Rosings Park
Although Mr. Collins was a proper gentleman, ever mindful of his station and situation in life, he found that he could not keep his eyes away from the splendors that Lady Catherine had introduced him to, by dint of writing to him, and informing him of Elizabeth Bennet's deceitful, underhanded ways, the paltry arts for which she used to trick, nay, deceive Mr. Darcy, Lady Catherine's beloved nephew, to marry her.
Indeed, he had read of the wedding of Elizabeth Teresa Bennet, of Hertfordshire to Mr. Fitzwilliam George Darcy, of Pemberley in Derbyshire in the morning's paper. It had not been a shock to him, no more than a shock that Mr. Darcy had actually forgot himself and had married his inferior cousin, because Mrs. Bennet's infernal sister, whose company and tongue he knew he should have forbade Elizabeth Bennet and the other Bennet chits from, had spread the word all over Meryton, from one of her paltry card parties, that Mr. Darcy had proposed to his cousin days after she had refused him!
Not for the first time, since refusing him, had Mr. Collins wished he had come across his fair cousin before she had left town.
Beside him, the man that he had brought with him-a Mr. George Wickham-snorted as he took in the glory and splendor of Rosings Park, and Mr. Collins resisted, barely, the urge to cuff him for his sheer cheek in the face of such a splendid home. He had resisted thus far, because Mr. Wickham had not acted in this manner in front of Lady Catherine, although he supposed it was due to the fact that he and Mr. Wickham were meeting with Lady Catherine for the first time, as she had humbly, and generously invited them into her beautiful estate.
But if he should act thus in front of a woman such as her ladyship, Mr. Collins was sure to give him the proper hiding he deserved for such disrespect.
A butler, dressed in somber black opened the door to the grandest estate, and without even taking their names, led them into a parlour where an imposing, fiercely handsome woman sat awaiting them.
Mr. Collins, unable to keep himself from being overwhelmed by the splendor that was presented to him, nearly tripped over himself in his eagerness to bow to her ladyship, yet did not wish to keep his eyes off the chimney piece nor the paintings that dominated the walls of that great estate.
"My dear Lady Catherine de Bourgh," he said reverently soft voice, a feat which he found most impressive, as he was out of breath from keeping himself upright from falling, "I am Mr. Collins of Longbourn. And my companion, " he said, unable to keep the lurid distaste from his lips, "is Mr. George Wickham. I had thought he might be useful to your ladyship, and so I persuaded him to join me on my journey to your magnificent estate, my lady."
He jostled the man beside him to bow, which the man did with an exaggerated lowness. Mr. Collins mouth twisted at the gall of Mr. Wickham! Perhaps some time in debtor's prison would improve his disposition towards his betters, Mr. Collins thought cruelly, as he examined the reasons behind Mr. Wickham becoming his traveling companion.
Elizabeth Bennet had indeed been correct to be suspicious of his story of Mr. Darcy cheating him out of an inheritance, although Mr. Collins was of the opinion that Mr. Darcy, will or no, had clearly done what any other man of his station would have when faced with acknowledging and rewarding the son of a steward as though he were part of his own family!
After Elizabeth Bennet had related to him the story that Mr. Wickham had relayed her, he had summoned Mr. Hill to ask around Meryton as to the character of Mr. Wickham, although Mr. Hill had told him, quite honestly, a mark in which he valued in such a servant, that Mr. Wickham charmed the ladies, but had was already gaining a reputation for being unable to pay his debts, and such charms were wearing thin on the shop owners of the town of Meryton.
To add insult to injury, Mr. Darcy, before leaving town, a week or so after Elizabeth Bennet had left to live with the Gardner's in Cheapside, he and Mr. Bingley, as he understood it, had visited Colonel Forster, the head of Mr. Wickham's regiment to inform him of Mr. Wickham's misdeeds. He had also found out that Mr. Wickham was engaged to a Mary King, who had recently inherited ten thousand pounds, an engagement that had ended after word got out of Mr. Wickham's behavior.
