by Linda Phelps
With this thought in her mind she called for Nancy. “I would like to air the bedding in the windows today, turn the feather beds, and neaten the items in the closet. Come help me.”
The girl was silent. With her head down, she scurried up the stairs. By the time Charlotte reached the landing, she had already stripped the quilts and linens from the bed and was placing the pillows on the open window sill. Thanks to Lady Catherine’s suggestion, a closet in the chamber had been improved by the addition of a set of shelves, which, unhandy for storing dresses was perfect for storing bed clothes.. Charlotte watched Nancy with one eye as she herself began the task of refolding and stacking the items of linen and clothing in the closet. Thus it was that she discovered the treasure hidden under a column of her husband’s shirts.
“Why, what are these?” she exclaimed before she thought.
“What have you found, Mrs. Collins?” asked Nancy, abandoning her attentions to the bed clothes.
Charlotte’s fingers had identified what lay beneath the linens, and she immediately decided that until she had examined the articles, she did not want Nancy to be talking of her discovery to the other servants in the parish. “No, Nancy,” said she. “I want you to go downstairs and finish your preparations for dinner. There is nothing here to interest us. I was mistaken.”
The look of curiosity faded from the girl’s bright face. “As you say, madam.”
“Ask Mr. Collins if he wants a cup of tea.” She waited until she was sure the girl was gone and then extracted her treasure from the closet. Closing the door to the bed chamber, she spread her discovery on the bed.
Here were all four volumes of Mrs. Radcliff’s The Mystery of Udolpho!
Charlotte well remembered laughing at Elizabeth’s account of Mr. Collins first evening in the company of the Bennet family. That had been, of course, before she had approached him to make him her husband. Mr. Bennet had suggested that their guest read to the family as they worked, and Jane had, in all innocence, given him a novel the girls had been reading aloud to each other of an evening.
“He started back, as if he had been handed a dead rat or something equally repulsive, “related Elizabeth. She deepened her voice and in perfect mimicry intoned, “I never read novels.”
Charlotte had laughed in appreciation of the picture her friend had painted. “And what did you sisters say? I know the whole family is fond of novels.”
“Kitty just stared at him, as if he were a type of unknown creature, a kangaroo, perhaps, or a raccoon, while Lydia said, ‘Not read novels? However do you get through a wet afternoon?”
“How did he respond?”
“He was much insulted, but Papa suggested some other books that might serve, and wouldn’t you guess, he picked Fordyces’s Sermons to Young Women. You can imagine how far he read in that before Lydia interrupted with some silly comment. He was not, no matter what he hoped, reading to young women who were eager for instruction in correct behavior. “Poor man,” Charlotte had said, laughing. “When am I to meet this most proper of house guests?”
Now, examining the well-thumbed books that had been hidden in the little closet, Charlotte smiled. So Mr. Collins liked to read novels, did he? She found that while she deplored his hypocrisy, she felt for the first time a certain degree of affection for her husband, inspired by the knowledge that he, as she herself, took pleasure in such a frivolous entertainment. Further, like herself, the person he presented to others was not entirely the person he was at his core. That knowledge was somehow comforting. Searching hastily, she discovered two more works by Mrs. Radcliffe, only one of which she had previously read. She took the first volume of the unfamiliar book and read two pages. Yes, this novel would provide her with hours of pleasure. She smiled in anticipation.
There were two problems. First, how should she approach her husband with her happy discovery without causing him distress? He would feel shame to have been found out, and would fear that somehow his vice would be discovered by his parishioners, or worse, by Lady Catherine.
Secondly, Nancy would be examining the contents of the closet as soon as Mr. Collins and Charlotte left the house for any period of time. Even if the girl could not read, she could recognize a book when she saw it. The fact that it had been hidden away would give her the hint she needed to decide she had knowledge of a scandal, the telling of which would make her famous in the neighbourhood.
After consideration, Charlotte collected the little stack of books and. without any sense of sin, carried them to Mr. Collins’s study.
“Mr. Collins,” said Charlotte, the picture of girlish pleasure, “just see what I have found!” She placed the volumes before him. “Isn’t this delightful?”
Her husband turned a number of interesting shades of red. “Where—”he began.
“In the closet in our bed chamber, hidden under some linen. I suppose they must have been left by –what was his name?—the rector who held this post before you.”
“Yes--yes. I have never seen them before,” said Mr. Collins, his alarm fading. “We must decide what to do with these. Perhaps we should burn them—”
“Oh, Mr. Collins! How can you say so? These are very famous books. I have been meaning to read them for many years, but had not the opportunity. Now I have it.”
