Page 3 of Collins Takes Charge

Mary had been willing to learn from her two older sisters, but Kitty and Lydia had not been interested in anything beyond the basics they had been taught.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

William Collins worked as Davidson’s curate until January 1811. It was then he had been invited to call on Bishop Lankershim in Westerham. He arrived at the seminary on the second Monday of January and was shown into the bishop’s office.

“Sit, Collins,” Bishop Lankershim indicated a chair. “Not only do I believe you are the right man to set things to rights in this parish, but I have a hearty recommendation from Davidson as well.” He saw the younger man’s quizzical look. “I see I am putting the cart before the horse. The most troublesome parish in this diocese is the one at Hunsford, which is not far from Westerham.”

“What makes it so? The parishioners, the clergyman, or something else?” William Collins asked.

“Something else. The patroness is one Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who, because she is the daughter of an earl, thinks that she is all-knowing and all-wise. She only wants a sycophant who will do her bidding without question, and more than that, she wants a man who will toady up to her.”

“But, you know better than most that I am not that man.”

“No, Collins, you are not. A newly ordained man went to see her. He very correctly refused to break parishioners’ confidences or allow her input on the writing of his sermons. He left before she could order him out. She had the curate from the neighbouring parish thrown out of her house because he had the temerity to correct her. Either we can take the drastic step of withdrawing the living from Rosings Park’s advowson, or someone like you can make her think you are the type of obsequious man she is seeking. As soon as she awards you the living, I will ratify it. As you know from canon law, once a living is awarded and a bishop, in this case me, ratifies it, the appointment is for life. Regardless of her delusions, she has no power to remove you. Then, once you are ratified, you will manage the parish as you see fit.”

“Under normal circumstances, I would never present myself as anything but who I am; however, in this case when it seems that the patroness is an interfering terma…” William Collins stopped before the word left his lips.

“You may say termagant, Collins. It is apt for Lady Catherine de Bourgh. She thinks that her being the daughter of an earl somehow makes her knowledgeable in everything when the opposite is true.” Bishop Lankershim paused as he gave Collins time to assimilate his words. “The Archbishop approves of this. If we cannot have a clergyman like you installed who will take charge of the parish, then the living will be removed from her gift and never returned as long as she has authority to prefer a man to the living.”

“With the sanction from the Archbishop and yourself, I am willing to act the type of man she believes she can dominate,” William Collins agreed. “However, I will not lie.”

“I did not think you would,” Lankershim averred.

The two men stood and shook hands. Bishop Lankershim handed Collins a paper with the information he needed in order to find the estate and then said, “I will send a note to Lady Catherine to inform her that I am sending her another candidate.”

The youngest Collins left the seminary and made for Rosings Park.

Chapter 1

William Collins had to admit, if only to himself, that the façade of the mansion at Rosings Park was impressive because of its size and the sheer number of windows glinting in the late spring sunshine. The house was a four-storey structure; it was built in the Gothic style with pointed arches, steep gables, and decorative bargeboards.[1]

Rather than ride his stallion, Vulcan, which Father had presented him when he had graduated from Oxford, William was sitting next to the coachman on the bench of a hired gig, one he had rented in Hunsford, where he had left his mount. He had also made sure that he was about a quarter hour earlier than the time of eleven Lady Catherine had set. He had been told that, to her, being on time was late.

He had chosen to arrive this way after Bishop Lankershim had pointed out that one of the many things Lady Catherine waxed on was the maintenance of the distinction of the ranks. He had opined that had William arrived on a very fine stallion, she would have taken that as him thinking too well of himself, leading to a rejection.

The gig was drawn to a halt in the drive by the single gelding pulling it before the large, dark oak double doors. It stopped under the extended portico, which would shield people from the elements. There were two footmen in red and gold livery in front of the door. William had to smile to himself; Lady Catherine had chosen livery colours which were not dissimilar to those that footmen who were employed by the royals wore. She did not go as far as to have the royal crest added to the liveries. They stood still like statues, not making a move to assist him down. Collins was sure they had been told not to offer any help to a lowly clergyman.

As soon as Collins hopped down from the gig, he straightened his black clergyman’s coat, pulled his sleeves down, and then made sure that his broad-brimmed hat was straight on his head, hiding most of his dark blond curls. With that done, he lifted the large brass knocker, which was in the shape of a lion’s paw, and allowed it to fall against the door. The door was opened almost immediately by an old, very serious-looking butler with stooped shoulders.

“Lady Catherine invited me to see her at eleven this morning. Please inform her Ladyship that Mr William Collins has arrived to enjoy the honour and pleasure of her company,” he intoned. In case the lady questioned her retainer about him, he wanted to be sure that he was described as the kind of man she wanted for the living.

The man took William’s hat, gloves, and coat, handing them to a footman. “Follow me,” the butler commanded, and then led the way along the hall.

William Collins looked about as he walked through the halls. He had never seen such ostentatious and gaudy displays of wealth in any house he had ever entered. Thankfully, Bishop Lankershim had prepared him for this. He had been warned that Lady Catherine needed to prove how wealthy she was to bolster her sense of superiority. All William saw was a display of poor taste and lack of class. He schooled his features, remembering the charge the bishop had given him. The church preferred not to remove a living from a patron, but in extreme cases when there was no other choice, they would do so.

The butler led the way up a grand staircase and then along another hallway full of more gaudy décor. Rather than open the double doors before him, the retainer knocked.

“Enter.” Came the imperious response from within.

The man opened the door. “Mr William Collins,” the butler announced once he had given a low bow as one would to a royal, then he stood aside. He left when the woman sitting in a raised, gilded chair waved him away as if he were a gadfly.

In William’s opinion, Lady Catherine had never been a handsome woman, and as she aged—he guessed she was past the age of fifty—he could tell that time had not been kind to her. Her face was angular; she had a long hawk-like nose and thin lips. Her hair was almost all grey, with a smattering of white beginning in some places, and her beady eyes were a dark brown colour. He could tell that she was a tall woman. She was dressed in heavy silks, which seemed more suited for a dinner in London than meeting a prospective parson in one’s home in the morning. He was no expert on ladies’ fashions, but William believed that the style was from the previous century, just as her pretensions were.

To the lady’s right was a younger lady. He had been told that Lady Catherine had a sickly daughter. By the sallow look of the younger woman and the fact that she was buried under a mountain of blankets and shawls while being fussed over by an older lady dressed in plain garb as a servant would be, William assumed the lady was Miss de Bourgh, the heiress of Rosings Park.

As much as it irked him to do so, William bowed as low as he had seen the butler do.

Happy that the man had shown her the deference she deserved, Lady Catherine pointed a bony finger at a chair to her left. “I am the Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and my daughter is the Honourable Miss Anne de Bourgh,” she stated imperiously.