Chapter 1 Posted on Tuesday, 10 May 2005
Philip Elton entered through the large doors of his chambers, carrying a slip of paper in his smooth hands. He walked over to his finely polished writing desk and placed the paper down as he sat down in front of it. The paper, which was in actuality a letter, was of inexpensive parchment and Mr. Elton could see the outlines of words showing through to the outside. The seal which securely fastened the letter closed held the initials of W. C.
Opening it, he began to read the letter, taking notice of the distinct script that filled the two pages. It read:
Hunsford, Kent, October 2ndMost Respected and Honoured Sir:
I have taken the liberty to write this missive to you. Since our formed acquaintance last summer, upon the end of my visit, I have had a pressing desire to keep in touch with you, my creditable cousin. It is my privilege and great pleasure to write to you with the report of my good health and vast amount of happiness, which have, in both cases, been greatly raised in my position as Rector of my parsonage. I do indeed have much to be grateful of with a comfortable home, very suitable for a clergyman, and also for such attentive neighbors and friends.
I may have informed you of my splendid connection with Lady Catherine de Bourgh upon our last meeting, but my memory cannot stretch that far back. I have had the privilege of receiving such kind notice from her ladyship and her brilliant daughter. Also she has been the noble benefactress of my parish for the past year. Her generosity is most gracious and I am much gratified by it.
Her daughter is by no means less charitable than her mother. Such a gem, a rare stone Miss Anne is. The poor girl has, however, always been of poor constitution and is still weak and sick. I was just saying to a friend the other day that her illness, which keeps her at home, causes the Court to be deprived of its greatest ornament. For who could not but see Miss Anne and think, "Ah, what a pity she is as frail as to keep her from the enjoyments of life."
Now, my dear cousin, I have been thinking on a most engaging subject. My father, as you know, left the world this spring, and he had a cousin with whom he had quarreled a good many years. I do not remember the particulars of the disagreement, but I now feel it necessary to introduce myself to the family of this particular cousin. It seems Mr. Bennet, for that is his name, has his estate in Hertfordshire entailed upon myself. I have a great desire to know the family. I have heard many accounts of their being respectable people, having been blessed with five daughters. They were barren of sons and that is the reason the estate was entailed upon me.
My noble patroness has consulted me on the matter, saying it cannot be a bad circumstance for a clergyman to become acquainted with his relations, as long as they are fine connections, not entirely disgraceful relations mind you. Her wise counsel to me was of greatest assistance, and I have decided to write a letter of introduction and move on to visit the aforementioned family this very month. Lady Catherine also went as far to say that the acquaintance may have other desirable results.
As a family with only daughters, they can have no hope of holding their home when the father dies, which I think might not be far off, for he is a man well-advancing in years. They must have a wish to keep the estate in the family, and if they are respectable girls so it should be. Lady Catherine has given me much encouragement to seek out and procure a wife to grace my home here at Hunsford. She believes this to be a perfect opportunity to find one of the daughters to marry; the outcome cannot but be pleasing to both parties.
Now, sir, I would inquire as to your health and well-being. I do hope that your home and surrounding circumstances are pleasant. Another desire which I have in writing to you is to compare the many feelings and ideas that clergymen share. As you very well know, it is not an easy task set before us to teach the scriptures and save the lost souls of this earth. You and I must have discussions of similar discourse on these matters. Lady Catherine thought it all together fitting and proper for two clergyman, who have the connection of being family, that they share in the deep contemplations that are in mind.
Now I shall close, for I must go and dine at the grand Rosings estate. Its beauty and regality cannot be compared with any other place in the county. It fills me with jubilation each time I cross the small lane which separates my home from Rosings, and I come around the bend, past the brush and see the exceedingly magnificent structure. Ah, I am completely content, cousin. Or I shall be, after procuring a good wife.
I remain yours most respectfully,
Wm. Collins
Chapter 2 Posted on Tuesday, 17 May 2005
Chuckling to himself, Mr. Elton picked up his quill pen and began to reply to his cousin's entertaining epistle. Thinking for only a moment, he began writing.
The Vicarage at Highbury, October 2ndDear Sir,
I was pleased to hear note of your well-being and content felicity in your present situation. It is a comfort that you should be in a good home and neighborhood. I am similarly pleased with my own setting here at Highbury. It is beautiful land and the people are as gracious as ever a set of people was. Many of my parish have taken me in as their own and have made me very comfortably settled this past year.
