“Lizzy, I received a letter from William. Come, and I shall show it to you.”
With some reluctance, but also anticipation for her cousin’s latest news, Elizabeth closed her book and stood.
“I should like to read it too, Papa,” said Kitty.
“Let Lizzy read it, and then she can tell us what William wrote without us having to worry about all of the dull parts. You know how he goes on and on,” Lydia, who sat beside Kitty at the worktable, said.
Kitty’s visage turned red. She mumbled something and picked up the piece of linen she had been sewing.
“Papa and I shall tell you all about William’s letter at dinner,” Elizabeth promised before following her father upstairs to his study.
After taking the sheet of paper from Mr Bennet, Elizabeth made herself comfortable on a soft, old chair.
Oxted, Kent
October 30, 1811
My dear sir,
I pray my letter finds you, Mrs Bennet, and all my charming cousins well. Although I wrote to you only two days ago, upon receipt of your reply to my last, which contained so much helpful advice, I felt compelled to again take up my pen to thank you for taking so much time and care on my behalf.
Lest you wonder where I am, I am currently at the home of my friend’s family. I refer to the kind gentleman who promised to introduce me to the august personage whom he believed had a living at her disposal. He was correct, as I learnt upon travelling to this county, one in which I have never been before. I ought to say, that I cannot recall visiting in my younger years. You may have other knowledge, and if you do, I pray you will tell me. He, by whom I mean my friend—but it has just occurred to me that I failed to tell you about my well-being. I assure you and all the family that I am as well as I ever was. If I might say so without sounding too presumptuous, I am filled to the brim with excitement at being close to securing a place which, should I be so fortunate as to gain it, will make me the happiest of men. I shall say no more on the matter, knowing I can trust you take my meaning. I have not forgotten what you said to me on that score in the past. First, I must have the means to support a family. After that, I can look forward to obtaining my heart’s desire, if the good Lord and the object of my interest are benevolent.
To return to where I was before I realised my oversight, my friend went with me to meet the one who would be my patroness. She had a great deal to say about her requirements, and we toured the parish together. I believe I gave satisfactory responses. The house which goes with the living is more than adequate for a young man such as myself, even one whose thoughts and dreams include the dearest wife in the world. Some little improvements were discussed as necessary, although I did not notice any defects. My dear cousin might be, I dare say is, more particular than I am, and for her, I would gladly agree to renovate the house from the cellars to the attics.
My friend requested I remain at his family’s home, which is where I now find myself, for several days. This is both practical, so that I am close at hand, should the lady have any further wish to meet me before making her decision, and of a sociable nature. I shall return to Longbourn soon and anticipate seeing my dear relations. I have much to discuss with my cousin Lizzy. I require her advice, which, as you know, she is so expert at giving to me, her most willing and humble recipient. As many advantages as the living offers, I fear the lady whose task it is to confer this gift may be, as Lizzy would call her, a difficult character. But I shall say no more about that at present, and instead will save further disclosures until we are together again. I do not yet know whether I shall be given the living, but I am exceedingly, but I trust not foolishly, hopeful.
Yours most sincerely,
William Collins
Elizabeth’s eyes lingered on the lines for some time after she finished her perusal. When Mr Bennet began to speak, she carefully folded the letter and placed it on the oak surface of his desk.
“Our anxious waiting for him to find a place might be over soon. Does this not please you?”
“Of course it does. We have all prayed for him to find a living these past months. The difficulty of securing one was the chief reason not to take orders and pursue another line of employment, but it was what William wanted.”
“You cannot tell me he would have been suited for the army, but I grant you, he is loquacious enough to suit the law. My goodness, the way contracts and other legal documents are written ought to be a crime.”
“That is unkind, Papa.”
Mr Bennet chuckled. “What do you think the difficulty with the lady might be? How much easier our conversation might be, if only he had named her.”
Despite his subtle criticism of William, Elizabeth ignored his words and the way he rolled his eyes, because she happened to agree with him. For some reason she had never understood, William was always reluctant to share the names of people he knew or met, almost as though he thought it was asking too much of his family and friends to hear them.
“I cannot possibly guess. Perhaps she demands the parson she selects also cleans the stables or teaches her ten children their lessons without recompense.”
Again, Mr Bennet chuckled. He then sighed and regarded her fondly. “When did William begin preferring your advice to anything I might say? It has been some years, five at least.”
The sound of thunder drew Elizabeth’s eyes to the window. “I do not remember.”
“I suppose the timing of it does not matter all that much.” He stood and went to look outside, where the rain was falling rapidly. “What were you reading?”
“Nothing you would find interesting—just an old novel.”
Elizabeth pinched her leg as punishment for having misled her father. Late yesterday, when she had been unable to sleep because she could not stop thinking about Mr Darcy, she had picked up a favourite book. Today, she had returned to the volume of poetry she and the gentleman were both reading and discussing when they met, but she was disinclined to talk about Mr Darcy with her father at the moment.
Mr Bennet turned and looked at her for a long moment before saying, “Well, I ought to send you back to the sitting room. I am sure your mother and sisters will be interested to hear William’s news.”
