Those with a more refined palete

Lady Catherine hated nothing more than being upstaged by those of lesser birth or station than herself. So when she hears that Mrs. Bennet is known far and wide for the quality of her table, the Mistress of Rosings would not let the matter rest until she bested the upstart pretender

Rosings, late May, 1812

It might reasonably be said that the Reverend William Collins was not the wisest of men, or even in the top ninety percent of humanity for that matter. But he did have a reasonably developed sense of self-preservation. He might not know when to shut up, but he did know when to avoid a subject which might evoke the ire of his "most wise and noble patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh." Unfortunately, those instincts failed him on during that tea in May.

"Oh, and you must dig up those vulgar potatoes in your garden and plant something more elegant. I find that artichoke is quite in vogue," Lady Catherine, as usual, was instructing the Collins on every aspect of their lives.

Mr. Collins was usually eager to comply with any instruction that his most noble patroness gave, but he had a particular fondness for potatoes. His mind drifted back to his time spent at Longbourn. Though there were many frustrations and embarrassments associated with that visit, Mrs. Bennet did set a fine table.

"... full east, which will not do... MR. COLLINS! Have you been listening to a word I said?!"

Charlotte, who had definitely not been listening, startled and quickly tried to run back through the words that had been said in the past few minutes. The trouble was, there were so many of them! Charlotte had been feeling ill for the past several mornings... a situation which gave her silent hope. The unfortunate side-result of her condition was that she was less alert than usual. So when her husband shot a terrified look her way, hoping that she could rescue the situation as she usually did, all that Charlotte could do was give a slight shake of her head.

Collins, looking back at the red face of his patroness, grasped for any thread of conversation... potatoes... food... a fine table... Oh yes! "I agree most heartily, Lady Catherine, though at Longbourn they had a particular way of cooking potatoes that was quite excellent. Mrs. Bennet might not have your own much-celebrated skill as a mother, but she did set the finest table I have ever enjoyed..." Collins blanched, his brain finally catching up with his mouth.

All that it took was a glance at his wife's white face and Lady Catherine's reddening face for him to know that he had well and truly stepped in it this time.

-oOo-

Except in the case of children's story books, one does not usually spend a great deal of time tracing out the trials and travails of gastropods, or any other mollusk for that matter, but in this particular case it is apropos to do so in order for the reader to understand what happens later in the tale.

In Margate there lived an old man named Hesphestus, known to all as "Festus." Despite his name, he had never done a day of blacksmithing. He was a mollusk-man, as his father before him and his father before him. Clams, oysters, scallops, and the like had been his business for many a season... too many in fact, because Festus had no sons and his daughters all married (gasp!) fishermen. He was getting old, getting tired, and less and less willing to brave the cold of the Channel to collect his product for the market.

So when he got particularly lucky and found a large aggregation of abalone, he was thrilled. Abalone was a delicacy saved only for the tables of the rich. To discover so many at once meant that Festus would have rent money for his home along with food and drink enough for at least a month or two! Perhaps he might even give his old bones a holiday!

When he returned to shore, he immediately notified the local innkeeper of his spoils. This served two purposes: the inn's cook would buy quite a few of his catch and word would spread from there to the local aristocracy. As expected, the gastropods nearly leapt out of his catch-barrel and onto the tables of the elite. On the first day he sold a third. On the second he sold another quarter. And the same on the third day. Everyone knew that mollusks did not keep well if one went past the third day, even when the cold salt water was regularly refreshed... which it wasn't. The purchases ceased... with Festus still boasting five abalones in his barrel.

Festus should have disposed of the last five.

He did not.

-oOo-

One week after Mr. Collins inserted his rather large and unquestionably unhygienic foot in his mouth, he and his dear wife Charlotte were surprised to receive an invitation to dine. Charlotte had been rather enjoying her reprieve. Her stomach had not been making the past week easy for her and she had no great desire to endure Lady Catherine on top of everything else. Mr. Collins, on the other hand, was almost tearful in his relief and joy to be allowed back into the good graces of his patroness.

When they arrived, Lady Catherine looked especially smug. "It was quite a shock to hear you praise the table of a woman who does not even know how to raise her children properly, Mr. Collins. Five daughters, all out before the first is married, and not one had a governess!" She frowned for a minute, remembering that impertinent Miss Bennet. Though she would never admit it to anyone, she had found the young woman quite entertaining, if too bold and outspoken. "So I resolved to teach you what it truly means to 'set a fine table.' Hmmmph, potatoes on an Englishman's table! Preposterous! No, I have a more refined palete. And if I had ever chosen to spend my time at the palace, I should have soon been appointed to oversee all of Their Majesties' dinners."

While Mr. Collins fawned and genuflected and endlessly praised, Lady Catherine gave the signal for everyone to enter the dining room and for the meal to commence. Mr. Collins gave his arm to Lady Catherine. Mrs. Jenkins helped the ever-fragile Miss de Bourgh to her seat. Mrs. Collins walked in alone, trying not to rub her stomach.

