The Reverend William Collins puffed his chest with pride as the Rosings footman pulled back a chair in his honor. On many occasions, he had been invited to tea with his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, but it was a rare occasion, scarcely a few, when she invited her lowly pastor to dine in the formal dining room. To the casual observer, the invitation was more added convenience for her Ladyship, stemming from the hour at which he arrived from London, and less of an intention to speak to his social status.
"Tell me of this cousin you selected for your wife. You say you are to marry the second eldest daughter?" Lady Catherine demanded.
Mr. Collins hesitated for a moment to choose his words carefully. He wanted Lady Catherine to approve of his choice. Despite Mr. Bennet's plans for he and Elizabeth to reside at Longbourn, the loyal pastor had no such desire to lose his independence. "Yes, my cousin, Elizabeth Bennet. She is all that is desirable in a lady. Though she may be the second daughter by birth, I assure your ladyship, she is superior in breeding and manners."
"How peculiar the second is to marry before the first. I'm afraid this family may lack the breeding to hold such an estate. It was wise indeed the property entailed away from the female line."
"I beg your pardon, my ladyship, but Miss Bennet is to marry not one week after our return. She is engaged to a Mr. Charles Bingley of Netherfield Park, a leased property that neighbors the Longbourn estate."
The first course of soup arrived and while Lady Catherine regally sipped from each spoonful, the brash manners of Mr. Collins barely allowed him to diminish the slurping noise that came with each of his attempts. After a few moments, Lady Catherine set her spoon down. The action frightened Mr. Collins, who did not know the proper etiquette for such a moment, so he followed suit. As the footman moved to clear the soup course away after such a short tenure on the table, Lady Catherine pursed her lips and intertwined her long, bejeweled fingers under her chin while she pondered.
"Bingley? Bingley, you say? I believe I have known my nephew, Fitzwilliam, to mention the name."
Collins forgot his hunger for a moment and disappointment at the removal of the wonderful, warm soup. He brightened at being in possession of news for his patroness. "They are friends, I believe, my ladyship. Your nephew, Mr. Darcy, had just completed a visit to the area when I arrived. It would appear that he and my intended were in an unfortunate accident. This is why I must ask for an extension to complete my business, you know. Miss Elizabeth broke her ankle in the accident and lately recovered her health."
"An accident with my nephew! Why was I not informed at once? I might know you would send word but you did not." The steely gaze of Lady Catherine turned upon Collins.
Mr. Collins' face paled as he gulped down the saliva pooling in his mouth. "I–that is I, I only did not include it in my letters, my ladyship, because–because I was certain you were informed . . . And – and as I understand, your nephew was not injured in the least." His mouth wobbled into a pathetic smile of appeasement.
"Well, I demand the particulars now!" Lady Catherine held up her hand as another course was set to arrive, a motion that instructed the footman to wait.
"I'm afraid I am not in possession of numerous details, my ladyship. To my knowledge, the accident occurred as Mr. Darcy was riding into town. My cousin Elizabeth walks down the same lane and his horse nearly struck her. She dove off the road and Mr. Darcy rescued her from the rocky trenches where she suffered a head injury and a broken ankle."
"Where was her father in all this? Her escort? She was walking alone?"
Mr. Collins felt validated in sharing an opinion so similar to his patroness, failing to recall how much he desired the woman to approve his future wife. "I'm afraid her father allows certain behaviors that I assure you will not continue once she is married to me. I am instructing her on proper reading material, and I am certain after the wedding she may find herself with much to occupy her time that would preclude such idleness and inappropriate behavior."
Mr. Collins waited for a response, but Lady Catherine remained silent. The silence was a new behavior for Mr. Collins and he began to sweat profusely, sitting in his chair of inquisition, despite no real change in the room's temperature.
The grand lady appeared perplexed as she considered the puzzle pieces laid before her concerning her nephew. Mr. Collins' stomach growled in a most unbecoming manner as he could smell the next course, but had yet to taste of it. The sound distracted Lady Catherine and she motioned for the food to again be served to the table.
As the silver dome lifted away, Mr. Collins felt a rush of delight at the vision of a shank of roast beef served with a side of golden potatoes. Carefully, he cut a piece of the beef with his knife and was just about to eat when Lady Catherine addressed him again, forcing him to put his fork down.
"Relate to me the particulars of my nephew leaving the area. You say he had just concluded his visits yet his nearest friend is to marry the eldest sister? That sounds impossibly odd."
Mr. Collins shrugged and looked at Lady Catherine with an honest expression of bewilderment. "I say, I must concur most heartily with your ladyship's conclusions. I am afraid I am not privy to the reason your nephew, the illustrious Mr. Darcy, vacated the county. All I know is he received an express from London on the evening before my cousins returned home from Netherfield, and he was off at morning light."
Lady Catherine's mouth opened in shock, but she closed it at once. With a loud bellow, she summoned her housekeeper. She continued to yell until the woman appeared. "Send word to ready my carriage and pack my things! Immediately! I am to London to visit my brother and sister-in-law. Well, don't just stand there, go!" The poor wisp of a woman startled at her mistress' pique and quickly backed out of the room.
Resuming a more neutral tone, still laced with the imperious demeanor that Lady Catherine possessed in spades, she asked her pastor a loaded question. "Mr. Collins, have you unpacked yet?"
Collins hastily swallowed the half chewed bite of his beef, offering his answer with great alacrity. "No, my lady, I saw to my business with my man regarding the rents as you instructed and intended to unpack this evening upon return from dinner."
"Wonderful, finish up here and I will take you back to London."
"But your ladyship," Mr. Collins let out a ghastly hiccough. He hastily covered his mouth with his napkin. "I mean to stay for a number of days to attend to the church business that has accrued. And there's still the question of my extended leave of absence."
Lady Catherine waved her hands in a gesture of frivolity. "Yes, yes, your absence is certainly understandable. But I must visit London and I must leave this evening. You will ride with me back to London, and be with your relatives in town by mid-morning. We should only need to stop at one inn."
Another hiccough escaped Mr. Collins' mouth, as he struggled to reign over his body's betrayal with good regulation. Clumsily, he grasped a glass of wine and attempted to drink his embarrassing situation away. "While your generosity is most kind, Lady Catherine, I must say I have no hesitation to take the post-chaise back to London as I originally planned . . ."
"Nonsense! You shall ride with me, for economy is a virtue never to be dismissed. Besides," the grand lady stood from the table glaring at Mr. Collins until he realized he was amiss in not rising for a lady. He stumbled to correct himself, lacking any semblance of grace, "I may have need of more information you can supply." With very little pomp, Lady Catherine left the room to manage her own arrangements.
Mr. Collins sat down and continued to eat his roast beef. The two footmen in the dining room shared a smirk as they eyed the bumbling pastor eating as quickly as he could. At any moment, Lady Catherine could come back in and demand that dinner come to an end. Eating quickly proved difficult as the poor pastor's diaphragm would spasm with every bite. He dreaded another trip to the London so swiftly with nothing to look forward to but the uncomfortable plight of indigestion, no matter how well sprung the Rosings carriages were maintained.