Author's Notes: Wow! Thank you all so much for the response to the previous chapter. The next chapter is the first to be edited by the awesome Pipsicle00! You may see some spelling differences that are not consistent with the previous chapter. We are going to edit and revise the previous chapters to be consistent with the edited content of the second half of the story even as I continue working on the rest of the story, and I'll let you know in AN's when that happens.
The following content is as violent as this story will ever get. So far I haven't had any reviewers tell me the rating should be increased, but I am open to having that discussion if anyone thinks it needs to be brought up.
Thanks for reading!
The rain that had begun in torrents had decreased to a down pour. Jane and Mary sat in the drawing room, presumably at work on mending shirts, but neither Bennet sister had progressed much in their task since arriving home at Longbourn. Mary sat with her back to the window, but her sister faced the view of the road, unable to rid her countenance of her concern. Each minute that passed etched the worry more firmly into her expression. She had been quiet and resigned when she had sat, but now she was pale and afraid.
They sat in silent contemplation until Jane could bear their silence no longer. "He should be back by now." she murmured, her hands tugging on the fabric with anxiety.
Miss Bennet's cool blue gaze met her sister's with a steadfast earnestness. "You must allow more than the usual time to pass. In a deluge such as this, travel by any means will be slowed considerably. I am sure William is on his way. He must be."
Jane shook her head softly, her eyes moving from her sister's to the glass of the window and the road beyond. "Would that I could take comfort in your words, Mary. Yet I cannot. I have already given extra time for William to travel. How much more do I allot until I give way to despair?"
The younger sister sighed heavily. "There is little we have in our power to do - Mr. Collins spares his son no concern at all. You know he would be terribly displeased if you were to send one of the servants out to retrieve him. You also know that it would only make William's situation worse. You would shield him from a storm but deliver him to a tempest."
Mrs. Collins could not help but wince at her sister's words. All of her emotion and concentration was fixated on her step-son, caught outside in terrible autumn weather, with only his great coat and hat to shield him from the elements. Typically, she was able to maintain her veneer of serenity, yet her concern for those she loved shook that resolution soundly. William was her step-son, he was a dear, sweet boy that Jane had thought kindly of since the day that they had met. She had no children of her own to love and had all but one of her sisters taken far away from her, so it had only been natural that Jane's maternal instinct had taken the timid William Collins II under her wing. Jane knew that Mary was correct, that her husband would not take kindly to her interference in the lesson he meant to impart on his son. Yet to do nothing was abhorrent, to allow cruelty to go unfettered so against her nature.
"I will allow for another quarter hour to pass." she conceded, attempting to placate her sister with half of a smile. "Another quarter hour but no longer. You cannot ask it of me, Mary."
"I dare not." Her sister replied with more than her usual feeling. "Take comfort from the words of the good book, Jane. You must remember, 'God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.' If William does not arrive of his own volition very soon, we must not give in to our worry but pull together our strength and see that he is found. You cannot give way to the very worst aspects of a lively imagination. He will be found, and he will be well, we shall see to that."
A quarter hour had never passed so slowly for Jane as the next one that came. She attempted to sew, but after pricking her finger in her distraction, gave up on the project in order to alternate between watching the road that lead to Longbourn's park, and checking the clock intermittently. Mary attempted to continue with the afternoon's work, hoping to ease her sister's anxieties by revealing none of her own. Her determination to remain unperturbed aided Jane somewhat, but until her step-son was standing before her, Jane would feel no clear relief. The very moment that the given time had passed, she rose, moving for the bell.
Mary frowned heavily, but dared not say anything. She could not deny that a considerable amount of time had passed for William's return, yet she was worried less about his present situation than she was about the one that would await him in his father's study.
A footman arrived promptly, and heard his mistress's instructions. They were simple enough to follow. Young Mr. Collins had left Netherfield on foot. Check the road, check the pathways, find him or find out what had happened to delay him, and make haste. A summons for Hill saw to the rest - warm blankets by the fire, and prepare hot water for a bath for the heir of Longbourn, as he surely must be soaked through by now. If the servants of Longbourn had any qualms at carrying out their mistress' instructions they did not reveal them. Mr. Collins walking out in such weather was surely madness, but affection for gentle Jane overrode any personal opinions on the matter.
Useful occupation gave Jane some degree of mastery over her emotions, as it had always done before. It was a skill learned when her mother had died and perfected in the years of her marriage. If Jane could not be outdoors, hunting for her wayward step-son herself, she could manage her household to make things as comfortable for his arrival as possible. It was comforting to know that she could aid him in her own way. She felt her anxiety begin to calm as the Longbourn servants shuffled about the house in their tasks. Yet time still seemed to pass at an achingly slow pace.
