Recollections of Rosings

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  Catching sight of her reflection in the long mirror, she stopped to look critically at herself. Unlike her sisters Rebecca and Amelia-Jane, Catherine had not been in the habit of paying much attention to her looks, yet she had been fortunate enough to be blessed with a clear complexion and fine features, which together contributed to the impression of a handsome, slender woman, whose appearance belied her years. On that particular morning, the impression was enhanced by a gentle flush upon her cheeks and eyes bright with the anticipation of happiness.

  Catherine was quite content with her appearance, yet could not help wondering how the man who would soon be her husband might see her. For a brief moment, she worried that he might still retain an image of the fresh young girl he had loved many years ago, occasioning inevitable disappointment, but the thought passed quickly as she recalled his recent ardent expressions of affection. He had arranged that they would travel to Europe after the wedding, and Catherine smiled, recalling Becky's gift, which her sister had ensured was packed into her case for the journey.

  The arrival of her maid Sally with breakfast interrupted Catherine's reverie and returned her to the practicalities of the moment.

  "There is a message from Mr Bingley, ma'am," the girl said as she drew back the curtains and prepared to pour out tea for her mistress. "He will be here with the carriage at half past ten to accompany you to the church."

  Catherine thanked her; she had been awake early, there was plenty of time. The girl left the room, promising to return to help Catherine dress and put up her hair. Her pleasure at seeing her mistress in her wedding gown, a simple, elegant garment of cream silk, brought tears to her eyes as she said, "You look lovely, ma'am—I hope you will be very happy."

  When Jonathan Bingley called at Longbourn in his carriage to escort her to church, Catherine came downstairs. She felt a quick rush of blood to her cheeks as she strove to calm her racing heart, hoping to conceal from Jonathan her excitement.

  Arriving at the small parish church at Netherfield, a more intimate, less awesome setting than the grand chapel at Rosings had been, she was more composed, but Jonathan was clearly aware of her agitation. Helping her from the vehicle, he took her hand and pressed it, as if to reassure her. Meeting his eyes, wordlessly she expressed her gratitude as she took his arm and prepared to enter the church.

  Waiting for her at the church, Frank Burnett endeavoured to subdue his feelings. Since realising that he was in love with young Catherine Collins, in vain, as it turned out, he had spent many years with no hope at all of making her his wife.

  More recently, on finding her again, first married to Dr Harrison and then widowed, there had been months of uncertainty and trepidation, during which he had feared he would betray his feelings and lose both her friendship and regard. When she had discovered his secret, forgiven his impertinence in purloining her picture, and later agreed to marry him, delight had been followed by months of longing for this day.

  Now she was here, his emotions threatened to overwhelm him.

  He watched as she walked up the aisle towards him, if anything, more desirable a woman than she had been a girl. Her serene countenance and warm smile he had never forgotten in all their years apart.

  He turned to her and she smiled.

  The rector Mr Griffin approached; they had been warned by Anna Bingley that he was a solemn, almost doleful fellow, prone to making long, portentous sermons.

  "Be warned, Cathy, he will not let you off with a few words of wisdom; Mr Griffin takes weddings very seriously. Prepare yourselves for a weighty homily," she'd said as they dined at Netherfield on the previous evening.

  Mr Burnett and Catherine made an effort to maintain appropriate expressions of gravity as Mr Griffin droned on, reminding them of the duties of married couples to one another, warning them that Love, "while it conquers all, must be supported by those trusty lieutenants Faith and Respect." All this they knew yet, as was his wont, Mr Griffin reiterated with much seriousness these and other familiar sentiments for their benefit.

  Plainly hearing little of the homily, Frank Burnett stared straight ahead at the stained-glass window behind the altar. Beside him, Catherine could sense his restlessness and in a moment of innocent mischief, her hand, concealed within the folds of her sleeve, crept surreptitiously into his. Very soon, she seemed to say, it will be over. His fingers curled around hers, confirming her impression that he had waited for a gesture from her and was grateful for her understanding. As they stood thus together, it was as though they had already been joined together in love, oblivious of Mr Griffin and the congregation around them, feeling only the joy of this day that had been so long in coming.

  Then it was done. Mr Griffin led the way to the vestry, the organ played, bells pealed, and friends and relations milled around them, wishing them happiness; but they knew only the relief and joy of being at last together, man and wife, as they had always wished to be.

  ***

  In the days that followed, they spent but a day in London before travelling by train to Dover and crossing the channel to France, where Frank Burnett had lived and worked for many years. They had planned to stay a week in Paris and travel thence to Italy. If Paris was where Frank had learned his craft, it was in Italy that he had lost his heart to the fine arts. He had long wished to share his enthusiasm with Catherine, whose burgeoning interest he had encouraged from the earliest days of their association.

