The Courtship of Miles Collins
With apologies to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow – here’s The Courtship of Miles Standish.
I
“Oi!” cried Mrs. Bennet, “the new secretary has a head on him, I must say!”
Her three older daughters winced collectively at her piercing exclamation, but the two youngest joined their mother by the window.
“Oh!” said Kitty, “he’s very handsome!”
“He’ll do,” shrugged Lydia, the youngest, “but as he’s secretary to Reverend Collins, he’ll be all work and no play, I fear!”
Mary Bennet looked up from her Fordyce’s Sermons.
“So much the better! Miles Collins is an honest man, and if he works overmuch, it’s because there is so much to do!”
Mrs. Bennet sank into a chair.
“Oh, yes! Think of all the Heathens, Lydia!” She fanned herself, despite the cold November air. But her youngest daughter paid her no heed.
“It’s ‘Miles’ now, is it?” she leered at Mary. “Ooooh.”
Kitty and Lydia giggled at the blushing Mary.
“Oh, hush, girls! I can’t hear myself think! Jane, Elizabeth, stop your sewing and get up, the Reverend will be here any moment now!”
In a moment, Hill (the lowly servant) ushered the gentlemen into the room.
First walked Mr. Collins, and his bow to the ladies was as graceful as ever a courtier’s, giving the ladies ample view of his wide dimensions. The six ladies curtsied.
Then entered his new secretary, and many an eye fell upon him with admiration, for Will Darcy was young and handsome, with the dark eyes of a man of strong beliefs. And, as noted by Kitty and Lydia, a good leg too.
“Mr. Collins! Mr. Darcy! Here are my daughters Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Mary, Miss Catherine, and my dear Lydia! Jane! Elizabeth! Help the gentlemen with their coats!”
It was snowing, and the gentlemen were bundled up in greatcoats. Miss Elizabeth brushed a slender hand over Mr. Darcy’s left arm.
“You are all covered in snow,” she told him, by way of explanation, and for a moment, her dark eyes locked in his…
A pair of eyes, a dainty hand, a low whisper of no importance… Of such foods is Love Nurtured.
“Elizabeth! Come sit next to the Reverend, I know he likes to hear you read from the Sermons!”
Elizabeth Bennet, blushing, went to sit on the settee next to Mr. Collins.
“Mary! Don’t stand there gawking! There is no room for you there, go sit in the corner!”
Mrs. Bennet turned to Mr. Darcy.
“And will you, Mr. Darcy, accompany Mr. Collins on his long journey into Heathen Lands?”
The young man nodded, eyes fastened on the slender form squeezed next to the bulky shape of Miles Collins, her head bent down over the old book.
“Yes, Mrs. Bennet, I will sail with him.”
His voice was distracted, as he was trying to catch the low voice reading aloud across the room, but to no avail, Mrs. Bennet had him in her clutches now…
“And did you know, Mr. Darcy, that my husband, the Dear Departed Mr. Bennet, was Eaten by the Heathens in 1798?”
II
Miles Collins was staring out the window in his study; with the magnificent view of Rosings Park in December.
“I’m not afraid of the Heathens,” he remarked to his secretary, Will Darcy, “After all, we come in peace.”
Will nodded enthusiastically.
“And if they misbehave, we can always shoot them,” added the Reverend thoughtfully.
Will gaped at the Reverend, forgetting to close his mouth for some time. Then, as the Reverent was silent once more, Will shook his head and decided he’d misheard. The Reverent was a Christian, he must’ve said… loot? Float? Boat? All pretty unpleasant rhymes. He put the whole thing out of his mind, and turned back to his work.
Or… Will Darcy was supposed to be writing letters to Important Personages in London, but what he scribbled, over and over, on the papers, was Elizabeth Elizabeth Elizabeth Miss Bennet Miss Elizabeth Bennet Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy Elizabeth Darcy Mrs. Darcy Elizabeth Elizabeth Elizabeth…
The Reverend spoke again:
“You know, Will, I have been alone for some time now.”
Will nodded.
“My sweet Catherine passed away three whole months ago... A Rose among Thorns, was my Catherine of the Noble House of de Bourgh.”
Will nodded cautiously; he’d known the lady by reputation, she was a Relation of his (and the reason for his present employment), and the departed Lady had been famous for her sharp tongue. More like a Thorn among Roses… the thought made Will think of that sweet lady he loved, Elizabeth. She was truly a Rose without Thorns…
“A man must have a wife, it says in the Scriptures,” continued Collins. “Or what do you say, Will?”
Will, feeling a little out of his depth, nodded again.
“And so, I must take me a wife before we set sail!”
“A very good idea, Reverend,” said Will. In fact, he thought he knew a lady who wouldn’t mind marrying Mr. Collins… On Sundays, in church, Mary Bennet had hung onto every word the Reverend uttered …
“Yes, and I have someone in mind, I don’t mind telling you… A young lady, to be sure, but wise for her years!”
