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Authors: Elizabeth Aston

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“Papa has a meeting with the archdeacon this morning, so he is talking about what is to be done with Canon Hawthorn, who intends to publish a tract about the Second Coming that amounts to heresy, so Papa says.”

“Heresy! How exciting.”

“Your mind runs on the terrors of the Spanish Inquisition, on dungeons and torture, but heretical views in the Church of England are not of that kind.”

Eliza's mind wasn't on heresy, or Canon Hawthorn. It was entirely turned to her own predicament, and with the restless energy that so worried and disconcerted her parents, she began to pace up and down the room. How many hours must pass before she could see Anthony? She wished he were here, now, that she didn't have to possess her soul in patience.

The time needn't be spent uselessly. She could sound out her mother at least, as to whether what Maria said was true. Maria was given to exaggeration, and what she heard through a thick oak door might owe more to her imagination than she knew.

It was now past ten o'clock. Her mother, always an early riser, would long since have finished her household duties. She reserved an hour every day for her correspondence, she might well be in her room, at her desk. How to broach the matter? How not to alert her suspicions, not to reveal she knew what could only have been learned in some underhand way? She must go to her with a mind prepared…

Her thoughts were interrupted by the return of the maid. “Mrs. Collins wants to see you in the drawing room, directly,” she announced. And then she added, in less important tones, “She's in there with Lady Grandpoint, and your sister, and they're all in a right state, best hurry down, if you want my advice!”

Chapter Four

Both household duties and letter writing had gone neglected that morning by Mrs. Collins. The previous evening, her husband had given her a blow-by-blow account of his conversation with Sir Roger in the form of a curtain lecture, a habit of her husband's which Mrs. Collins deplored. She longed to say, You are not in church, you do not need to preach a sermon at me, but it was in his nature to moralise in a ponderous way, and, as a dutiful wife, she had made it her business over the years to hold her tongue and hear his prosy diatribes out in silence.

In any case, he ignored any attempts at interruption, merely pausing and then picking up what he had to say a lengthy paragraph or two back from where he had stopped, thus making the whole affair drag out even longer. He pretty much told her the whole in the first ten minutes, and she let his peroration, with his solemn pronouncements as to the innate wickedness of young women when allowed to give rein to their feelings, wash over her while she tried to make sense of what Sir Roger was about.

Her feelings were a mixture of exultation and mortification. How could any mother not be pleased that her daughter had attracted the notice of a man such as Anthony Diggory, whom she liked for his own sake, let alone his position and future inheritance? How could any mother not be mortified to know that her daughter wasn't considered good enough for the man she loved, and that, regardless of whether her sentiments were returned or not, a match was out of the question?

Anger, too, at her husband for giving in to Sir Roger so meekly, for taking his side against Eliza.

“I knew how it would be,” he was saying. “High spirits are all very well in a young girl such as Maria, although she is given too free a hand, in my opinion; however, she has a fortune, she has a name, the situation is quite different for Eliza, who must mind her manners and take great care not to give offence.”

“I do not think falling in love with a handsome and rich young man can be called giving offence.”

“When the liking has not been sanctioned by his or her parents, then it is wrong, and Sir Roger is right to feel aggrieved.”

“Sir Roger! Aye, and Lady Diggory, too. She worships her son, no woman is good enough for her. I do not see why the young couple may not marry. Sir Roger mistakes the matter, Eliza is not a dairy-maid or a drudge, he has welcomed her to his house—”

“You do not understand these matters, my dear. Such things are best left to myself and Sir Roger. There can be no question of Sir Roger and Lady Diggory approving the match, so there can be no match. All that remains for us to do is to consider where best to send her. Pemberley is the obvious place—”

“What, with two boys and a governess to keep her company? What will she do there?”

“Apply herself to feminine tasks, read improving books, and indeed, if the governess is a sensible woman, she may instil some better sense of propriety in Eliza.”

Mrs. Collins opened her mouth to protest, and then shut it again. If her husband couldn't see the folly of expecting a girl of twenty to submit to the attentions of a governess, or to agree to spend any time at all marooned in the country, in however much state, then nothing she could say would make him see sense.

The next morning she was up before him, too distracted to pay proper attention to any of her usual tasks, her mind searching for a solution. She snapped at her son, Charles, when he enquired if she were out of sorts, and let her husband go off to his cathedral meeting without making any of her usual wifely enquiries as to the time of his return or the likelihood of his staying on to dine with his colleagues.