  While they were not in time to witness the entire festival of the Grand Carnivale, which Frank had described to her in minute detail, Catherine did have the opportunity to view from the balcony of their hotel the amazing antics of persons young and old, as they danced and paraded up and down the Corso on foot, in carriages, or on horseback, exchanging volleys of confetti, sweets, and flowers as they passed.

  The music, the colours, and the enormous energy of the scene below them brought a kind of high excitement such as she had never experienced before in her life. Never had she been in the midst of such bewitching entertainment. It absolutely assailed her senses. Turning to her husband, she saw him watching her, clearly pleased by her response.

  "Is it as enjoyable as you thought it would be?" he asked.

  Her eyes shone and she nodded. "Oh yes, indeed it is, and much more besides. All these people, so much vitality and high spirits, had you not told me of it, I should never have imagined it. I have seen nothing like it in all my life."

  "Then you are glad we came to Italy?" he asked.

  Her answer left him in no doubt. "Of course. I would not have missed it for the world."

  These were by far the most delightful and enlightening days of Catherine's life. Not since childhood, certainly not since she had entered the gilded cage of Rosings, had she known such freedom to feel, think, and speak as she wished. Untramelled by the constraints imposed upon her by Lady Catherine's patronage and years of watchful compliance at Hunsford parsonage, where Dr Harrison's reputation took precedence over all else, she could now seek and respond to new experiences and emotions without reservation. Freed of her inhibitions and customary reticence, she could, with her husband's help, enjoy all that life offered them, delighting with him in their easy intimacy and close understanding.

  Catherine had never been to France or Italy, nor even ventured outside the home counties, except to visit Pemberley or Bath. There were a myriad things Frank had told her of, which she was eager to see and learn, and since he was a most conscientious teacher, keen to show her all his favourite sights and places, their days were filled with the pleasures of stimulating and agreeable companionship. At the end of each day, her mind was brimming with images and ideas, all new and exhilarating. Catherine had never known such freedom, nor such fun.

  Even sweeter was the joy of loving one another, secure in the knowledge that they had been emancipated from the tedium of conformity and were accountable to no one but each other. The openness and freshness of Italy and the liberality it afforded them was blessedly sweet. It enhanced every new experien
ce, filling each day with new pleasures and each night with the hope of something more to look forward to on the morrow.

  They travelled through several towns and picturesque little villages, until at last on a fine, clear day, they reached that most seductive of Italian cities— Florence. Frank had promised her she would be enchanted and she was.

  For Catherine, everything about Florence was astonishing, and though she knew little of its complex history, her husband took special pleasure in introducing her to all that he had learned and loved there, delighting in the depth of her response. The splendid bridges over the river Arno, the palaces of the Medici with their works of art, of a scale and magnificence to take one's breath away, all set in a landscape of such exquisite loveliness, left Catherine filled with wonder and bereft of words.

  Nothing at Rosings, with its grand collections of art and artifacts, had moved her as these did.

  "I do not think I could ever absorb completely what I have seen here," she confessed one afternoon as they sat watching the sunlight retreat from the river into the hills, leaving smudges of indigo and smoky blue shadow across the landscape. "There is so much loveliness, I feel privileged to be here," and reaching for his hand, she thanked him, "especially with you to tell me all about it. I owe all this pleasure to you; without your guidance, I should not have known such beauty existed. Dear Frank, thank you."

  He was deeply moved by her appreciation.

  "Dearest Catherine, it has been the fulfilment of my fondest wish to have you here with me, to share my enjoyment of places and works of art which have obsessed and absorbed me for years. To recall our enjoyment of them in future years will be my special pleasure."

  "I understand," she said softly, "it will be mine also."

  ***

  Even as she accepted Frank Burnett's love, Catherine had not imagined that at her age, she could feel as she did now.

  The discovery that the passage of time had not dulled her capacity to feel passionately and enjoy being deeply loved brought profound and singular satisfaction. It was something entirely novel in Catherine's experience. Nothing in her life so far, or in her previous marriage, had prepared her it.

  Writing to her sister, she spoke briefly of their travels in France and Italy, but more intensely of their shared happiness. Becky was struck by her candour.

  How can I describe, dear Becky, the change in my life?

  So much has happened, we have shared so many wonderful days, there is too much to tell. Perhaps if I were to choose just one thing to illustrate what marriage to Frank has meant to me, it may help you understand. It is the difference between waking up alone in a cold bed, from which my husband has already risen to go about his parish duties, leaving me to get on with mine, and awakening to the warm presence of a man who has utterly transformed my life with his love. Need I say more?

  …she wrote, leaving Becky in no doubt of her meaning. Becky, more than any other person, could understand exactly how her sister felt.

  As the days passed and the year slipped deeper into Winter, these shared experiences so engaged them, they were reluctant to acknowledge that it was time to return to England. But there were just two weeks to Christmas and they had an invitation to Pemberley. Catherine had not forgotten their obligations.

