Dear Readers:This novel does contain references to rape and abuse. I understand that these are sensitive topics, and I would not wish for any reader to suffer as a result of coming across these references without warning.
Hello, Hello!
I know I have left my current work 'Twisted Fates' alone for too long… I been going through a lot of changes in my life (nothing terrible) but as a result I haven't had the time to get my myself back into the story and so I thought I would work through and re – upload this fic for you all. Hopefully, this attempt at distraction will help to make amends!
BIG REVEAL: for those of you reading 'Wretched Beginnings'… that is also one I have been writing under a different name. I have the bones of the next couple of chapters for this one too but again have been in the right space to get this into this story to write what happens next the way I have envisioned. I will be going back to both of these story soon I promise!
Back to the story at hand.. I will be making some changes to this to improve this as needed.
Please enjoy and leave a comment if you feel so inclined. They really do fill my heart with so much joy!
Be advised, this story is rated M.
CHAPTER ONE
November 1813.
It is a truth not universally acknowledged, that a daughter was a gift often squandered and offered up sacrificially, in order to repair the errors of their fathers. Used as a commodity in the endeavour of securing one's home, or for one's sons. Daughters; were also particularly useful when seeking a better status and social standing within society. At one point in every woman's life, if she were extremely lucky, she would pass from being the property of her father, to be sold and elevated into the possession of a rich and titled gentlemen who would most probably be on the verge of senility. These gentlemen would most probably be in possession of a badly powdered wig, which did nothing but accentuate a severely receding hair line but would give the lady's family access into the inner circles of the elite, and if she should deliver an heir and a spare, the finest carriages and gowns all girls are taught to aspire to from childhood.
In the case of Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn, now Elizabeth Collins, she was married off to her snivelling, profusely sweaty, and rather rotund cousin, Mr Collins, a parson by profession. Who coincidentally was the heir to the Longbourn estate in Hertfordshire, her family home. Which upon her father's death, Mr Collins will inherit. Now, because of her family's machinations, Elizabeth was most strategically, in the position to keep them from being thrown to the hedgerows, as her mother used to fret constantly!
Of course, none can claim ignorance of the dictate's society places upon men too… often it forces men into the underbelly of society - perhaps, 'forces' is too strong a word. True men do have their lot in life too, also having the pressures of making an advantageous marriage. However, that is where the similarities end... they are not expected to leave their families, homes and all that they know and hold dear. They have the control and upper hand of their marital arrangement, and of their wives. If a man does not find his wife everything his libido desires or even if she is the everything the haute mandate's as accomplished, he can find comfort in the arms of a mistress, widow or whore. Theirs is still a path that allows them to have the freedom to choose and dictate that their needs or desires, however base or immoral, are accepted without censure and expulsion from polite society, because they are male.
A woman is neither given ownership to the vessel she is born, nor is she allowed to think as she feels naturally inclined to do so. Her mind trained to behave and think in accordance with the rules that society commands from an early age. Forcing women to view having an opinion and intellect, as a failing. A lady understands and bows to whomever is in ownership of her person and does not dare to question it. Ever.
I do not know who the founders of such a society were, but I should very much like an audience with them when I am ultimately called to judgement. Thought Elizabeth with a stab of her old wilfulness and fight of her former, unmarried self.
In tough times, it is said that everyone must take their share of the pain and suffering, but when Elizabeth was afforded the rare opportunity to see her family and look upon their smiling faces, it appears that only she had experienced pain and suffering. Worst of all, it was her dear father who sealed her to this fate and bound her to a man, that she could never respect or make her happy, and caused her only pain, as Mr Collins tells her is his right as Elizabeth's husband.
"He is not wrong; in the eyes of the law, he owns me entirely." she whispered to herself.
Elizabeth, I pondered the years of her youth often. Her family who was prominent amongst the four and twenty families of where her home – my family's home, Longbourn is situated, in Hertfordshire.
Kitty and Lydia, her youngest sisters would undoubtedly be as they as she remembered them; always bickering and giggling at once! Mary, who most diligent in practicing her music, in case she might be given the opportunity to play for an audience, would be muttering under her breath, righteous passages from the Bible at their behaviour. Though, Mary could master the keys well enough, she sadly did not have the voice to match her skill. Mrs Bennet would be fussing and complaining of her nerves, to which Mr Bennet and Elizabeth would enjoy sharing a knowing look and laugh at their secret jokes at their family's expense. Then there was the eldest Bennet daughter, her dearest Jane. There was a time where Elizabeth had believed there would never be a time in which we did they would not share everything. Sadly, that was the ideals of youth, which had fractured and shattered since both sisters had married and settled. A relationship that was once easy, but now there was a great gulf between them, filled with things that they dare not speak.