Her aunt, sharp-eyed and curious, came late to the breakfast room and at once noticed Mrs. Collins had something on her mind. She took the first opportunity of whisking her into the sitting room, out of earshot of the servants, and worming it all out of her.

“It is what Sir Roger said about Eliza that so distresses me,” said Mrs. Collins. “To assert that she set out to ensnare Anthony! I know she can be a little wild in her ways—although,” she added with vigour, “not half so wild as Maria Diggory, I may say. It is true that Eliza is inclined to flirt, yet why should a pretty girl not do so?”

“If this were mere flirtation, then Sir Roger would not be in this state,” Lady Grandpoint said. “It is clear that the attachment is mutual. In which case, it is a great pity that Sir Roger is so obdurate, for, as you say, it would be a good match for Eliza. Cannot Bishop Collins persuade Sir Roger to take a more favourable line?”

“The bishop will not go against Sir Roger's wishes, he will not attempt to argue or disagree with him, I am sure of that. Sir Roger believes that once Eliza is gone from the neighbourhood, Anthony will forget about her, Sir Roger considers it is all a mere passing fancy.”

“If that is so, then Eliza is in danger, because, to speak frankly, passing fancies can lead to unfortunate circumstances. Young blood runs hot. What if their passion proves stronger than their virtue? This young Mr. Diggory would not be the first young man to ruin a neighbour's daughter.”

“Ruin! Consider what you are saying.”

“I am saying what you should be thinking as a mother, and what any woman of the world would think and say.”

“It is most un-Christian to—”

“This has nothing to do with Christianity, it is a practical matter. Can the girl go to her Darcy connections in Derbyshire?”

“She can, but I do not see how it will serve. She would be so bored she might even run away, for how can I know that this governess will keep an eye on her?”

“Indeed, and why should she? Eliza is not her charge, and if she has two boys to look after, then she will have her hands full.”

Lady Grandpoint took a turn around the room, twitching a cover into place as she went past a sofa, pausing by the window to watch a crow pecking at some creature in the grass, before turning again to her niece.

“Eliza had better come to London with Charlotte. No,” and she raised a hand to prevent Mrs. Collins from speaking, an unnecessary gesture, for Mrs. Collins looked as though the power of speech had been removed from her. “It is not at all what I had planned. With neither beauty nor fortune to recommend her, a London season can do Eliza little good, other than perhaps to add some polish to her manners. However, we must consider our dear Charlotte. It will not help her chances if her sister is known to be in a scrape—or worse. And word gets around, such news will travel swiftly enough from Yorkshire to London, you may take my word for it.”

Mrs. Collins was silent for a few minutes, considering her aunt's offer. “It is exceedingly good of you to suggest such a scheme. After all, no one will think it odd if Eliza goes with her sister to London, there can be no hint of her being packed off in disgrace if she goes to London. Only there is the expense, you are exceedingly kind to help Charlotte, but you cannot do the same for Eliza.”

“You must persuade your husband to loosen his purse strings a little, as I judge he is well able to do. It is a trifling amount to pay to secure Charlotte's future and to remain on proper terms with Sir Roger, if the wretched man truly has the influence your husband ascribes to him. How I detest these country squires, who have everything their way, who rule their petty kingdoms and consider themselves of importance in the world, when it is not at all the case. Still, while Mr. Collins remains Bishop of Ripon, he cannot risk offending those around him. And the expense need not be so very great, there is no point in decking Eliza out in any particular finery, she will not be noticed however she looks, a respectable appearance so that she does not appear too out of place is all we need aim for. Let her pack up whichever of her gowns are the finest, and she can manage with those and perhaps a new bonnet or shawl to add a touch of fashion. No one will notice her, she will blend into the background, there are always a number of young women of much better family, who make no mark in London.”

Mrs. Collins thought of Eliza with her lively ways, her rippling laughter, her voice, her mobile mouth with its quick smile, and the way that men's eyes followed her when she was dancing. She felt a shiver of apprehension; should she warn her aunt that the role of dowdy younger sister which she was assigning to Eliza might not be as suitable as she supposed?

No. She would have a serious talk with Eliza before she left, impress on her how she must behave just as she ought, and not in any way do anything that might hinder Charlotte's chances. And she would listen, would heed her mother's words; she was at heart a good girl, who cared for her sister's well-being.