  "Much as I have loved it, we have been away too long. Poor Becky must be tired of her own company; besides, we are expected at Pemberley on Christmas Eve," said she one morning, when a bitter wind sweeping down from the Alps had kept them indoors in their room, where a lively fire added comfort to inclination.

  Turning away from the window, where he stood watching two little boys playing in the snow, her husband feigned astonishment. Why, he declared, only last night she had confessed to him as they lay in bed that her love for Italy was increasing with every day they spent in the country. She had professed she never wanted to leave.

  "Am I to understand, my love, that you wish to leave Italy with all this beauty and return to a damp English Winter?" he asked and she, smiling, replied without dissembling, "Only because we must, Frank, we have some promises to keep; else I think I would happily stay here with you all Winter, for never have I been so thoroughly contented."

  "Nor I, my dearest Catherine," was his heartfelt response, as he held her in his arms, unwilling at that moment to admit the need to depart. "If my only obligation was to our mutual happiness, I would not be able to give you a single reason to leave this lovely place. I should beg you to stay here with me all Winter and into Spring. But, I fear you are right, duty calls and it is probably time to return to England."

  Plainly neither wished to end the pleasures they had enjoyed, yet both were well aware of their responsibilities.

  Two days later, with the weather threatening to worsen as the Alpine winds stripped the last of the Autumn leaves from the oak trees and swirled them around the fountain in the piazza, they left Italy to return to England.

  Taking a hired vehicle from Victoria Station, they drove to a hotel, where they spent the last night of their honeymoon, before journeying to Rosings Park on the morrow.

  They found John Adams and Lilian settled comfortably into the house they had taken a few miles outside the boundaries of Rosings Park, while Becky had spent the final days of fine weather having more of her furniture moved down from London and installed at Edgewater.

  Arriving at the Dower House, Catherine's newfound sense of freedom was renewed as the realisation dawned that for the first time she had a home of her own to share with a husband, one who had declared unashamedly that his chief preoccupation in life was ensuring her happiness.

  It was the type of situation she had believed existed only in the romantic imaginations of young women whose wits had been addled by reading too many cheap novellas! No sensible woman of any intelligence would credit it. Indeed, a year ago she would have laughed to scorn anyone who had suggested such a possibility for herself. Yet, here she was, unable to contain her joy.

  The house itself had been transformed in their absence.

  Mrs Giles and her staff had cleaned, aired, and readied the rooms upstairs for them. Becky had generously provided new drapes and fine linen for their bedroom and filled the vases with sweet-scented lavender and Winter roses from the conservatory at Edgewater.

  Every aspect combined to create for them a welcoming atmosphere of warmth and comfort, where for the foreseeable future, they would have only one another to please.

  It was a prospect that could not fail to delight their hearts.

  Postscript

  Arriving at Pemberley on Christmas Eve, they found a large party gathered there already. Pemberley looked splendid, as usual, while their host and hostess seemed in excellent spirits.

  An excellent evening's entertainment of music followed a delectable meal provided in the best traditions of Pemberley House as Mr and Mrs Darcy welcomed their many guests.

  That night, as the family and their guests retired to their rooms, Catherine began a letter to her mother, who had been prevented by ill health from making the journey to Derbyshire.

  Giving her all the news, she wrote:

  The Bingleys from Ashford Park and Netherfield, the Grantleys, Fitzwilliams, Wilsons, and Gardiners are all here.

  It is surely the biggest family gathering in many years. It seems such a pity Julian and Jessica could not be here, too.

  However, on Christmas Day, to almost everyone's surprise, a carriage arrived towards midday, bringing Julian Darcy and his wife. Mr and Mrs Darcy had kept their secret well; only they had known, because the rest of the party had believed the pair were not expected back in England before Easter. As they were overwhelmed with exclamations of pleasure and welcomed by all their relations, Jane Bingley had whispered to Catherine that Jessica was expecting a child early in the new year, "Which is why they have returned to England earlier than expected," she had said. "Julian insisted she must come home."

  That I can well believe, wrote Catherine, continuing her letter that night, an
d Mrs Darcy, too, must have wished that Jessica should return to Pemberley for her confinement.

  Mama, this must be the best news Mr and Mrs Darcy have had in years. I could see how very pleased they were, although nothing was said to the rest of the party. I daresay they will all discover it soon enough; there is no possibility of keeping such happy news secret for very long!

  Clearly Jessica's maid must be in her confidence; very soon the rest of the

  staff will know it, too. They looked remarkably well, especially Jessica, who is quite beautiful now and not at all weary, considering they have come directly from Southern Africa where, Frank informs me, it is still high Summer. Mama, I know you will be as pleased as I am for Jessica's mother, Mrs Courtney. I understand from Jane Bingley that poor Reverend Courtney is weaker now than he was a year ago and is not expected to last more than a few months. Sadly, he was too ill to come to Pemberley on Christmas Eve; Julian and Jessica have gone today to Kympton to call on him. It says much for their kindness and loyalty that they should do so, almost immediately after their long journey from South Africa.