“My dear Charlotte, you are too innocent to recognize that these are novels!”
“Indeed they are. Everyone reads them. They are said to be delightfully exciting. I am eager to begin.”
“My dearest wife,” said Mr. Collins, “I must forbid you to think of such a thing. You have duties to me and to this house which must not be ignored while you read such decadent stories.”
“Mr. Collins, I promise I shall only read of an evening when I have no other responsibilities.”
“And what if Lady Catherine should discover you in this pursuit? She would consider that I, your husband, am remiss in my supervision of you.”
“Husband, how could she ever think that? I am sure that she reads such things herself, as does her daughter. If you were to learn of the mysteries here described, you might find yet something else to discuss with her.”
“I do not believe that Lady Catherine—”
“Indeed, I cannot be sure, but the next time we are called to Rosings, you should speak on the topic, just to discover her feelings. In the meantime, let us keep these books here, in the large drawer of your desk, until we are sure.” Suiting action to words, she tucked them away where it would be easy for her husband to make use of them.
“Wife, I am sure that the better people would never—”
“Now, Mr. Collins,” said Charlotte, “you remember Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy do you not? Elizabeth Bennet told me that during her stay at Netherfield she saw both of them, and Mr. Bingley’s sisters enjoying such books. Surely they are the kind of people of which you speak.”
This statement was as fictional as anything Mrs. Radcliffe had ever consigned to paper, for which crime Charlotte felt no remorse.
“Well, perhaps if we can discover that Lady Catherine does not object to the reading of novels, we can keep them here for our amusement,” said Mr. Collins. “But what about our servants? They will surely report the fact that we are reading for pleasure throughout the parish.”
“Do not be alarmed, Mr. Collins, Nancy cannot read a word. To her, these will be just more books of the sort you already have on shelves here in this room. She will think them of no interest to herself or to anyone else.”
“My dear Charlotte, perhaps you are in the right. We will let the situation resolve itself. In the meantime, I think, as a clergyman, it would be only right that I examine these books myself to see if their reputation as either delightful or sinful reading is deserved.”
“Of course, Mr. Collins, and should you determine they are not proper reading, I will help you burn them.”
“Do not decide in haste, my dear wife. I will begin this very day to explore the contents of the works of Mrs. Radcliffe, and will render y
ou my judgment on the matter in a very short time.”
Charlotte assumed an expression of solemn obedience, but she foresaw that a certain amount of the tedium of her new life was about to be alleviated. She had to turn her face to hide her smile.
Pleased with the knowledge that her manipulation was adding pleasure to her life, she decided to try to improve a second matter, not only for her own sake but for the sake of any of the congregation who might share her distress each Sunday.
Mr. Collins spent hours composing his sermons, frequently calling her to listen to a particularly pungent point. Then, when satisfied with the words, he practiced his delivery of those words, sometimes for her approval, often while stomping alone about his bookroom, listening for the effect of his more sonorous declarations. Sadly, he spoke in an entirely uniform tone, a little too loud, and a little too lacking in expression. And sadly, the sermons contained rather more words than were suitable to a congregation as varied as his was.
Charlotte, who sat demurely in the front row of the church while he spoke, an expression of admiration pasted to her face, received respite whenever Lady Catherine joined her on the pew. Then Mr. Collins spoke only to his patroness, and in order to please her, extemporized even longer examples to fit the text he was illustrating. Thus free to consider her surroundings, Charlotte became aware that behind her people were shuffling their feet, coughing, clearing their throats, and in some quarters giving forth with yawns. She imagined them flailing their arms a bit as they yawned and then shaking their heads in a further attempt stay enough awake to attend to the sermon.
In short, the congregation, not even excepting Lady Catherine, was frequently bored and miserable. Particularly in the cold of winter they found that sitting still for such a time led to frozen feet and fingers.
Mr. Collins was unaware of any of these attempts his parishioners made to stay warm and alert. Thus when the next Thursday he bemoaned the rigours necessary to create a new sermon, Charlotte exclaimed, “What an onerous duty, Mr. Collins! How lucky the congregation is to have a clergyman such as yourself to teach them the ways to be good.”
“Thank you, my dear. I am sure my reward for my labours will soon be recognized in demonstrations of their Christian love for their neighbours.”
“Oh, yes, I am sure that reward awaits. But Mr. Collins, I do so worry that you will take a chill, standing so long at the pulpit in this cold weather. What would occur should you become too ill to preach the lesson?”