One family in particular has shown me many great kindnesses. The Woodhouses invite me to evening dinners and small parties as oft as Mr. Woodhouse can bear company. Young Miss Woodhouse and her elderly father are fond of friendly company, as long as it consists of familiar friends.
Mr. Woodhouse is a queer old man with many fears and anxieties, which range from the richness of custards to cold winter travel. He cannot bear change, so many of the evenings are spent in the same way as the previous party, with a dinner, perhaps a game of cards, and some quiet discussion. It is most refreshing to be sitting at their great house, Hartfield, and hear the gentle murmurings of dear friends. I have said over and over that nothing surpasses an evening at Hartfield and will continue to say so for years to come.
Miss Woodhouse, who is but one or two-and-twenty, is more at ease than her father. She humors him and takes prodigiously good care him and does a marvelous job or protecting him from the troubles of the outside world. I should hope to have such a dedicated daughter when I grow old.
I have a good friend here of the highest connections that may be had in Highbury, a Mr. George Knightly. You had not the pleasure of meeting the fine man during your visit last summer, as he was away on business, which is pitiful indeed. His estate, Donwell Abbey, is the greatest in the area, second to none.
Yes, I have been very fortunate to secure the friendships of both the Woodhouse and Knightly families, for they are the most respected and prosperous in the neighborhood. My connections include young and old, poor and rich, which makes for a well balanced social circle.
I congratulate you on your good fortunes and wish you well in finding a wife among your father's kin. I should very much like to secure one myself soon, but I am in no rush at the moment. There are few eligible lasses in our area but I have good connections elsewhere, abroad. So now I leave you, cousin, to go shoot game with Knightly at Donwell Abbey.
Signed,
Philip Elton
He folded the letter carelessly and pressed a seal to close the paper. In morning he would send it with his servant to be posted. Mr. Elton sank back deep into his chair. He still had another half hour before leaving for Donwell Abbey. As he sat, he contemplated on one subject mentioned in his letter, Miss Woodhouse.
She was considered one of the most hospitable, sociable young women of the village. Emma had been raised in every comfort and need. He had not failed to realize how advantageous her position was in the community and reveled that he may have won favor in her sight. He contemplated a few moments longer before going downstairs to grab his gun and horse and set out for Donwell Abbey.
Chapter 3 Posted on Wednesday, 29 June 2005
William Collins removed his satchel from beneath his arm after finding a dry oak stump nearby to sit upon. He opened the flap with care and removed a fresh piece of parchment from inside. Taking his portable quill and inkwell, he set them next to himself on the stump. For a few brief moments he stared off in the distance, eyes not seeming to notice the countryside around him. He sighed heartily as his thoughts turned with contentment to his great fortune. He swiped his pen in ink and began to write.
Longbourn, Hertforshire, November 9thDear Sir:
I too am glad of your health and felicitous condition in your excellent town. I have no regret in my own current circumstances, for I have found this little village to be quite suitable to my tastes. Of course, the homes here are absolutely nothing to be compared with the illustrious halls of Rosings in Kent, but they do have a quaint charm. I have found they do not have half the improvements that my own home has such a no clever shelves in the closet and so forth, but I suppose the inhabitants are in to keeping a more primitive living.
My cousins have been all together too kind in their dealings with me. I have found my cousin, Mr. Bennet, a queer but kind man. We rarely speak on even terms because he seems unable to keep up with my intellectual repertoire. I have noticed him nonchalantly staring off when I speak at length on a subject, as if he were ashamed to admit his ignorance. I pity the old man and find I can at least thank him for his gracious hospitality. Mrs. Bennet is an easier companion for me, for she is very willing to speak about my home and situation at Rosings. She is a small woman that has a way of exciting herself so that she demands the attention of all those in the room. She is very obliging and has made my stay here quite comfortable.
I have solicited her assistance and cooperation in the selection of one of her daughters as my bride. On first meeting, I immediately realized my choice would be the eldest Miss Bennet. She is the picture of beauty, with golden hair that shines with the subtle movements of her head and light blue eyes that remind one of cornflowers. She has a temperament to match her angelic looks and I was quite ready to advance with the intent my visit was predicated on. But I received a tidbit of information from her mother. Her engagement to a man of wealth who is residing in the area is very probable, so I had to begin the study of my maiden cousins again. And at first what I saw did not please me.
My two youngest cousins are named Lydia and Kitty. They are silly, stupid girls that flirt with any handsome thing wearing trousers, except me, thank heavens! Both of them are altogether unsuitable for the wife of a clergyman. I looked at my other options. Miss Mary, the next up from Lydia and Kitty, is a bit more solid in the workings of her mind. She reads philosophy a great deal and plays pianoforte, both commendable traits. I find inspiration in her wise quotes, but think that her ideas would frighten those who are not so advanced. There are many in my parish that are not cultured enough for her speeches and I should hate to cause a rift between my wife and my people. So I found myself down to my last alternative, and discovered it to be a pleasing one.
