Madam and Missy — A Pride and Prejudice Variation
This is dedicated to all the writers both here and on KU who've released their stories for free! As I enjoy reading them so much, I thought that I'd have a go, and here it is.
[Note that I'm a Brit, so have written with British spelling, punctuation and terminology 😏 And, yes, I did swallow a dictionary — there're some definitions at the bottom]
In which the Bennet family meets Longbourn's heir presumptive
Updated to make Collins less creepy — 21 May 22
Longbourn
Mr. Bennet
Early in November, Mr. Bennet read a letter to his daughters. He warned them beforehand that it was from his cousin who was to inherit Longbourn after his death. "Though Mr. Collins claims that he wishes to restore the breach between his father and myself, I suspect that he comes to inspect Longbourn."
After hearing the letter, Mary asked, "By his 'readiness to make them every possible amends', does he mean that he wishes to marry one of us?"
"I suspect so," he replied.
"I do not think that Mr. Collins sounds worthy; am I correct?" asked Kitty.
"Yes, you are correct, child; I think that he does not sound worthy, at all. You heard that he has invited himself for a fortnight; I have written to him to say that only a week is convenient." He looked at each face. "You ought to be polite to him, as you would with any visitor, but you are not obliged to attend to him for every minute of the day."
Lydia groaned. "I suppose that it would be fair of us to take turns so that none has to spend too long with him."
"Pappa, shall we still take turns to act as your hostess?" asked Jane.
"I see no reason why you should not, Jane; it will be good practice for you. If he is here for five evenings, you will each have a turn. We should expect him to arrive on Monday afternoon and to leave the following Saturday."
Lydia
Awful, this is awful, thought Lydia
Despite Mr. Bennet's instructions to the contrary, Mr. Collins had arrived intending to stay for a fortnight.
Awful, he is awful.
Mr. Collins was a fat man. Attempting charity, Lydia admitted to herself that fatness was no reason to dislike someone, after all, Sir William Lucas was fat and he was a kind and generous neighbour.
Mr. Collins had greasy hair.
Urgh!
Mr. Collins had greasy clothing.
Urgh!
Mr. Collins stank.
Lydia held her nose. His breath should be used as a weapon against the French!
Mr. Collins stood too close to her and her sisters.
Lydia shuddered with disgust.
Mr. Collins licked his lips as he stared at their womanly curves.
Lydia felt nauseous.
Mr. Collins talked unceasingly of his patroness, her ladyship, the Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
Lydia started to mouth along to each utterance of 'patroness, her ladyship, the Lady Catherine de Bourgh'. Her sisters soon joined in. As did her father.
Mr. Collins prefixed each utterance of 'patroness, her ladyship, the Lady Catherine de Bourgh' with two words — often inappropriate words.
Lydia started to keep a list of the them:
'grasping and generous'
'stentorian and slanderous'
'excellent and excruciating'
The Bennet sisters' aunt, Mrs. Phillips, arrived shortly after Mr. Collins. Ever eager for gossip, she drew him into conversation. Lydia recognised that he could not have a better audience for his adulations of his patroness: Mrs. Phillips hung on every word. While his mouth was momentarily occupied with yet another piece of cake, she managed to ask her all-important question. The answer confirmed the sisters' worst fears.
"My verbose and vainglorious patroness, her ladyship, the Lady Catherine de Bourgh says that I must marry, as it behoves a clergyman to set an example of marital felicity in his parish. When my improbable and integral patroness, her ladyship, the Lady Catherine de Bourgh discovered that I have five maiden cousins who will lose their home when my Cousin Bennet dies, she immediately informed me that I should select one for my companion in life."
While Lydia scribbled 'verbose and vainglorious', 'improbable and integral' in her notebook, she knew, without looking, that her sisters' faces mirrored her own look of horror.
Mr. Collins lowered his voice, but not sufficiently to avoid being overheard, and said, "Miss Bennet, she is my settled choice."
A sympathetic shudder ran around the room.
Mrs. Phillips was quick to reply, "Ah, Mr. Collins, our Jane is not so beautiful for nothing, but I must just mention, I feel it incumbent upon myself to hint, is likely to be very soon engaged."
The sisters looked at each other in astonishment at this proclamation, and were appalled to see Mr. Collins examine each of them before shifting his ambitions to Elizabeth.
On that, his first evening with them, it was Lydia's turn to act as hostess. He was not pleased. Lydia was not pleased either. She had had to persuade Kitty to write down their cousin's words.
"Cousin Bennet, I must protest! My rusty and reciprocal patroness, her ladyship, the Lady Catherine de Bourgh would not allow a young maiden," he licked his lips, "to sit at the head of her dining table."
"'Tis well that she is not here, is it not, Mr. Collins?" replied Mr. Bennet as he nudged Kitty.
"I shall have to write to my herbaceous and hirsute patroness, her ladyship, the Lady Catherine de Bourgh, to tell her of this improper behaviour."
"You do so, Mr. Collins. Perhaps you ought to deliver the letter by hand so that it is not delayed. I shall ready the carriage to take you to meet the coach in Meryton at first light tomorrow morning."
