Charlotte Collins: A Continuation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice

by Jennifer Becton

  Charlotte laughed at her sister’s dramatics. “I doubt very much that the weather gods, as you called them, have any interest whatsoever in your love life.”

  “Indeed, I suppose you are right, for I have no love life. I cannot have such a thing as long as I am trapped in this cottage.”

  “Have another cup of tea. It will make you feel much better.”

  The second helping of tea did not do as much for Maria as the invitation that was delivered soon thereafter.

  Mrs. Eff entered the room and was in the process of removing soiled dishes from the table when she almost off-handedly said, “This arrived by messenger, Mrs. Collins. I did not want to disturb your eating.”

  She handed the letter to Charlotte, and Maria bounded out of her chair to look over her sister’s shoulder. Charlotte opened and carefully unfolded the paper.

  “Faster, faster!” Maria demanded. “I believe that is Mrs. Armitage’s hand!”

  Before Charlotte could even set an eye on the contents of the letter, Maria shrieked. “A ball!”

  Mrs. Eff jumped, and the teacups clattered in her grasp.

  “The ball Colonel Armitage promised to give in honor of his relations. Thank you, weather gods!”

  “Maria, do be quiet and at least pretend to be civilized.”

  Maria scowled, plucked the paper from her hands, and returned to her seat.

  “Finally, some entertainment! And I have yet to tell you the best news, Charlotte.”

  “Can there be something better than a ball?”

  “Indeed. Mr. Westfield has already secured me for the first two dances.”

  “How can that be possible if you only learned of the ball two minutes ago?”

  Maria blushed, her cheeks turning a deep red, her lashes downcast. “I hope you will not think it too forward, but he asked for the first two dances at the next ball—whenever it was to be held—when we last spoke all those weeks ago.”

  Charlotte was not entirely sure she approved of such forward behavior, but she said, “The only thing better than a ball, I suppose, is to have a gentleman with whom to dance.”

  “Well, of course, silly, for that is the entire purpose of a ball.”

  “Then I may as well stay at home, for I do not intend to dance.”

  “No, you may not just stay home, for I would not be allowed to attend.” Her voice contained a note of panic.

  “Do not trouble yourself. I know how much this means to you, and although I rarely dance, I quite enjoy balls myself. But I have other things to think of besides men.”

  “Well, I think you should not waste your figure. It will not last forever, you know.”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes and glanced down at herself. Her figure was probably her most alluring feature. Her face had always been plain, and she had accepted that, but she said, “You really ought to show more respect for your elder sister.”

  “And you really ought to live a little. Who knows. Perhaps Mr. Edgington will return to town for the ball and sweep you into a state of loving bliss.”

  “I seriously doubt that will occur at this ball or any other.”

  Maria tilted her blond head and said, “Only because you will not allow it.”

  ~**~

  The ball was held at Colonel Armitage’s home, and Charlotte, who generally preferred the smaller, private balls, found herself almost as eager to arrive as her sister. She had to prevent herself from rushing into the carriage, which the colonel sent to retrieve them. Charlotte fidgeted with her dress and adjusted her wrap. She had worn her best gown and the monogrammed gloves that Mr. Edgington had given her before she had left London. She felt odd wearing a gift from a gentleman, but the gloves were very fine, and she found she could not prevent herself from slipping them on. And they looked very well with her gown.

  Maria spent the entire carriage ride chattering loudly. Her sister’s enthusiasm was infectious, and by the time they arrived and alighted from the carriage, she was very nearly convinced that it was a magical night.

  Charlotte dearly loved her sister’s optimism, but she rarely allowed it to affect her own opinions. She preferred to avoid disappointment at all costs, and she had found that looking forward to an event and building it up in her mind was the best way to ensure that the evening would be a complete disaster. She hoped that would not be the case.

