Page 30 of The Widower of Pemberley

After that the physician went off, with a promise to return in the evening after he had made his other calls.

All that was left was to wait.

Elizabeth held her father’s hand.

Mary sat with her, trying to occupy herself with writing out extracts from her books, but she mostly observed how Mr. Bennet breathed, like Elizabeth did.

Mrs. Hill brought a tea tray out and, with soft movements, set it and a small table at Elizabeth’s side. The housekeeper squeezed Elizabeth’s shoulder and then went off again.

Elizabeth paid no heed to the tea, not even thinking of it.

After a while, Jane returned to the room. They held hands.

Other than her sister informing her that their mother had gone up to her bedchamber and that Kitty and Lydia were with her, there was no conversation.

Occasionally Mr. Bennet opened his eyes, stirred, and made to speak, but he produced no intelligible sounds.

A few hours after the physician had left, Charlotte arrived. She embraced Elizabeth, who silently wept.

Charlotte said, when Elizabeth pulled away to sit and take her father’s hand once more, “We heard from the servants that the physician was called, so I came. Oh, my poor Lizzy!”

“I shall be well. I swear.”

“I shall do anything to help you that I might. My mother has gone up to comfort yours. Mrs. Phillips came with her.”

Elizabeth was glad to hear that her mother was not alone, but she thought little of it beyond that.

After two hours, Elizabeth began to think her father was stirring more frequently and that his breathing was easier.

Shortly after the ladies left, Charlotte promising she would come to help in an instant if Elizabeth needed it, there was a knock at the front door of the house, and Elizabeth wondered who else might call on them and whether they had come to offer sympathy or help.

After some minutes, the door to the drawing room was opened, and Mrs. Hill, with an uncertain manner, brought in a young man dressed with the plain, unfashionable neatness of a clergyman.

This unfamiliar gentleman was wide about the belly and the face, with an excess of pomade in his hair, but he looked at the tableau of the sisters gathered by their father’s side with an odd expression that Elizabeth thought gave the impression of something like happiness trying to force itself past the gravity that was proper on entering a room where a man suffered under a serious affliction.

Elizabeth rose and approached him and Mrs. Hill.

The young man bowed to her. “Mr. Collins at your service. I am your cousin. I was invited by your honoured father to make my lodgings at your noble house for the scope of a fortnight, but,I find, no doubt because of Mr. Bennet’s present unfortunate state, that my arrival was entirely unexpected.”

Elizabeth stared at him blankly. “My cousin? Mr. Collins?”

Then it struck her.

He was the man whom the estate was entailed upon. She had wholly forgotten the amused manner with which her father had begun to report that they would have a guest for dinner.

“Yes,” Elizabeth said in a distant voice. “He was in the middle of announcing your visit to us when his attack occurred.”

The man who would throw them out as soon as Papa was cold—and he was already there.

Thatfinancial matter had barely been in Elizabeth’s mind the whole time she had sat by her ailing father, but suddenly its presence pressed upon her. She felt that guilt her mother had promised her she would feel if Papa suddenly died—she had not thought enough of Jane.

“Might I enquire about the state of your respectable father?” Mr. Collins said softly—in a clergyman’s consoling voice but still in a manner that made it impossible for Elizabeth to not think he was deciding whether he ought to call for all his belongings to immediately be brought to his new estate or whether it would be more politic to wait a week or two.

Before Elizabeth could reply, Mrs. Bennet entered the room. She shrieked when she espied Mr. Collins. “No! No! He is not yet dead! He is not dead! Why are you here? He has not yet died!”

Despite herself, Elizabeth was slightly impressed by the way that Mr. Collins responded.

He bowed deeply. “Madam, I assure you that I am not present to crow over your misfortune. I hope to make every recompense to you and your lovely daughters that I might rightly make. And asa man of God, I am fully prepared to engage in every proper rite and ritual of the Church of England to aid you in this unpleasant time.”