The Literary Hit List of Libby Brown: Entry 2

Target: Mr. William Collins

Location: Rectory at Rosings Park
Source of Origin: Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

Object: eliminate the target without alerting family

Stats: 5’5”, brown hair, brown eyes, slight build

Crime(s): brown-nosing, pompousness, disturbing the peace, pontificating, cruel and unusual punishment by way of Fordyce’s sermons, general annoyingness

Potential Hazards: Lady Catherine De Burgh, Mrs. Charlotte Lucas

Deadline: 20:00 Blooklandia Standard Time

            This message flashed across my computer screen one minute before I felt myself being pulled out of my world and into Booklandia. Merlin, in all his wisdom, insured that I was dressed to fit into the Austenite Province. The Pen shrunk so it could be tucked up my sleeve. I hiked out of the thick forest I had landed in.

           

How the hell was I supposed to kill this guy? I knew all about him from having read Pride and Prejudice a million times. He was an annoying, self-important prat who I wouldn’t mind seeing the end of. I couldn’t fathom living with him every day for 200 years. But how to get close enough to do it?

In a stroke of genius, I scooped up some mud and rubbed it on my cheeks and my dress. With my clean hand, I mussed my hair until it was thoroughly tumbled. There. I should look pitiful enough for the minister and his wife to take me in. Hiding behind a tree, I watched the house for a little while to make sure the coast was clear.

Once I had confirmed that Mr. and Mrs. Collins were in their respective parlors, I crept up to the door. Calling on my inner Scarlett O’Hara, I knocked on the door and promptly pretended to faint. I lay there for a few minutes before I heard voices on the other side of the door.

“Did you hear Lady Catherine’s carriage?” an anxious man’s voice asked that grated on my every nerve.

“No, husband,” a long-suffering woman’s voice replied. “We do have other visitors besides Her Ladyship.”

“But none so important, so influential. Especially since we are perpetually stuck here in this rectory. We must do our best to not anger her in any way. Oh dear, we’re already keeping her waiting!”

“Not every knock on the door is the right, high and honorable Lady Catherine,” Mrs. Collins groused.

The door swung open.

“Oh, you poor dear.” Mrs. Collins knelt down beside me, chaffing my wrist and patting my cheek. “Husband, go and fetch some water.”

A second before I planned to open my eyes, a wave of water splashed me. Spluttering, I jerked into a sitting position.

“What on earth made you do that, Mr. Collins?” His wife put her hands on her hips, looking thoroughly disgusted with her inept husband.

“Well, um, it seemed the most effective manner of reviving the young lady from her state of incapacitation. And you did ask me to bring you some water, my dear.”

“I don’t think she meant for you to try to drown me,” I muttered.

“I’m terribly sorry. I do think we should move inside. It would be most unseemly for Lady Catherine to come and see such a…lowly creature sprawled in our front yard. Really, my dear, you must take her into the house immediately.” Mr. Collins looked like a junky looking for his next fix, all jumpy and nervous and constantly glancing at the road from Rosings. You would think he was expecting the King to descend upon us and banish him for allowing a poor girl to faint on his doorstep.

“Can you stand up? I’ll take you into the parlor while I send the maid to summon the doctor.” Mrs. Collins gave me a kindly, apologetic smile, clearly embarrassed by her husband’s outright rudeness.

“Oh, yes indeed. Our physician also services the great Lady Catherine de Burgh, whom I’m sure you’ve heard of. This rectory abuts her estate and we are great favorites at Rosings.”

“Really, there’s no need to send for a doctor. I just need a place to rest and a bit of food. I’ve been walking so long.” I tried to play it up the best I could. I’ve never been completely brilliant at the whole acting thing, but I did pretty darn good at pretending to be the weak, fading female. I let Mrs. Collins help me up and lead me into the downstairs parlor.

“You rest here, dear, while I go and fix you a plate of food. I’ll only be a moment.”

“How do you stand him?” I burst out.

“Who? My husband? Oh, I don’t know. I suppose he’s just sort of a habit for me now. We’ve lived together for so long I don’t really remember how not to. I suppose he’s my cross to bear.”

 Once she was gone, I took the opportunity to scan the room for something that might help me get rid of that annoying man. One of the only indications that the room was lived in at all was the copy of Fordyce’s sermons that rested on the table beside the chaise I was sitting on. I immediately remembered Mr. Collins's fondness for the ridiculous sermons from P&P.

Suddenly, the Pen began to vibrate in my sleeve. When I pulled it out, it grew to its normal size. Taking the hint, I grabbed the book and pierced one of the pages with the Pen. It flashed a sickly green for a moment before returning to its original state. Shrugging, I sat the book down and quickly snuck out of the house.

Hiding underneath the parlor window, I glanced up over the sill. Just as I hoped, Mr. Collins was totally unconcerned with my disappearance. In his obliviousness, he sat down and instinctively picked up the book. Less than a minute after he opened it, he began to twitch. His eyes rolled around and around in his head and his skin turned an otherworldly green. Clutching at his throat, he tried to stand up, but ended up falling to his knees instead.

Within a few moments, he collapsed on the floor. Just as I started to formulate a plan for disposing of his corpse so poor Charlotte didn’t have to look at it, the body of Mr. Collins began to disintegrate in a cloud of green smoke.

When his wife came into the room barely a minute later, there was no sign that either of us had been there.

I know it’s wrong to be ok with killing a man. But he was a fictional man who had been tormenting that poor woman for 200 years. It felt right. I almost enjoyed watching him die.

But would I enjoy all of my hits this much? Time would tell. Was I a monster for enjoying this? Only my soul will tell.