Gentle Reader,
Hello! I have received many comments about the premise of the entailment and whether or not Collin's widow might inherit. To be clear, I am taking "artistic license" with the story by assuming if the entail ends with Mr. Collins, it could be inherited by his widow. I know some of you feel this strains credibility, and I can appreciate that. But in this case, that's how I've written the story. Thanks for reading.
Grace Sellers
The next morning was cold and damp with a gray sky that couldn't decide whether to spit rain or snow. Elizabeth, in her warmest mourning dress and pelisse, shivered as she sat in the cramped carriage with Charlotte, Sir Lucas, and Maria as they rode to Mr. Collins' cottage on the edge of Rosings Park. She wished she could have walked the relatively short distance, but she knew it was too cold, so a carriage ride it was.
The carriage Lady Catherine insisted they take was lavish to the point of ridiculousness with brocade curtains with gold tassels that swung into Elizabeth's face as they jostled down the road.
"When does Mr. Collins' brother arrive?" Charlotte asked.
"Lady Catherine said today."
Elizabeth had not known Mr. Collins had a brother. She bit her lip and wondered what he'd be like.
"What a cold day. I cannot imagine wishing to stalk in this weather," Maria Lucas said.
"Who has gone stalking?" Her father asked.
"Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy," Charlotte said.
"Men dress more practically than young ladies do in inclement weather. And they are young and hearty. A little wet will not bother them."
"It bothers me exceedingly!" Maria said and pulled her coat tighter around her arms.
Elizabeth silently agreed with Maria.
"That must be Collin's home there," Charlotte said as they came to a small white house surrounded by trees.
"It is a goodly-sized house," Charlotte said. That was true, but there was little else to recommend it, Elizabeth thought as the carriage neared.
A man—the caretaker of Rosings, she assumed—stood in front of the house as the carriage stopped in the drive.
He nodded a greeting as he opened the door to the house for them, and started a fire in the hearth. "It will take a while to warm up," he said apologetically as they looked around the cold, small room.
"What a dull place," Maria whispered.
It was rather drab. There were no curtains on the windows and no personal flourishes like framed paintings or books to make it home. Collins' wife would have had that responsibility. Random cups sat idly and clothing lay on the floor. The few pieces of furniture were worn and did not match. It was rather messy.
How disappointing it would be to have arrived here as a new bride. It was depressing enough as his widow. Elizabeth could not imagine coming here alone. She wanted none of Collins' possessions.
The jingle of another carriage caught her attention, and Elizabeth saw one of Lady Catherine's other opulent carriages pull up outside.
Lady Catherine herself wore a long, fur-trimmed pelisse and hat and had with her a man Elizabeth had never seen before. "That must be Collins' brother," Charlotte said. He was approximately the same height as Collins had been, but had lighter hair and a slimmer build.
Lady Catherine's servant held an umbrella to shield her from the rain as she, Mr. Collin's brother, and several servants came to the house. She entered and her servant brushed the rain from her shoulders. "That is enough," she said peevishly. "Here you are." Lady Catherine gestured to the man behind her. "Mrs. Collins, may I present to you Mr. Robert Collins?"
Elizabeth curtsied. He was a less plain, slightly younger version of Mr. Collins. She wondered if his manners were as odious.
He nodded at her gallantly and removed his hat. "I am very pleased to make your acquaintance."
She smiled politely. "I am sorry for the loss of your brother."
He nodded sadly. "An older brother is a difficult loss to bear, even though he was my half-brother. As is a husband. I thank you."
His clothes seemed slightly better quality than Collin's had been. It was unfair to hold him responsible for his brother's poor qualities.
The caretaker and a servant came into the room holding baskets. "Here are the personal items."
Lady Catherine nodded. "I'll leave you both alone to choose among his possessions."
Just then she heard a high-pitched whine. For a moment, Elizabeth thought it was a child.
She heard it again. Was it a cat? She glanced around the room, moving in the direction the sound seemed to be coming from.
"What is that noise?" She asked Charlotte.
"Did you hear something?" Charlotte asked.
She leaned forward and looked behind a love seat. A small mud-speckled dog had somehow gotten inside Collin's house and was shivering next to the woodpile.
A moment later, she, too, saw the dog. There was a broken crack in the window where it must have crawled in. Dried blood stuck to his coat near his neck.