"That is a very good idea, Cousin Bennet, but a letter sent with an express rider will reach my lacy and liturgical patroness, her ladyship, the Lady Catherine de Bourgh sooner."
Mr. Collins continued to eat, his mouth never quite closed.
Urgh!
He continued eyeing his cousins, Elizabeth most keenly, while licking his lips.
Lydia knew that one of the roles of the hostess was to facilitate conversation. Catching her father's eye, she said,
"You speak of your patroness so flatteringly. May I ask whether these pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the moment, or are the result of previous study?"
She kept an interested expression while her family hid their laughter with a barrage of coughing, but had to join them when her father said,
"Don't keep coughing so, Kitty, for heaven's sake! Have a little compassion on my nerves."
Mr. Collins missed their exchange and answered, "They arise chiefly from what is passing at the time, and though I sometimes amuse myself with suggesting and arranging such little elegant compliments as may be adapted to ordinary occasions, I always wish to give them as unstudied an air as possible."
"Is the alliteration important?" Mary asked.
"'Alliteration', dear cousin?"
"Yes, your little elegant compliments start with the same letter."
"Oh, my dear young cousin. I see that your education has been sadly lacking, as befits a gentlewoman, of course. I choose my words to rhyme."
"But— " started Kitty.
Mary shushed her.
Elizabeth
As the only man in a female household, Mr. Bennet rarely lingered at the table after his daughters had left it but, that evening, he did and, quite nobly, he thought, invited his cousin to take a glass of port with him.
"I must speak with you about your purpose of visiting Longbourn," he said while pushing tobacco into the bowl of his pipe.
"It was the wish of my— "
"Do me the courtesy of listening. Now this 'olive branch'; do I assume correctly that you intend to marry one of my daughters?" Too late! Mr. Bennet realised that he had asked a question which, of course, necessitated an answer."
"It is on the advice of —"
Should I interrupt now or wait for two more rhyming paeans to his patroness?
Too late! Again, too late!
"—tious and jocund patroness — "
Damn! Lydia will not forgive me! What was that first word? Starts with 'j', ends with '-tious' — mmm. Should I ask? No! No! Make one up … um … um.
"Yes, well, Mr. Collins," giving up, Mr. Bennet broke into the longwinded explanation. "Your 'olive branch' might be well intended, but my daughters are not available for your choice."
"But — "
"If you have come to learn about the estate and its management, you are quite welcome and we can go over the tenants, crops, accounts and so forth." He lit a spill from the fire and applied it to the tobacco. "But," he continued, sucking air through the pipe, "if you think to examine my daughters— " he drew again. "Examine my daughters as if they are horseflesh at Tattersalls or cattle at the bullring, as you are deciding which one to pick, then I shall put you on the first post back to Kent."
"But, my olive branch!"
"Mr. Collins. Your olive branch of friendship — and of friendship only." He pointed at his cousin with the stem of the pipe. "— is accepted. You may become acquainted with my daughters in a fraternal manner and no more."
"My— "
"No. If your patroness is so keen for you to wed a daughter, why not wed hers? I gather that she has one of marriageable age." Mr. Bennet poked around in the bowl of his pipe and waited for that suggestion to make its way into his cousin's head. He could tell the moment that it did.
"But, the daughter of my stuffy and sprightly patroness, her ladyship, the Lady Catherine de Bourgh — "
'Stuffy and sprightly', or is it 'spritely'?
"— is betrothed to her nephew, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire!"
"Is she? When I met Lady Anne Darcy, Lady Catherine's sister, some years ago, she mentioned nothing of this."
"You have met the sister of my pacific and peaceful patroness, her ladyship, the Lady Catherine de Bourgh? What an unexpected honour!" Mr. Collins started to fan himself.
'Pacific and peaceful'? Is that tautology? Well, they rhyme so I suppose that that is all that matters.
"She and I spoke on matrimony and not once did she mention her niece." Mr. Bennet shook his head.
"But — "
"No, not once."
"But — "
"It seems as though one sister wishes for such a union and the other does not. It seems an hopeless business!"
Mr. Collins opened his mouth soundlessly.
"Furthermore, while I can understand your pride in your new living, nobody here has heard of your patroness— "
"But— "
"—and we should rather hear no more a woman whom we shall never meet." He waved a cloud of smoke away.
"But, my— "
"As my heir, cousin, it is better that you learn about managing Longbourn in Hertfordshire as it is very different from managing an estate in Kent."
Mr. Collins' mouth closed.
"Very well. I am glad that you are in agreement. Shall we join the ladies?"
Elizabeth
Fortunately, Mr. Collins did not rise early enough in the morning to intrude upon her meetings with Darcy; but there was no opportunity for Elizabeth, Mary and Lydia to meet with their father to exchange any new information. The first time they met, two days after Mr. Collins' arrival, he burst into Mr. Bennet's book-room insisting that they had merely forgotten to include him in their discussion. Lydia was quick to try to put him off, saying that Mr. Bennet was tutoring them in Latin and that Mr. Collins was welcome to share his expertise.