Mr. Collins felt pity for the man, Mr. Darcy, the estimable Lady Catherine's nephew, for he had clearly been tricked and deceived by Eliza Bennet, but he had portrayed a sound mind and head in informing Colonel Forster of Mr. Wickham's misdeeds in spreading an egregious story around Meryton. If Mr. Collins had been in the same position, he should have also done the same thing.
"Mr. Collins." rang the authoritative lady's voice.
Mr. Collins focused upon her in panic, for he had been lost in his own thoughts once again, and had gotten distracted, a trait that his benevolent, dearly missed father had done his best, with God's hand, to train out of him.
Mr. Collins bowed as low as he could go, as second time, his apology pouring out of his mouth like water rushing over a high fall, "My dear Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am indeed mortified! I most heartily-"
"That is enough, Mr. Collins!" the lady spoke over him, and Mr. Collins instantly quieted. "You and Mr. Wickham, sit, over there." she said, gesturing to the open chaise to the left of her.
Mr. Collins meekly did as he was bid, and Mr. Wickham followed lazily after him, clearly uninterested in the proceedings. An attitude, Mr. Collins was pleased to note, that Lady Catherine did not seem to tolerate.
"Mr. Wickham, I should hope that you would take an interest in these proceedings, given the vendetta you hold against my nephew." she informed him, calmly.
Mr. Wickham's face drained of color, and before he could say anything, her ladyship, Lady Catherine had him closing his mouth with a single look.
"Now, Mr. Collins, Mr. Wickham, I only require that you should listen." she said authoritatively, her dark eyes roving over their forms.
"My nephew has made a grave mistake, a mistake in which I had given him ample time to correct before it became too late, and unfortunately it has become too late for he has married the chit, and they are most likely now in Derbyshire, in my dear, late sister's home!"
Mr. Collins knew that he should do as her ladyship had requested, that he should stay quiet, but he could not help himself, and rushed to comfort Lady Catherine as best he knew how, given that their companionship and knowledge of each other consisted of only a two letters between them-one from Lady Catherine directing Mr. Collins that he should come to Rosings Park, posthaste, so that they could speak of her nephew and Eliza Bennet, and the other, he was proud to say, he had sent by express, stressing to the clerk that the rider should not stop but continue to ride straight to to Rosings Park, so that her ladyship should receive his reply as quickly as possible.
"It is not entirely your nephew's fault, your ladyship," he said in what he hoped to be a soothing tone, "for I have spent nearly a year in close quarters with Elizabeth Bennet, and I do believe, Lady Catherine, that she is entirely capable of those mean arts that some, ill bred ladies employ to capture such a man. Indeed, my own dear father, whom God took away too soon from this world, had sensed it in the Bennet girls, and had done his best to instruct me in the best way to handle them, for their own benefit."
Seeing encouragement from Lady Catherine's stern features, Mr. Collins continued on, ignoring Mr. Wickham's garbled laugh,
"Indeed, my lady, I found that strict access to only the most polite and refined company was the key to dealing with such a family of females, yet I am saddened to note that even when they were properly chaperoned, and in the direct influence of a fine woman, such as Mr. Bingley's sister, Miss Caroline Bingley, Eliza Bennet still managed to go back to her former behaviors. It is indeed shocking, and I most heartily apologize for her behavior, your ladyship, although there was not much else that I could do." he finished with, gazing hopefully into Lady Catherine's eyes, hoping that she should hear him, that she should understand him.
There was a long moment of silence, the longest and most horrid silence that Mr. Collins had ever felt, and he had only relaxed when Lady Catherine addressed him thus,
"I see."
Calling for tea, Lady Catherine graciously directed her servant to pour it especially to their tastes, and returned to the task at hand.
"I want you to tell me of the Bennet sisters, Mr. Collins. All of them."
Her ladyship was so direct in her wants, that Mr. Collins had no choice but to comply, and eagerly, he did.
Of the eldest Bennet-Jane, who was the most beautiful of the Bennet sisters, but was now crippled in the same accident that injured and killed her father, and was now unable to wed because of it.
