Page 80 of Companions of Their Youth
Another. Then something heavier struck the floor with a deafening thud.
“I” -crash-“HATE” -crash-“YOU!” she howled again, her voice raw with fury.
Darcy turned away, his chest heaving, but he forced himself to remain upright. From inside the room came another crash—glass this time, unmistakable in its delicate, high-pitched ruin.
A footman rounded the corner, eyes wide, and Colonel Fitzwilliam hastily stepped forward. “We have it in hand,” he said tersely. “Thank you.”
The man nodded and vanished, retreating hastily.
Darcy pressed his hand to his temple and exhaled.
From beside him, the colonel’s voice was quiet. “What are we going to do?”
Darcy looked straight ahead, jaw clenched. “I do not know. But I know someone who might.”
Chapter 17
Long after the last glimpse of the carriage vanished beyond the hedgerows, Elizabeth remained at the window, her eyes fixed on the empty road. A gray hush had settled over the afternoon, and the fading light did little to warm the hollow in her chest. Mark was gone. It was not forever, she reminded herself—only until Christmas—but knowing that did little to ease the ache. The house felt quieter already.
Dinner that evening was a glum affair. The Bennet family sat about the table in unusual quiet, each of them pushing food around their plates with little appetite.
Even Lydia, so often the source of noise and liveliness, seemed unusually subdued. “The militia is still coming this week,” she offered after a lull, her tone more hopeful than triumphant. “Aunt Philips told us after church on Sunday that they will be settled in by Friday.”
It was a valiant effort, but the remark dropped heavily, with no real conversation to follow. Elizabeth glanced toward her mother in concern, but to her relief, Mrs. Bennet did not startle at the news as she had done before. Instead, she set down her knife and fork and offered a brief, steady reply.
“Remember what I told you, girls—bravery and a fine red coat do not make a true gentleman. While most officers hold the title, the sad truth is that many are common men serving in place of those wealthy enough to purchase their way out.”
Lydia looked down at her plate. “Oh,” she said faintly.
“There are good men among them, of course,” Mrs. Bennet said, softening her tone. “But you must not assume that a uniform guarantees virtue. If you are to grow into women of sense, you must learn to observe, and to judge wisely. That is all I will say on the matter for now.”
Silence followed her words, then Mr. Bennet cleared his throat, his tone deliberately light. “Well, that should be enough gloom for one evening. I believe I have just the thing to revive our spirits.”
He reached for a letter from his coat pocket. “A correspondence from our cousin William.”
1 November 1811
Oxford, Michaelmas Term
My dear and most honored Cousin,
I hope you will pardon the liberty I take in writing you a letter before you have had a chance to respond to my last, but could not proceed with a recent development without first consulting the gentleman to whom I owe both my educationand my future. Your generous forgiveness of my youthful transgressions, and your decision to provide for my path in the Church, are debts I can never hope to repay. I am ever mindful of the weight of my obligations to you.
As you are aware, I am now in the final year of my studies here at Oxford and have devoted myself with diligence to both theological scholarship and personal reformation. It is with the utmost humility that I inform you of a most unexpected occurrence: I have made the acquaintance of an elderly rector, who wishes me to take his place upon my ordination. The parish is located in Hunsford, which is in Kent. The patroness in question is none other than Lady Catherine de Bourgh, of Rosings Park, whose name is held in the highest esteem in both the ecclesiastical and aristocratic circles, according to this rector.
Her ladyship has expressed a desire to support young clergymen of promise, and through a mutual acquaintance, my name was submitted. The living is of respectable value and would afford me the stability and independence so essential to the discharge of my future duties. However, it is Longbourn—and your continued kindness—that remain my ultimate goal.
Therefore, if it meets with your approval, I would humbly propose that I accept the living in Kent for a few years—no more than three or four at most—and then return to assume the benefice at Longbourn when the living there becomes formally available. My intention would be to install a suitable curate at Hunsford during my absence so that the parish does not suffer. In this manner, I might enjoy a modest dual-income, and continue the work you first envisioned for me without ever having work as a curate.
Please believe that I make this proposal only with the deepest respect and full willingness to defer to your judgment. If you believe such an arrangement would be improper or displeasing in any respect, I shall, of course, withdraw my acceptance at once.
I remain your most obedient and grateful servant,
William Collins
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “As obsequious as ever, I see.”
“What will you tell him?” Jane asked.