  The ballroom was quite large and more than adequate to host a large ball. Located on the back side of the house, it had the advantage of an entire wall of windows with two doors at opposite ends of the ballroom that opened onto a gracious balcony overlooking the courtyard behind the building. The doors were thrown wide open, allowing sweet-smelling air to cool the dancers and freshen the room. Adjacent to the ballroom, there was a smaller room for refreshments where many older gentlemen—who were already secure in their matrimonial bonds or who no longer cared for that sort of bondage—tended to gather and consume mass quantities of food and drink.

  Charlotte began the evening by standing by the opened windows. The breeze blew her skirts around her ankles as she watched the first dances. Maria fairly glowed in Mr. Westfield’s arms, and although her concern for her sister’s reputation continued, Charlotte could not help but rejoice in her happiness. It appeared that Miss Farmington would at least be civil, and Mr. Card had yet to make an appearance, so all might be well.

  Across the room, Mr. Basford seemed pleased as well. Charlotte had yet to speak with him that evening, but the expression on his face appeared open and readable.

  She was considering Mr. Basford when she felt a presence at her side. She turned to find Mr. Edgington looking at her intensely.

  “Mr. Edgington, I did not expect to see you here. When did you return to Westerham?”

  “Mrs. Collins,” he said, bowing, “I returned only a fortnight ago.”

  Charlotte was surprised. The comings and goings of eligible men were not usually neglected in Westerham. She ought to have heard of his return.

  “I am pleased that you had a safe journey.”

  He appraised her appearance. “I am more pleased to see you. I noticed that you are wearing the gloves I gave you.”

  Charlotte blushed. He grinned back wolfishly.

  She looked down at them. “Yes, they suit my dress very nicely.”

  He smirked, and his red hair appeared to flame in the candlelight. He was dressed in fashionable formal attire. His deep blue coat and tan breeches fit snugly, revealing a strong, square silhouette. His boots shone, and he smelled of strong, musky cologne. He was almost overpowering.

  He stepped slightly closer. “Will you do me the honor of a dance?”

  She employed her standard reply. “I am afraid I did not come with the intention of dancing.”

  He challenged her. “You are no longer in mourning, and unless you have an objection to your potential partner, I see no reason to decline.”

  Charlotte shifted her weight. “I suppose it could do no harm. I only hope that you can forgive any missteps. It has been a long time since I have danced.”

  “Believe me, your dancing abilities are the least of my concerns.” He led her to the floor.

  The dance began, and Charlotte focused solely on the steps. She did not intend to ruin the dance for the other couples on the floor by her own poor skills, and even more, she did not want to make a spectacle of herself as she always had been when paired with Mr. Collins.

  After the first section of the dance, Charlotte began to feel more at ease, and she was able to glance at her partner for the first time. Immediately, she wished she had not done so.

  Mr. Edgington was looking at her ever so intensely. His eyes fairly burned through her. She blushed deeply and looked away. As the dance continued in silence, Charlotte could feel his stare, and the flattery initially caused by his intensity began to transform into concern and embarrassment.

  She attempted several conversations, but she was unable to keep up a steady stream of distracting chatter. If only she possessed Maria’s
oratorical gifts! Finally, she abandoned the pretense of talking altogether.

  All around them people watched and no doubt assumed that there was an attraction, at the very least, or an attachment—at most—between them. At that precise moment, Charlotte was neither attracted nor attached to Mr. Edgington, and she longed for the musicians to play the final chords of the dance, releasing her from the obligation of his stare.

  She considered trying to strike up another conversation, but she disregarded the possibility quickly. Any interest she showed in Mr. Edgington would only serve to convince the people around them of an attachment that certainly did not exist.

  The dance ended without another word passing between them and without Mr. Edgington looking away from Charlotte. Taking her gloved hand, he escorted her back to where Maria stood near the exit to the balcony.

  He released her with a look of exaggerated remorse. “Thank you for the pleasant dance, Mrs. Collins.”

  Charlotte attempted to conceal her displeasure and thanked him quickly in return.

  He smiled, his eyes still too intense, and said, “I hope that we will speak again before the evening ends.”

  Mr. Edgington then turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd.

  Charlotte turned to her sister and said through gritted teeth, “I do not know what to think of that man.”