"Oh!" Charlotte said behind her. "There is a dog!"
The poor thing trembled with fear as she approached it.
"Do be careful, Lizzy."
"What is it?" Lady Catherine strode into the room behind them. "Is something there?"
Elizabeth blanched when she heard the lady's skirts rustle.
"A creature! Simmons, get that thing out of here immediately!" She called the groundskeeper.
"It is a small dog," Elizabeth said. "No need to throw it out in the weather."
"Creatures belong outside," she said curtly. "Who knows how it has fouled the floors here!"
Elizabeth bent down slowly and held out her gloved hand for the small dark nose to sniff. It watched her with careful liquid eyes as its nose quivered. It looked so frightened. She felt sorry for it immediately.
"No," Elizabeth turned and blocked Simmons from grabbing the dog. "I think it came in to get out of the weather. Could it not be cleaned and given a meal?"
"Impossible," Lady Catherine said. "I do not allow wild animals inside my house. I am very particular about the animals I allow here at Rosings."
Elizabeth gently patted the dog, and her heart melted.
"I'll stay here with it then."
"Lizzy, it may have mange," Charlotte said.
Elizabeth did not want to engage in a battle of wills with Lady Catherine, but she also couldn't let the poor thing be thrown out in the cold.
"Surely it can be put in a warm barn somewhere," Sir Lucas said.
Lady Catherine peered at Elizabeth carefully. "Nonsense. Simmons, what do we usually do with unwanted animals?"
He glanced at her nervously. "If no one wishes to care for it, it's more humane to cull them, your ladyship."
"No!" Elizabeth called.
Lady Catherine looked peevish. "Mrs. Collins, I cannot think you are telling me what to do in my own home. This creature may have any number of diseases."
Elizabeth glanced at Charlotte. "Charlotte and I can stay here and care for it as we organize Mr. Collin's possessions."
"You cannot stay here alone. I will not allow guests to put their safety at risk to nurse a dying cur."
Something in Elizabeth stirred. She knew she should not speak, but she could not stop herself. "But we don't know if it's dying. Sir Lucas may stay with us."
Sir Lucas' eyebrows shot up at his name. "Er, I suppose I could…"
"See here, we will have no more of this talk," Lady Catherine said. "I expected Mr. Collins to choose a wife with amenable manners, but I am starting to wonder if that's so. Simmons, please dispose of the dog at once."
Elizabeth felt Charlotte's soft arm wind through hers and pull her back, as Simmons grabbed the dog by the scruff and placed it in a burlap sack before leaving the house.
"Calm yourself, Lizzy," Charlotte murmured to her.
Lady Catherine sniffed. "I will leave you to your tasks." She swept to the door, her servants scurrying around her.
Mr. Collin's brother bowed awkwardly. "I shall accompany Lady Catherine." He followed behind her.
Tears spilled down Elizabeth's cheek. She wanted nothing more than to leave Rosings and return to Hertfordshire. What a cold and dreary place this was.
Charlotte held fast to her arm. "You cannot blame her for not wanting a stray in her home, Lizzy."
"I can blame her for choosing to have it killed." She looked to Sir William for appeal. His bushy eyebrows lowered.
"That is the natural order of things at a place like this, I'm afraid."
Maria Lucas was staring out the window as Lady Catherine's coach drove away. "There are the Colonel and Mr. Darcy."
The men were riding across a wind-wiped field, both on horseback, stopping along the road to speak to Mr. Simmons, who still held the dreaded burlap sack.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and wanted no more of this cruel place.
Elizabeth sat quietly in her seat at the dinner table, listening to Lady Catherine's aunt's extended lamentations of the cold, damp weather. She looked sad and tired, Darcy noticed, even more so than when she first arrived here several days ago.
He and his cousin had spent the day out stalking, and the exhilaration of day outside still coursed through him, which he was happy to douse with a glassful of excellent cognac.
However, he wished Miss Bennet looked more animated. Of course, she did not look happy, she was a widow in mourning. He was certain her marriage to Collins had not been a love match and that she wasn't grieving the loss as a widow might.