Ah, Mary was very learned for a woman her age… For a woman, period.
“I think I know of whom you speak, Reverend,” said Will. “Truly a very nice young woman!”
“Oh? So I have let on more than I thought I did?” said Collins, surprised. “Well, yes, Miss Elizabeth Bennet has been much in my thoughts these past months.”
Clang!
The inkhorn turned over, and blue fluid covered all the pages of Elizabeth Elizabeth and the book about Heathen Behaviour and the feather – pens and the letter to the Archbishop of Canterbury.
“Oh! I’m sorry! I’ll… This’ll… I’ve got it under control, that is… Elizabeth Bennet?”
“Yes indeed. You yourself agreed she’s very suitable… And I’m somewhat of a father – figure to her, her own dear father having perished in the, eh, stomachs of the Infidels…”
“Heathens…”
“Yes, yes… Heathens then.”
Will cleaned the desk the best he could. The Reverend turned back to the window.
“Will… I am not a man of many words. In fact, I’m as shy as they come. You, on the other hand, have some small skill with words, I’ve noted…”
“Ye – es…?”
“Well, I’m very busy today, and like I said, I don’t know the words a girl wants to hear… I’m a man of the cloth, not of verse…”
“Ah, well, yes…?”
“Well I was thinking you might do me a favour and go over and propose to her – for me?”
III
Will Darcy raised his hand to knock, and halted it just before impact. This was madness! Was he really about to propose to the woman he loved – on account of Miles Collins? Oh, Death, were is Thy sting? The thought of that loveliest of maidens, married to his employer… How would Elizabeth deal with the Heathens?
Finally, he knocked. ‘Twas the lowly servant – girl, Hill, that opened and let him in.
“Mr. Darcy! What now? Is something the matter?” cried Mrs. Bennet.
“I have a message from the Reverend,” said Will, “for Miss Elizabeth’s ears only.”
“Oooooh, well then, we’ll just make ourselves scarce then, won’t we?” cooed Mrs. Bennet and removed herself and most of her daughters from the room. A blushing Elizabeth would not meet Will’s admiring look.
“Ah…”
Flowery language, the Reverend had told him, I’m told girls like it like that.
Flowery language. Right. Maybe something from Donne…
“Ah…”
She looked up, and their eyes met.
“Yes, Wi-… Mr. Darcy?”
Wi-! Wi-! Could that have been the beginning of his name? But no! away with all such thoughts! He was committed.
“Woman!” She jumped. Oh dear, he shouldn’t have bellowed.
“I mean, Woman, needs Man. …Right? Eh, right. Yes. You, I mean, you’ll be wanting protection… Yes?” Oh, he mustn’t look into those eyes… Such sparkling eyes…
Blushing, Miss Elizabeth nodded.
“Yes, Wi-… Mr. Darcy.”
He closed his eyes, and rattled off;
“So… I have come to you now, with an offer and proffer of marriage, made by a man we both know as… as good and true, Mr… Miles Collins!”
Oh, dear. He, the man of words, had blurted out this short proposal! And her eyes! They’d stopped sparkling! Oh no! No! They were just large and… and sad and it was all just horrid!
She sighed.
“If Miles Collins is so eager to wed me, why doesn’t he come himself?”
“He was busy…”
“Aye, and will he be less busy once wed? I think not. And so it is with you men; you select a woman and expect her to comply – even tho’ it takes her awhile to understand there is love where she thought none! Oh, I might have accepted a proposal from the Reverend (old though he is), but this…! No, no, I can’t ever marry Miles Collins!”
“But, but, but… Miles Collins is a true man of the Church, and look you at all the things he’s doing for the Heathens! He’ll go forth and conquer with his Book where no civilised sword has ever won a Victory! Why, any woman would be happy and proud to call herself the wife of Miles Collins!”
Elizabeth looked at him. And smiled, with her eyes as well as her mouth. And, in a voice quivering with suppressed laughter, said;
“Why don’t you speak for yourself… Will?”
IV
Will ran into the woods at Rosings, hitting himself repeatedly in the head for good measure. Oh, what had he done! The Reverend, his employer, had told him to propose to Miss Bennet on his behalf, and Will’s treacherous heart had betrayed Miles Collins’ trust!
And… could it be, that Elizabeth Bennet loved him, Will Darcy? Could it be? And was he not deserving the fate of Miss Bennet's poor Father, to be Eaten alive by the Heathens? Yes, indeed, he’d do well to be thrown into a cooking – pot, for all the good he did the world and those who put their trust in him!
Oh, sweetest loveliest Elizabeth! He’d see her eyes as they lit the fire under his pot!
At last, Will went home to his Master, and, not looking him in the eye, told the tale of the botched proposal. Oh, he smoothed and edited, so as not to hurt the Reverend’s feelings, but in the end, the words were just the same: “Why don’t you speak for yourself… Will?”
