady Catherine, that she was rather arrogant. She seemingly had not realised yet that her cousin was aware of the fact. The Militia officer supported her in her opinions, adding a cutting remark towards Mr Darcy; they continued talking together, obviously pleased with each other, until they were called for supper. Mr Wickham then gave his other cousins their share of attention. Cousin Elizabeth could not speak with him again, but it was clear, from the way she was looking at him, that she overflowed with admiration for the man.

The ride back would not provide him with any occasion to hear more about Mr Darcy or Mr Wickham, for Cousin Lydia monopolised the conversation with the enthusiastic retelling of her lottery tickets, of the fish she had won or lost. To remember the game so, she must have concentrated only on it and must not have heard anything of the conversation her sister had with her neighbour. His displeasure must have shown, for Cousin Mary then asked him, in a worried voice, how he had enjoyed his evening. He answered with a few banalities about how well he had been received. When they arrived at Longbourn, Cousin Elizabeth was not long before taking her leave, followed by Cousin Jane soon afterwards. His enquiries would have to wait.

Longbourn, Thursday morning

Mr Collins was in the drawing room when Mr Bingley and his sisters came to offer their personal invitation for a ball that was to be held at Netherfield the following Tuesday. His two eldest cousins, who had been walking in the gardens, entered soon after their guests' arrival and the two visiting ladies appeared delighted to see Cousin Jane again, calling her their dear friend and exclaiming over the length of their separation. If Collins did not know they had seen each other the previous Sunday, he would have thought they had not been in her company for at least a couple of months. They paid little attention to the rest of those present, only speaking to Mrs Bennet and Cousin Elizabeth when they could not do otherwise. They went on their way soon afterwards, which amused William to no end after having heard their heartfelt declaration of desolation about their friend's absence. This, however, seemed to disappoint Mr Bingley, who had seated himself near Cousin Jane and appeared to have more to say to her.

Only Mr Bennet seemed to be indifferent at the prospect of the ball. Mrs Bennet declared it must be a compliment to Cousin Jane and observed that Mr Bingley coming to visit them instead of sending them a card was highly flattering. Cousin Jane smiled more than was her wont, Cousin Elizabeth had the same dreamy look she had when looking at Mr Wickham the previous evening. As for Cousin Kitty—he could not bring himself to think of her as Catherine—and cousin Lydia, they were delighted at the thought of a night of dancing. Cousin Mary assured, in a most serious voice, that she looked forward to attending the event, declaring it to be "no sacrifice".

He was then asked whether he intended to accept Mr Bingley's invitation and surprised his relatives by answering that he was glad to do so and even intended to dance.

"I do not see how such an amusement could be considered evil, and I hope that I shall have the occasion to dance with each of my fair cousins in the course of the evening. May I take this opportunity of soliciting you, Miss Elizabeth, for the two first dances? I trust my cousin Jane will attribute this preference to the right cause, and not to any disrespect for her."

If he were not mistaken, Cousin Jane would, by far, prefer to dance those with Mr Bingley and, if the gentleman's attentions were any indication, only his sisters' hasty departure had prevented him from asking for them already.

Cousin Elizabeth seemed dismayed by his offer. She must have wished to dance the first with Mr Wickham but managed to accept his proposal with as much grace as she could. Her displeasure hinted at more than a delayed dance, though, and it struck Collins that she may have constructed his preference as something more—as the indication that he had selected her as a possible bride. Collins nearly groaned, but there was no help for it. At least she did not seem interested in the match as much as her mother was.

Later that day, he found his eldest cousin alone with her embroidery in the drawing room. He enquired about her sisters and was told that the youngest two were visiting a friend, Cousin Mary was reading, and Cousin Elizabeth walking. Having observed that his two eldest cousins seemed close, William decided that it was possible that Cousin Elizabeth had shared with Cousin Jane the contents of her conversation with Mr Wickham. Still intending to find out more about this in case it could be of use, he suggested that they take a walk in the gardens to enjoy the fresh air. His cousin agreed to it, and they were out of doors soon afterwards.

Collins lost no time in asking her about Mr Wickham and was soon told all Cousin Jane knew about him, which was more than he had expected. Cousin Elizabeth had told her everything she had heard in detail. Mr Wickham had said he had been denied an inheritance by Mr Darcy, whose father wished to give the now officer a living, out of jealousy. Repeating the story obviously upset Cousin Jane and, when asking for the cause of her distress, Collins was answered that she trusted Mr Wickham's tale of woe must be nothing else other than a misunderstanding, for if it were not, Mr Bingley would certainly suffer.

William didn't exactly understand the correlation between Mr Wickham's complaints and Mr Bingley's feelings, but the former's tale did not ring true, and he determined to address Cousin Elizabeth on the subject directly.

That young lady, having returned from her walk, joined them at that moment and seemed taken aback by the sombre mood that had settled between her cousin and her sister. Deciding to take advantage of their privacy, William addressed her.

"Good morning, Cousin Elizabeth. Cousin Jane has just related to me the conversation you had yesterday evening with Mr Wickham and it did not sit well with me."

"Am I not allowed to converse with officers?" Her frown had morphed into a scowl.

