Page 7 of The Fee Entail

Poultry

Elizabeth

Monday

“Good day, Mrs Collins.”

I so hate that name, but at least if nothing else, I had learnt to hide my reactions in the previous year. When I flinched over the title, anyone who did not know me extremely well would see nothing amiss, or any reaction at all for that matter. A year as a parson’s wife had taught me to be inscrutable, and I doubted even Jane or the infamous Mr Darcy could hold a candle to me in that regard. I determined early on that nobody would ever know of my struggles. In our society, my father and Mr Collins committed the crimes, but should their actions become known, I would suffer the shame and censure. I would be considered a bad wife, a bad daughter, a frigid woman, undutiful, a harridan, and all the other accolades our society heaped on any woman who did not act like a not particularly bright sheep. So no, I hated the name but was determined that nobody would ever know.

I was absolutely certain Mr Darcy was not in that select group of people who knew me well, so I had no need to worry about his reaction. Of course, after that first year, I doubted anyone could be said to know me well. My sisters may have known who I once was, but that happy, carefree person who laughed and believed in love was long dead and buried.

Since I was feeding my poultry with a basket of grain on my hip, I could be excused from extending the usual civilities, not that I would be so inclined anyway. I did not care in the least what Mr Darcy thought. I was entirely satisfied not to have seen him in the two days after his ungentlemanly bout of eavesdropping, except for a brief sighting in church the previous day. In fact, I was looking forward to not seeing him in the next two days as well, or ever again for that matter.

I did however, suppose I at least had to acknowledge him, no matter how little inclined I was to do so, since two of my chickens were at that moment pecking at his bright and shiny boots that probably cost more than my household accounts for a year. I looked at him with no emotion at all. Nothing good could come of the association, but he was the nephew of my patroness, so I at least had to speak to him minimally. I need not antagonise him but need not encourage him either.

“Mr Darcy.”

I assumed he had something to say, and it would be something critical as usual. I hoped rather than believed he would just say his piece and leave.

He looked at me more intently than I cared for.

“I came to apologise.”

That surprised me. Of course, given my dealings with the male sex, I would have been more concerned had he done something that did not surprise me. Calculating that a short answer would get rid of him sooner than ignoring him, I exerted myself to be civil.

“There is no need. If I conduct my business in the lane, I deserve what I get, and while you were on church property rather than your aunt’s, it is close enough to be of little concern. Should you feel some compulsion for absolution, you may consider yourself acquitted, so long as you keep my confidence. You have done your duty. Goodbye, sir.”

With that, I turned back to my poultry, ready to be rid of the man as there was still work to be done, and I had not the slightest inclination to extend the distasteful acquaintance. Considering what he thought of me even before the revelations two days past, I was confident he would leave me in peace ere long.

“Mrs Collins—”

Caught off guard, I flinched slightly again at the use of my name, but I was certain he would not have seen it unless he was staring at me like his life depended on it.

He surprised me yet again. “I beg your pardon, madam. I see that surname pains you.”

I wondered how he did that. Had he resurrected his old practice of staring at me to find fault? Maybe I had more work to do on hiding my reactions, if someone like him, who barely knew me, could see through it.

I replied as cordially as I could, just hoping to have done with him.

“My apologies, sir. My mask slipped for a moment, but do not fret. It is my name, so you have committed no offence.”

He seemed a bit dismayed at the casual way I referred to my mask, as if he did not do the same thing all day every day of his life. He was the only one I had ever known who was as inscrutable as Jane, or lately myself. Perhaps he was just embarrassed.

I was a bit surprised when he seemed to be treading carefully, as if he actually cared what I thought.

“Would you prefer another form of address?”

By then, I was back to my stony disposition that was not to be shaken. He had caught me off guard twice but would not do so again! I replied as casually as I could.

“It is of no importance. I can bear it for the remaining five minutes of our acquaintance. Please say what you have to say and leave before word gets out of your visit. I am far enough in Lady Catherine’s brown books already and may need her help soon.”

He seemed distressed by that. I assumed he did not countenance me asking Lady Catherine for help in anything, but I was surprised by his reaction. To tell the truth, after Hertfordshire, I was surprised to see any reaction at all.

True to form, he just had to know more of my business, probably trying to protect his aunt, as if she needed or desired his interference.

“Why will you need her help?” he asked, as if it were any of his business.

Politeness was not working to get rid of the insufferable man, so I decided to just give him the truth, as I was tired of trying to work out what he wanted. Perhaps if I offended him enough, he would leave.