Another quarter hour dragged on. Mary worked diligently, however Jane saw her brow crease in concentration and watched as that same crease deepened with every passing minute. Mary was every bit as worried as Jane was herself, but would not own it aloud. Jane sat next to her sister and placed a soft hand on her shoulder, rubbing her with soothing affection. Mary stiffened under her touch, but said nothing, knowing this gesture was as much for Jane's own comfort as her own. As the new quarter hour dragged onward, the needle in her hands slowed. Jane tutted comfortingly, and gently took the fabric from her sister's hands returning it to the mending basket.
"Surely we will have some news any moment now." The younger woman stated with shaken confidence.
"The rain remains steady; however it is only three miles of good road between Longbourn and Netherfield. I am positive now that the servants are looking for him, we will have a report shortly."
Mary could not suppress the apprehension that coated her tone. "It is a comfort to know that there is a search party afoot, however inadvisable such a decision might be."
Mrs. Collins sent her sister a sharp look, her rich blue eyes containing a storm much more powerful than any to be found out doors. "Yet as Mistress of Longbourn, it was my decision to make, and whatever consequences that may come, mine to bear."
Mary bowed her head slightly in deference to her elder sister. "You are quite correct. I did not mean to imply otherwise."
"Forgive me, Mary." Jane replied, grasping her sister's hands warmly, "I know you mean only to aid and protect me, just as I do William. My nerves are quite rattled from the events of these past few days. I am not in full possession of my patience."
"You need never apologize to me!" Came the passionate response. Indeed, Mary meant that sentiment with every fiber of her being. "Jane, you are too good, you have the patience of Job himself. You may always speak freely to me and ease your own burdens, I would have it no other way. Please do not refrain for fear that you may offend my sensibilities, my affection for you could not allow it! I offer what comforts and platitudes that are within my abilities, and only despair that they are not equal to what you deserve."
Jane moved closer, wrapping an arm around her sister, and laid her fair head against Mary's chestnut curls. "You are very kind and very intelligent Mary. Never feel that what you have to say is unworthy of any recipient."
She leaned into her embrace, taking comfort in the affection. "Whatever may happen, we have one another. We will always be able to stem the tide of malice, and pour into the wounded bosoms of each other the balm of sisterly consolation."
The elder of the pair smiled with a gentle fragility. "Indeed we shall Mary, we shall." Yet she could not help but think of the sisters lost to her, away at school, and simply, away.
The Bennet sisters of Longbourn sunk into a companionable silence, waiting for time to pass. Waiting was the only action available to them, the women's lot in life. Taking action was the purview of men. They abandoned their attempts at distraction in favor of the comfort sisterly embrace could provide. It was Mary who first noticed the sound if hooves on the drive.
"A rider approaches!" She exclaimed, breaking their silent reverie.
Jane shot from her seat with all the force of a cannon. Mary followed in her wake and they made their way to the foyer, where a stone-faced Hill was accepting a note from the rider. He was off again before anyone could make inquiries of him, citing his need to reach Meryton with haste.
Jane opened the note with a shaking hand.
My Dear Mrs. Collins,
I regret to inform you that your son, Mr. William Collins, was found on the lane separating Longbourn from Netherfield, attempting to take some refuge from the weather. He was found injured and indisposed, and the gentlemen, having to make a quick judgement while in the harsh elements, decided to bring him to Netherfield, being closer to that estate than your own. He is now resting comfortably, and will be receiving the administrations of Mr. Jones, as soon as he can be brought here. I do not intend to alarm you, however, his condition is poor. He is feverish and has a very swollen ankle, amongst what I am told are several other injuries. I assure you, he will be the recipient of every possible attention, and while we would wish injury and illness on no man, we are more than happy to host Mr. Collins at Netherfield for the duration of his recovery. If you would please send over his clothing and any other personal items that he may need, I am sure it would greatly add to the gentleman's comfort while he remains with us.
Yours,
Caroline Bingley
The letter crumpled in Jane's first as she finished the note. She could not deny the onslaught of emotions that assailed her, but the most over powering of them all was her anger. William should be sitting in her drawing room, reading aloud in his ponderous manner, healthy, dry, and unharmed. Yet he lay, insensible, in pain, in the bed of a stranger. And who was responsible?
Who indeed.
