Page 27 of Mr Collins in Love
I shuddered.“I should think not.Unless I am mistaken, she will be a well-brought-up young gentlewoman.She will have good commonsense and decided notions about what behaviours should be expected of a clergyman.I do not intend to disabuse her of those notions.Ever.”
He was silent a long time.We crossed the ford in the Gadway again, approached Hunsford, drove through it, and then we could see George in the lane ahead, waiting to take Pilot, though doubtless it was paining him to do so.
“Have you got that bottle from the apothecary?”I asked Jem.“We must let George have it straight away.”
“Aye.”Jem said, patting his pocket.“I’ll give it him.But anyway, since you’re fixing on marrying, don’t reckon we should linger after bathing any more.Even if you can, don’t reckon I want to.Wouldn’t be right.Wouldn’t be able to look that little maid in the eye when she comes, that I wouldn’t.”
I wanted to argue, for his words showed he had understood nothing.
“But—” I started.
He cut me off, curtly.“Said my piece.”
I had never heard him use such a brusque tone with anyone, least of all me.
“You’re angry?”I said, but we had arrived and he was leaping down and greeting George.I climbed down myself and they led Pilot and the gig away, going together into a sphere of work where I was not welcome.
I went to my study and laid my new paper on the desk.It was a Thursday and I should be deciding upon the sermon for Sunday, but I could not settle to the work.
What Jem and I did together by the brook after bathing was pleasurable, but it was surely not that important.It was not as important as having him by my side, as knowing he was safe and well and slept warm and had enough to eat and that if anything happened to him—if he became ill or hurt—he should be looked after.But while usually I was simply happy when I thought of him, it now felt as if something was broken between us.It was plain he did not want me to marry, but wished everything to continue as before.
I threw down my book, put on my hat and took up my stick and went out again.
I knew not how I got there, but eventually I found myself stumbling up Hearse Hill, my heart in such a tumult I could barely catch my breath.That I must marry was plain.That I must not was just as clear.
I was now in a sloping field a couple of miles from Hunsford.I had been here with George once or twice, on our way back from seeing Mr Hay in Medbridge.I could not recall why we had come this way for it was not the most direct route to Hunsford.
There are no mountains in Kent, no crags or cliffs or dramatic vistas.Everywhere is gentle, with soft bucolic lines.But there are times one’s heart craves a landscape that mirrors the upheaval within it, and this part of Hearse Hill was somehow expressive of great feeling due to the lake and the old stones that lay like fallen sentinels.
The great stones were seven in number.Such things were not uncommon in Kent and were often termed ‘grey wethers’ for they did resemble sheep from a distance.These ones were known as the Devil’s Knucklebones, I supposed because of how they lay scattered upon the ground as if cast there by a giant hand.Why they were here, nobody knew.George had told me some folk said the fairies had set them here, and some the devil himself, but that a gentleman who was interested in antiquarian oddities had visited and said they marked the grave of some long-forgotten Kentish king, or maybe the Saxon chieftain Horsa, who might have given his name to Hearse Hill.
Not far from the stones, though divided from them by a thick hedgerow, lay the lake.It was not large, but was deep and held a sinister reputation.People said it was haunted and a boy had drowned there not long before I had come to Hunsford.It was called Hock’s Hole.
I seated myself upon one of the cold knucklebones, the lichen crisp beneath my hand.Skeletons of Queen Anne’s Lace brushed against my knees and I pushed back my hat to let the sweat dry upon my brow.I felt utterly weary.There was no right course of action.Whatever I did, someone would be annoyed with me.
I could stay here.I could not go back.
Evening would come and night would fall and the cold would enter me.I would shiver until my jaw ached.I would stretch out upon the stone and lie beneath the stars.Morning would come and then another night and so on until my coat grew lichen and birds carried away the threads of my stockings to line their nests, and I should not care for I should be away from the world.
Perhaps I did rest upon the grave of a king of old.He would have worn a wolfskin, perhaps, and never heard of Christ.He would have worried about the crops, his people, a foe named Caesar.And all his kingdom now gone, and his people dead and his worries turned to ash.
Lady Catherine, if she wished, could make my life a misery.Besides, I owed her everything.
Jem loved me and was my friend, but my marriage would change things between us.He might leave me, which I could not bear.
No, but as the rector of Hunsford, and with Lady Catherine on my side, I was safe, or as safe as one ever is in this vale of tears.And if I was safe then so was Jem.Even if he left me, even if I could not bear it, I should always be able to help him.I could write him a letter, get him a good position anywhere he liked.I could give him money, if he would take it.
My way was clear.All the same I closed my eyes against it.I sat hunched, dry-eyed, and fancied the world wept about me.
So, I was to marry.
Well, then, I must choose carefully.Not for myself but for Jem and for Lady Catherine.
Lady Catherine would want her to be respectable, amiable, able to play quadrille and make up baskets for the sick.Jem would ask for nothing, but she must have no interest in gardening so that she would leave him alone, and then he might not leave.She must enjoy indoor pursuits; embroidery, reading and so on.Oh lord!But she must not bring one of those awful noisy pianofortes into the house.I could not bear it.
At the very edge of my hearing came a sound as of weeping.I glanced about but saw only the field and the hedgerow.It had likely been a sheep.
A musical wife would destroy my peace, but if she had all the qualities to satisfy Lady Catherine and to ignore Jem, then she should be my bride, though she played her blasted piano all the livelong day.If it kept her from making mischief in the garden, it would be worth it.
