Lady Catherine and Collins were nowhere to be found. Perhaps her cousin had already bundled her ladyship into her carriage back to London, or she might be recovering from her shock at Longbourn. Elizabeth braced herself for additional unpleasantness at the wedding breakfast.
They had wanted Longbourn’s tenants to share in the joy of the occasion, so Elizabeth had arranged for biscuits and lemonade to be served in the garden during the wedding breakfast. William had heartily approved of the gesture since the tenants had been good friends to her family but agreed that the modest confines of Longbourn Manor were not equal to the number of guests. Seeing the size of the throng, Elizabeth was particularly pleased at that decision.
After sufficient mingling, Elizabeth finally gained the crowd’s attention and announced the lemonade treat, inviting everyone to make the trek to Longbourn. Fortunately, Meryton’s church was only a little over a mile from the house.
The procession that set off for Longbourn was an interesting one. Elizabeth and William led the way, with their family members following. Behind them came various gentry from the town—and then a long trail of Longbourn’s tenants. No doubt the parade was a bit bedraggled for William’s taste, but Elizabeth would not have had it any other way.
The bride and groom’s route slowly wound along the lane toward Longbourn, crossing a small bridge over a stream and following a curve in the road. There they came to an abrupt halt.
The gates to Longbourn were closed.
Chapter Twenty-One
Elizabeth stared, absolutely stunned. Jane gasped. Kitty cried out. And their mother commenced to have hysterics. Darcy and Bingley surged forward, endeavoring to open the gates, but they were soundly locked. People in the back of the crowd began calling out, demanding to know why the procession had halted.
After a moment Collins appeared on the other side of the gate, his arms folded over his chest and a smug smile on his face. He stood in the middle of the road, dangling the gate key from one hand.
“Cousin,” Elizabeth called in a loud, ringing voice, “why are the gates closed?”
“You have been evicted from Longbourn,” Collins announced triumphantly. “Along with your sisters and your mother. I have endured every possible insult from your family. I will tolerate it no longer! You are no longer welcome at Longbourn.”
“Evicted! From my only home!” Elizabeth’s mother wailed. “We will be tossed into the hedgerows!” Mary quickly took her to the side of the road, where she could rest on a flat boulder.
Elizabeth’s lungs compressed as if a heavy weight had settled on them. She had known eviction was a possibility since embarking on her covert rebellion against Collins, but the reality was a cold bucket of water.
Longbourn was her home. Even if she would henceforth be living at Pemberley, Longbourn was the home of her heart. She had anticipated frequently visiting her family and reliving childhood memories. Without Longbourn, she would be untethered in the world.
Her mind conjured images of the canopy over the bed, the worn loveseat in the east drawing room, the roses behind the well. Would she never see them again?
Even more importantly, what would become of her mother and sisters? Would they be torn from their home without so much as a chance to bid it goodbye?
William marched up to the gate. “Do not be a fool! You cannot banish these women from their home on Elizabeth’s wedding day.”
“I can.” His chest puffed out. “What is more, Lady Catherine de Bourgh herself is in complete agreement with me. ‘Harsh measures are called for.’ Those are her precise words.”
William took a deep breath, endeavoring to control his temper. “Come, Collins, at least admit me so we may discuss this matter like calm and rational men.”
Collins shook his head. “No. Lady Catherine specifically demanded that I should refuse you entrance.”
Elizabeth approached the gate, striking a more conciliatory tone. “Please, Cousin, let us have the wedding breakfast at least. All the preparations are made; the food should not go to waste.”
Collins gave a rather mean smile. “You should have considered such consequences before you so rashly defied me and Lady Catherine. Longbourn is mine—to do with as I please.”
Drat the man! He relished this. Like any petty tyrant, he drew pleasure from exercising power over other people, deriving amusement from denying Elizabeth something she desperately desired.
Unsure how to break the impasse, Elizabeth and Darcy retreated to the front of the procession, where everyone commenced speaking at once, creating a cacophony of voices. Mr. and Mrs. Greeves pushed their way to the front of the crowd to inquire what was amiss. Elizabeth quickly explained the situation to them.
Scoffing at Collins’s assertion of authority, Mr. Greeves marched up to the gate. “Mr. Collins, sir,” he said in his booming voice. “How do you propose we operate the estate with most of your tenants on this side of the fence?”
“We have animals to tend and children to feed,” Mrs. Greeves added.
Collins gave the man a condescending glare. “Obviously, I will admit my tenants. You are valuable to Longbourn. I am more concerned with keeping out the…parasites,” he said with a sneer. He made a sweeping gesture to include the tenants. “You may enter,” he said before pointing to the Bennets. “They may not.”
A shocked silence followed this pronouncement. Jane broke down in tears; Mr. Bingley put a consoling arm around her shoulders. Then Mr. Greeves barked a laugh. “Collins, don’t you understand that the Bennets have done far more for Longbourn than you ever have?”
Collins gaped at Mr. Greeves; no doubt he had not anticipated such insubordination. “Their father perhaps, but these women…? How can you say that after all I have done for Longbourn?”
The large farmer shifted so he was addressing the tenants as well as Collins. “Oh yes, you have done so much for Longbourn! You have used it to buy yourself those Hessian boots.” He pointed to Collins’s footwear. “And that watch fob and that waistcoat. And your brandy and carriages and many trips to London.” Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd. “You take from Longbourn. Miss Elizabeth—excuse me, Mrs. Darcy—and her family give to Longbourn.”