Charlotte - Pride and Prejudice Continues

by Karen Aminadra

  “I am relieved to hear it,” he replied helping her on with her shawl, “but I urge caution, my dear.”

  “Of course.” she turned to face him and touched his arm, “and thank you William for your attending me.”

  He smiled in return. He wanted to say, it was nothing, he wanted to say, it was what was expected of him, but he could not. The truth was he had been desperately worried about her, praying for her and had been near tears on occasion. He recognised this was the power of his growing love for her and embraced it for once. He wanted to feel wretched owing to what he thought was the part he had played in her illness, and he feared she was not truly recovered and he might lose her now that he valued her more than he ever had. He blinked away the tears that began to sting his eyes and turned away from her so she would not see his distress.

  * * *

  They sat in the garden drinking tea and discussing plans for the vegetable plot that year. The day was warm and the air still, it felt good to feel the sun's warmth on their skin and to hear the birdsong around them. Mr Collins' plans for the vegetable plot included its doubling in size to provide for the amount of guests they had entertained of late and probably would in the coming year also. He outlined his ideas and together they made a mental list of what they would like to grow.

  “Oh my word!” Charlotte exclaimed.

  “What is it my dear!” Mr Collins shot out of his chair, “Are you unwell again?”

  “No, no, please be seated my dear. It is only that I have just remembered I promised to call on Louisa this morning. I must write to her so she might not worry.”

  She rose and made her way back into the house, Mr Collins closely following on her heels. He went into the kitchen to fetch Jenny and Charlotte went straight to her desk. She wrote a quick note to Louisa expressing that she was sorry for not being able to visit with her that day and turned to ask Jenny to see it was delivered, when she was brought into the sitting room by Mr Collins.

  He smiled and took her hands once Jenny had left on her errand, “Is it safe to return to the garden? Have you anyone else to inform?”

  She giggled at him, “No, no one else William. It is safe for us to return to the garden.”

  As they walked, back through the house she asked him to continue to tell her about his plans for the garden and asked him if they might have a private secluded sitting area where she might read. He thought it was a splendid idea and was glad to draw her into the conversation, to consult her and hear her thoughts.

  25

  That evening they received a letter from Louisa saying how sad she was that Charlotte was unable to visit and wishing her a speedy recovery and which also contained an invitation to dine the following evening. Mrs Thomas was throwing a small dinner party to celebrate the coming wedding of her sister-in-law. Charlotte was eager to attend but Mr Collins was apprehensive, owing to Charlotte's recent bout of sickness. He did not wish her to have a recurrence.

  “My dear, I am sure that by tomorrow evening I will be well, and if I am not then, we will do as you suggest and stay at home quietly.”

  “I merely wish to prevent you from over-exerting yourself my dear.”

  “Of course you do William.” she said patting his hand, “However, I cannot cloister myself away simply because I ate something that was off.” She looked back over the invitation once again, “And besides, we shall be a merry company. The Abbots are invited, as is Mr Simmons and Colonel Fitzwilliam too.”

  The mention of the Colonel's name was great encouragement to Mr Collins who then happily accepted the invitation on their behalf and sent the letter off to Mrs Thomas immediately. However, his name was somewhat of a nuisance to Charlotte who began to feel nervous at the thought of seeing him again and her stomach churned much to her disappointment. She sat back down on the sofa where she closed her eyes for a moment and rested thus until she felt that Mr Collins was watching her and she opened her eyes again.

  “You are not feeling recovered, are you Charlotte?”

  “It is passing William, I assure you.”

  “Perhaps you should eat something, you have hardly eaten all day.” he pressed.

  “Only if you insist, but let it be bread and jam, nothing more please.”

  He smiled down at her, it was obvious she was unwell and he felt impotent in the face of it. Uttering a silent prayer he went in search of Mrs Higgs to have something made up for them in the sitting room, he would join her and eat simply that night.

  They dined on the bread and jam and laughed as they recalled their exploits as they had picked fruit the previous summer to be made into preserves. Mr Collins had almost fallen off the ladder picking apples. Charlotte's apron and dress had become covered in berry juice one day when picking and Mr Collins teased her that there had been more juice around her mouth than on her clothing. A fact she vehemently denied.

  It was rare to see Mr Collins laughing or joking and Charlotte was loathe for the conversation to end and for this side of him to be hidden once more. It seemed the more she smiled at him and laughed at what he said the more he opened up to her. It mattered not to him that his wife was laughing at his tales of mishaps and silliness, of embarrassing situations from his time at Oxford, which under any other circumstance would have mortified him. What mattered most to him was that she was laughing and smiling at him, at what he said to her. He never knew the pleasure of such things until that moment and he began to exaggerate and make himself seem sillier in order to provoke her to laugh harder still. He found he enjoyed the sound of it, the way she closed her eyes, threw back her head, and placed her hand on her breast. He admitted to himself that he liked to hear her laugh very much, no, he corrected himself, I love to hear her laugh.

  That night Charlotte did something she had never done before, she fell asleep with him holding her in his arms, and she had to admit that it was a very comforting sleep indeed.