Her once beloved Papa, however, was the biggest disappointment of all. The others had all deeply saddened Elizabeth by how easily they ignored her situation in life. Now that they all felt secure, due to her sacrifice, had continued on with in their own happy lives, meandering on in the same vein as though she had never been there. They remain unchanged and unaffected… but, Papa, is who Elizabeth held accountable.
He should have fought for me! But he did not, he manipulated me into this marriage, sealed my fate, and did not try to comfort me. He did what was his wont when things made him uncomfortable and hid in his small library, reading his book with a brandy in hand, issuing orders that he not be disturbed… the only thought that gave her hope, was praying that there was a bigger reason beyond all of this. Her suffering could not be inconsequential!
And so, it is almost two years to the day that Miss Elizabeth Bennet, became Mrs Elizabeth Collins. Every week was the same... monotonous, suffocating and unvarying;
Monday; Elizabeth would begin her week with the task of cleaning the pews of the parish, where her husband gave his sermons. Taking additional care and labouring over the pulpit where he stood and addressed his congregation. This chore would be done under Mr Collins' supervision and constant extolling of how she was curing her body of her past sins with such honest work. 'A woman must always aim to please her husband, my dear Mrs Collins'.
Tuesday; Would be spent working in the gardens of her husband's home, the Hunsford Cottage, which abutted the grand Rosing's Park estate. The grand and oppressive home belonging to his esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
Wednesday; On these days, Elizabeth was granted a morning to herself to walk in the grove, Afterwards, she would join her husband and they would take tea with her Ladyship. Elizabeth would be expected to play the pianoforte for her Ladyship's amusement but had yet to be told she played well enough!
Thursday; Mr Collins would insist she call on the more affluent of their congregation and take tea with them, offering assistance when needed and report back to him in detail. On that evening every Thursday, he would visit her bed chamber. Unlike what she had been told to expect from her Aunt Gardiner or her Mama, he was neither kind nor patient with her. In the bedroom, he became a different man altogether. Crying did nothing to stem the abuse pouring forth from his mouth or put a stop to his hands bruising her body and pinning her face down upon the bed until he was done with her. Elizabeth no longer fought back or tried to overpower him, her husband was not an impressive looking man, but his anger seemed to increase his strength making resistance futile. Her defensive actions did nothing against his attacks, her effort only succeeded in making him angrier and his punishments worse. Afterwards there was no remorse, as he was of the belief that he was doing that which was decreed by God. It was not always so bad, but if he had experienced a trying day, that would reflect in his treatment of her. On occasion, he would keep something she had done to displease him, sitting upon it for days before visiting her and then he would enlighten her of her errors. Mr Collins was always careful not to mark any part of her that could be exposed, although she knew not if anyone would care if they were noticeable.
Friday; Was the same as Wednesday. She would be granted the morning after taking breakfast with him. And that evening they would visit at Rosing's and attend her Ladyship for dinner, before Elizabeth would again, be prevailed upon to perform on the pianoforte for their entertainment. It would end as always, to an applause of criticism and barbed compliments from her small audience of two.
Saturday; Elizabeth would be forced to sit and watch her husband practice his sermons for the following morning and made to wait upon him for the entire day. She would receive some form of verbal abuse directed at her intelligence and the inferiority of her sex, if heaven forbid, he was to make an error. On the first Saturday of each month, but only the first, Mr Collins would visit her bedchamber in the evening, as according to him 'it was a most blessed day.'
Sunday; It was expected of Elizabeth that she would awake at first light, and organise her husband's clothes, laying them out in her bedchamber for him to ready himself in. She would then dress herself and make her way to the church, to make sure everything was in order and await her husband on her knees in prayer. Afterwards, they would once more take tea with Lady Catherine, before heading back to Hunsford Cottage, where he would visit her for the final time of the week, and usually this would be the worst visit, as he felt himself to be an exulted individual!
Their calls with Lady Catherine had become more frequent since her daughter had married her nephew, Mr Darcy, in a very grand affair. Elizabeth had unfortunately been unable to attend as her courses had begun the morning prior and her husband had decried that she should have to atone for such an offence, and so her penance was to be confined to the small guest chamber and fast for two days.