Jane straightened her shoulders, the power of her fury bringing a strength and conviction to her bearing that was not normally present. Mary watched with wide eyes as her sister marched toward the lion's den. She called out in protest, but Jane dismissed her call with a simple wave of her hand. The housekeeper and the ward looked at one another with fearful eyes.
Jane was too angry to be afraid as she entered her husband's study unannounced. He looked up from the ledger at her approach with down turned lips and a black, unblinking stare. She snapped the door closed behind her and approached Mr. Collins' desk with fury fueling her steps. She dropped the crumbled missive onto his desk, and stood, looming over him with all the righteous passion of a vengeful goddess.
"From Netherfield." She said, tersely.
He leaned back in his seat, looking her over dispassionately. He did not reach for the note, only incensing his wife further.
"Will you not read it?" She snapped.
"I will not." Was the cold reply. "I can see that you already have, and what it contains has troubled you enough to make this indecent display. Normally you are much better behaved wife than to disturb my peace in such an unseemly fashion."
Jane took a deep breath, willing herself to remain steadfast in her pursuit of justice, and not rise to the bait that the cold man lay before her. "I have received news of a most alarming nature."
He stared, head cocking slightly to indicate he heard her but would not deign to grace her with a response.
"Your son, who should have returned here more than hour ago, is presently at Netherfield."
This information was enough to rouse him. He did not attempt to conceal his disgust and derision in his reply. "Did that sniveling coward come crying at their door step when the rain began? How is it that I have raised such a soft little man!?"
"No." Came his wife's response, her voice gaining strength with each word that escaped her lips. "He did not arrive, he was found, on the road, injured and soaked to the bone. His rescuer saw fit to return him to Netherfield, rather than bring him to his own home."
"An insufferable presumption on their part. Do they believe the Collins family incapable of providing care for an injury? We will retrieve my idiot son forthwith and he will be punished for the lack of dignity he has displayed today. He is a stain upon my name."
"I believe you will find him to be quite out of your reach. Perhaps you should read the missive yourself."
A pause of indeterminable length seemed to pass. Collins would not be ordered about by his wife, and his ire was rising with every moment that she did not comply or seek to gratify him. Her behavior was so out of character that he was almost unnerved by it, but he refused to show that he was discomposed. He wore his mask well, but Jane's power of observation was even stronger than his resolve. No one knew her husband as well as she did, and she had made it her study to understand him and his varying moods in order to make her own life as comfortable as it could be under his power. It was only a slight narrowing of his eyes, and a rigidity in his posture that gave away the severity of his anger. Yet, for once, it was no match for her own. Jane saw his rage and allowed it to feed the flames of her own passion.
Finally, with a broad sweep of his large, weather worn hand, the letter was picked up and unfolded. Jane remained standing, watching his face carefully as he read. His jaw tightened, a small crease made its way into his brow. His lips disappeared in a thin line that slashed its way across the planes of his face. Nostrils flared slightly. He placed the letter down, and did not look at her, but into the fire. His hand trembled.
She did not speak, though her lips burned with all the words she wanted to say. Jane was strong, but she was not a fool. There was only so much she could provoke a wild animal before it was bound to lash out at her. She maintained her stoicism with a willful stubbornness. Finally, her husband broke the crackling silence.
"He is weak. He has always been weak." He muttered, staring into the flames.
"He is not weak." Jane replied resentfully. "You are strong, too strong for one man to withstand you, especially when he has no means to defend himself against your onslaught."
His head turned toward her with a calculated slowness. His countenance had fallen totally flat as he regained regulation of his emotions. His dark eyes were as hard as Jane had ever seen them. Her heart raced to see the malice that resided within his gaze, and yet she remained firm. This time, he had gone too far, and she would make sure he knew it.
"My heir cannot be a weakling and an idiot. My legacy shall not be an embarrassment to my name. If he could not be taught to be strong, it is my prerogative to beat my strength into him. A father does what he must. You and your barren state have given me no other alternative."
Jane did not allow the insult to affect her, she had been disparaged for her lack of children so long that she had become impervious to his words on the matter. "A father does what he must - and yet a man cannot attack another without facing consequences in a lawful society. To beat a man to death is murder, and murder a hanging offense."
A large fist slammed down on the desk, disturbing all the contents which occupied it. The strength of it reverberated through the room. Jane winced, but she did not step back. Her blue eyes bore into him, judgmental and accusatory.
A bead of perspiration formed along his brow. "I am no murderer!"
"As of yet, you are not." She spat back, placing her hands on the desk and drawing her face down toward his. "And if your son lives, and does not speak against you, you will remain innocent of any wrong doing in the eyes of society. Yet I wonder how you will fare in the eyes of God after you assaulted one of his ordained ministers."