Of Eliza Bennet-Mr. Collins took great pains to explain the amount of time his father had spent with her each morning, until her death, in instructing her and guiding her away from the unfortunate arts that seemed innate in the Bennets.
Of Mary Bennet-the plainest of all the Bennet sisters, who had spent a great deal of time practicing on her pianoforte, although she played very badly, and had since been tarred with the same brush as her hoydenish sister, Lydia, due to their close proximities.
Of Kitty and Lydia Bennet, both of whom had been loud, silly, obnoxious girls who had openly lusted and ogled and chased after officers-after men, and had gone out to seek them, unchaperoned! Lydia Bennet especially displayed such behavior, for she was the ringleader.
He regretfully informed her that that was most likely where Elizabeth Bennet had learned such behavior, in her capture of Mr. Darcy, despite his and his father's best efforts to dissuade such behavior.
Her ladyship seemed pleased with his information, for she asked him several more questions, before saying "Good, thank you, Mr. Collins", an accolade that he should remember for the rest of his days, before turning to Mr. Wickham, and questioning him as well, on his financial situation.
As Mr. Collins listened to his ladyship's plan and what she had intended to do, to free her poor, obviously confused and deceived nephew, he could not help but allow his smile to take over his entire face.
Once Eliza Bennet had been dealt with in a satisfactorily way, as her ladyship was making sure happened, he could move on with his life, and proceed to select a bride to birth the Collins heir. He was not quite sure that he should choose anyone from Meryton, for they had all laughed at him when Eliza had rejected him, for why should any one of their daughters be worthy, or have any right to become the mistress of such an estate as Longbourn after such disrespect, but he still had some time to make a final decision.
All would be as it should, soon enough.
Darcy Townhouse, London
Directly after their wedding, the Darcys, Bennets, Gardners, and Colonel Fitzwilliam had gone to the Darcy townhouse, across town, for a lavish dinner, at least to Elizabeth's standards. She and Mr. Darcy had been seated next to each other in the middle of the long table, and were surrounded by their friends and family-a small party for the wedding of such a man, but it was to be expected. None of Mr. Darcy's family, save for his sister and the Colonel had attended the wedding, and as for friends, it was Mr. Bingley who carried that distinction, although Miss Bingley, Mrs. Hurst, and Mr. Hurst were all in attendance.
On Elizabeth's side, her family-the Gardners, the Phillips, and the Bennets-her mama and sisters-had all attended, but her day had been made when her beloved Charlotte, escorted by her eldest brother, and younger sister Maria had arrived at the church just before the service was to start. Elizabeth had supposed correctly that Sir William was attempting to placate Mr. Collins by only allowing Charlotte a few days to spend in London for her wedding, before returning to Meryton. As with his usual generosity, Mr. Darcy had paid to hire the coach that brought Charlotte to London.
All around them, they had been surrounded by noise. On Mr. Darcy's side, his sister sat between himself and Colonel Fitzwilliam, while Jane was on Elizabeth's left side, and she spent the afternoon conversing with Mary and herself-although Elizabeth did not miss the longing looks that Jane and Mr. Bingley exchanged across the table, despite the consternation and dismay his sisters, especially Miss Bingley displayed. Across the table, sat Elizabeth's Aunt and Uncle Gardner, and Charlotte, and then farther along was Mr. Bingley and his sisters, and Mr. Hurst.
Everyone was speaking all at once, Lydia, Kitty, and Maria's excited tones shushing their youngest cousins, the Gardner children, whom had been allowed to attend such an event, providing they watched their manners. Elizabeth glanced at her sister in law, wondering if she should have been seated nearer to Mary.
"Are you enjoying yourself, Elizabeth?" came a voice beside her, and Elizabeth turned to Mr. Darcy. He had called her by her name for the first time, and she found that she quite enjoyed it, despite herself.
She laughed lightly and said "I do not think I have ever enjoyed myself so much, Mr. Darcy."
She was shocked to see that Mr. Darcy moved his hand from above the table, to below, and moved towards her lap, reaching for the hand there. Lightly splaying his hand over hers, he said, "Fitzwilliam. I would like you to call me by my name, Elizabeth."