  * * *

  Charlotte woke slowly in the morning, dozing back off to sleep repeatedly, and noticing the nausea was still present but lessened. She was confident that it would pass in a few days, snuggled down into her pillow more, and drifted off to sleep again.

  She did not see that Mr Collins was seated in a chair by the bed watching her. He had risen early, worked in his book room for an hour or two, and then returned to their room to keep watch over his poorly wife.

  He had contented himself for a while to watch her steady breathing but had grown restless with nothing to do and so picked up a book Charlotte had left on the windowpane. He read the cover, and flipped it open to where Charlotte had placed a ribbon to mark where she had stopped and began to read. He was not interested at first but then interest grew in him and became fascination as he turned page after page devouring each one. His eyes grew wider and wider, his face flushed with colour at the scene being described by the writer. He was shocked, appalled, intrigued, and hungry for more all at the same time and he kept reading, glad that Charlotte remained sleeping. He had never in all his years read a novel before and this one confirmed all his fears that they excited the emotions, and were full of loose morals but he found it was inexplicably captivating also. He blushed as the feeling swept over him that he was reading someone's diary and then shook himself to recall it was merely the epistolary form of the novel. He took out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead, surprised he was perspiring. Was this what interested his wife? Did she crave such wild and passionate encounters? Was she in fact searching within a novel for the love and romance lacking in their marriage? The question brought him back to reality with a snap. He closed the book, replaced it where he had found it and watched his wife sleeping still, and thought about what he had read.

  Charlotte began to stir again and Mr Collins went to her side of the bed as she opened her eyes, “Good morning my love, did you sleep well?”

  “Yes I did thank you, very well.”

  “I am pleased to hear it. Would you like me to ring for the water?”

  “No not yet Will
iam. I just want to rest here awhile; it is so warm in the bed.” Mr Collins blushed, connecting what she had just said to something that he had read a moment ago in her novel, and turned away to face the window.

  Charlotte sat upon the edge of the bed and beckoned Mr Collins to sit beside her. He did as he was bid, put his arm around her shoulder and she rested her head against him.

  “William, I wonder if we would offend Mrs Thomas if we came home early this evening, I do not wish to stay out-of-doors late.”

  “Nonsense my dear, who could object when you have been unwell. We shall return home the very instant you inform me of your desire to do so.”

  “Thank you William, I knew you would understand.” She reached up and kissed his mouth.

  He was a little surprised at first to receive a kiss but soon he was hungrily responding to her and they parted only to catch their breath.

  “I do apologise, my dear Charlotte,” he panted, “I... forgive me.” He rose and stood at the end of the bed. His heart racing and thumping against his chest.

  “I assure you William; you have no need to apologise to me in such a way.” She rose and joined him where he stood, “In fact, my dear, I rather enjoyed being kissed like that.”

  He spun around to look at her; he read in her face the same feelings that were flooding him, “I cannot, you are unwell.” He looked away.

  “Not so unwell.”

  That was all the invitation he needed, he crossed the space between them and claimed her mouth with his own, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip and his tongue probing her mouth as he had read in the novel minutes before. She responded hungrily to his ministrations, sighing with pleasure. He ran his hands around her waist, and on down to her hips, feeling her nakedness beneath her nightgown, and as he led her to the bed, he thought; perhaps there is some benefit from reading novels after all!

  * * *

  The dinner party at the Thomas' home was not such an arduous event for Charlotte after all. Every attention was paid to her and everyone ensured that she was comfortable. Mr Abbot made a fuss thinking she was too close to the fire and Mr Collins countered Mr Abbot with a fuss of his own thinking she was too far from the fire. This produced a fit of giggles in Charlotte, which resulted in her having the hiccoughs.

  The resulting tide of advice as to the cure of hiccoughs ended with all the women present joining her in having a fit of the giggles. All the men were smirking and making up even more ridiculous but ingenious ways of curing Charlotte of the hiccoughs, as to ensure they did not go away but left all the women crying with laughter.

  The only uncomfortable part of the evening for Charlotte was feeling that Colonel Fitzwilliam's eyes were on her constantly. Every time she looked in his direction, he seemed to have his eyes fixed firmly on her. It began to make her feel self-conscious and she wanted a way of escape.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam stood next to the card table and feigned interest. His real object was observing Charlotte who was in conversation with Mrs Abbot and Miss Thomas. He wished for a moment alone with her. He had contrived ideas, all evening, of how they could be alone for a minute or two but it was to no avail. The closest he would get to her that night was with his eyes only. He willed her to look up at him.

  Charlotte listened to Louisa's plans for the wedding with as much attention as she could muster, considering all her senses could feel the Colonel's eyes on her at every moment. Mrs Brown laughed at the card table, Charlotte involuntarily looked up in her direction, and Colonel Fitzwilliam caught her eye. He winked, she blushed, and it took all of her power not to run from the room. She would not draw attention to herself and her foolishness in such a way. The longer she went without expressing her regret to the Colonel and begging to return simply to being friends the more agitated she became and the harder it was to maintain her countenance in his presence. She shook her head to rid her mind of his image and accidentally looked up at him again and he grinned at her, noticing her discomfort. She knew there and then that no matter what she must seek him out tomorrow and stop this charade before more things were damaged beyond her pride. She silently wished Mr Collins would stop playing cards and come to her side so she might express a wish to return home.

