“Has your eldest sister secured a husband?”
“Not as yet. She visits relatives in London, where we hope favourable acquaintances might be made.”
“Most prudent,” Lady Catherine nodded approvingly before addressing Charlotte. “I understand Mr. Collins stands to inherit the Bennet estate. A fortunate arrangement for you, Mrs. Collins, though I generally disapprove of estates passing away from daughters. What provision exists for your mother and sisters when your father is gone, Miss Bennet?”
Elizabeth pressed her lips together, mastering the indignation that threatened to colour her cheeks. Such impertinent questioning deserved rebuke, but Charlotte’ssituation demanded forbearance.
“My father’s cousin, Arthur Bennet, passed away in November, and his estate was bequeathed to my father.”
“That resolves matters nicely. Entailments are troublesome affairs. Sir Lewis wisely avoided such complications with our estate.”
Mr. Collins leaned forward eagerly. “When might I accompany your father to view this inheritance? I would like to familiarise myself with all aspects of my future holdings.”
“The property will never be yours, Mr. Collins,” Elizabeth explained with deliberate calm. “Arthur Bennet’s line descends from Philip Bennet, the elder brother of Timothy, from which our branch follows, and is unaffected by the entail placed on Longbourn.”
“But I am your father’s heir,” he protested.
“To Longbourn only, sir. The entail established by Silas Bennet has no bearing on this inheritance.”
Elizabeth was so very glad for the hours she had spent poring over the family Bible, tracing the lines of lineages with her fingertip across faded pages. That idle curiosity now served as a shield against Mr. Collins’s presumption.
The evening proceeded to cards, with Lady Catherine commanding a quadrille table that included Sir William, Charlotte and Mr. Collins. Miss de Bourgh chose to play at Cassino, so Elizabeth and Maria had the honour of assisting Mrs. Jenkinson to make up her party.
Elizabeth was quietly surprised at how gentle Miss de Bourgh was to not only her companion, but also to poor Maria, whose fingers trembled so violently that she could scarcely hold her cards, revealing a kindness quite at odds with her mother’s character. After precisely one hour, Lady Catherine pronouncedthe entertainment concluded, and the carriage was offered to Mrs. Collins, gratefully accepted by Mr. Collins, and immediately ordered.
With many speeches of thankfulness from Mr. Collins and as many bows from Sir William, they departed. As soon as they had driven from the door, Elizabeth was called upon by her cousin to give her opinion of all that she had seen at Rosings, which, for Charlotte’s sake, she gave a more favourable impression than it deserved. Her diplomacy proved unnecessary, for not a minute after she had given her opinion, Mr. Collins took up the banner of praising her ladyship’s greatness that persisted until they reached the parsonage gate, a mercy, as it seemed as though her ears would bleed out if she heard another word of Lady Catherine’s condescension.
Her visit with Charlotte stretched before her like an interminable sermon. If two days had proved this trying, could she possibly endure the full six weeks? Would her dearest friend forgive an abbreviated stay? If every evening promised such tedium, Elizabeth resolved to depart by month’s end, even if she had to drag her trunk behind her. The irony of a similar situation, with relation to the manner her cousin had departed Longbourn last November, was not lost on her. Fate truly had a sense of humour.
Chapter Nine
The next morning didnot see a change in Mr. Collins’ perspective. He remained disgruntled over the fact he would not inherit a second estate and, because his misery was acute, he mentioned more than once how the Bennet patriarch had had the temerity to banish him from his rightful inheritance the morning after Mr. Bingley’s ball.
“Mr. Collins.” Charlotte interrupted his mini tirade. “You do realise that if you had not been on your way to Meryton that morning, my father may not have offered you a ride, and we would not have married.” She allowed her husband to ruminate on those thoughts before continuing with, “Blessings in disguise, Mr. Collins. Who are we to question how the Lord directs our paths?”
“You are so right, my dear. I express my gratitude daily that you are my wife, for I believe we were formed for each other.”
Elizabeth pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. Dear Charlotte knew how to handle her husband, and thanked everything holy that it had not fallen on her to learn those skills. They all settled to enjoy their breakfast when Mr. Collins suddenly dropped his cutlery.
“My dear, Charlotte,” he said, wiping his mouth free ofcrumbs. “In all the excitement of this morning, I forgot to tell you that Lady Catherine’s nephews are to visit. They are expected around Easter, and I can only rejoice that they will arrive in time to attend service and hear my Easter homily.”
“Did she say which of her nephews are visiting?”
“I cannot recall the name of Earl Matlock’s son, but the other nephew is Mr. Darcy. The very same gentleman who lent me aid after Mr. Bingley’s ball.” Mr. Collins shot a dark glare in the direction of Elizabeth, which faded at the soft sigh his wife emitted. “Yes, well… that is all behind us now.”
“Indeed,” was all Charlotte said before turning the conversation over to her husband’s pastoral duties with regard to a parishioner, laid low with a lingering cold. It was determined he would attend and comfort her with prayers and advice from Lady Catherine, and Charlotte would administer some home-made remedies. Elizabeth had no doubt which interaction would produce more comfort, but wisely kept her counsel.
Elizabeth quit the parsonage the moment the Collinses had gone. She wandered the surrounding park, her eyes drawn to winding paths that beckoned future exploration, her breath catching at glimpses of Kent’s verdant hills rolling into the distance. Even Lady Catherine’s insufferable pride in Rosings Park found justification in the estate’s undeniable beauty.
After an hour of idyllic rambling, Elizabeth made her way back to the parsonage, arriving shortly before Charlotte and her husband returned, to discover that Maria had already arranged for tea at Sir William’s instruction. Soon the five of them gathered in the front parlour, their conversation drifting easily between local gossip and acquaintances until, as Elizabeth had dreaded, talk inevitably turned to her father’s unexpected inheritance.
“Miss Eliza, I was astonished at the news that a distant cousin had left your father an estate.”
“Not too surprising, Sir William. You will recall our family travelled to Bedfordshire every two years to spend the summer with my father’s cousin. You may have heard of us speaking of Arthur Bennet, and his wife Deborah.”
“Did they not have a son?”
Elizabeth’s expression softened.