The girl next to Jane is very much a good choice. I kept in mind Lady Catherine's words, "Not brought up too high, good character, and so forth", and found Miss Elizabeth Bennet to be the one I should bestow my attentions upon. She fit all the qualifications, though perhaps not as well as her elder sister might have. She is a lovely girl with a hint of laughter in her eyes constantly. I do not know if that is really appropriate for a minister's wife, but I suppose her love of living cannot be all that bad, if the Lord intended us to be joyful then we should be.
Elizabeth is witty and is educated in some of the finer things. She sings and plays pianoforte with some timidity, but the listener, if he does not know the song by heart, may be pleased nonetheless. What most attracts people to her are her eyes. They are curious spectacles, round and large, of brownish-hazel hue. They brighten like candles when she is amused and they seem to be laughing at everything. At other times, her eyes become reflective as she is deep in thought, at these times they are penetrative and seem to hold much knowledge.
I shall be proper in my advances towards her, but I shan't dally longer then is necessary. I must hasten back to Rosings as soon as I have secured a betrothal with her. A man of the cloth cannot leave his flock too long, for they can get into much mischief while their usual minister is absent. They can fall into old habits having a substitute that does not know their tendencies.
I have been long in my ponderings of the Miss' Bennets and feel my recent choice to be the correct one. I have nothing to lose in such an alliance and neither would the lady. It is a plain fact that if the Bennets wish to keep their charming property in the family, then I must step in and wed one of their daughters. Since the estate is entailed upon me, Elizabeth and I would reside in her childhood home after Mr. Bennet has passed on. I believe we would be merciful to her relations, allowing them to visit for long periods of time. Why not bestow kindness and allow them to relive their memories?
Now I must return to the house from this lovely garden I've discovered. You may write to me at this address until sometime around Michealmas when I shall return home. I again renew my concern for your health and well-being. I have found the air quite chilly and know that snow shall soon follow. Lady Catherine always remarks how badly the snow affects the conditions of travel. Take heed, have your servants take all precautions against possible storms.
Yours most devotedly,
Wm. Collins
Chapter 4 Posted on Wednesday, 3 August 2005
Philip Elton read over the letter from his lofty cousin and replied, out of courtesy, within the month. He did not keep up on the correspondence prodigiously, knowing that the more he replied, the more his cousin would respond with his long-winded epistles. Elton was a man who liked people to come to the point, though in his own associations with other individuals he talked a great deal in flowery phrases. So his reply was swiftly penned, short in length, as he knew his cousin could well carry the conversation in his next response.
The Vicarage at Highbury, November 20thCousin William,
Congratulations on your choice of a bride. I too am thinking of a certain young lady to wed. Miss Emma Woodhouse, as I aforementioned, is so well established that all she wants now is a husband with to add to her respectfulness and her name. She simply cannot not be resolved in staying unwed for much longer, though her financial situation will not be a problem, for she is at a ripe age for marriage and has all the facilities required of a perfect hostess and housewife.
I regret for your sake that you could not find a woman with higher prospects than Miss Bennet. That must be a grievous dissatisfaction on your part. I hope she proves to be a girl of good sense and judgement, beyond the buffoonery of her younger sisters. May you be happy and enjoy perfect felicity in your union.
And may the poor lady enjoy being flattered to death and excite in hearing of the splendors of Rosings, he thought without copying down the impertinent intellect.
The other day I ran across my friend Knightley as I was going to visit a member of my parish. I greeted him in a generally friendly nature, but instead of the usual reply in kind, he practically bit my head off! He must be distressed to a great degree for I've always known him to be of easy temper and kindly disposition. I wonder if the new young lady who has entered Highbury might have something to do with his obvious anxiety. It is rumored about by the society of Highbury that he is the secret admirer of Miss Jane Fairfax who is staying with her grandmother and spinster aunt. This idea has given me some understanding of his unusual behavior of late. I do wish he would just get the job done and marry the girl, for he is raising the whole neighborhood in a tizzy.
I must get to my sermon now. I do dread speaking on the Isaiah chapters, they are so confusing to the minds of simple men. But as I represent the spiritual messenger among the good people of Highbury, I am determined to teach them from many parts of the Book. So off to study and contemplate, my dear cousin, and may you have success in winning your fair maid.