  She giggled. “Well, after a dance like that, there is no doubt about what he thinks of you.”

  “Oh no!” Charlotte cried. “Pray, do not say such a thing!”

  “Why are you so upset? What is wrong with having a gentleman interested in you?”

  Charlotte was beginning to doubt that Mr. Edgington was a gentleman, but she would not say as much to her sister, and certainly not in a public place.

  “After all, balls are for the express purpose of making matches. I have been working toward that end all evening.”

  “Lower your voice, Maria,” Charlotte warned in a ragged whisper.

  Maria gave Charlotte a cross look, but when she spoke again it was with a softer voice. “I have had two dances with Mr. Westfield, and he has proclaimed that were it possible to do so, he would dance every dance with me.”

  “I am pleased for you, but you must not be so public about your feelings.”

  “Maybe I am not the problem. Maybe you should be more overt about yours. Poor Mr. Edgington probably thinks you do not like him.”

  “Well, I…”

  “You do not like him?” Maria asked, confused. “I believed you did.”

  “Let us not speak of this here.” Charlotte glanced at those around them. Then in a louder tone, she asked, “Does not everyone look well tonight?”

  “Most people do look lovely, although I find some questionable hairstyles. I believe one woman has a bird’s nest in her coiffure this evening.”

  Charlotte was preparing to remind Maria that it was impolite to criticize other people’s fashions in public, but something niggled at her mind. A bird’s nest? She had seen a bird’s nest used as an accessory of late. But where?

  She thought for a moment and then the memory came to her. The theater. At Drury Lane in London! She had seen a woman with such an audacious affectation in her hair from the balcony of the theater. The woman whom Mr. Edgington had escorted. The plump one she had believed to be his poor country relation. Could it possibly be the same woman? Charlotte hardly thought so, but she leaned to her sister anyway. “Who is wearing the bird’s nest?”

  “Oh, I can never recollect her name. A plump woman. There was some gossip about her recently. Why can I not recall her name?” Maria scanned the room. “There!” She inclined her head toward a group of people beside the fireplace.

  Charlotte did not instantly see the bird’s nest, but when the group shifted, she saw a woman wearing elaborate wrap. Her hair dripped in bouncy ringlets. But was it the same wrap and the same ringlets that she had seen at the theater? Charlotte could not be sure until she saw the bird.

  The mystery woman shifted slightly, revealing more of her hairstyle. Charlotte’s heart began to flutter as the bird emerged. It was definitely the same one she had seen in the theater. It had to be. There could not be many women who would wear a bird in their hair in that very style. It must be the same woman she had seen with Mr. Edgington. She had the same build, and, now that Charlotte considered it, she thought it could be the same gown, although she was not certain.

  Who was this woman? She strained, but still she could not see her face. Was she accompanying Mr. Edgington this evening? If so, why ever would he have danced with her? Had his companion observed their dance? She certainly would not have been pleased to see the rapt attention he paid Charlotte. She would be jealous indeed.

  The woman turned, and Charlotte stifled a gasp. It was Mrs. Holloway!

  Mrs. Holloway, who was rumored to be having an affair with an unknown gentleman. She had been with Mr. Edgington in London. She was engaged in adultery! With Mr. Edgington.

  Clearly, Mr. Holloway was right to focus his attentions on a pig, for his wife was an undeserving creature.

  And even more clearly, Mr. Edgington was the worst of men.

  While Charlotte was deep in contemplation, Mrs. Farmington joined them with her granddaughter in tow. “Mrs. Collins, Miss Lucas, how lovely you look tonight.”

  Charlotte wondered how she could possibly look lovely. In all likelihood her realization about Mr. Edgington had robbed the color from her cheeks. But it would not do to behave as though something ill had occurred, and she schooled her features accordingly.

  Would not Mrs. Farmington, and indeed all of Westerham, relish this news? But she certainly did not care to reveal her knowledge of this illicit affair. She wished she knew nothing of it.

