, husband, clergyman, bootlicker to the Honourable Lady Catherinede Bourgh, potatoe lover and, sadly, cousin to 'that impertinent, headstrong girl', retreated to his garden after yet another scathing comment made by his patroness.
It seemed the great lady held him personally responsible for the travesty of a marriage her exalted nephew had entered into. He, Mr. Collins, should have prevented it, according to his patroness.
"Mr. Collins," she said, while Mrs. Jenkinson rearranged Miss de Bourgh's footstool, "you should have forced your cousin to comply with my wishes. Had you but secured that trollop as a wife, you can be certain that I would have suppressed any impertinent tendencies. I would have molded her into a perfect parson's wife."
At these words, a vindictive gleam appeared in the Honourable Lady's eyes.
"Just think," she mused, "how I could have punished her every witty remark. Oh, how I should have revelled in the opportunity to teachthat girlher proper place."
Mr. Collins shuffled his feet uncomfortably. He did not like to think of forcing cousin Elizabeth to the altar, especially not if she were to spend the rest of her days being punished andtaught her placeby Lady Catherine de Bourgh. While Mr. Collins secretly agreed his fair cousin had reached above her station, he thought it would be politic to remain on his fair cousin's husband's good side.
Besides, his dear Charlotte was so very pleased with Mrs. Darcy's match, he felt it would cause unnecessary strife to point out the unequal nature of it. Mr. Collins was very happy in his marriage and he would not upset Charlotte, especially not in her delicate condition, if he could prevent it.
It was a delicate balance, refraining from disagreeing with one's patroness, while staying on one's wife's good side. The effort of it usually drained Mr. Collins' spirits and after an audience with Lady Catherine, he often retreated to his garden to calm himself.
Lady Catherine had advised him strongly to keep bees, and although he was not fond of bees, in actuality Mr. Collins was a bit afraid of bees, having been stung badly in his younger years, he had followed her advice and put a number of hives in his garden, as far away from the parsonage as he could.
He wandered through his garden, his own littlepiece of paradise, when he heard cries. To ' shock, an officer, wearing a dishevelled red coat, staggered around in between angrily buzzing bees.
The man fell and died, right next to the hives.
At first, Mr. Collins felt compassion for thispoor unfortunate soul, but when he entered his home to get some help, he found his wife knocked out on the floor, his maid violated and crying on the stairs, his cook and footman knocked out, his study broken into and his wife's silverware gone. All compassion fled when he observed the pain inflicted on his Charlotte and his staff, and with a vindictive gleam of his own in his eyes, he returned outside and saluted his bees. They were fine guards, for their size. They had done him a good turn and delivered swift justice.
Mr. Collins would always remain in awe of his bees.