Yours,
Philip Elton
Chapter 5 Posted on Saturday, 10 September 2005
Elton's letter was quickly replied to, and as he had expected, it was filled with reiterating felicitations on his fortune to have picked a bride of good breeding. But as the month grew on Mr. Collins's responses became less frequent, he was busy wooing his Miss Bennet no doubt.
One day, William Collins paced back and forth in front of the house he had just quitted. He glared at it with strong indignation. From inside he could hear shrill shouts and demands, the din only partly muffled by the thickness of its walls. A sneer crossed his pale face. So, Miss Elizabeth would not get away with her cruel ploy without some degree of reprimand. Mr. Collins winced at the remembrance of his proposal, which had been so heartlessly refused. He walked away from the house with resignation. His courage gathered as he strode away from the grounds, portmanteau in hand ; many a noble gentleman had been turned down by an insensate woman.
It was a few miles to Meryton, but he hardly seemed to notice anything in the area around him. He was thinking about Charlotte Lucas's kind diversion. Miss Lucas had seen his distraught countenance when she came to call at the Bennets' and had extended a gracious invitation for him to come to Lucas Lodge for supper that evening. He intended on keeping his appointment after securing a room at the local inn. He had clearly stated that he would not, could not stay at the house of his cousins' any longer. So he marched right down to the Wild Boar Inn and got himself a comfortable room.
He unpacked his worn portmanteau and found his writing instruments. Aha! Just what he needed to calm his nerves. He went to the old weathered desk at the West side of his room and set to writing his cousin at once.
The Wild Boar Inn at Meryton, December 17My Dear Cousin,
I am in a state that, I fear, is not becoming of a clergyman. I am upset, nay almost angered. I cannot express my resentment and distress adequately. I call upon your kindly listening ear for a bit of sympathy in my time of great disturbance. For, my dear cousin, I have been grossly humiliated, so horribly mortified in the presence of my kin. It is not to be born! Alas, that skirt has made me the laughing stock of Meryton society and, when I return without a companion, of Hunsford as well.
I must unburden myself or I shall snap this quill pen in two. I will relate the gruesome events that have driven me to such unhappiness. Two days ago, I began to form an eloquent proposal of marriage to Miss Elizabeth. I wrote it out with extreme care not once but twice through, making it void of all blemish and fault. I worked over it diligently, reciting it several hours each day and night. I, two days later, had it perfectly worded, including both sentimental and reasonable points that a lady would desire to hear. I did not worry over it too much the day of my presentation, for I was convinced, by several demure looks and smiles, that I would be well received by the lady of my choice. And I thought even if I had not won over Elizabeth prior to that time, the passionate offering would enamor her.
This morning, not but a few hours ago, I called a conference with Mrs. Bennet to settle the matter. Mr. Bennet was out in town and I was most anxious to get on with the proposal before its words left my memory. She hastened me to the library and softly locked the door behind her before turning to me expectantly. I lost no time in telling her my adamant desire to marry her second eldest. The tiny woman gave a sharp cry of delight and pressed a hand to her heart. She beamed, her eyes full of triumph, for I believe she planned this to come about. Mrs. Bennet assured me, she was positive that Elizabeth would consent readily. With a jubilant voice, Mrs. Bennet promised to arrange an uninterrupted meeting that very hour for my message.
I stood in the hall for several moments, collecting myself, preparing for the speech while Mrs. Bennet located her daughter. Within a quarter of an hour she beckoned me excitedly to the parlor. I entered and found Miss Katherine and Elizabeth together working on some needlework. Of course, Mrs. Bennet sensed my unease and secreted the younger girl from the room. When Elizabeth protested their removal, I added it as a credit to her modesty. But it turns out it was not as I thought, as you shall soon see.
I began in adamant measures to tell her my desire to be wed and my reasons for the selection I had made. I ran through my speech with great feeling and devotion, even more convincingly than when I had practiced. I waited for the soft affirmation that I expected, but it did not come. She told me she could not accept my offer in any way. I remembered that it was a usual characteristic of genteel women to reject their suitor on first asking and I commented that it did her credit.
As if I had said something amiss, she looked at me incredulously and her laughing eyes became hardened. I continued to reassure her of my attachment and reminded her that the union would be in the best interest of herself and her charitable parents. But I suddenly found her unreasonable. She, with mouth agape in, perhaps, what seemed disgust, exited the room, heedless of my words. I was shocked, utterly shocked at such a display.