What a pity that Mrs. Darcy was out of the country; why had Mr. Darcy become such a gadabout? Government business! What need had a man of Darcy's estate to go meddling in government business that was better left to men who had neither great houses nor huge incomes, let alone a family to look after? Mr. Darcy was possessed of a keen sense of duty, so Elizabeth said. Well, Bishop Collins had a keen sense of duty, and no one chose to send him off to all these strange places.

“I do not believe you are listening to a word of what I have to say,” Lady Grandpoint said sharply. “I was talking about a maid. If both girls are to come to London, then they had better bring their own maid. There is a girl here who can be spared, I dare say?”

“Hislop can go, she is devoted to Charlotte. Oh, dear, I do not think Eliza will care to go. How are we to break it to her?”

“Break it? You will tell her that she is to go to London and there's an end of it. I trust you are not going to indulge in any weak sentiments on this. It would be inappropriate to show the girl any sympathy. Good heavens, most girls would jump at the opportunity to spend some weeks in London. And who knows, despite everything, we may be able to find her a husband while she is with us.”

“Anthony may forget her,” said Mrs. Collins, shaking her head, “but I fear Eliza is not so volatile. If her affections are truly engaged—”

“Fustian. She will do as she is told, and it will do her a world of good to be in wider company, to come to a sense of her unimportance and to realise that she cannot run on in the way she is allowed to do here.”

“My dear aunt, it is not a matter of allowed,” said Mrs. Collins, goaded into open disagreement, rare with her. “It is not for want of trying, she was born with a quick mind and a lively disposition, and I do not believe she will alter in her essential being, however lowly she may appear in London society. And I would not wish that she should, she is very like her godmother, and Elizabeth was always my dearest friend, you know. I hope and pray Eliza will find a husband who appreciates her for what she is, a man she can respect and look up to, a clever man.”

Lady Grandpoint was looking at her with cold disapprobation. “Pull yourself together, really, you make a mountain out of a molehill. Eliza will be lucky to find herself any kind of a tolerable husband, and indeed, that is all any girl can wish for, without she is born into the highest ranks of society. And even there, let me tell you, a girl is rarely allowed simply to follow the dictates of her heart, and since the heart has little to do in the end with a successful marriage, it is right that it is so.”

“There must be some affection.”

“Nonsense. You yourself are a perfect example of how a good marriage can be made out of the most unpromising material. Do you think I am not aware that Mr. Collins would have remained a mere village clergyman if it were not for you? That is a duty well done, you have supported your spouse and taken him further in his profession than he could ever have gone by his own talents or efforts. Let Eliza do the same for her husband and she will lead a life as contented as any of us may expect.”

“Duty,” said Mrs. Collins, a hint of sadness in her voice. “I find it difficult to talk of Eliza and duty in the same breath, but, yes, she has to live the life that is possible for her. Dutifully.” And she considered what her own life would have been, had she not married Mr. Collins. She would have become a drudge at Lucas Lodge, a spinster aunt, expected to help in the house and run about after nieces and nephews, instead of having her own establishment and as much control over her life as any woman had the right to expect. Eliza growing old as an impoverished spinster! It was not to be thought of, anything was better than that.

She had no such unhappy predictions for Charlotte. No young woman as beautiful as Charlotte would remain unmarried, no, not unless a new breed of the male half of humankind were to come into being, who cared little for a lovely face and a graceful form. Mrs. Collins's mood lightened at the mere thought of Charlotte, with her fine looks and good behaviour. Charlotte had never given her a moment's anxiety.

“Send for Eliza directly,” said Lady Grandpoint, “so that we can inform her of her good fortune.”

“I think we should discuss the matter with the bishop first, he may have some objection to Eliza's going to London.”

“In which case, better that it is all settled before he returns. And what is there to object to, pray? His daughter is removed from the orbit of this young man, his neighbour can return to his rural, rustic pursuits with a calm mind, domestic tranquillity is restored, and all this for the very modest outlay of a trifling sum for a little finery for his younger daughter. He will be grateful enough.”

Or if he is not, he will hardly dare to say so, said Mrs. Collins inwardly; Mr. Collins would have been in awe of her aunt's forceful personality even if she hadn't been in possession of a title and a handsome income.

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