Page 10 of Mr Collins in Love
I wished, as I had wished many times, that there existed a book that covered matters such as this and gave advice on which course of action would be approved by all.I could never tell which matters might be considered nothing much, and which might be considered beyond the pale.
Of course, the teachings of the church gave some guidance as to how most people might view some acts, but, alas, did not extend to such day-to-day practical matters as whether the rector of Hunsford might take on two men, given that one of them was often unwell.
In the past, I had sometimes used my folk as bellwethers.It was not that I took their advice, exactly, for they were uneducated people, but they were sensible and could at least provide reassurance.
“Jem, will you wait here for a moment?Promise you will not leave?Promise?”
“Aye, sir.I will wait.”
“Do you promise me, though, Jem?”
“I promise.”
I hurried into the house and tapped on the kitchen door, briefly noting, in my haste, that I had simply acted and not debated with myself.If only all of life could be so simple.“Mrs Fowke?Milly?”
Milly opened the door, Mrs Fowke at her shoulder, wiping her hands on a cloth.They were unrelated, of course, but I was struck afresh by their similarity.Not in looks, exactly, for where Milly was spare, Mrs Fowke was stout, yet they seemed cut from the same cloth.They did everything together and the hands of one seemed the hands of the other.
“Yes, sir?”There was enquiry in Milly’s faded blue eyes.
“Ah, Milly.Yes.Mrs Fowke.I ah…I have been talking with Jem Binns.The…the fellow you have just been kind enough to give a meal.And…and I am of a mind to take him on.”I paused but they continued looking at me steadily and did not speak nor give me any clue to their opinion, so perforce I must continue.“Yes.Because I have been worried about George for some time now.His health, you know, and the work being too much.Of course, George has his place here forever, as far as I am concerned, but Jem was my father’s gardener’s boy, so he knows a little of potatoes, you see.And he says he will stay.And he can do the heavier work and run my errands to Pettiford and so on, and George can show him what to do with the cows and how to make bread poultices for Pilot, and I think we should find ourselves well-situated.And there is a Mr Melling in Hastings who is a parson and has two men, although I am aware that Mr Hay and Mr Chambers have but one man apiece, although Mr Hay also has a boy.But I think, overall, that it is a good idea, probably.Although perhaps I must think on it some more.”
My heart pounded as I waited for their response, and I realised, with something of a shock, that even if they confessed themselves amazed at my eccentric idea, I intended to ask Jem to stay anyway, for it was plain he wanted to and I ached to have him by my side once more.
Mrs Fowke said, “There, wasn’t George saying only the other day as how he thought you might be thinking of taking on a boy or another man.Because of there being ever so much to do, sir, and him suffering terrible from his rheumatics as you know, sir.”
Milly said, “You’ll be wanting a bed made up for the lad, then, sir?”
From these remarks, I gathered they approved of the idea, or, at least, did not think it horribly unusual.Indeed, I rather thought that making up a bed meant the matter was settled and that Jem would be staying.
“Yes,” I said.“A bed.Very good.Excellent.Yes, thank you, Milly.”
“Is it all right, sir, if I put him in the little room that faces north?”Milly asked.“I would put him in with George, sir, only I don’t think there is the space for another bed.”
“Yes, yes, the little north room.That is quite all right.”
“If I may, sir,” Mrs Fowke put in, “If you are taking the lad on, he must have some new clothes first thing tomorrow and should sleep in the barn tonight for we don’t want that jacket in the house, sir, begging your pardon, for it has more things living in it than a bit of old cheese, and we don’t want to risk such in our nice new linen cupboards, that we don’t!”
“Oh.No.We certainly don’t.You are quite right, Mrs Fowke.I remarked myself that his jacket was quite old and he will certainly need a new one.Yes, I will tell him he may sleep in the barn tonight and tomorrow I will take him to the village for new clothes.”
I hastened back into the warm summer evening to tell Jem the good news, my heart so aflame with joy that all my apprehensions seemed, for a moment, as nothing.
CHAPTER 4
Iwent to bed as usual that night but my heart was so full that I lay awake for hours.When events are unfolding, even events that most would consider joyous, I am usually too concerned with displaying the correct behaviour to take much enjoyment.Only afterwards, when I am alone and safe, can I cherish the memory.
The events of this evening were a jewel beyond price.
When I had told him he could stay, Jem thanked me a dozen times.That, I had expected.But before he had spoken a word of gratitude, he had looked me in the eye, properly.His shoulders had lowered and he had let out a great sigh.Then he had closed his eyes and stood there, as if his relief was so strong that he must let it overtake him.And it had felt to me as if we were boys and had narrowly escaped some terrible punishment.We were safe.We were together.For once, we had triumphed over the world.
After a while, I heard Mrs Fowke and Milly go up to the little room they shared beneath the eaves, and thereafter I heard them speaking together.I was in the best chamber at the front of the house and so too far away to hear what was said, but their voices came to me as a part of the natural world; leaves rustling in a breeze or water burbling in a brook.One of them laughed, and was hushed.The voices paused, then went on with the laughter still in them.I wondered what they could find to say to one another that they had not already said during the day.Perhaps they spoke of Jem.
I got out of bed and, going to the casement, eased it open.The nightingale was still singing in Butler’s coppice and the air was cool and sweet.There was a near-full moon and I could make out every pale of the garden fence and the dark swags of the roses.I leaned out.To my left was the shed where we kept the gig and Pilot’s tack, and there was the corner of the stable where Jem lay in the hay in his verminous jacket.Upstairs, the voices fell silent and did not resume.
Sometimes, as a boy, I had snuck out at night.I was not adventurous, finding the world quite dangerous enough without my needing to seek out more peril, and had I been caught I would certainly have been beaten.Perhaps it had been a desire to see the world in a different light, to see if I liked it better that way.Or perhaps I had simply wanted a story to tell Jem, for my moonlit excursions had occurred early on in our acquaintance when I had still believed I must impress him if I wanted him to remain my friend.
Not that my stories of midnight excursions would have been very exciting for I had generally gone no further than the garden or the churchyard.Only once had I gone as far as the yard of the Ship, where I had concealed myself behind some old barrels and spied upon the farmers and the fishermen going in and coming out.I had told myself one of them might drop a coin, but only because that sounded like the kind of thing I imagined an adventurous boy might say.Had anyone actually dropped a sixpence, I should have let it lie, as taking it would have been too much like stealing.
In any case, the fact was that observing people when I myself was unobserved had caused in me a particular kind of excitement.They could not mark what I did, nor discuss it, yet I was seeing some quintessence of their personalities, because they thought they were alone, and surely people were only truly themselves when they were alone.It was not that they did anything more untoward than breaking wind or making water in the alley, and likely they would have done those things anyway, whether they knew I watched them or not.But all the same, I had felt somehow rarified, both brave and safe, though not so safe I had dared to repeat the experience.