The impact of her words drove Collins to rise from his chair in a swift, fluid motion. "Woman! How dare you speak so to me! Subservient as you are before the husband you have promised to love and obey! You forget yourself. You have no right to caste your judgement upon me. You belong to me. You are mine."
Somewhere in Jane's mind, she registered that she was truly terrified of her husband, but the racing of her heart would not allow her to give way to her fear in this moment. She would have all the time in the world to be afraid after this terrible interview was past, and could soak in all her shock and dismay at her own foolish bravery. Now it only bolstered her to see this moment through.
"Indeed I am! I made my vows before God and I have abided by them! You may do with me what you please, and I will accept your punishment. But you must remember that the law of England only allows you so much power, and the laws of the Lord restrict you further. Caroline Bingley writes to me of William's broken ankle amongst 'other injuries', do you truly believe that no one will seek to learn where they came from?!"
Perspiration now dotted the length of her husband's hairline. His anger was palpable in the small study, the very air was thick with something that went beyond malice, beyond rage. A large hand raised to strike her, and Jane closed her eyes, ready to accept the blow.
It did not come.
Jane opened her eyes, to see that her husband had stepped back several paces. He had begun sweating profusely, and the arm that had been raised to hit her now desperately clutched at his cravat, attempting to undo it. Her nature was such that she could not help but respond to a creature in distress. She stepped forward, instinctively reaching out to ease his obvious discomfort.
He shrank back from her, even as he ripped the offending fabric from his neck. "Get out." The command came out as wheeze, but the hate that burned in his black orbs gave the words their necessary power. "Get out. Leave me."
She backed away, reading all the discomfort and anger in the hard lines of his face. "Very well." She answered, dropping into a deep curtesy. "I shall leave."
Her husband threw himself into the leather wing back behind the master's desk, his tanned face paling before her. His wife hesitated, torn between her duty to obey and the compassionate aspect of her disposition. His chest rose and sank in great, heaving breaths that were not natural. "Are you as insipid as you are beautiful?" He said with some difficulty, unable to fully catch his breath. "GET. OUT."
Jane was not foolish enough to provoke an injured animal. She back toward the door, dropping her eyes toward the floor. "As you command." She murmured. She stepped into the hall, closing the door behind her.
Her clever mind raced with the implication of all that her husband had said. A beatific smile began to spread across her lips even as tears filled her eyes. "Yes, I must do as my husband bids." She thought, with rising giddiness.
Jane moved through the halls of Longbourn, almost unsure of where she was going. There was much to be done and no time to lose. "Hill? Mrs. Hill?" She called, her voice taking on a somewhat hysterical note of laughter.
The house keeper rushed out to meet her, and Mary raced behind her, the both of them unable to mask their anxiety. "Yes, Mistress, what can I do for you?" Mrs. Hill asked, full of motherly concern.
"Jane, are you well?" Mary spoke almost on top of the elder lady, rushing forward to grasp at her sister. "We heard shouting but could not make out all that was said."
"I am well, I am well." Came the reply, as tears rolled down a flushed face. Mary pressed a handkerchief into her sister's hand and lead her toward the drawing room. "Hill, please see to it that bags are packed for myself and for Miss Mary. We must leave as soon as the roads are passable."
"Ma'm?" Hill asked, meeting Mary's bewildered look. "The Master…"
"He orders me to go, Hill. It is by his command that I must leave." Jane replied, dabbing at her eyes. "Poor William was discovered in a terrible state, and we must go attend him." She paused, taking a steadying breath to calm her nerves. "We are to Netherfield, and as soon as possible."
Author's Notes: Before any one gets too excited, this episode is NOT heralding the death of our villain. We're about half way through this story, and Collins Sr has a lot more to answer for than being an abusive father and husband, especially considering that during the time in which he lived, a man was within his rights to beat his wife. I tried to do some research about protection for children, and from what I can see, there wasn't any. Jane's argument hinges on the idea that now that William is an independent adult and achieved his majority, he could press charges against his father. Being disinherited is a threat, but an expensive and complicated one for Collins to achieve, especially since he has no other children and the estate is entailed. William is also now living independently from the estate's income. Will this incident be the straw that breaks the camel's back? The power dynamic of the father-son and husband-wife will shift a few times in this story before we reach our conclusion.
As always, thanks for reading! I love to hear your thoughts about where the story is headed, and it helps provide inspiration and motivation to keep on plugging away at this tale.