There was chestnut soup, then fish, then a very fine ragout, then the pièce de résistance, abalone, fresh from Margate!

The earlier courses had been hard enough on her, but as soon as Charlotte smelled the new course, she had to jump up and rush out of the room! Lady Catherine was incensed! Mr. Collins was mortified and apologetic. But then the housekeeper came in and spoke quietly in Lady Catherine's ear and the grand lady's scowl turned into a smile, "Well, Mr. Collins, it appears that you may soon become a father."

Collins blinked owlishly (have I mentioned that he is not too bright), but finally understood. The interruption resolved, he laid into his meal with a gusto. Lady Catherine enjoyed hers with more decorum. Anne had none. She had not eaten anything except the chestnut soup. Mrs. Jenkins, as usual, dished Anne a portion of everything and then snuck the food for herself. It kept Anne from being scolded and gave Mrs. Jenkins a proper meal... most of the time.

-oOo-

It was a well-pleased Mr. Collins who escorted his embarrassed wife home that night. The first signs of trouble did not come until the wee hours. By the time Charlotte realized that the matter was greater than just over-eating, her urgent call for a doctor was ignored in favor of the needs up at the great house.

It would be grotesque to describe the next eight hours. Suffice it to say that none of those who enjoyed the abalone survived... and their ends were not pleasant. The order in which the trio expired matched exactly the amount consumed: Mr. Collins first, Lady Catherine second, and Mrs. Jenkins third. A couple of the kitchen staff had also snuck a small portion and suffered accordingly. One lived, the other died.

Expresses were sent. People boarded carriages. In London, Fitzwilliam Darcy and his sister Georgiana chose to take their own conveyance rather than ride with the Matlock clan. In Meryton Elizabeth secured permission from her father to ride with the Lucas family. Mrs. Bennet made a cake of herself celebrating the demise of Longbourn's heir presumptive. She had not yet learned that Charlotte Collins was with-child.

The next few days were harrowing, but there were several unexpected developments. The first came when Charlotte informed Anne that she had cleaned the parsonage and was ready to remove to Meryton in order to make room for a new minister.

Anne, showing more animation than she had in years, reached out and clutched Charlotte's hand. "No! Please do not leave me alone! Except for when my cousins visit, or the short time that Miss Bennet was here, you have been the only person with good sense and kindness who has stepped foot in this house for a decade. Stay as my companion... or better yet, stay as my particular friend. I have wanted to talk freely with you so many times, but Mother or Mrs. Jenkins were always there controlling me. Please stay?!"

Charlotte had not truly wished to return home. Being a widow was better than being a spinster, but without a decent savings it would not be much better. She smiled and squeezed Anne's hand, "I will stay for now. But you should know that I believe that I am with-child. If it is a boy, he will be the heir to Longbourn. If it is a girl..."

"If it is a girl, then she shall run freely in the halls of Rosings. Boy or girl, I want life back in my home!" With Charlotte's agreement, both families were informed. The Matlocks were relieved of the responsibility for hiring a companion for their niece. The Lucas' were not terribly disappointed that Charlotte would no be returning home to their crowded house. The Darcys were pleased that Anne did not mention that mythical engagement even once. Elizabeth was resolved to be happy if her friend was happy.

Elizabeth had other concerns on her own mind. Although she had known, logically, that Mr. Darcy would be there for his aunt's arrangements and funeral, the reality of his daunting presence so soon after her cruel refusal of his proposal was... difficult. The fact was that she wanted desperately to apologize for her behavior.

The situation was made worse first when she met and immediately liked Miss Darcy. She was nothing like Mr. Wickham had claimed. In fact, she was a dear, sweet girl whom Elizabeth would love to call "sister." The other situation which made it worse was when Jane wrote to say that Mr. Bingley had returned to Netherfield and was actively working to restore himself in his lady-love's good graces. Elizabeth knew that this could only have come through the intervention of Mr. Darcy.

So when Mr. Darcy joined her on her favorite walk, just as he had done only a month before, Elizabeth was confused as to what to do. Since her walking partner remained silent, she finally blurted out, "You must allow me to tell you how deeply sorry I am for the way that I spoke to you last month. In saying this I fully realize that I held onto a grudge too long, despite the fact that my dearest friend and dearest sister both pleaded with me to forgive you. I spoke to cause pain, with the unconscious intent to hurt you as much as you hurt me upon our first acquaintance.

"The bitterness I held onto made it easy for a cad like Mr. Wickham to spin his lies, and for me to accept them without demanding proof or asking for you version of the tale. Had I only opened my eyes, I would have wondered why he would tell me, a total stranger, such a tale on our second meeting. Since then I have re-examined all of our interactions and realized that you have always been a man of honor, even if you seldom speak and can be somewhat brusk.

"What I mean to say, Sir... What I am asking is if you would please throw away my words from that night and never remember them again."

Mr. Darcy said nothing for a moment, then offered his arm. Elizabeth took it gratefully, if a little tentatively at first. There was a frission whenever they touched which she found disconcerting... though it was as pleasant as it was confusing.