Elizabeth needn't have worried, for she heard so much of the event, she felt as though she had been there to witness it for herself. Lady Anne, dressed in the height of fashion, no expense was spared and was the epitome of beauty and grace on her wedding day. Mr Darcy, the dearest nephew of Lady Catherine could not have been happier, or more blessed to have joined in matrimony, with such a shining light of virtue for his wife. Mr Collins brought her to understand it had been preordained for some time that Lady Anne and Mr Darcy should marry and unite their staggering wealth and estates.
Poor Anne! Mr Darcy will surely walk all over her! She thought to herself. And so, it appears Mr Darcy has,she was told by an unimpressed Lady Catherine, that he used to come to Rosing's every easter with his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam and since he wed Anne, had yet to return!
The last time she had been in Mr Darcy's company had been at the ball, Mr Bingley had held at Netherfield. They had danced and as usual they had argued. That last time, they had argued over Mr Wickham and Mr Darcy's treatment of his childhood friend. Mr Darcy, of course had departed for London the day after the ball and shortly after Miss Bingley and Mr and Mrs Hurst had followed, no doubt in the hope Mr Bingley would follow them shortly after but he did not. Soon after, Elizabeth had been forced into her engagement with Mr Collins and the worst of it, was on the eve of their wedding, Jane had become engaged to Mr Bingley, but had said nothing!
"Why did you not announce your betrothal, Jane? Or at least tell me? I would not have married Mr Collins had you told me!" Elizabeth whispered to herself, dashing a tear from her face. As it was a Tuesday, she was currently attending to the weed's in their small garden, stabbing at the nearly frozen soil in her anger. Her nose was running and her teeth chattering, but anything was better than being alone with the company of her holier than thou husband!
In the end, it had been widely known that Wickham had been run out of Meryton by angry bar keeps, swindled comrades and enraged fathers! Apparently, he had managed to run up quite a substantial debt and dallied with a few of the tradesmen's daughter's in but a few months. Either Wickham was telling the truth and Mr Darcy, out of jealousy did cheat him out of the honourable profession which had been left to him by his Godfather, Mr Darcy's Father, who she had on good authority, was the very best of men and thus leading him into such a lifestyle.
Or...
Wickham showed a natural inclination for that sort of behaviour and owed Mr Darcy money too. Either way, it did not change that Mr Darcy was the proudest and most disagreeable man of her acquaintance! His taciturn nature displayed in his dark and severe mien and his lack of concern for the feelings of other's! Mr Bingley, thank goodness, was not so inclined to find their society disagreeable and had married her sister, Jane. A true love match, proving that it can happen for the lucky few… but why had she been so unlucky.
"Why didn't you tell me Jane?" she beseeched to the heavens, once more.
Finally conceding defeat, Elizabeth gathered her things made her way back into the cottage. She found her husband sitting in their small parlour beside the fire, his large stomach making his position look uncomfortable. He looked up from the letter he was reading as she entered.
"Mrs Collins, done already?" he questioned.
"Yes, Sir. Now the weather has turned cold, the weeds are not returning so easily. I shall check again tomorrow, but it seems to be a task completed." she replied.
"This came for you, from Mrs Bingley," he said, waving the letter in his hand above his head.
Elizabeth went to reach for it, but he snatched it back from her reach, "There is no need to read it, I can tell you Mrs Collins that we have been invited to Netherfield for Christmas this year!" he exclaimed, and tossed the letter into the fire.
Schooling her features and ignoring the stab of pain and flash of anger, she knew it best not to be overly excited at the prospect, otherwise he would use it a tool to get his way over her again and again. "That is very generous." She replied careful to keep her tone neutral.
"Indeed, it is! Would you like to go?" asked Mr Collins watching her closely.
Why he had to toy with her, she did not know. She knew he would not miss such an invitation. His honourable Lady Catherine, whose bounty and beneficence, would no doubt travel with her to spend Christmas with the Darcy's as she did every year, would leave her husband superfluous and bereft!
"Yes, it should be nice to spend Christmas there, it has been more than a year since we last saw our family," she said allowing her resentment to seep into her speech, before realising her error and adding, "I feel it would be best to get better acquainted with what will be your property when you inherit and as you say husband, would it not be beneficial to promote and establish the blessing of peace in all families within the reach of your influence, as a clergyman...?" she finished and waited nervously for his reply.
"But, of course! Your thoughtfulness serves you well, my dear Mrs Collins! As you know the Lord rewards those, who strive to please their superiors on this earthly coil. To quote Fordyce's sermons..." and on he drivelled, sweat trickling down the side of his face making her stomach turn.
Elizabeth did not know it, but it would be this Christmas spent at Netherfield that would change everything...