Mr. Collins looked shocked, then laughed as if his young cousins had no need to learn such things. "My inexplicable and invertebrate patroness, her ladyship, the Lady Catherine de Bourgh would not approve of my fair cousins learning Latin."
"But Lady Catherine's estate is in Kent, and different knowledge is required there," said Mr. Bennet.
Mary and Elizabeth hid their laughter.
"Mr. Collins, Lydia is teasing you. I asked my daughters to my book-room to talk about some estate matters."
"Well, it is very fortunate that I am here. I shall assist you — after all I have the privilege of learning from my nocturnal and noxious patroness, her ladyship, the Lady Catherine de Bourgh. You will find that she is very attentive to the needs of her tenants, Cousin Elizabeth." Mr. Collins puffed out his chest and grimaced at her.
"Mr. Collins! Please remember that we know not her ladyship, and, I dare say, she does not know us or our estate or our estate matters. To practise her numbers, I ask Lydia to add up our income and expenditure. Is that something that you can assist with, Mr. Collins?"
Mr. Bennet
At Mr. Collins' obvious reluctance, Mr. Bennet sighed. "Very well. We shall look at the flooding in Pole's field. Put your old boots on and we shall go while it is not raining. Lizzy will come with us. Mary, please assist Lydia."
A little later, the threesome left the house and Mr. Collins followed his hosts as they walked the familiar paths of Longbourn. He had not changed his footwear so struggled as the ground got muddier and muddier. The Bennets stopped and waited for him at each gate and stile.
As they approached Pole's field to the north of Longbourn, Mr. Bennet tried to tell his heir about the problems that they had with flooding there.
"See over there, stones and mud get caught in the roots of the trees and block the stream."
"My approximate and alluring patroness, her ladyship, the Lady Catherine de Bourgh has a steward to sort out problems such as these," grumbled Mr. Collins.
"I do not employ a steward. Before you interrupt again, do me the courtesy of allowing me to tell you why not." Remember 'approximate and alluring' for Lydia's list.
Mr. Collins raised his fingers to cover a childishly pinched smile.
"I prefer to manage my land myself and would rather that the money that would be spent on employing a steward was spent on my daughters instead. Now, your patroness might not agree with my decision but, as I have never met her ladyship, her opinions matter not to me."
Mr. Collins gasped. "You cannot mean that, sir! My cordial and crenellated patroness, her ladyship, the Lady Catherine de Bourgh is knowledgeable in all things. If she says that a gentleman ought to have a steward then he ought to have a steward."
Wishing that he had brought the notebook with them, Mr. Bennet clapped Mr. Collins on the shoulder saying, "If she would care to bear the wages of a steward for Longbourn, then she is welcome to insist upon my having one. Until then, perhaps she would allow me to run my own estate in the way I see fit."
"Pappa!" Elizabeth's voice came from the stream. She was ankle deep in mud. The men squelched toward her. "Look. There. That is the root that is causing most of the blockage."
"So it is. Well done, child!"
Mr. Bennet was pleased. Mr. Collins was not.
"Cousin Elizabeth! I insist that you remove yourself from that mud! It does not befit a young gentlewoman to trample in the fields."
"Do not tell my daughters what to do," said Mr. Bennet, sternly. As Mr. Collins started to protest, Mr. Bennet forestalled him saying, "If my daughters are to become wives of gentlemen, they must know about running an estate. Your patroness is free to disagree and to educate her own daughter as she sees fit, but this is what I think is best for my daughters. I am, still, the master here, and I thank you to remember it." I hope that Lizzy is remembering these rhyming words!
"But I have an objection!"
"To what? To my being the master? Or to my raising and educating my daughters as I wish?" Mr. Bennet did not wait for an answer, but waded through the mud to where Elizabeth was trying to clear the debris caught in the roots. They managed to free most of the blockage and stood ready to return to the house.
"Let us stop there. I shall send Turner down here to cut off that root," said Mr. Bennet, straightening his back and stretching. "We ought to return and remove this mud." Father and daughter laughed at each other's filthy clothing.
Mr. Collins looked at them, his appalment showing in his face. He started to chastise Elizabeth, but she and her father plodged off leaving him behind.
Please don't copy 😏
I had fun collecting adjective that one perhaps wouldn't usually use for a person (politely or inappropriately)
stentorian (adj) (of a voice) loud, powerful, carrying
vainglory (noun) vain or idle glory in one's own performances; idle boastfulness | vainglorious (adj) given to vainglory
integral (adj) entire or whole
herbaceous (adj) relating to herbs; like ordinary foliage leaves; (usually) understood to refer to tall herbs that die down in winter and survive in underground parts
hirsute (adj) hairy; rough; shaggy
reciprocal (adj) acting in return …
liturgy (noun) the form of service or regular ritual of a church | liturgical (adj)
invertebrate (adj) without a vertebral column or backbone; weak, irresolute, spineless
crenellated (adj) having or forming battlements
peripatetic (adj) walking about; itinerant
postprandial (adj) following a meal, esp dinner
also
unctuous (adj) oily; greasy; offensively suave and smug | unctuously (adv)
plodge — a wonderfully onomatopoeic word from the NE of England — to wade or walk heavily — one usually plodges in the sea!