  Charlotte turned her attention to the older woman. She wore feathers in her colorless hair, but no bird. Her frost-colored curls bobbled as she walked and the plumage on her head waved back and forth. Miss Farmington was more attractively attired in a softly patterned blue dress with white trim. Her chestnut hair—also styled without a bird—glowed in the candlelight, and her eyes gleamed with malice as she looked a Maria. The harridan!

  “And how popular you both are!” Miss Farmington looked slyly at Charlotte.

  Oh! If this ninny had marked Mr. Edgington’s attentions, then everyone had. Of course, no one knew that he was Mrs. Holloway’s lover and was, therefore, a disreputable fellow. So she seemed safe.

  “Yes, we could not help but notice how much attention Mr. Edgington paid you, Mrs. Collins,” old Mrs. Farmington agreed.

  Charlotte clasped her hands into fists and felt the material of her gloves wrinkle in her palms. “I can assure you that I have done nothing to invite his attentions, if indeed he paid them to me.”

  “He had eyes only for you.” Miss Farmington sneered and made Charlotte want to clap her hand over her mouth. Fortunately, her next words changed the course of the conversation in a different, thought not entirely pleasant, direction. “And it seems that Mr. Westfield has eyes only for you, dear Maria. If I did not like you half so much, I believe I would be jealous.”

  Maria seemed taken aback by Miss Farmington’s abrupt tone. She thought a beat. “You have no reason to be jealous. Mr. Westfield is very kind, but we have no attachment.”

  “He selected you for the first two dances.”

  “Yes, but he has danced twice with you, has he not?”

  “I suppose he has.”

  “He is a delightful dancer.”

  “Yes.”

  “You see.” Mrs. Farmington leaned in closely and inclined her head toward Mr. Edgington’s group. “I was right. You two are indeed popular tonight.”

  “You are too kind,” Charlotte murmured, still barely able to latch on to a coherent thought.

  Mrs. Farmington spoke. “Are you certain you do not wish to tell us of an impending engagement to Mr. Edgington?”

  “No, indeed, for we have no understanding. We had only one dance, and one dance does not a be
trothal make. It does not even signify a friendship.” But a bird’s nest in the hair did signify an affair. “It barely even signifies an acquaintance.”

  “Well, you may mark my words, Mrs. Collins. Mr. Edgington will make a proposal to you very soon.”

  Charlotte certainly hoped not.

  She was spared a reply when Mr. Basford spoke. He had appeared beside them without drawing Charlotte’s immediate notice. The ladies curtseyed and greeted him. “Good evening, Mrs. Farmington, Mrs. Collins, Miss Lucas, Miss Farmington. Are you enjoying this evening’s entertainments?”

  Charlotte certainly noticed him now. His attire, while still somewhat informal and his cravat rumpled, was striking. His dark green coat drew her attention to his eyes, which beamed openness and honesty. Her tongue clung to the roof of her mouth, and all thoughts of Mr. Edgington and Mrs. Holloway and the bird vanished. They were none of her concern anyway.

  “Indeed we are, Mr. Basford,” Maria replied for her.

  Old Mrs. Farmington and Miss Farmington gave their agreement.

  “I am only sorry that my uncle could not be a little more in spirits tonight. He enjoys society and balls.”

  “Oh, is Colonel Armitage ill?” Mrs. Farmington asked, with concern in her voice. The elderly did not relish hearing of sickness, for fear that the words would somehow pass the condition on to them.

  “Don’t trouble yourself, Mrs. Farmington. He is quite well. It is just a touch of gout. He will be himself in no time. Until then he will have to be content to sit on the side of the action and enjoy his wine.”

  “We must be certain to give him our regards. Now come along, dear, I am in need of some refreshment.” Miss Farmington and her grandmother bid them good evening and headed toward the door to the refreshment room.

  Mr. Basford turned his attention to Maria. “I know my nephew enjoyed the favor of your dances together.”

  “You may tell him that I enjoyed them as well.”

  “It was nice to see you dancing as well, Mrs. Collins.”

  “I was just saying as much to her myself.”