I stood for a good ten minutes wiping my brow as reality sunk in. Miss Elizabeth had absolutely no intention of accepting me now or on any other occasion. I immediately realized what a heartless woman I had previously chosen. As I stared at the floor, I felt suddenly as if the walls of that dooming house would collapse upon me. I, William Collins, a prominent rector, had just been refused in marriage by a young lady! I snapped my head up and determined I must quit the house. Ignoring Mrs. Bennet's pleas that I stay and that she'd force Elizabeth into matrimony should I wish it, I packed my things and left.
I moved here, to the Wild Boar Inn, until I can make arrangements to go back to Hunsford. I see no more reason to stay where I will be laughed at or pitied, nor do I wish to associate with Miss Elizabeth further face-to-face. I am so distracted by the ugly turn of events, that I can barely think forward to my other duties. One thing that has helped to occupy my mind is that Miss Lucas, daughter of Sir William Lucas, has extended an invitation for me to dine with her family tonight. It was kind of her to try to relieve my humiliating experience today. I look forward to the engagement as a good distraction.
Forgive me for venting so forcefully. Please accept my good wishes for you in your quest for Miss Woodhouse's hand, and may you not come to the same misfortune as I have.
Signed,
William Collins
Chapter 6 Posted on Friday, 21 October 2005
"Goodnight " came his voice, in quite a varied tone from the one he had used not ten minutes past. Mr. Philip Elton dared not look back at the coach he had exited, nor at the pale face that peeked out from its window. He yanked open the front door of the Vicarage and walked hastily into his home, while calling for Grayson, his manservant.
The startled servant heard his master's bellows and knew he must hurry to attend him or else incite Elton's wrath further. This was not his master's first raged performance but was a common occurrence. What the servants of that household knew about the clergyman's true temperament, not one soul in Highbury would believe unless they witnessed it for themselves. Grayson scurried to the front hall just in time to catch an airborne greatcoat upon his arm. He just missed catching the hat which his master had also flung.
"Did you have a pleasant evening, sir?" As soon as the habitual words escaped his mouth, he wished to withdraw them, for Elton gave him a look of such incense, fit to boil the parson's favorite dish of sausage.
Wisely, not waiting for an answer to the first, he asked a safer question, "Do you wish me to bring some hot tea to your rooms, sir?"
The distracted man stared down the hall at nothingness for several tense moments before muttering, "Yes." Grayson stared after him as his master walked down the hall, noting Elton's exaggerated, pounding strides. Mary, the scullery maid, leaned out the kitchen door cautiously.
"Is he gone?" she asked with wide eyes, motioning down the hall. Grayson smiled at her unease and handed her the snow-covered items to be hung. "He is in a bit of a sour mood. Someone must have insulted his pride tonight."
The young girl shook her head, "'Sour' 'tis not the word for it ... he's plain furious " He chuckled softly. Mary, just newly employed in Mr. Elton's staff, would soon learn to adapt to his periodic tempests.
Meanwhile, in the study down the hall, Elton paced across the room frenetically. Each time he turned, the abruptness of the movement sent his coat tails flying behind him, making him appear as a distraught bat swooping about the room. His fists clenched and unclenched simultaneously with each step. Had any citizens of Highbury seen him thus, they would have been shocked to find the supposedly genteel parson to be a violent man, to a degree.
Disbelief was still evident on his twisted face. Emma Woodhouse, his soul endeavor, object of his quest, had just flatly refused his eloquent offer of marriage. How dare she? Thirty thousand pounds, slipped right through his eager hands. "Insentient, high-handed, insufferable girl..."
As he muttered adjective after gruesome adjective, Grayson waited at the door for his master to acknowledge him. Elton did not notice until Grayson cleared his throat. "And where shall I put this, sir?" he queried carefully.
Elton burst out, "Oh, come man Can't you think for yourself? There is a perfectly good table right there where you usually set it."
"Yes, sir." he answered, not all intimidated by the eruption. Setting the tea down he left Elton to his livid state.
Mr. Elton clasped his hands behind his back, and then moved to the chair that stood beside the fire. Finding himself gradually calm to a less violent state, he poured the steamy liquid into a cup and drank it. It soothed him so that he was able to think clearer.
He made a decision to leave Highbury at once, find the next richest women of good standing he could catch, and marry her. After all he need waste away his amiable, worthy self in a little town where people had such small minds! That would show Miss Emma Woodhouse, and her aspiring friend Miss Smith, that Phillip Elton was not to be trifled with. After a quarter-hour of thinking the plan over in his mind, he called for Grayson to start packing his wardrobe. He would leave on the morrow.