"You wilfully misunderstand me." At this, she started. "There was nothing improper in what you have done. However, I can not help but suspect your partner's motives and integrity."

"How so?" Cousin Elizabeth had crossed her arms and glared at him.

"Put aside your feelings towards each gentleman and look only at the facts. Here is a young man of six, perhaps seven and twenty who claims he was denied a living by someone who should have helped him in his career. Yet, he has not taken orders at all. Why should he have received one?"

"What was the point in doing so when his future just had been denied?"

William shook his head.

"Now, look at me, Cousin. I am far less handsome and charming than your Mr Wickham, yet I managed, without help of any kind, to gain a living shortly after I had been ordained. I know I have been lucky for many of my fellows are still curates. However, each of them can hope for a similar position as mine some day and, meanwhile, live an agreeable life—providing they enjoy making sermons, caring for their flock, and living a life devoid of much extravagance. So why did that young man not go that way?"

"Mr Darcy would have destroyed his reputation out of pettiness, making it impossible for him to gain any kind of position."

"Do you truly believe this? I never have heard any of my parishioners criticise him."

"That does not mean anything! Either he does not visit often, or they would not dare to speak badly of Her Ladyship's nephew," huffed Cousin Elizabeth.

Collins rolled his eyes. "Perhaps, or perhaps there is nothing to say about him. I do not know how many nephews Lady Catherine has, but my flock is not one to withhold complaints when it comes to Rosings, its dwellers, and their relations. Mr Darcy, unlike others, was never mentioned to me. Now, has Mr Darcy said anything against Mr Wickham since they met yesterday?"

"Not that I know of," she conceded, "but it may still happen! You are taking Mr Darcy's part, either out of loyalty for Lady Catherine or because you fear that, by displeasing her family, you will endanger your income."

At this, Collins could not help but laugh. When he could master himself, he explained himself to his stunned cousins.

"Lady Catherine is, I fear, already rather displeased with me. She was under the impression, when she gave me the living, that I would be eager to cater to her and let her dictate my life and my sermons. This is definitely not the case, and there is nothing she can do about this. If I offended her nephew, it would be one more offence she could lay at my door, but it would not be enough to threaten me in any way. Now, back to Mr Wickham, if you please. If he has been so wronged, why did he not complain?"

"He said there was a subtlety in the will such that he could not win in court; moreover, he told me he felt he could not publicly criticise Mr Darcy because he owed much to his father," protested a still heated Elizabeth.

"And yet he shared with you, whom he had just met, his complaints about the man. Do you not see how inconsistent this is?"

"He trusted I would keep his confidence!"

"How would he know that? My younger cousins, the day they met, did not hide the fact that they were eager to gossip, and he had no reason to believe you would be different. Cousin Lydia was seated at his side during the card party. He had no way to be certain that she would be so concentrated on her tickets that she would not overhear him."

Cousin Elizabeth did not answer, and William hoped that he had given her enough food for thought. As the weather turned to rain, they went back to the house, and he added, just as they came to the door:

"I know Lady Catherine de Bourgh. She is proud and arrogant, yet she would not lower herself to ruin someone only because she dislikes him or her. As I told you before, I am well placed to tell you such a thing. I very much doubt her nephew would be that different in his dealings with others—as his reaction on Tuesday proves. If he wished to hinder the man that much, it would have been easy for him, with his connexions, to just drop a word into Colonel Forster's ear, and Mr Wickham would never have been able to keep his position in the militia. This is not what Mr Darcy did—he merely ignored the man. Mayhap there is, as Cousin Jane believes, a misunderstanding. However, in any case, Mr Wickham is not to be wholly trusted."

Having said his piece, he went inside, followed by a chagrined Elizabeth. She could not delude herself and dismiss his analysis. The possibility of Wickham's unworthiness might have hurt her more if her cousin was not proving to be more interesting than she had first thought. The militia officer had more charm, but the clergyman had more substance; she began to feel gratified by his distinguishing her amongst her sisters. When her mother, not long afterwards, gave her to understand that she would be pleased if Mr Collins made her an offer of marriage, Elizabeth found herself privately agreeing with her. Of course, she had not known Mr Collins one week, and he might well never ask for her hand, but there was no harm in searching to know her cousin better. If anything, it would put her in her mother's good graces and, who knows, she might become distracted enough to not embarrass her daughters at the ball with mentions of her hopes for Jane and Bingley.

The rain was not long before falling, and the bad weather held until the day of the ball, preventing the young people from going out. Collins did not mind spending some time in Longbourn's library, but his cousins Kitty and Lydia bemoaned their circumstances loudly, and even their elder sisters seemed downcast. He thought to mention that he had been a long time without dancing. Cousin Jane suggested that they could surely practise, at which Cousin Lydia clapped her hands and had the music room cleared away. Cousins Elizabeth and Mary took turns at the pianoforte while he was taught the dances that were likely to be played. William felt clumsy at first but proved to be an apt student, and the afternoons that led up to the Tuesday of the ball were spent most agreeably with music and laughs. Mary was the only one who objected to such frivolity, but the occasion to practise her music and get praise from her sisters was enough to appease her misgivings.