  Her wish fortunately was granted a half an hour later when Mrs Brown stifled a yawn behind her fan and declared it was high time she departed. Charlotte, glad of the opportunity herself, expressed her desire to do the same. She then found Mr Collins was immediately at her side, attending to her every need and leaving no opening whatsoever for Colonel Fitzwilliam to manoeuvre himself to her side. This did not last long however, for as propriety demanded she had to bid adieu to each of her friends. Colonel Fitzwilliam took her hand and kissed it his eyes conveying far too much passion for her liking, and his need to see her in the morning.

  26

  The next morning, feeling much recovered Charlotte was up and out of bed before Mr Collins. She washed and dressed with as little noise as was possible and made her way down the stairs to put on her pelisse as there had been a hard frost the night before. She put on her gloves as she walked to the door and blushed to remember they had been no impediment to the Colonel before. She had to force herself to be strong with him this had to stop today.

  She walked out of the door and to the gate. It took all of her strength to walk as if she was merely enjoying a fine morning and not heading off to a rendezvous. She deliberately stopped to look at some red berries in the hedgerow. It was something she normally would do, she loved how things looked when covered in a hoar frost and was fearful that someone might be observing her and wanted to be as natural looking as possible.

  She continued on her way, forcing herself to breathe deeply and to calm the butterflies that had already started their dance in her stomach at the thought of seeing him. She wondered why he had such an effect on her, why she could not be mistress of her own feelings.

  She rounded the bend in the lane and walked straight past the gates to Rosings, she knew he would not be waiting there for her. Instinct told her that he was at the clearing and that he had been there for some time.

  She was right, she walked along the path, much faster now, as she could not be seen; she stopped upon seeing him in the clearing. He was pacing back and forth obviously in desperation of seeing her. As much as she fought against the desire rising within her upon watching him there, the sight of him pleased her. There was a certain thrill to knowing he was secretly sharing those feelings and that excitement was hard to control. She stepped forward along the path and out into the clearing. He had not seen her at first as he continued to pace his mind in turmoil, but the sound of her skirts swishing soon caught his attention and he swung round to face her.

  Within seconds he had crossed the space between them, taken hold of her hands and kissed them through her gloves, “Oh my dear Charlotte, I am so glad you have come.” he said deep relief over-powering his voice.

  “I felt I ought to.” she slipped her hands from his. “We need to talk.”

  “There will be plenty of opportunities to talk. I cannot stay long, I am engaged to ride into town on an errand for my aunt this morning, but I had to see you.” He took hold of her hands again and this time she did not pull away, she did not wish to force a fight; she needed to deal with him gently. “You seem well again, are you?” he asked.

  “Yes, much recovered thank you. Colonel I...”

  He hushed her by placing a finger on her lips. Despite his wearing gloves, she felt the heat from his hands on her lips and could not breathe, “Why can you not call me Richard when we are alone?”

  Her breath caught in her throat, this was not the way she had planned this meeting, “I cannot, it would not be right.”

  “Right?” he let out an almost hysterical laugh, “Right? Charlotte you know this feels right, all of this, despite its being wrong, it is so right.” He forced his breathing under control as he stepped even closer to her, their bodies were mere inches apart, “I cannot rest, I cannot think. Everythi
ng I do contains you.” She began to speak in protest, “No, do not say a thing; I know you feel the same way.”

  Charlotte forced herself to take a step backwards widening the gap between their bodies, her hands still firmly grasped in his.

  “I am married.” was all she managed to say to him.

  “Yes, and to a man who does not deserve you.”

  “Who are you to say whether he deserves me or not?” she said, with irritation rising within her at the insult to her husband.

  The irony of that feeling hit her just as fast. She was insulted the Colonel had insulted her husband yet here she was in close proximity with another man, was not her insult to her husband the greater of the two?

  “Oh come now,” he placated, “let's not quarrel. I know this is difficult for you. However, I assure you I am sincere and genuine. My heart is yours Charlotte.” he looked deeply into her eyes and she felt her resolve slipping away, her body frozen in place.

  “Colonel, I...”

  “Do not deny it Charlotte!” he stepped closer until their clothing was touching, “Can you deny you cannot feel my heart beating? Can you deny your heart is pounding within your own breast? Can you deny that you do not want me to do this...” he bent his head down towards her and brushed her lips lightly with his.

  Her breath caught in her throat again and he heard it, “You see, you do want it. How about this?” This time he kissed her gently.

  She could not breathe the world was spinning, all her being was centred on her lips and the bolts of lightning his produced within her.

  “And how about this?” he kissed her more firmly, his tongue parting her lips and begging entrance to her mouth.

  To her surprise, she felt herself returning his kisses with equal desire and passion. She had begun to learn of late, the passion that kisses could arouse, but the Colonel's kisses were something more, they contained a fire that she had never known. A fire that was threatening to burn its way completely through her body.