Page 3 of Grief and Grievances
There, amidst the neatly trimmed hedges and fragrant flower beds, stood Mr. Collins, locked in a most peculiar face-off with an irate goose. The bird, its wings flared in indignation, honked loudly, while Mr. Collins flapped his arms and sputtered incoherent exclamations.
“Mr. Collins!” Charlotte called through the open window, torn between concern and laughter. “Do you require assistance?”
“Charlotte, my dear,” he panted, his face flushed with exertion, “this foul creature has invaded our garden and refuses to depart!”
Elizabeth fought down her laughter as she watched Mr. Collins’ valiant attempts to chase away the obstinate goose, which seemed to be growing bolder by the second.
“Pray do not trample my tulips, Mr. Collins!” Charlotte called out, her voice tinged with amusement despite her feigned chagrin. “I have carefully tended to them for weeks!”
“Indeed, madam,” he huffed, briefly glancing at his wife before refocusing his efforts on the unyielding bird. “This wretched creature shall rue the day it dared trespass upon our sacred grounds!”
Elizabeth could hardly contain her laughter as Mr. Collins lunged towards the goose, only to stumble gracelessly when it deftly sidestepped his advance. Maria, too, found herself caught in the infectious atmosphere of hilarity, her giggles mingling with the sounds of the struggle.
“Mr. Collins, perhaps if you—“ began Elizabeth, but her words were drowned out by the sudden, frantic honking of the goose. With one last indignant squawk, it spread its wings wide and darted through the hedgerow, disappearing from sight. Simultaneous relief and disappointment washed over Elizabeth as the comical scene reached its abrupt conclusion.
“Thank goodness that wretched creature has fled! Our delicate sensibilities can finally—“ Mr. Collins’ self-congratulatory proclamation was cut short by the sound of startled ponies neighing, hooves rapidly clattering and the unmistakable creak of carriage wheels.
“Anne!” gasped Elizabeth, her heart clenching with dread. She had not anticipated that their Anne would be approaching yet, nor that the goose’s hasty retreat would lead the bird directly into the path of Anne’s approaching phaeton.
“Lizzy!” Charlotte clutched at her arm, wide-eyed with panic as the sound of clattering hooves was succeeded by a distant crash further along the lane and then an ominous silence.
Elizabeth did not hesitate a moment; leaping up from the window-seat she ran for the stairs, Charlotte hot on her heels, and bolted downstairs and out of the Parsonage, heading for the lane as fast as she could run.
“Pray, make haste!” called Mr. Collins, huffing along behind them as they ran along the lane. Maria trailed him, her cheeks flushed with concern and effort.
As they reached the scene of the accident, the sight that greeted them was one of devastation. The phaeton lay overturned just past the bend in the lane, its once-gleaming wheels now mangled and broken. Bits of harness and splintered wood littered the ground, evidence of the violence that had transpired moments earlier.
The scent of crushed grass and overturned earth filled the air as Elizabeth and Charlotte rounded the bend, their eyes immediately drawn to the twisted wreckage of the once-elegant phaeton. The upturned carriage lay in a grotesque tableau, shattered wheels still spinning lazily in the air while splintered wood jutted out like broken bones.
“Dear God,” Charlotte whispered, her hand flying to her mouth in horror.
“Anne!” Elizabeth cried, scanning the scene for any sign of her friend.
“Over there!” Charlotte pointed to a crumpled figure lying several feet from the wreckage. As they drew near, they discovered it was not Anne, but Mrs. Jenkinson, her body unnaturally contorted and motionless upon the ground. Elizabeth’s heart clenched at the sight of the poor woman; she knew at once that no assistance could save her. No human could live with a neck bent at such a ghastly angle.
“Mrs. Jenkinson is gone,” Elizabeth confirmed softly, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “We must find Anne.”
“Look!” Charlotte gasped, pointing towards a tangle of brambles where a flash of pale muslin hinted at another fallen figure. Together they knelt beside the unconscious form of Anne de Bourgh, her pallor all the more striking against the crimson stain that marred her forehead.
“Her pulse is faint, but she yet breathes,” Elizabeth reported in hushed tones, relief mingling with the ever-present dread that clung to her heart.
“Thank heavens,” Charlotte murmured, her voice trembling. But as they surveyed the carnage before them, both women understood that gratitude alone might not be enough to see their friend through this dreadful ordeal.
Chapter Two
ThescenebeforeElizabethwas one of utter chaos and despair. Splintered pieces of the shattered carriage lay scattered upon the ground, and the anguish in Mr. Collins’ expression as he finally arrived at the scene reflected the gravity of the tragedy that had just unfolded. The accident, which had befallen Anne de Bourgh, was a horrific sight indeed.
“Alas! This is all my doing!” cried Mr. Collins, his countenance crumpled in distress as he wrung his hands in agitation, seemingly unable to comprehend the dreadful situation at hand. “Had it not been for my ill-fated encounter with that infernal goose!”
Elizabeth, who had always esteemed Mr. Collins as an excessively foolish man, now found her opinion of him sinking to new depths. However, she could not deny that his emotions were genuine, and that he was truly tormented by the consequences of his actions. Her heart went out to him despite his folly, for no person should have to bear such guilt upon their conscience.
“Mr. Collins, we must act sensibly in this dire circumstance,” Elizabeth implored, attempting to quell the rising hysteria in his voice. “It is crucial that we remain composed if we are to aid Miss de Bourgh.”
“Composed?” Mr. Collins echoed incredulously, his eyes darting wildly between Elizabeth and the wreckage before them. “How can I be composed when my own foolishness has led to such devastation? Lady Catherine will never forgive me!”
“Pray, do not think of Lady Catherine now,” Elizabeth urged, her voice firm. “Our priority must be Miss de Bourgh’s well-being.”
“Maria!” Charlotte called out, her voice steady despite the turmoil surrounding them. “You must fetch the doctor at once! There is not a moment to lose!”
