Page 4 of Collins Takes Charge

Noting that she seemed to be waiting for him to express his gratitude at her condescension of addressing a mere mortal, William bowed to the ladies before he took his seat.

“It is my honour to meet you and your daughter,” William responded deferentially once he was seated. It was difficult to play at being subservient to the woman. He reminded himself he was doing this for the church. “Would your Ladyship please inform me of her requirements for the next parson of Hunsford?”

“I know from your bishop that you have taken holy orders, so you have the prerequisite qualification to have a living. However, what is more important to me is that you will take direction from me in all things. Before you deliver a sermon, I must see it so that I may make changes as needed. It is very important that you share with me anything my tenants and those in the area say when they confide in you. I am very attentive to everything that occurs in and around Rosings Park. I will not countenance the peasants who are my tenants trying to take advantage of my generous nature. They will speak to you freely, and then you will report everything to me. I will direct you in your duties, and you will come to my home every day to accept instruction from me.” Lady Catherine took a deep breath and ceased speaking for a moment.

“I am very good at following instructions that are helpful, and I will always be open to hearing what my patroness has to say,” William responded as he gave a half bow from his chair. He had not lied to the termagant; he had simply couched his answer in a way that she would assume he agreed with anything she said.

Anne de Bourgh was disappointed. Mother was bringing another sycophant into the fold. She had hoped that a man with backbone, who thought for himself, would be preferred to the living. But no, she should have known that Mother would never allow a man who had thoughts which were not her own to take the living, just as she had run off the previous two men she had interviewed. Neither of those two would bow to her wishes. Mother had ordered one of the men out of Rosings Park for daring to disagree with her, while the other had stood up and walked out before Mother was able to command him to leave.

Her hope was that there would be someone who would be willing to post a letter to her uncle, Reggie Fitzwilliam, the Earl of Matlock, who was her late father’s executor. Mother made sure that any letter Anne wrote or received was sent through her. If Anne wrote anything considered objectionable, her mother would punish her. She had lived under her mother’s draconian rules since Papa was taken home to God some seven years past. Anne was aware that when she turned five and twenty in September of this year, the estate, the house in London, and the de Bourgh fortune would be hers. Mother did not know Anne knew the truth because according to Lady Catherine, all was hers until she died. She was fully cognisant of the fact that Mother’s desire to retain control of the estate was why she had begun the lie about a cradle betrothal between herself and her cousin, William Darcy. Lady Catherine announced this so-called cradle engagement only after Aunt Anne passed away. Uncle Robert Darcy had refuted the claim, refused to sign the betrothal contract Mother had brought, and pointed out that his son and her daughter had never been in their cradles at the same time.

When Uncle Robert went to join Aunt Anne in heaven five years ago, Mother had rushed to Pemberley—the main Darcy estate in Derbyshire—where she had attempted to renew her claims. However, she had been frustrated by a letter Uncle Robert had left in addition to a statement in his will refuting the claims of any betrothal between his son and Anne de Bourgh. Mother had tried to order Georgiana Darcy, who had only been ten when her father passed away, to pack and return to Rosings Park with her. She opined that two single men could not raise a young girl. Uncle Reggie and Aunt Elaine had commanded Mother to leave, and Andrew—Viscount Hilldale—and Richard Fitzwilliam had escorted their aunt to her coach and watched until it departed.

On her return to Rosings Park, Mother had been in high dudgeon for weeks as she ranted about how seriously displeased she was. Anne was brought out of her reverie as her mother’s voice broke through the mists of her thoughts.

“Yes, you will do. I can tell you will be exactly the kind of clergyman I require to serve me…the parish,” Lady Catherine stated. “The living is yours.”

“If it is not too much trouble, would you condescend to write an epistle of appointment for me to show my bishop? The missive needs to state that I met your criteria to serve as the rector of the Hunsford Church and Parish. It is St Cuthbert’s Church, is it not?” William asked to distract the woman.

Seeing the request for a missive as more deference to her, Lady Catherine agreed to write said letter after informing her new parson that he had named the church correctly. She stood and waited for Mr Collins to do the same and bow to her. With that done, Lady Catherine made her way to her study to write the epistle Mr Collins had requested so politely.

William did not look at Miss de Bourgh directly, but he could tell that the lady was troubled. He hoped that once he was resident at the parsonage and had begun to minister in the parish that Miss de Bourgh would feel comfortable enough to confide in him.

It was not too much longer before Lady Catherine returned with the letter. “You may go look at the parsonage. You will see it is very well appointed, all at my direction. I am very attentive to everything,” she related.

