Chapter 21

Despite the warmth of the day Elizabeth shivered upon entering the parsonage at Hunsford. She was immediately struck by the change in atmosphere. When she had last visited it had been a warm, comfortable and welcoming family home but since Charlotte's death the parsonage had altered into something cold, cavernous and foreboding.

The only servant kept at the parsonage was a sullen maid called Ruby, who was expected to work as a scullery maid, parlour maid and ladies maid when required. She did all three jobs very badly but until now Charlotte's efficiency had hidden Ruby's deficiencies.

Elizabeth handed Ruby her hat and coat, walked into Charlotte's pokey sitting room and sank listlessly into an easy chair. The sky was darkening but she had not the energy or the inclination to either draw the curtains or ask the maid to draw them for her. After sometime there was a knock on the door and Elizabeth's heart sank a little lower when Mr. Collins walked in. He coughed akwardly. She slowly dragged her gaze from the window and turned towards him.

"We must dine soon."

"I have no appetite."

"Well, I have!" said Mr. Collins indignantly.

"Mr. Collins, we are not attached at the hip. If you want to dine then, by all means, do so."

"I jolly well will! But you have to cook something first!"

Elizabeth's eyes opened wide, "Cook...?"

"Yes!" said Mr. Collins impatiently.

"Can't the maid..." began Elizabeth.

"I am not eating anything that half wit has prepared. Her culinary skills begin and end with peeling parsnips and goodness only knows when she last washed her hands."

"I am willing to bet that her hands have seen soap and water more recently than your feet. Anyway, I am sorry to disappoint you but I have never cooked anything in my entire life. You know full well that we kept a cook/housekeeper at Longbourn."

"Then you will just have to learn or we will go very hungry," snapped Mr. Collins.

Elizabeth shrugged and went back to staring out of the window before taking herself off to bed. She slept in the same room that she had stayed in before but this time she wedged a chair under the doorknob to deter any unwanted nocturnal visits.

The next morning Elizabeth dressed herself and was just putting on her hat and coat in the hall when Mr. Collins bellowed for her to enter the dining room. Reluctantly Elizabeth walked as far as the doorway. Her husband was sitting at the dining table with a napkin tucked into his neck scarf and he held a knife and fork in each hand.

"I smell no bacon," he observed tetchily.

Elizabeth sniffed, "No, nor I."

He threw down his cutlery, "Well, I must have my bacon and an egg and freshly baked bread for breakfast else I will not have enough energy to get through the morning service!"

Elizabeth shrugged, "Well sir, I am sure that there will be flour in the pantry, and I know well that there are chickens in the garden and a pig in the pen."

"And what is that supposed to mean," Mr. Collins frowned, mystified.

"It means, that if you want breakfast sir, you must cook it yourself!" Elizabeth pinned her hat and walked out of the front door. She headed for the graveyard, collecting a posy of wild flowers on the way.

Charlotte did not yet have a headstone but hers was the only freshly dug grave. Elizabeth gently laid the posy on top of the freshly disturbed earth and said a whispered prayer for her friend. She also apologised for missing her funeral and marrying her husband and promised to come and visit her grave frequently.

As she stood over the grave a wept a feeling of warmth, love and positivity swept over Elizabeth. She now felt sure that Charlotte had heard her prayer and was supporting her. Elizabeth knew that with Charlotte's love she would survive her new life. She turned back to the parsonage with a lighter heart and the stirrings of an appetite.

Back at the parsonage she found Mr. Collins gnawing disconsolately on a hunk of stale bread in the kitchen. He stared at her balefully. She turned away without comment. Once the dairy maid had called she drank some fresh milk in Charlotte's sitting room but it was not long before Mr. Collins, invigorated by his meagre breakfast, burst in upon her.

"So this is what our lives are to be?" he cried.

"It very much looks that way, doesn't it," replied Elizabeth coolly.

"You will not lie with me, you will not cook for me and you will not keep house for me – and yet you call yourself my wife!" he spat.

"You are mistaken; I do not call myself your wife. The law calls me your wife. I sir, call myself a prisoner and you an ass!"

"Why you insolent..." cried Mr. Collins, "But I should have known, I should have known! I, a man of God, tried to spread a little charity upon your family. I came to give you my name and give your family back some respectability in an attempt to counterbalance the low ways of your sister. And this is the thanks I receive? Why, you are as tainted as your sibling."

Elizabeth stood up, "No sir, you came to Longbourn seeking my hand, knowing very well that my father could no longer refuse you. You forced an old honourable man's hand and I despise you for it!" Elizabeth slowly advanced upon him until they were almost nose to nose, "Listen, and listen well for I do not boil cabbages twice, I am your wife in name only; I will not cook for you, I will not keep house for you and if you ever so much as try to lay a finger on me I will stab you in the throat with a hat pin. You have forever destroyed any chance of happiness I might once have had so I care not one fig for what society may think of me or us. If you want to tell the world that your marriage is a sham then sir, be my guest!"

Mr. Collins took a nervous gulp and a step backwards before calling for the maid. Ruby entered the room nonchalantly and Mr. Collins turned upon her, "Ruby, from now on you are to do all the cooking and the cleaning and...and just generally run the parsonage."

Ruby's mouth dropped and her eyes looked mournful at the thought of all that work, "But master I ain't ever done no cooking or nothing! I only does peeling and washing up. And I feeds the peels to Rosalie."

"Who's Rosalie?" Elizabeth frowned to think of such a poor wretch existing on the peelings of her kitchen.

"Rosalie's my only friend in the world," cried Ruby.

"Rosalie is not your friend, she has no soul, she is a pig. I repeat, from now on you will run the parsonage," commanded Mr. Collins, "and if you don't, Rosalie gets it," he drew a finger across his throat.

Ruby looked from her master to her new mistress and then burst into tears and fled from the room with her apron over her head.

Caroline sat down late to dinner. Darcy, still pale and frail, sat at the opposite end of the vast highly polished mahogany table from his wife. He languorously unfurled his linen napkin.

"Your milliner keeps later and later hours."

"Yes, but then again, I am her best customer," smiled Caroline.

"I do hope you have not grown too dependent upon her services," Darcy let the sentence hang in the air.

"Would it matter?" Caroline broke her bread roll and buttered it, "After all, it's not as if you ever miss me."

"True. But I don't want it to be too much of a wrench for you when we are in the country."

Caroline put down her soup spoon, "The country?"

"Yes, I will recover sooner in the country air, that is my aunt's view at any rate, so she has invited us to stay at Rosings."