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Elizabeth’s pulse pounded as she walked to the door, and her footsteps sounded eerily loud in her ears. Mrs. Hill stood there, her countenance grave. This was no mere summons to her husband. “What—what is it!” Elizabeth cried. Had he already hurt one of her sisters?
Mrs. Hill searched Elizabeth’s face for an eternity, then stated baldly, “Mr. Collins is dead.”
The body lay on the parlor couch, the head tilted at a grotesque angle which showed his broken neck. The skin was chalky white in the flickering candlelight. Elizabeth’s stomach heaved and she clapped her hand over her mouth. But the nausea receded—and she’d been too nervous and sick to eat supper, so little could have come up.
His fat, toad-like face looked unusually ugly, and he lay there like a, like a—Elizabeth swallowed. There was no sufficiently vicious metaphor. He was the way he should have been born: dead. Elizabeth touched the frozen forehead. It was real. He was dead. He really was dead.
Relief flooded Elizabeth. She felt weak in her knees and couldn’t stop her smile as she collapsed onto the chair Mrs. Hill pushed behind her. Lydia was safe. Jane, Mary, and Kitty were safe. They all were. He’d not hurt anyone ever again. She could visit Charlotte freely. She could read novels and take solitary walks once more. He was dead, and could not hurt Lydia to punish her.
Elizabeth could do anything she wished. The entail had been for three generations; it died with Mr. Collins. As his wife, she inherited Longbourn. They were safe from poverty. Elizabeth felt an elated bubble of joy envelop her and she wanted to scream in happiness. She was free!
It would be terribly improper if she appeared happy, and the forms should be observed. Elizabeth attempted to be serious. “How did it happen?” Elizabeth asked with far too much smile in her tone.
The stable master had gone out to look for the master after Mr. Collins’s horse wandered home alone. The broken remains of his earthly dwelling place were found two hundred yards down the road from the manor house. Mr. Brown could not be certain why Mr. Collins fell, but the odor of alcohol that emanated from his clothes made a strong suggestion.
The apothecary and several local gentlemen, among them her Uncle Phillips, noisily arrived and woke the rest of the household. When she entered the room, Mrs. Bennet threw herself on the body of her son-in-law with sincere tears.
Elizabeth managed a stiff immobile expression which she hoped appeared proper. Her mother was contemptible. She sacrificed her daughters to that creature in exchange for money. It was unsurprising she’d mourn him.
Never. Elizabeth would never forgive her mother. She convinced Jane to marry him to save the family from poverty. Elizabeth would never forgive her for that. She cared more for her consequence in the neighborhood than what happened to Lydia and Elizabeth. Elizabeth would never forgive her for that. Elizabeth remembered the look in Lydia’s eyes when Mrs. Bennet called her a liar. Elizabeth would never forgive her for that.
Elizabeth’s sisters entered wearing their nightgowns and robes. Lydia ran and hugged Elizabeth. Since that day, Elizabeth had grown close to Lydia, and Elizabeth caught a flash of Lydia’s sneer at the body before her sister buried her face in Elizabeth’s chest. Jane sat to Elizabeth’s other side and squeezed her free hand.
Soon the rest of the neighborhood arrived, and the house became quite crowded. Mrs. Hill stayed busy offering refreshments, and Elizabeth could hear Mr. Phillips speaking to the parson about funeral arrangements. Everyone was all that was kind and sympathetic to the family, but no one really grieved. Mr. Collins had not been well-liked; most had noticed there was something amiss in his treatment of Elizabeth, and his manners did not create fondness. Only Mrs. Bennet wept.
When Charlotte Lucas arrived wearing a hastily thrown on morning gown and a heavy woolen shawl, Elizabeth flashed her friend a half smile. Sitting next to his body and attempting to appear sad was the oddest experience Elizabeth had ever had. Charlotte pulled Elizabeth up and embraced her tightly, whispering, “You should not have to play for everyone at a time like this.” She ordered Jane to keep company with Mrs. Bennet, then dragged Elizabeth to an empty room. Lydia came with them, and when the three were alone Charlotte embraced Elizabeth and said fervently, “The Lord has been kind.”
Elizabeth smiled widely as she whispered back through happy tears, “He has indeed.”