Rebellion at Longbourn

Robert was a colicky baby and required quite a bit of care. Who could fault a mother who chose to comfort her child—even if she sacrificed time with her husband? Mr. Collins appeared oblivious to the possibility that Charlotte’s motherly devotion served another purpose and continued his life of a gentleman with a few complaints and many protestations of love for his wife.

Collins closed the book of sermons with a snap and gulped the last of his port—at least his third glass since dinner. With each glass, his face had grown redder and his reading more slurred. Her cousin favored the room with a condescending smile. “I am certain those words will prove most enlightening. I hope you will meditate upon Mr. Fordyce’s words before bed tonight—particularly as they pertain to modesty and virtue.”

Elizabeth did not even bother to roll her eyes. Collins’s hints about the presumed immorality of the Bennet sisters had grown bolder and bolder the longer he inhabited Longbourn. Not a single one of them had shown the slightest tendency toward gross immorality, but he constantly implied that they were all one step away from being fallen women.

Now he should announce he was retiring for the evening, and the sisters would enjoy a little peace. One of his few virtues was a need to be abed early. However, when Collins stood, he cleared his throat as if planning to address the room. “Cousin Elizabeth, I have considered your concerns about the operations of the estate.”

Elizabeth lifted her eyes from her work with trepidation. Almost certainly he was not planning to announce a change of heart in favor of Mary’s agricultural reforms. “Indeed?”

“While I am grateful for your concern and for Cousin Mary’s, I do not believe that ‘modern’ techniques would be of assistance to the estate.” He uttered the word “modern” as one might say “plague-ridden.” “Rather, I believe that Longbourn requires a steward to manage the estate’s daily operations.”

Oh good Lord! Elizabeth’s breathing constricted for a moment. A steward was far more likely to notice irregularities. Not only would a steward manage all the estate activities with great scrutiny, but he was also unlikely to be an idiot. How unfortunate. “D-Do you really b-believe a steward would be worth the added expense?” she stammered.

Collins regarded her down his nose like a teacher lecturing his students. “I did not originally believe so, but I wrote to Lady Catherine for her invaluable advice. She was of the opinion that the right steward compensates for his salary by improving the management of the estate. Naturally, her counsel is beyond compare.”

“But—”

Collins ignored her. “We are very fortunate that Lady Catherine even had a candidate ready at hand. I have spoken with him, and he is eminently suitable. Since I understand that the steward’s house is in disrepair, he will stay in Longbourn’s guest room for the present until his house is ready.”

A single man living at Longbourn Manor? Elizabeth could only imagine what rumors that might provoke in Meryton. “Sir, perhaps we should discuss this—”

Collins narrowed his eyes. “The decision has been made, Cousin.”

“But a single man living at Longbourn—”

Collins interrupted her. “There can be no impropriety while I also reside under the roof; I am still a man of the cloth. Your concern does you credit, Cousin, but forgive me, you may not b

e the best judge in such circumstances. Given your youngest sister’s example, you may not always know the right path.”

Elizabeth bit her tongue lest she say something quite unladylike and promised herself to “accidentally” put salt in his tea at the first opportunity.

Collins continued without pause. “Besides, I have already hired the man.” He turned around and opened the drawing room door, gesturing to someone in the hallway. “Let me introduce Mr. Patrick Weston.” He indicated the newcomer with a flourish.

The man who entered the drawing room was unprepossessing, of average height with greasy blond hair and a very sharply pointed nose. He bowed to the assembled ladies, and they stood to curtsey. As Collins began the introductions, Mr. Weston slid his gaze insolently from her feet to her bosom. Shocked at such bold lewdness, Elizabeth glared at the man, but he merely smirked in response.

Apparently, he found the idea of inhabiting a house with four unattached women to be quite amusing. Ugh. Somehow even his gaze was oily.

Collins droned on obliviously, listing each of the Bennet sister’s names and managing to interject praises for Lady Catherine at regular intervals. Meanwhile, each of the sisters was subjected to Mr. Weston’s appraisal.

Elizabeth gave herself a moment to curse Collins in the privacy of her own mind. At the very moment when Longbourn had been making progress, her cousin had thrown this weasel in their path. The new steward would obviously be trouble in more ways than one.

Was this the death knell for all their plans?

***

Five days after Weston’s arrival, Elizabeth was helping Hill prepare tea in the kitchen. Collins had taken Weston and Sir William Lucas out for a day of shooting. He particularly relished activities that reminded him of his position as lord of the manor. Naturally, he had demanded refreshments upon their return.

The first few days of Mr. Weston’s stewardship had proceeded rather more smoothly than Elizabeth had feared. The man was clever, to be certain, but this was counterbalanced by an extreme taste for idleness. He was being paid and saw no purpose in doing above the bare minimum to accomplish his job.

No doubt Weston noted fields cultivated with clover and turnips, but apparently he did not think to mention it to Collins. Nor had he ventured off the well-trodden roads within Longbourn, so he had not discovered the Wiley family. Not having a need of the seed drill at present, the tenants had hidden it in a shed.

Of course, nearly everyone on the estate, even children as young as ten, knew that some things must be concealed from Mr. Collins and Mr. Weston. The latter’s reception from the tenants was civil but cool. Nobody exerted great effort or volunteered information, only encouraging his natural laziness. He was oblivious to signs of his unpopularity.

Given Mr. Weston’s behavior upon their introduction, Elizabeth had cautioned her sisters and the female servants. All the women avoided being alone with him if they could. So far, he had confined his lewdness to stares and occasional comments, but they could not trust him.

Elizabeth laid lemon biscuits on a plate which would be added to the tea tray. In the drawing room she would view them as if she had never seen them before. Collins preferred to maintain that illusion, even in front of Sir William, who undoubtedly knew the truth.

Just as Hill was placing the hot teapot on the tray, Kitty came flying down the steps, her face red and her eyes wet with tears. Elizabeth’s stomach clenched; her sister had been in the drawing room with the men. “What is wrong?”