Rebellion at Longbourn

Elizabeth suspected she understood Longbourn’s ledgers better than Collins did or he would not be purchasing gold pocket watches.

“You, my most exquisite cousins, should concern yourself with domestic duties—where you are doing an admirable job—and allow me to worry about the finances and such.”

Perhaps the time had arrived when Elizabeth needed to remind him why additional income was desirable. “Of course, Longbourn is your estate and you may decide what happens here, but it is clearly in need of additional funds. The tenants’ houses—”

Collins sighed and rolled his eyes; the tenants had raised these matters before. But Elizabeth pushed forward. “The tenants’ houses are in need of repair. Longbourn needs greater profit.” Standing, Elizabeth tapped one of the books on the desk before Collins. “I implore you, sir, to at least read the passages Mary has marked. It is your duty to Longbourn to be the best landowner you can be!”

She knew instantly that she had pushed too far. Collins had quite a temper, although he liked to pretend he did not—one of many lies he told himself.

Red in the face, Collins clambered to his feet. “You and Mary should not concern yourselves with these matters when there are many household tasks waiting to be performed. These journals appear to be a distraction from your ordinary duties; I shall cancel the subscriptions, and you will return these books to the library. After all, they belong to me.”

Mary’s face was a picture of anguish. “But surely there is no harm in—”

Collins lifted his chin. “You both live at Longbourn on my sufferance,” he intoned. “I ask little in recompense.” That was a lie but not one Elizabeth could dispute with any success. “However, I do insist that you leave the running of Longbourn to me. I know everything that happens on the estate and, therefore, am in the best position to make decisions.”

Mary blinked back tears as Collins gathered journals and books from the table and tore still more from her arms, setting them on the floor behind his desk.

Elizabeth put her arm around her sister as she gave Collins a cold stare. “Indeed, sir. We will trouble you no longer.”

Mary raised her chin as if she would object, but Elizabeth shook her head slightly. They could accomplish nothing more at the moment. She held herself rigid and straight as she escorted Mary from the room.

Kitty and Jane awaited them in the kitchen, the one room that Collins would never visit. Polly was helping Hill prepare dinner; both strained to overhear the conversation.

“What happened?” Kitty asked, running up to them as they descended the stairs.

Elizabeth shook her head. “He would not listen to a word we said.” Kitty’s face fell.

“Worse, he confiscated the books and said he would suspend the journal subscriptions,” Mary moaned.

“My sincerest apologies.” Elizabeth gave her sister a comforting hug. “I did not foresee that possibility. But I have no doubt we can sneak the books from his study when he is not at home. He will never notice their absence. And I believe Sir William Lucas subscribes to at least two of those journals. He would happily lend them to you.”

Mary’s face brightened.

“Your conversation was extremely enlightening and proper,” Elizabeth assured her sister. “You can do nothing if Collins is a fool.”

Mary’s smile widened.

At least I brightened someone’s day, for I have accomplished little else of worth. Maybe Sir William would hire Mary to be his steward; at least then

one of the Bennet sisters would not be dependent on Collins’s largesse. Elizabeth smiled at her own whimsy. If only women could be stewards, Mary would excel at it, and Elizabeth would not worry about that sister’s future. She had hope that eventually Jane and Kitty would make respectable—if not spectacular—marriages. But Mary had shown little interest in marriage, and Elizabeth doubted her temperament was well-suited to becoming a governess or lady’s companion.

“What will we do now, Lizzy?” Kitty’s words drew Elizabeth from her reverie. Everyone regarded her expectantly, making Elizabeth yearn for a good response. But she had pinned her slim hopes on persuading Collins to adopt more modern agricultural methods. Nothing happened on an estate without the landowner’s cooperation. They were virtually powerless. Already the effects of Collins’s bad management were being sensed by the tenants and demonstrated by the estate’s productivity.

Her hands balled into fists as she stared at the five women in the kitchen. Their lives—and the lives of all the other inhabitants of Longbourn—were scarcely less important than Collins’s. And certainly far more important than Collins’s waistcoats. It was unfair that they should have so much less control over their own lives than he did.

If only Papa had fathered a son. No, if I would make impossible wishes, I might as well wish that women could inherit property as men did. It was not sensible that they did not. Certainly Mary or Elizabeth or Jane could have managed Longbourn better than Collins. Even Kitty, who had grown far more sensible in the past two years, could have managed by heeding others’ advice.

Elizabeth longed to offer her sisters encouragement, hope that somehow they might improve life at Longbourn. But she did not know what she could tell them except that someday they might marry and escape the estate. She was saved from the necessity of inventing a reason for optimism by a knock at the kitchen door. Hill hastened to open it, revealing a ragged child whom Elizabeth immediately recognized.

“Charlie Greeves!” Hill said. “What brings you here at this time?”

The boy was abashed to have so many pairs of eyes staring at him, but he stumbled across the floor to Elizabeth. “Me mum sent me to find you. She said to tell you they is trying to e-e-e—” The boy struggled with an unfamiliar word. “They is trying to make Mrs. Wiley leave her house. He took her table and chairs to the wagon and everything!”

Elizabeth’s hand flew to her mouth. “Evict her? No! No, they cannot!”

Charlie nodded solemnly. “Yes, ma’am.”

Chapter Two