Elizabeth tried to smile again.
"Fitzwilliam."
Night had fallen, and Elizabeth had dismissed her new maid, ironically named Charlotte, and now waited by the window for Mr. Darcy to come. A week ago, her Aunt Gardner had taken her aside to speak of her wedding night, of what should happen, which had not saved her any embarrassment when her mama had cornered her the night before her wedding, nearly dragging her by the arm to her own room to speak to her away from the prying, young ears of the innocent, and had proceeded to, for lack of a better word, expound on her Aunt Gardner's advice in very passionate terms. Elizabeth should not have been surprised, for her parents had produced five children in rapid succession.
She could not be sure that either woman had helped.
Mr. Collins' father had shattered any illusions or questions Elizabeth had about the act itself, and now she hoped that Mr. Darcy would come to her and get it over with, so she could sleep.
Elizabeth waited a while longer, her mind going to other places, but always listening for any hint of a rap on her door, when the door that connected her room to Mr. Darcy's was opened.
Before her brain could catch up to what had happened, she had fallen off of her seat by the window in panic.
It was Mr. Darcy, she realized belatedly, dressed in a rather warm looking, dark red robe, and leather slippers on his feet. He rushed to her side.
"Mr. Darcy," she said softly, looking to the ground, "I apologize."
she forced herself to keep her face serene, composed, as his large, warm hand went to lift her chin to face him.
"Fitzwilliam." he gently corrected.
"Fitzwilliam," she echoed, embarrassed that she had forgotten his wish, earlier, that she should call him by his Christian name, as she had refused to do so during their courtship. "I apologize sir," she said in a rush, "you startled me." Embarrassed and shamed, she looked to the ground again.
Mr. Darcy helped her to her feet, and she quickly looked to her own robe to see if it was still securely tied, and whether or not it had gotten disheveled in her fall. She righted herself quickly, not wishing to anger Mr. Darcy.
He secured her arm within the crook of his, and led her gently into the connected room-the master's bedroom.
He allowed her a few moments to take in the room, and she did. While her room had clearly not been updated, fashion wise, since there was last a mistress of Pemberley, she found its style very similar to her own, namely that it was not overbearing in its decoration. Mr. Darcy had promised her that she should be able to make as many changes as she wished to the room, but she found that she did not wish to make many.
Mr. Darcy's room, however, bore the traits of not simply the master of the house, but of his own personality. She was amused to see a small shelf of a personal library adorning both sides of the fireplace, and a small table equipped with paper and an inkwell for him to write his personal correspondence within the privacy of his own room.
Her gaze fell to the bed, and she could not tear her eyes away from it, no matter how much she wished.
She had stared at the bed for a long moment, minutes even, before she snapped out of it, and looked back at Mr. Darcy who was still holding her arm, ever the proper gentleman. He was looking at her with an indecipherable expression, one that made her remember their first introduction, and how impertinent and rude she had been, and before she knew it, a lone tear had rolled down her cheek.
Before she could wipe it away, Mr. Darcy's hand had already gone to do it for her. He clasped her face, gently, with both hands, and laid a kiss upon her forehead.
She opened her mouth to say something, anything-to get him to go to the bed, but he shushed her.
Giving her another kiss to the forehead, he gently tucked her arm back into his own, and escorted her from the room, and back into her own.
Once there, to Elizabeth's confusion, he pulled back the covers to her bed, watched as she climbed into the bed alone and situated herself comfortably, and then pulled the covers back over her form.
With a whispered, "Good night, Miss Elizabeth", Mr. Darcy was gone, disappeared on the other side of the door.
Elizabeth cried as she slept that night, although she was not sure if they were tears of sorrow or happiness.
Pemberley, Derbyshire
Elizabeth had been married for precisely a month now, and she had been surprised to note how the time flew by. She and Mr. Darcy had stayed a week in London after their wedding, before traveling to Pemberley with Miss Georgiana. When Mr. Darcy had first suggested it to her, that she should be able to spend a bit more time with her sisters and family before going to live in Derbyshire, where she knew no one but her own husband's family, she had been grateful for his generosity, yet again.
