Rebellion at Longbourn

Collins blinked, genuinely baffled by the other man’s words. “B-But Longbourn is m-mine! It is m-my estate!”

Mr. Greeves folded his arms across his massive chest. “Then you are welcome to cultivate it yourself.” The other tenants loudly cheered this declaration, and many shouted, “Let the Bennets in!”

Then it was Mrs. Greeves’s turn. She planted herself in front of the gate. “If the Bennet family can’t enter Longbourn…that just isn’t right. It’s their home! If they can’t go in, then I guess I’ll stay out here, too.” Folding her legs, she sat where she stood, demonstrating no concern for the state of her skirts in the dry dirt of the road.

“I believe I will join you.” Mr. Greeves sat beside his wife.

Mrs. Wiley pushed her way through the crowd; Collins showed no sign of recognition. “I stand—or sit—for Mrs. Darcy as well!” She took the other spot beside Mrs. Greeves.

Mrs. Knight shouted, “Let the Bennets in,” and sat where she stood, gesturing for her husband to follow suit.

Mr. Bingley and Georgiana were the next people to sit, prompting several of the gentry to emulate them.

One by one, all the tenants and townspeople declared their loyalty to the Bennets, sitting down in the road and refusing to enter Longbourn. Even Sir William and Lady Lucas scanned the crowd sheepishly and sat down, although they were careful to find a fallen log rather than squat in the dirt.

Soon Darcy, Elizabeth, and the Bennet sisters were the only ones left standing in the road.

William surveyed the sea of seated bodies and chuckled. “Well, Collins, I wish you good fortune operating an estate without any tenants or the cooperation of your neighbors.”

“I can hire new workers,” Collins said loudly. “And I will! They are in violation of the lease if they do not work the fields.”

William rubbed his chin. “Indeed. If you started today, in a month you might be able to fill…half the tenants’ cottages. I would guess it will be the end of summer before they are all filled. In the meantime, your fields will not be planted, tended, or harvested. But perhaps Longbourn is prosperous enough that it can afford to lose a year’s worth of crops.”

He was baiting Collins. Few estates could withstand the loss of an entire year’s worth of crops. Collins still struck a defiant pose, but his eyes showed doubt. While he was extremely ignorant about farming, he knew that much.

There was a long silence while Collins watched his tenants. They stared back unflinchingly, awaiting his next move. When her cousin shifted his glare to Elizabeth, she returned it; the man had brought himself into this ridiculous position.

Finally, he sighed. “Very well. I suppose it is unfair to evict Elizabeth and her family on her wedding day. I will admit them.” Everyone cheered.

But Mrs. Greeves hurried to her feet before the others stood and pointed a finger at Collins. “You won’t try to evict any of the family again?”

Collins hesitated. Clearly, he had hoped to retain the right to banish them at a later date.

Mrs. Greeves sat down again. “This road is becoming quite comfortable.” Around her, people murmured imprecations against Collins.

Collins sighed again, his expression beleaguered. “V

ery well. I promise I will not evict them later.”

An even louder cheer went up from the assembled crowd, and people started climbing to their feet.

Collins unlocked the gates. However, before he could tug them open, the vanguard of the crowd pushed forward. Within seconds, the gates had been pushed wide open. Elizabeth was content to let the Greeveses lead, but Mrs. Greeves pulled her and William into the front of the crowd as they marched toward Longbourn Manor.

Collins was forced to scurry out of the way or risk being flattened by a tide of humanity. He huddled in the shrubbery by the side of the road, ostentatiously not part of the celebratory hordes.

He was a stupid man, but he was clever enough to recognize when the people he ostensibly led—the people who should regard him as their leader—had given him a resounding vote of no confidence. The expression on his face was one of bleak and utter humiliation. Elizabeth would have felt sorry for him, but he had been given many opportunities to befriend the tenants and had not taken them.

The crowds bore the newlywed couple inexorably toward the manor. This boisterous stream of people was not the decorous procession Elizabeth had imagined for her wedding day, but no couple could have been escorted to their wedding breakfast with greater enthusiasm.

***

The wedding breakfast was finally over. Darcy wondered if there had ever been such a raucous wedding breakfast in the history of the world. Guests invited to the full meal inside Longbourn had mingled freely with the tenants’ families enjoying biscuits and lemonade in the garden. Children had run about and played games in the courtyard. Dogs ran freely underfoot. More than once, the farmers’ wives had burst into songs that were enthusiastic but of questionable decency.

Georgiana and Anne had been surprised by the informality, but Darcy had carefully tempered his reaction. It might not have been the wedding breakfast he had anticipated, but he did not want to deprive the Longbourn community of their opportunity to bid Elizabeth farewell.

Now, finally, everyone had departed. Darcy wondered how much damage the garden had sustained from dozens of visitors in one day, but it had already been rather wild and overgrown so the difference might not be noticeable. Mrs. Collins, Kitty, and Jane assisted Polly, Wilkes, and Hill in cleaning up after the revelers. Elizabeth had started to help, but Jane had waved her away, stating that the bride was not permitted to work on her wedding day.

Unfortunately, Darcy knew that he and his new bride had a far more unpleasant duty in store. He collected Anne and her new husband Peter before approaching Elizabeth—who was listening as her mother exclaimed her delight over the events of the day. “Mrs. Long said she had never seen such an elegant dress! And the Phillipses exclaimed over the delightful ham at breakfast. And Sir William”—she lowered her voice—“is always boasting about Charlotte being mistress of Longbourn, but that is nothing compared to Pemberley! Then—”