Charlotte

by Linda Phelps

  Charlotte smiled as she anticipated the pleasures ahead.

  Because there were few little girls in her neighbourhood, Charlotte had always played with the three boys of the Long family. She could run as fast as they could, and she could manipulate a ball with skill equal to theirs. The boys accepted her as a comrade, treating her no differently because of her sex than they treated any boys who joined their games. Charlotte enjoyed the exercise and the competitions, in which she was sometimes the victor.

  Yet when she was twelve years old, these games began to bore her. Further, she found she was looking with fresh interest at George Long, who was two years older than she. Charlotte thought of him while doing her chores and while waiting to fall asleep. She pretended she was pricking his name in every piece of needlework she attacked.

  In time she realized that George Long had many of the qualities she had admired in Frederick, the hero of “Lovers’ Vows”. Charlotte, who had expected her knight to arrive from far away, began to think she might manage to find him closer to home.

  There were rules about such things, so it was necessary that he find her. From her study of novels, she knew that something must inspire him to see her, not as a playmate, but as a figure of romance. Accordingly she stopped wearing the faded dresses that had served so well when she played in their games. That is, she wore them when leaving Lucas Lodge, but quickly removed them when she achieved a safe distance. Under them, she wore one of her newer, more attractive gowns. Although she risked scolding and even mild imprisonment by these deceptions, none of the boys noticed the change. She was forced to take even more measures.

  “What is wrong with Charlotte’s hair?” shouted Will Long. The brothers stared at her, but she was conscious only of George’s appraisal.

  “Good lord, Charlotte! What have you done to your hair?”

  What she had done was make a furtive exit from her home with her hair bound up in the fashion she had seen on some visitors from London. Elaborate curls created by dint of hard labor fell just past her ears. Only girls who were ‘out’ were allowed to wear their hair in other than the cumbersome braid that kept them looking neat.

  Charlotte felt very much as if she were already a woman with her hair so arranged. “I decided that a bit of fashion would enhance our game.” She did not examine the feeling of exquisite sinfulness that arose from her piled hair.

  The Long boys assumed she was teasing them. They hooted and pointed their fingers at her. “Charlotte’s out!” they cried. “She means to dance at the next assembly ball!”

  When George realized they were making her unhappy by their remarks, he took pity upon her. “It was a good thought, Charlotte With your hair tied up like that it will be easier for you to run. That plait always hits you in the face when you jump over things.” He glared at his younger brothers, who eventually fell silent.

  As one would expect, scant minutes after their game of steeplechase had begun, Charlotte’s hair came loose. Wild locks flew about her face, catching in bushes as she ran past. As the time for her to return to her chores approached, she tried to tame the snarls into their customary neat braid. What if her mother saw her like this? But without a brush it was impossible. Near weeping, she fell to the grass.

  “Don’t you look a mess,” said James, the youngest boy.

  “You are exactly like that gypsy girl that tried to steal eggs from us last week,” said the second brother, John. “George isn’t she like the gypsy girl? If her face was dirtier, she’d be exactly like the gypsy girl.”

  Charlotte put her face in her hands. She had wanted George Long to find her beautiful, and see what had happened! Now he would think she was a wild girl, not suitable to be his wife.

  “Stop,” said George to his brothers. “Charlotte looks just like herself except that her hair is so terrible.” And he knelt behind her and helped her to form the braid. Her heart pounded in response to this kindness. George was rescuing her, just as Frederick had rescued his mother!

  But as always, there was an obstacle to true happiness. The younger Long boys, watching their brother in this task, resumed their taunting.

  “George is a lady’s maid!” shouted one.

  “George and Charlotte are lovers!” shouted the other.

  “George and the gypsy girl are lovers!”

  To his credit, George ignored them until he was sure Charlotte could manage without him. Then he rose to his feet, on his face a look so ominous that the younger boys ran away shrieking.

  “I thank you, George for your kindness—“began Charlotte, but he had already run from her on a quest to impose punishment.

  Events had not occurred according to her plans, but she could not but feel that a degree of intimacy had been achieved between her and George Long. In all, she felt satisfied that his courtship of her had begun.

  As so often happened, the next several days featured cold rain, which precluded any possibility of resuming either the game of steeplechase or the game of advancing intimacy. Charlotte had leisure during those days to enhance the memory of the touch of his hands in her hair.

  She looked forward to the day the playmates would assemble again. As Amelia had with Anhalt, she would offer her heart at George Long. Perhaps on first receiving this gift he would be shy, as had been Anhalt, but in a short time he would realize the wonderful thing that had happened to him.

  The children often played a game in which one of them hid an object—today a china cat filched from the Long breakfast room—while the others had their backs turned. The goal was to be the first one to find the cat and bring it back to the home base. The one who did so had the privilege of hiding it the next time. They had further invented a ranking system which involved giving points to the finder and the other players in the order in which they returned to the starting place. The job of keeping track of these points fell to Charlotte, “because you’re a girl,” the boys agreed, but in actuality because Charlotte had the best grasp of arithmetic and the best memory of the number of points each competitor had earned.

