Page 4 of Mr Collins in Love
“I see no one,” I said.
Perhaps the demure Miss Norris was not yet five-and-thirty.Perhaps she was but four-and-thirty.Or three-and-thirty.It really was impossible to say.Perhaps even if she was five-and-thirty that was not, in fact, too old.
“He were there, sir.”Mrs Fowke pointed left.“Towards the village.Idling in the lane, at first, and then Milly saw him in Butler’s coppice.There at the edge.”
I made my way along the lane, Mrs Fowke behind me, and peered into the green depths of the coppice.No dark figure lurked there.
“I think he must have gone, Mrs Fowke.”
Many men married women older than themselves.Perhaps I should make a third list, titled ‘Neither Suitable Nor Unsuitable’.Miss Norris would be the first name on that list.
“Hiding, likely,” Mrs Fowke said in my ear.“Anyway, I got the fowl in, just in case.”
“A wise precaution.”
I stepped across the tangle of weeds and wildflowers in the ditch and into the coppice.It had perhaps ten years of growth and while it was easy to walk between the trees, it would be difficult to find anyone in its depths for it was thick and covered a large area.
I cast about, startling a blackbird which flew off, disturbing the peace with its cry of alarm.I knew the coppice well for Mr Butler did not object to his neighbours walking there, but I could see nothing amiss.No ruffians lurking in the undergrowth, only foxgloves.I made my way back to the lane where Mrs Fowke stood hugging her empty colander in the sunshine, her brow knitted in concern.
“No one is there,” I said.“Likely he was just some poor fellow stopping to rest in the heat of the day.I expect he has gone on now.”
“If you say so, sir.”She bobbed another curtsey.“I hope you’ll excuse me, sir.I’m not usually one to take on, as I hope you know, only what with George taken bad…and the fellow’s mannerwasodd sir, all ducking and diving like he didn’t want to be—” Her eyes went round.She was staring past me, into the coppice.“Oh, sir.Oh, lawks.It’shim.”
I turned.A huge shape was emerging from the shadows.A man dressed almost in rags, his trousers gone at the knees and his jacket ripped at the shoulders.For so large a fellow he moved very silent and at the edge of the lane he stopped, several paces from us, shoulders hunched, head ducked.
He wrung a cap between hands like hams, his knuckles all scraped and scabbed.His brow was dark and heavy, and his eyes, when he glanced up, small and apologetic.He had a hare lip so that a chink of white tooth showed through as though he wore a permanent snarl.
My mouth fell open.
It could not be.
He was changed, of course.He was older.His cheeks had hollowed and had a scruffy beard.He had got a filthy blue neckerchief.But the biggest change was in his manner.He had never been one to put himself forward, but now he cringed like a man trying to hide.
What has happened to you?I wanted to say.
Because it was him.It was Jem.Jem Binns.
My only friend.Come back to me.
CHAPTER 2
“Jem!”I sprang forward.“Upon my word!Is it really you?”
My arms had gone out to embrace him, but Mrs Fowke was watching and anyway he had never liked to be touched.I stopped short and held up my hands in what I hoped was a welcoming gesture suitable for the rector of Hunsford.
“Jem!”I repeated for the wonder of saying his name.“Why, it has been ten years since I saw you last.How did you get here?What brings you here?”
He blushed, ducking his head and touching his forelock, and mumbling, “Master William, sir.Beg pardon, sir, for intruding.Right good to see you, sir.”
His voice was low and I remembered that he ever spoke quietly in company because his lip caused him to form words in a particular way and he was shy because of it.But his tone was so familiar that we were suddenly ten years old, crouched behind the laurels eating stolen raspberries from his hand.I could almost taste them, warm as embers, sweet as honey.
“And…are you well?”I said.“Is everything all right at home?I mean, your sister?Your brothers?Are they well?You have not brought bad news, I hope?”
“They’re well, thank you, sir, as far as I know.”
“Good, good.That is excellent news.Good news is so much more pleasant than bad, is it not?I am relieved, Jem.Much relieved.I was in Marshing, you know, visiting my great aunt not six weeks since.I asked after you.I asked your sister.I went to her house, particularly to ask.She said you were at sea.”
“Yessir, thank you for asking after me, sir.And so I was, sir.”