A notion had occurred to Darcy recently—one so ridiculous he could barely admit it to himself, let alone his cousin or anyone else. What if he allowed Mrs. Collins the year of mourning she was engaged in and then courted her? It was ludicrous, it would scandalize his family. It was madness for him to consider a recently widowed bride. He did not love the idea that she had pledged her troth to another man, but his aunt had told him Collins had married on his deathbed and expired just after the ceremony. It had not been consummated. Yes, Collins was a ridiculous man, but in some ways, one could hardly blame Elizabeth—with all those sisters and no fortune-–to sacrifice herself for her family as she had. In an odd way, one could see it as rather kind-hearted.
Darcy studied his ornate crystal cognac glass, considering his idea. He would be doing her a great favor considering her for a wife, agreeing to take on all those sisters, not to mention the mother! Her father seemed more reasonable, but what kind of man allowed his family to behave as they had? He must be a very permissive indeed. This made Darcy's stomach tense.
"What do you say, Darcy?" His aunt looked peeved and said again. Clearly, he had not been paying attention.
"Sorry, Lady Catherine, I apologize. What did you ask me?"
"Darcy, you're no better than your mother, head in the clouds all the time. I asked you about your day spent stalking. Was it productive?"
His cousin glanced at him and spoke in his stead. "Yes, aunt. A dozen or so fresh birds have been brought to your kitchen to be plucked and butchered, although there'd be more if Darcy actually pulled the trigger more."
"Is he an overly-careful shot?" Lady Catherine as she raised her fork.
"Darcy's probably the best shot in the county. If only he'd use it more often…"
"I wasn't going to take shots that did not ensure a clean kill," Darcy said.
His cousin chuckled and shook his head. "They are small birds not four inches in width. All shots are clean shots."
Lady Catherine squinted."My late husband was an excellent shot too. When he was alive we barely had birds here within miles."
Darcy took another sip of brandy, and his lips thinned. "Most shots will kill them, yes, but not instantly. If I cannot make a killshot, I will not shoot."
Elizabeth looked up for the first time at dinner. Her gaze fell on Mr. Darcy.
"That's very kind of you," she said.
"Too kind, if you ask me," Lady Catherine said.
He had been called many things, but not kind. His throat tightened, but he glanced away from Mrs. Collins and tried to clear his throat. A flush crept up his face, and he realized he was secretly pleased by her comment.
"Well, it's not terribly helpful for stalking," Colonel Fitzwilliam said.
Warmth flooded his chest, and Darcy felt as though he were seeing Mrs. Collins again for the first time since the Netherfield library. An instinct to protect her grew in him. He imagined taking her in his arms and holding her–nothing improper, but rather simply to comfort her—before his aunt called out to him again.
"Darcy, are you quite lost in your thoughts again?"
"Not at all, Lady Catherine," Darcy said.
His aunt turned to the Lucases. "Tell me, Miss Lucas, do you play? I so appreciate true musical ability, yet rarely do guests indulge me."
Charlotte Lucas froze in her seat, the feather on her head quivered.
"No, ma'am, I am not musically minded."
Lady Catherine's lids drooped with disappointment. "A shame how young ladies are raised today. What about your sister? Does she play?"
Darcy nearly smiled at how the younger sister kept her head down and vehemently shook her head. He was not surprised to see that his aunt had scared the young women. She certainly frightened him when he was young.
Miss Lucas spoke up quickly. "Elizabeth plays."
At this Mrs. Collins looked up in surprise.
"Does she?" Lady Catherine asked.
Elizabeth sat up straighter. "Miss Lucas is correct, I can play. But not terribly well."
"Yes, you must," Lady Catherine said. "Indeed, there are few things I-and my daughter Anne-enjoy more than fine music."
"Lady Catherine, please believe me when I say I am not an accomplished musician."
"Surely you can play a song or two in my drawing room."
Elizabeth knew Maria could play, but wouldn't have the nerve to play for this company. She could only hope the request would be forgotten quickly.
"I have been told I have a mellifluous baritone," Robert Collins said cheerfully. "My brother and I used to harmonize before he joined the clergy. If Mrs. Collins will play, I will sing."
Darcy could only imagine how that might sound.
"Well, what a shame we cannot hear you both now," Colonel Fitzwilliam said dryly.
Suddenly, it all seemed terribly funny. He could only imagine Mr. Collins and his brother singing earnestly. Darcy brought the napkin to his lips to hide his smile. From across the table, he caught Elizabeth's gaze. Her lips, too, seemed to quirk upward. They exchanged a look of shared mirth.
"Excellent. We have a musician and a singer," Lady Catherine said.