When he finally spoke, Darcy could not resist reaching his free hand across to touch the hand on his other arm, "I cannot forget that night, and I should not, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Until that moment I had not allowed myself to see the arrogant, unpleasant man that I had allowed myself to become. Just as your friends and family tried in vain to work upon you to change, my friend Charles Bingley and my cousin, the Colonel, tried to get me to take a good look at how I was acting. But it took you, the woman I love, to hold the mirror to my face and show me."

Elizabeth looked up at Mr. Darcy with shocked, bewildered eyes when he stated that he still loved her. Before their morning began, she never expected to hear a renewal of his declaration. Yet now her heart was beating so loudly in her ears that she could barely hear his next words.

"I was angry for a few days, but then I also reviewed all of our interactions and I realized that, while I was falling deeply and irrevocably in love with you inside, to all outward appearances I was pushing you away from me at every turn. How could I expect you to open your heart to me when I worked so diligently to make you thing the worst of me?

"I resolved to take all of your complaints to heart and to do all that I could to become a better man... the man that you could imagine loving... not the last man on earth that you would ever consent to marry."

Elizabeth stopped and turned to face Darcy full-on. "I never thought that you would take my words in that way."

"Of course not. You thought me unsalvageable."

"No, never that," Elizabeth blushed, "I have often imagined a different Mr. Darcy in my thoughts. The Mr. Darcy that other people have met. The one they speak of as a good and caring man, a wonderful brother, a kind and responsible landlord. He has been the Mr. Darcy that I have long wished to become acquainted with... for he promises to be the very best of men."

"Then would you... do I ask too much... would you allow this Mr. Darcy, the one who loves you and longs to show you his better side, to court you?"

"On one condition, Mr. Darcy."

"And that is?"

"It should be a very short courtship. You see, I believe that I have already known this Mr. Darcy for a long time. I only needed to open my eyes to see him properly."

"And what would you consider a short courtship, Miss Bennet," Darcy asked, his face glowing with gratification and joy.

"Well, Sir," Elizabeth teased, "We have walked rather far in our morning ramble. Unless I am mistaken it should take us near to an hour to slowly make our way back to the parsonage. Do you think that an hour would be too short a time for a proper courtship?"

It took them close to two hours to make the trek. Of course that might have been because Darcy took advantage of every shady tree to kiss Elizabeth, and she took advantage of every blind corner to kiss him back. There never was a second proposal, exactly. It was just clearly understood.

Epilogue

Anne de Bourgh left Rosings Park for the first time in seven years to attend the double wedding of Jane to Charles Bingley and Elizabeth to Fitzwilliam Darcy two months later. In that time, under the gentle care of Charlotte Lucas, Anne's health had improved dramatically.

When the wedding was over and the couples off to their private getaways, Anne and Charlotte decided to do some traveling on their own. Charlotte was over the worst of her morning sickness and now looked quite glowing. Mrs. Bennet was not pleased.

This short holiday marked the beginning of an odyssey for the two women. Charlotte birthed a cherubic baby girl and named her Dawn, for new beginnings. She couldn't hear Mrs. Bennet crow from her home at Longbourn, but she also did not care. Charlotte had found a home at Rosings with her new dear friend and she had no desire to leave.

They did go on holidays, however. Before the war was over, they toured fascinating parts of Great Britain. After Waterloo, they began touring Europe. Anne's health continued to improve every year, to the point that nobody seeing her would have guessed that the beautiful heiress was ever sickly. Offers of marriage came and went, but like her friend, she was content.

Anne and Charlotte became the eccentric aunts to an entire brood of Fitzwilliams, Darcys, Lucas', and others. The children of their friends and family for the next two generations would love to sit with the pair and listen to stories of their travels.

As Dawn grew she became the daughter to two mothers. Anne loved the child as the daughter she would never have, to the point that she convinced Charlotte to allow her to adopt the girl so that Dawn could become her heir. When Anne de Bourgh passed away in 1849, Dawn Anne de Bourgh slipped seamlessly into the role of Mistress of Rosings Park. With the help of many dear aunts and uncles she had already learned the role years before.

Charlotte Collins passed away only two years after her friend, after having lived a long and very happy second half of her life.

Dawn Anne had traveled with her mothers wherever they went around the world. With Charlotte's good sense and Anne's new joy for life, she could not have asked for two better women to raise her. There must have been at least some of the Bennet blood in her father still, because his daughter grew up to be quite a beauty. More importantly, both her travels and the good influences in her life made her into someone truly worthy of love and respect.

When Dawn Anne married, she accomplished Lady Catherine's dream of combining two of the great estates of England. Her husband, Bennet Fitzwilliam Darcy, was a full year younger than her, but neither of them considered that to be a hindrance to their love for each other.

Neither Charlotte, nor Anne, nor the daughter they shared between them ever at any form of shellfish since the day Lady Catherine demonstrated her more refined palete.