With the missive placed in his inside jacket pocket and after another low bow to the ladies in the drawing room, William took his leave. After enquiring where the parsonage was, he walked across the park as he was told it was little more than a half-mile from the manse. As he walked, he noted the beds of flowers which looked more like soldiers on parade than a garden. He had never seen anything so very ordered before. At Collins Hollow, the garden was laid out in a way that pleased his mother, with colours and different types of flowers all mixed together.

He passed an extensive rose garden; one he assumed lent its name to the name of the estate. This too was overly organised. All the bushes were uniform, and no colours were mixed.

As soon as William passed a stand of trees, he saw the spire of the church. As he came closer, he spied the parsonage, which was not more than fifty yards from the church. The house was built from the same grey stone used to construct St Cuthbert’s. It was a decent-sized two-storey home. He could tell that the side he approached was the back. After he admired a nice-sized vegetable garden, he made his way around to the front. There was a gravelled circular drive which connected to a lane, the one he had been on when he travelled to Rosings Park earlier that morning. There was a relatively large flower garden in front beyond the drive. From what he could see, the flowers were not organised in the same fashion as those he had just seen at the estate.

What pleased William greatly was that he noticed an apiary in one corner of the garden which had three large hives. He assumed his predecessor—one that Lady Catherine had not liked, as he had been appointed by her husband and never kowtowed to her—who had passed a few months past, had kept bees. It was not just that there would be fresh honey when he wanted it, but William was very interested in the science of beekeeping. He had helped with the apiary at Collins Hollow whenever he had been home from school or university and had gained much experience over the years.

From the drive, he looked across, where he saw some fields with crops growing and beyond that an orchard and vineyard. William would need to confirm his suspicion, but he believed he was looking at the glebe lands.

He walked to the front door where a chain for a bell pull was hanging. William pulled the chain and could hear a bell ringing somewhere inside of the house. It was not too much of a wait before the door was opened by a kindly looking woman who William guessed was closer to fifty than forty. She had her hair in a bun and was wearing a white apron.

“Yes, dearie, ‘ow may I ‘elp you? Mr Belvedere is no more. Lady Catherine is looking for a new rector. If you need the curate, ‘e is at Metcalfe Hall,” Mrs Delorus Bellamy, the cook and housekeeper in one person, stated.

“No, Madam, I think I am seeking you. My name is William Collins, and Lady Catherine just preferred me to the Hunsford living. And you are?”

“Welcome, Sir. I be Mrs Delorus Bellamy, if you want to keep me, your cook and ‘ousekeeper. Since Mr Belvedere went to ‘is final reward, I be the only one employed ‘ere.”

“Well met, Mrs Bellamy. I am not one to make changes for change’s sake, so unless you do not desire to work for me, or I find serious cause to discontinue your employment, I would be more than pleased for you to keep performing your role in this house. May I look around?” William requested.

“Of course, Mr Collins; it be your ‘ouse now, is it not?” Mrs Bellamy asked kindly.

“Thank you. You may return to your duties; I will find you if I have any questions,” William responded. The lady bobbed a curtsy and made her way back into the house. After closing the door, William walked down the short hallway. The first door he came to led to the study. It was a large room with a fireplace on one wall; there were bookcases either side of the hearth. The desk was a good size, made of oak. It was pushed up against the wall, below the windows looking out over the drive and the lane beyond.

William decided that he would sit with his back to the window so that he would not be distracted from his work as soon as a conveyance passed along the lane or entered his drive. As it was, he intended that most of his time would be spent among his flock and not cloistered away in his study. From the study, he turned to the right down the hall and arrived at a large room which had a sitting room on one end and the dining parlour on the other. There was a door in the back wall which led to a nice little sitting room which had windows looking out over the back of the house towards Rosings Park and its park. He imagined that when—hopefully—he found the partner of his future, this room would be a very comfortable sitting room for the lady of the house.

He had not seen any kitchen, but that mystery was solved when William saw a set of stairs going down from the dining area. It seemed the house was three, not two stories. Rather than assume, he followed the stairs into a cellar where the kitchen and scullery were.

Mrs Bellamy had been enjoying a cup of tea and had been very surprised that the new master had lowered himself to come down to the kitchen. She knew what kind of man the so-called ‘great lady’ was seeking as a parson. She had been resigned to this man being of that ilk; but perhaps there was hope and she was wrong. “Would you like a cuppa tea, Mr Collins?”

“No, thank you, Mrs Bellamy, I just wanted to see what was down here. Do not allow me to disturb you,” William assured the woman.

He climbed the stairs up to the ground level and crossed the large room to the set of stairs leading up to the first floor. There, he found four bedchambers. The two largest had an internal door between them. William assumed they were for the master and mistress. The other two were a nice size for guests, where he would have room to host them when his parents and brother came to visit. At the end of the hall was a set of rough steps which led to the attic.