But after what had occurred on their wedding night, or, more precisely, what had not occurred on her wedding night, she had found it difficult to face her mama, her Aunt Gardner, and even her dear Jane. When she had received Jane two days after her wedding night, in the parlour of the grand Darcy townhouse, it had simply been the two of them, sharing an afternoon tea, and her sister had asked her, in a delicate tone, if she and Mr. Darcy were well, and Elizabeth had opened her mouth to tell her, but found she could not. So she had not.
It was a secret she and Mr. Darcy kept to themselves.
Life at Pemberley was a dream. She had not been able to keep the look of wonder out of her face, as she had gazed upon the beautiful grounds, and had started to memorize its details, as though she were on a tour of the area, instead of it being her new home! Mr. Darcy, and even Miss Georgiana had chuckled at her reaction.
Mr. Darcy had quickly introduced her to Pemberley's housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, who was a warm, motherly type of woman, but did not brook nonsense. Elizabeth instantly liked her, as she reminded her of a more refined version of her beloved Mrs. Hill. Mrs. Reynolds was to assist her in managing Pemberley, and while Elizabeth had received more of a thorough education on estate management than she would have on her own, Pemberley was on a grander scale than she had ever been expected to be mistress of, and her duties reflected that fact.
She would have to be very diligent in her duties, and that first duty entailed going through the correspondence from the neighbors, acquaintances, and family members who had, at least grudgingly, offered their congratulations at their marriage. Thankfully, on her second day at Pemberley, Mr. Darcy had shown her to her own study, which was equipped with everything she should need to enact her duties as Mistress of Pemberley.
Unfortunately though, her eagerness to not neglect her duty also meant that she should not be able to walk the grounds. Her mornings were now spent dealing with correspondence, servants, and accepting calls from the neighbors, while her afternoons were spent in the music room with Miss Georgiana, often listening to her play, or they would adjoin to Elizabeth's study and share tea and pastries. Sometimes they were joined by Mr. Darcy, but not often for he was needed at the farm and elsewhere along Derbyshire, where he owned various properties. He had told her that the first month or two of their marriage, he would be very busy for he had been gone for some time, and so she let him alone.
During the nights, though, she waited. Waited for him to one day open the door that connected their rooms; waited for him in the pitch darkness.
He never came.
"Elizabeth?" came her nervous sister in law's voice. Elizabeth frowned in concern, for Miss Georgiana had lost a great deal of her shyness towards her, and they were able to converse as friends.
"Yes, Georgiana?" she replied.
"I was wondering if you would wish to walk on the grounds with me." came her answer.
Elizabeth smiled at her sister in law, as she realized what she was doing, although she desperately wished to take her offer.
"That is quite alright, my dear. I am fine."
"But-." Miss Georgiana protested, Elizabeth's eyes widened in shock, as she expected Miss Georgiana to simply do as Elizabeth said she wished, no matter what her body language may have told her.
"It is fine."
"Fitzwilliam says he would like to join us on the walk, Elizabeth." Georgiana finally managed to get out.
"Fitzwilliam said that?" Elizabeth asked, hastily, tripping over her words. If Mr. Darcy wanted to…..
"He did indeed." a male voice was heard from the doorway, and Mr. Darcy strode into the room. He gave his sister a soft kiss, and held out his hand for Elizabeth, who was still seated at her correspondence.
"Elizabeth, you deserve a break. And it would be good for us to spend some time together," he said lightly.
"You wish to walk on the grounds with me, Fitzwilliam?" she said, not stumbling over his name anymore.
"I wished for Georgiana to ask you to go on the walk," he answered confidentially, keeping an eye on Georgiana as she had left the room in preparation of their walk, "for I know that you are still skittish of me. I had thought it would make you more comfortable."
"Mr. Darcy-I-Fitzwilliam." she said helplessly.
"There is nothing wrong, Elizabeth." he said gently. "Now", he said with a renewed vigor, "let me show you where Richard and I landed in the most trouble, as boys."