  “Here comes the Gypsy girl!” one of the smaller boys shouted. Charlotte had the pleasure of seeing George Long pick him up off his feet and shake him. She recognized this brief punishment as an example of the gallantry that George would always show in her presence. George was a knight worthy of her.

  There were five players this day, three Long boys, the son of their housekeeper, and Charlotte. The boys jumped and ran in circles and shoved each other as they waited for her to organize their activity.

  “It’s George’s turn to hide the cat,” she announced, “so we must all turn our backs until he cries, ‘Ready!’ And James, I will be watching to see that you stay facing back throughout.”

  When George had left with the cat, and James was quite sure he was out of earshot, the little boy loudly whispered, “Charlotte loves George. Charlotte wants to kiss George.” The other boys immediately repeated his words in tones that mocked all thought of love or kisses.

  “I do not!” cried Charlotte,. The boys continued their taunting, so that they did not even hear George shout, “Ready!” Charlotte’s anger grew until finally she turned to the instigator and said, “Just you be quiet, James Long. Not one more word.”

  James’s response was to purse his lips and make what he believed were kissing noises in her direction. “Give me a kiss, Charlotte Lucas,” he said. “A nice kiss.” The other little boys cheered him on. “That’s what I want.”

  Charlotte felt her face grow hot with anger and humiliation. “Stop it!” she cried. This command only inspired James and his audience to further scorn.

  “Charlotte wants to marry George,” James shouted, and the other little boys fell into paroxysms of shrill laughter

  Charlotte could stand no more. She lunged at James and grabbed his shoulders to shake him, but he squirmed away easily. She ran after him and slapped him on the side of his head. He retaliated by making his hand into a fist and hitting her in the eye. The other boys shrieked enco
uragement to him. Charlotte grabbed James’s hair and pulled as hard as she was able. James hit her again, this time on the nose, which began immediately to bleed.

  George Long, first puzzled by the lack of response to his cry of “Ready!”, then recognizing from the noises the children were making that there was something very wrong at the home base, ran toward the commotion. He arrived just in time to see Charlotte, bleeding and crying, kick his brother on his knee.

  Before James could return this attack, George grabbed him up. The little boy, fearless in his anger, struggled manfully. He wanted to land one more blow on Charlotte Lucas’s Gypsy face. But George was too strong for him. “What has happened?” asked George, looking from one to the other.

  In time he met the eye of the middle brother, John. “It was all Charlotte’s fault,” said John, pointing. “She was saying that she loved you, George, and wanted to kiss you and marry you. James had to protect your good name.”

  Charlotte, furious anew, screamed, “I did not! You lie!”

  George had a look of concern. He watched Charlotte wipe more blood off her face with her filthy apron. “I am telling you boys to go home. James, you must tell Mama that you have been fighting with Charlotte. She will, I am sure, punish you. You know you are not to hit girls.”

  “She’s not a girl!” James said. “She’s just ugly Charlotte Lucas. And she started it.”

  “We will hear both sides of the story,” George said, his words admirably adult. “I will escort Charlotte home. You others, leave at once.” The boys were sobered by this directive to confess to their mother. How would she respond? Would she tell their father? James, with an exaggerated limp, turned toward their house, the others trailing him.

  “Come Charlotte, you need to be cleaned.” George turned her gently in the direction of Lucas Lodge.

  With this gesture, Charlotte’s anger faded to nothing. Even the pain in her eye and her bleeding nose were no longer important. Before they had walked more than a few paces, she turned to George.

  “It’s true,” she said. “Not that I said those words, but that those words are true.” There. It was done. In a moment she would turn and see the joy on his face.

  George let loose of her hand. He continued walking beside her in silence. Charlotte became alarmed. Had she not made her feelings clear to him? As she prepared to speak he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him.

  “Charlotte, you must not say such things.”

  “But why? You have taught me of love, George.”

  “Why? Because you are too young to think of such things. Because it is unwomanly of you to speak to me in that fashion.”

  “But I do love you. Why mayn’t I say it?”.

  He looked at her in silence for a moment, weighing her words. “Charlotte, I am happy to know you are my friend. I hope you always will be. But I am not old enough to think of an attachment such as the one you offer.”

  “I’ll wait until you are.”

  George set them back on the path. After a few more stumbling steps he said, “I do not feel as you do, Charlotte.”

  “When we are older—.”

  “I am certain I will never feel as you do,” he said firmly. “You must forget you have said these things to me.”

  Charlotte’s nose began to bleed again and her eye to throb. They were in sight of Lucas Lodge. She stood up very straight. “I didn’t mean any of it,” she said. “I wanted to see if you would believe me. It was a game.”

  “That’s right,” George said, and took her into the house where her mother, after exclaiming at length, called for a basin and soap and soft linen.

  “I thank you, George, for escorting Charlotte home. But how does she come to be in such a state?”

  “She was playing with my brothers, Lady Lucas. I had left them alone for a moment, and there was a disagreement which was settled in the wrong fashion, I’m afraid.”