Miles Collins raged, and he cried and threw things and shouted:
“Will Darcy! You have betrayed me! A secretary you were to me, my closest friend and confidant! You have supplanted! defrauded! betrayed me! Oh, the pain! The pain!”
Will ran and fetched the Reverend some water, as he was rather pale and clutching his heart.
“Oh! That this should befall me! You know, one of my Ancestors ran his sword through the heart of Wat Tyler, a fact I’ve always been exceedingly proud of!”
Will wasn’t quite sure why this was something to be proud of, but kept his mouth shut as the Reverend continued.
“Who shall prevent me from running my sword through you?”
“You don’t have a sword…”
“Well, and isn’t that just your luck, Will Darcy, for else I’d surely slay you were you stand! Ah, my Brutus!”
“Reverend, I’m sorry…”
“Hush! Be silent! From now on, there is nothing between us save war, and explicable hatred!”
Miles Collins ran out the room, leaving a sad and lost Will Darcy behind.
V
The Reverend let it be known that the Long Journey to Save the Heathens would take off real soon now, that is, the very next day, and so the village of Rosings was busy with packing; many a young one were to follow Miles Collins to Heathen Lands.
Will Darcy, with a heavy heart, packed his few belongings and walked down to the village, not forgetting all the Important Letters he had written on behalf of the Reverend. Miles Collins might not speak with him ever again, but Will was his Secretary and would go on being that until he was cooked by the Heathens. So he was down in the village, packing and organising and finding missing children and making sure the chickens were tightly bound to the roofs of the carriages.
Everyone piled in, and the crowd started shouting goodbyes and safe journeys, and Will Darcy was the last person to embark the carriages. He took one last look, and his eyes fastened on the slight figure standing apart, tears in her lovely eyes.
Elizabeth!
And when Will looked in those eyes, he knew his heart and so he jumped down and cried;
“Here I remain! My foot will stay in Rosings, England, as sure as my heart will!”
The carriages took off, leaving Will alone behind. His eyes were filled with tears of sadness, for he had loved his employer dearly, somehow, and would not have wanted this parting.
A slender hand upon his arm interrupted dark and sad thoughts.
“Will, dearest… I’m so very sorry.”
Will grasped her dainty hand.
“No, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth, I’m sorry! I do want to marry you, Miles Collins or no Miles Collins!”
And so it was, and so it would be.
VI
Now, we must make a short visit with Reverend Collins, as, one night, the man sits next to his campfire, listening to the hymns his flock is singing.
Ah, thought Miles Collins, this truly is life! Saving the Infidels (Collins no longer had a Secretary to remind him of the terms a la mode) and beheading those who refused Salvation…
Truly, what had he been thinking, courting young Elizabeth Bennet when he should have been packing! The memory of his Departed Wife were not just happy ones, in fact… Lady Catherine had a penchant for… nagging. No, if he ever returned, Miles Collins decided, he’d make up with Will Darcy, who was his best Secretary ever…
There was a sound from the trees behind him. And then, all hell broke loose.
VII
Late Spring that year, Will Darcy was visiting his betrothed, when the door to the parlour burst open and Lydia barged in.
“Miles Collins is Dead! Slain by the Heathens!”
“Oh!” cried Elizabeth, and her betrothed clutched at his heart and fainted.
Elizabeth, thinking he’d died of a broken heart, cradled his head in her bosom and cried out;
“Those whom the Lord hath united, let no man put them asunder!” which was a waste of breath as Will quickly came to and all was well again…
Well, apart from the fact that Miles Collins was dead and gone, of course.
VIII
And so, Early in Summer, the village of Rosings celebrated the Marriage of Will Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet, and there was much rejoicing. When the ceremony ended, and the bride and groom turned to leave the church, there was a sudden noise, and a large shadow appeared on in the church door.
“Oh!” and “Ah!” and “Iiii!” was heard from the congregation, as Miles Collins, the dead man, came forward to grab the groom’s hand. With his own left hand, as the right one was missing, along with several teeth and other body parts.
“We are friends, my boy,” said the Reverend to Will, “my time with the Bloodthirsty Heathens have made me see this! And as for you, My Sweet Eliza, I should have remembered the adage, - If you would be well served, you must serve yourself; and moreover, no man can gather cherries in Kent at the season of Christmas!”
As this last exclamation made no sense whatsoever, there fell an embarrassed silence over the congregation, a silence which would have lasted a long time if Elizabeth Darcy hadn’t composed herself, and cried out:
“See! All’s well in the world, for two lovers have been wed, and Miles Collins has returned from the dead! And all is, indeed, forgiven, and we are all friends! Let us rejoice, there is a party waiting to happen, and many a thirsty throat!”
At that, cries of jubilation filled the church, and people ran to the feast, Miles Collins in the lead (stumbling due to the lost foot, but still) and Mary Bennet running beside him...
Will Darcy turned to his new wife, and kissed her. And all was well in the world…
FINIS
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