Elizabeth soon perceived, that though this great lady was not in the commission of the peace of the county, she was a most active magistrate in her own parish, the minutest concerns of which were carried to her by Mr. Collins; and whenever any of the cottagers were disposed to be quarrelsome, discontented, or too poor, she sallied forth into the village to settle their differences, silence their complaints, and scold them into harmony and plenty. (P&P, Ch 30)
“Lady Catherine,” said Mr. Collins in a more obsequious tone than usual, “he has heard that you denied Mr. Mason’s widow parish relief. There is to be a hearing tomorrow.”
The great lady’s eyes narrowed, “And how has this come to be? I trust that you were not speaking to him?”
“Never my ladyship!” Mr. Collins cried, “You know that I would never presume to challenge your right and sound judgement.”
“Quite so, I have every confidence in you. The parish poor rolls are nearly half what they were before you took over the Hunsford living. I am very pleased. if I could stop his interference, we might go further. There are so many in the village who by their own folly are unfortunately circumstanced. If they would but listen to my advice they would be prosperous.”
Mr. Collins merely bowed and departed. He knew that Lady Catherine would act on his intelligence immediately. Four long years had taught him all of her ways. Four years had also brought a steady stream of illicit income. It was so easy to tell the church there were more deserving poor than Mr. Collins truly added to the parish relief. It was always believed. It was simpler still to divide the remaining funds between himself and Lady Catherine. What a handsome curricle those funds had purchased for him and his wife!
Lady Catherine was off to Hartwell as soon as her carriage was prepared. The small estate abutted her own and in only a few minutes she was at the door.
“Mr. Knightley is not home,” the butler said gravely.
“Then I shall await him inside.”
She was not denied and was left to sit for more than a quarter of an hour in the drawing room. It was a small room, far smaller than the drawing room at Rosings. The furniture bore marks of the abuses of children and the carpet was somewhat dirty. Lady Catherine could not help but feel disgusted. This was the man who acted as magistrate; the office that should rightly be her own. Ever since he had purchased this estate, he had been a thorn in her side. How unfortunate that the last incumbent had died.
“Lady Catherine?” he said, entering the room, “What brings you to Hartwell?” Casually he sat across from her on a damaged sofa.
“I have heard that you mean to hold a hearing tomorrow,” Lady Catherine said.
“That is public knowledge,” he said, “everyone is welcome to attend.”
“I am greatly disturbed that you have not sought my expertise in the matter of Mrs. Mason,” said she.
“I have heard what Mr. Collins can tell me; that is information enough.”
“The Masons,” Lady Catherine said, heedless of the rebuke, “are just the sort of encroaching, greedy, and marauding people that we do not want to see on the parish rolls. The eldest boy is able to work and it must be upon his efforts, and the mother, that the family is fed. If they would but economize there would be no difficulty.”
“Tell me how they might survive on the wages of a twelve-year-old boy and the spinning work of a single woman and I will gladly leave them without relief. But as I cannot conceive of a way for them to buy their daily bread, I am inclined to rule in their favour.”
“Must they eat finest wheat bread? A proper widow knows the value of the frugal potato.”
“Lady Catherine, it is my intention not only to keep the family alive, but give them some will to go on living.”
“If there were not seven children-”
He interrupted her, “God has blessed them with those children, my lady, and since He has also seen fit to deprive them of their father, their earthly comfort has been left in our able hands.”
“Your overwhelming pity for every person in the parish in some small difficulty will be the ruin of everyone. How many more families shall we support before the coffers are empty?”
Mr. Knightley laughed, “By my calculation, we could support nearly twice what we do. More still if you were to add a few more windows to Rosings. And I mean to continue to review those exemptions that Mr. Collins has made in error. An honest misunderstanding of circumstances on his part, I must presume.”
“It would be more proper, as I am the patron of the living, to consult my judgement first on these matters. I have been the patroness of this parish since before you purchased into the neighbourhood.”
Mr. Knightley only smiled, “I am the justice of the peace, the burden has fallen to me. If you are displeased with the results, you may appear at the hearing. Like everyone else.”
Lady Catherine was about to speak when two stout boys ran into the room and their father turned to them instead, “Father, you must come at once. Little Emma has climbed into the attic again!”
John Knightley gave a slight bow, “Always a pleasure, your ladyship. I must see to my daughter.”
She stormed out of the house. It was no use! He could not be made to see reason! If the Masons would just brick over their single window, they could easily afford their supper. Why was the eldest daughter not already set up as a scullery maid? She must be at least eight years of age, only a year or so before it was usually done. Rosings itself could provide her a place. It would serve to make her stronger, that thin little thing. And the second boy ought to be working the farm, not apprenticing to the blacksmith.
Lady Catherine began to begrudge every farthing of her own taxes that would fall into such unworthy hands when she saw suddenly the figure of a woman she recognized. Charlotte Collins was walking towards the Knightley house. She obscured by the hedges but Lady Catherine could not be mistaken. She waited until Charlotte had come alongside the carriage on the lane.
“Mrs. Collins, what brings you to Hartwell?” she demanded.
“Only parish duties,” Charlotte replied, with a smile that Lady Catherine could not help but describe as cunning, “have you not heard about the troubling situation of the Masons?”
The great lady’s eyes narrowed, “You would be wise, Mrs. Collins, to remember your station.”
Charlotte only smiled sweetly, “Is not my duty to protect the widowed and the fatherless, my lady? I have noticed a very distressing mistake in the parish books that I wish to make known to the magistrate. If you will excuse me.”
“I will not excuse you, tell me at once what you have discovered!”
“I am sorry Lady Catherine; this matter is not under your authority. You know that Mr. Collins and I are anticipating returning to Hertfordshire very soon, perhaps within the next few months. I wish to have everything properly settled before we take ownership of Longbourn.”
Lady Catherine sat back in her carriage. She was safe. If anything was discovered, Mr. Collins alone would suffer for it. Did Mrs. Collins really dare bring her own husband to ruin? She could not understand the imprudent generosity of these people!
“Are you wishing to go, my ladyship?” the groom asked.
“Yes, drive on,” Lady Catherine replied, adding under her breath, “I hate every woman from Hertfordshire.”
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This is John and Isabella Knightley, their fifth child (a baby in Emma) is named Emma. After Mr. Woodhouse died, they used their portion of the inheritance to buy an estate in Kent which they named Hartwell after Hartfield and Donwell. I am spreading the Knightley around.
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My idea for this story is taken from this thesis:
* “Above Vulgar Exonomy:” Jane Austen and Money by Sheryl Bonar Craig – Frederic Eden reports that while labourers in Kent, Lady Catherine de Bourg’s home county, formerly ate meat daily, by 1796, they had been reduced to a meagre and monotonous vegetarian regime of tea, barley or oat bread, potatoes and cheese… “Poverty is generally ascribed to the low rate of wages and high price of provisions.” But Eden disagreed, “the miseries of the labouring Poor arose, less from the scantiness of their income… than from their own improvidence and unthriftiness” Eden’s fellow economists concurred and they all identified the working class addiction to wheat bread as a formidable obstacle to be overcome.
… Burke grumbled about, “the known difficulty of contenting them with any thing but bread made of the finest [wheat] flour.” Patrick Colquhoun favoured replacing bread entirely with “nourishing, frugal and wholesome” potatoes. (A Treatise on Indigence)
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For more short stories, go here
For my Mansfield Park variation, here Unfairly Caught
For my crossover romance, check out Prideful & Persuaded
Love it! I enjoyed the slow reveal of who “he” was and which knightly you were talking about and love Charlotte bringing this information to knightly.