  When he had gone, Lady Lucas asked, “Now what did happen, Charlotte, that you are in such a condition?”

  “James hit me for no reason. I did nothing.”

  Lady Lucas looked doubtful. “There is more of it than that, isn’t there, Charlotte?” She dabbed at the child’s face with wet linen.”

  “No, Mama, I promise you. James hit me for no reason at all.”

  “We will see what Mrs. Long has to say about that,” Lady Lucas said.

  Whatever conversation passed between the two mothers ended the pleasant friendship they had enjoyed for many years. Each in the course of the discussion said such things of the other’s offspring, that it was not until the children were grown that the mothers could again be at ease in each other’s company.

  Lady Lucas questioned Charlotte until the girl offered a believable narration of the battle and what had led up to it. After deciding against whipping the girl, Lady Lucas ordered, “You must understand. It is not proper for young ladies to exhibit their feelings. It is not acceptable. Do you hear me? Do you take my meaning?” For good measure she made Charlotte repeat the rules again and again so she could write them correctly in her copy book.

  Charlotte protested. Her mother continued, “You want to be an actress? Well, here is your stage.” Lady Lucas, with a sweeping gesture, indicated the sitting room, the house, the gardens, the world in which they lived. “Whether you feel love or hate, sadness or joy, shame or triumph, you must not let it show in your face or voice. You will not bring shame upon your family.”

  The story of the battle spread swiftly through the neighbourhood. James’s version, because it was scandalous, was the one accepted by the children who heard it. When not under the protection of her mother or father, Charlotte was ridiculed about her love for George, her desire to kiss him, her desire to have a child by him, by every playmate she had ever known.

  Her humiliation was extreme. Her only safety lay in following Lady Lucas’s rules for proper behavior. When she grew old enough to attend Assembly Balls and private dinners and parties, there seemed always to be one of the Long boys present who looked at her in a knowing fashion, or some other neighbourhood youth who felt his superiority over her because of her childish bit of forwardness. George Long, for his part, never again met her without greeting and taking his leave with the utmost formality.

  In short, the story was never entirely forgotten, even as the taunting children became adults. When couples paired up to dance while Charlotte sat unclaimed, she fancied that the young men were fearful that she might make advances to them if they engaged her. When neighbours came to call at Lucas Lodge, she sat with her needlework, eyes down, lest she meet the satirical look of some young man who had once been her playmate. No longer a noisy happy child, she spoke only to a few intimate friends who cherished her for her sensible conversation. For the others, she performed an act of mild indifference that would have been a credit to the finest actress in the land.

  As the years marched relentlessly on, Charlotte thought less and less of Frederick. She would have welcomed a much more mundane lover, had one appeared, for she approached the age when marriage was no longer an expectation.

  By her twenty-seventh year her hopes for any lover at all had faded. She had become plain, without ever having a period of beauty.

  The future stretched before her in a long, barren path. Luckily, she had mastered the skills of acting, and no one detected the rebellious, romantic core she hid with a pose of rationality and indifference.

  Charlotte

  Book 1

  Chapter One

  “THE BENNETS ARE COMING to call,” Maria Lucas informed her sister and mother. The girl had spotted their neighbors filing through the hedge that separated the properties of the two families. It was not unusual for the daughters to run to visit each other at the least excuse, but for the Bennet women to appear en masse signified more than ordinary neighborly intercourse.

  “They have come to inquire about Papa’s visit to Netherfield,” said Charlotte Lucas calmly. Any scrap of information about the new
tenant was thoroughly discussed by servants and those served alike. By such visits did the news of Meryton travel swiftly through the village and its environs.

  Without preamble Mrs. Bennet, to whom subtlety was an unknown quality, began, “Have you seen our new neighbor, Lady Lucas?. “The Bennet daughters waited eagerly for an answer.

  “Not I,” said Lady Lucas, “but Sir William called on Mister Bingley only three days ago. It appears he plans to hunt which is, as you know, what men care about most.”

  Mrs. Bennet opened her lips to speak but before she could do so, her second daughter directed the conversation. “And did he find the young man agreeable?” asked Elizabeth Bennet.

  Charlotte caught her eye. Although they had never spoken of the matter, she had long been aware that Elizabeth sometimes pre-empted her mother’s questions, lest the woman say something uncommonly foolish.

  “Very agreeable indeed,” said Lady Lucas. “Sir William believes he will be a delightful addition to our dinners and evening parties,

  “I believe he has a very good income,” said Mrs. Bennet. Charlotte lowered her eyes to the purse she netted, smiling inwardly at the speed with which Mrs. Bennet brought the group to the heart of the matter.

  “Indeed. Sir William hears that he has above five thousand a year!”

  “What a fine thing that will be for one of the young ladies of the parish,” said Mrs. Bennet. All eyes turned to Jane Bennet, universally considered to be the beauty of the neighbourhood. That young woman feigned not to notice, watching her hands as they worked to turn silk thread into a chain.