“I cannot help that. We were clear with our intentions. Now, do you intend to remain here or to come with us? I make no promises, but I can invite Richard to join us Pemberley while you are there. Or perhaps, I can ask him to escort you later,” Elizabeth said, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
Chapter Thirty-Two
SATURDAY, 7 DECEMBER 1811
Early Saturday morning, Mr. Collins awoke to find a summons waiting for him—a message from his new patroness, Mrs. Percival Hargrove, demanding his presence at Netherfield within the hour. The note also confirmed the astonishing news that Miss Anne de Bourgh had indeed married. Struggling to accept this, Mr. Collins stared at the letter in disbelief, as though willing the words to transform if he avoided reading them.
The footman who carried the letter had been told what it contained and waited just outside the door for the answer. After ten minutes of silence, he knocked on the door. “D’ye have an answer for Mrs. Hargrove, sir?” he called when no answer came.
After another moment’s hesitation and another sharp rap, the door opened slightly, revealing a slightly puffy face. “What are you doing out here?” Mr. Collins demanded.
“The Mistress insisted I wait for a reply and suggested you might need some assistance preparing yourself for the meeting,” the footman answered.
His words caused Mr. Collins’s eyes to bulge. “M… meeting?” he stammered.
“Yes, sir. The Mistress expects you at Netherfield as soon as may be. Have you not read her letter?”
Instead of answering, Mr. Collins shut the door in the man’s face. The footman waited five minutes before knocking again. “D’ye need anything, sir? Mrs. Hargrove will not be happy if she is made to wait,” he called.
A few minutes later, Mr. Collins emerged, having dressed hastily. A little more than a half hour later, Mr. Collins was following the footman into Netherfield and was shown into the drawing room where the former Miss Anne de Bourgh waited with a gentleman by her side. Mr. Collins rushed forward and bowed to her.
“Miss de Bourgh,” Mr. Collins began, bowing so low he nearly stumbled, “how very lovely it is to see you again. Indeed, I am most surprised to find you here, so near the very estate I am to inherit one day. Yet more astonishing is the news I have just received—that your esteemed mother, the excellent Lady Catherine de Bourgh, no longer presides over Rosings Park, and, somehow, you have taken her place. I must confess, I am at a loss as to how such a thing could come to be?” His words tumbled out in a rapid, breathless stream, leaving no room for the lady to interject. He blinked, his mouth agape, clearly expecting her immediate reassurance that all would be explained to him.
Anne closed her eyes briefly, letting the foolish man’s words flow over her like a dull, relentless wave. When he finally paused for breath, she opened her eyes and fixed him with a calm, unreadable gaze.
“Mr. Collins,” she began smoothly, “you are indeed correct that I am now the mistress of Rosings Park. The estate was to pass to me upon my twenty-fifth birthday although my mother refused to relinquish control. However, when you came to inform her of my cousin’s marriage, she left the estate for the first time inyears. That opportunity finally allowed me to claim what was rightfully mine. For that, I must thank you.”
Anne watched Mr. Collins closely as she spoke, noting with satisfaction the widening of his eyes and the slackening of his jaw as he processed her words. He opened his mouth as if to respond, but she raised her hand, silencing him before he could utter a word.
“Furthermore,” she continued, her voice steely, “I believe you are also aware of my marriage to Mr. Percival Hargrove. Together, Mr. Hargrove and I will manage all matters concerning Rosings Park, and that includes reviewing your position.”
Mr. Collins’ face paled as she fixed him with a stern look that seemed to strike the words from his throat.
“My mother did not have the authority to appoint you to the living,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument, “as your appointment came after my twenty-fifth birthday when I had already inherited the estate. I have spoken with the bishop, and we have granted you two months to prove that you can truly serve the people of Hunsford. Improve your conduct, Mr. Collins, or you will be replaced.”
The man’s eyes bulged in alarm, but he only managed a nervous nod, too flustered to utter a single word.
“If you prove to be a dutiful rector, showing true care for the people you are meant to serve rather than merely striving to gain my favour, then I will allow you to remain. Otherwise, the bishop and I will move to have you replaced,” Anne stated firmly, each word causing the man standing before her to visibly cower.“There have already been some troubling reports that suggest otherwise.”
Mr. Collins’s mouth fell open, his face now the colour of sour milk.
“I am well aware,” Anne continued, her voice carrying an edge of disdain, “of your habit of bringing gossip from the parish directly to my mother’s ear, in contrast to what is expected of a clergyman’s conduct. This behaviour will not be tolerated moving forward. I also understand that my mother has essentially dictated your sermons, Mr. Collins. This dependency is unacceptable and must end. You are expected to lead your parish in thought and spirit independently. Do you understand what I now expect of you?”
Mr. Collins swallowed audibly and gave a vigorous, almost frantic nod. “Yes—yes, Miss de… I mean, Mrs. Hargrove. I—I shall do my utmost to serve with the utmost sincerity and… and integrity, as befitting the position. I—I assure you, I will be diligent in attending to my parishioners and their needs. They are, after all, deserving of my… my fullest care and attention.” He dabbed at the perspiration gathering on his brow, clearly rattled but determined to say what he thought she wished to hear.
“Very well,” Anne replied, her voice cool and impassive. “You will find that I expect results, not merely your assurances. You will return to Hunsford and begin doing your duties, or you will be looking for another position soon.”
Collins nodded again, backing away with his eyes cast down, and practically stumbled towards the door. The moment he exited, Anne allowed herself a small, satisfied smile.
Her husband chuckled, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on her hand. “I must say, Mrs. Hargrove,” he remarked with a touch of admiration, “I have rarely seen such a forthright dismissal of foolishness as you managed just now.”
Anne gave a small, dignified smile. “After all these years under my mother’s rule, I have had ample time to observe her dealings with this man and others just like him. He needs a firm hand, but I am uncertain that he is capable of standing on his own. I believe we will be searching for a new rector before Easter.”
“Indeed,” Hargrove remarked. “He does not strike me as someone capable of standing on his own feet. Instead of being appointed a rector, he should have remained as a curate where someone could have trained him. As it is, he is entirely too foolish and too biddable to be of use to anyone.”
A knock sounded on the door, and Elizabeth and Darcy appeared in the open doorway. “Has he gone?” Elizabeth asked. “I am not terribly sorry to have missed him, but I did wonder how it went. Did he listen to what you had to say?”
“I gave him little choice but to listen. With luck, he will depart from Longbourn today. Perhaps I ought to have made arrangements for a carriage or something to take him to Hunsford, but I could tolerate him no longer,” Anne replied.