“Why my dear,” said Mr. Collins with kind indulgence, “Mr. Jones would be able to replace me, as he did on the Sundays I spent at Longbourn and Lucas Lodge. The people would miss me, yes, but sometimes these things cannot be helped.”
“I cannot bear to think of it!” cried Charlotte, appearing to hold back tears. “While Mr. Jones has his uses, he is not you. Mr. Collins, the worshippers will feel entirely deprived should they not have you before them.”
“My dear Charlotte, you paint a pitiable picture, but what is to be done other than hope I remain in health?”
“This, Mr. Collins. Shorten your sermons during these winter days, so that you do not endanger your health by standing in one place for so long. Inactivity whilst in a situation of coldness is surely a danger to your well being.”
“Shorten my sermons! My dear wife—”
Charlotte allowed a degree of panic to pitch her voice high. “If you could trot or dance as you speak, if you had freedom to move rapidly about or blow on your hands, activities that would keep you warm, I would not worry as I do.”
“You worry for me, Charlotte?” Mr. Collins said, taking her hands. For a moment she thought he might pull her onto his lap to console her, but he did not.
“More than I have told you before,” said Charlotte, eyes cast down.
“My dear wife!”
“Nor do I think you should spend your energy on the writing of such long sermons. You have the talent to condense lessons, so as to make the sermons even a few minutes shorter. Please, Mr. Collins, for my sake and for the sake of those others who look to you for guidance.” Charlotte introduced a bit of Mrs. Bennet into her performance. “Think, my dear, of my poor nerves!”
Her husband objected, “I have always believed a proper sermon must last an hour, and if the topic demands, even longer.”
“Consider shortening them only during these weeks of winter. The congregants cannot properly appreciate your words if they are shivering.”
“Lady Catherine would not like it. She has on many occasions found a time to praise me for my sermons. Why only last Sunday she mentioned the thoroughness with which I made my point.”
“Try it once, and if Lady Catherine objects you will, of course, return to the longer sort of sermon she is accustomed to. You may explain to her that it was only consideration for me that caused you to make the experiment But I will leave you to consider my suggestion. Remember, It is your health that concerns me.”
Mr. Collins did think of what his wife had said. He certainly did not mind speaking for an hour or more, but upon reflection he acknowledged that the creation of so many words, which must then be applied to paper and learnt to memory, was not always easy. By habit he spoke. “Lady Catherine—” and stopped himself. On a few occasions Charlotte had, with a meaningful nod of her head, drawn his notice to his patroness as she sat imperially in her pew. The great lady had her eyes shut. Was she pondering his words?
Or had she fallen into a doze?
Perhaps Lady Catherine did not always manage to attend throughout the sermon. Nor, Mr. Collins recalled, was she the only member of the congregation who was so afflicted, not that lesser beings could be expected to equal Lady Catherine’s nobility in grace and attentiveness.
Mr. Collins called for his wife. “But how, my dear, can I shorten a sermon? I find that I often wish I could speak for two hours.”
“Although your words would be doubly instructive to your congregation, to do so would surely weaken your constitution!” cried Charlotte. “It must not be thought of. And don’t concern yourself about that. I will help you, Mr. Collins. I will read over what you have written, act as your sexton, as it were. I have not had the privilege of attending Oxford, as you have, but I flatter myself that I can help you make your sentences more direct.”
“You think they’re not to the point?”
“Oh, no! Remember it is only my concern for your health, standing as you do so long in the cold sacristy,” and she, leaned over him, smoothing and hair and rubbing his neck.”
“Perhaps you are right, dear Charlotte.”
And I, dear husband, will learn much from a close examination of your prose. I will consider myself honoured, if you accept my help.”
Thus it was that Charlotte Collins, the minister’s young wife, saved the congregation a few minutes of tedium each winter Sunday.
As Charlotte had foreseen, not one celebrant, not even Lady Catherine, complained about the alteration. Further, the sermons did not increase in length once the milder weather arrived.
Chapter Five
My dearest Lizzy,
I was very amused by your description of the bonnet Mary has decorated. Poor girl. & Mr. Wickham pursues Mary King, does he? It is just as well, I consider that you are above him in manners, if not above him in income.
You will want to know about my activities since the snow has cleared. As you might imagine, I have been called on by every matron in the parish. You will recall how unused I am to being an object of observation, so I have been required to find new ways to interact with strangers.
Mr. Collins and I must return each of these calls, which would be a pleasant enough duty if any of the neighbours, had the gift of conversation that you have. Sadly, most of them are shy; perhaps they consider that we are above them in status because of our ties to Lady Catherine. It was also, as you might expect, immediately known that my father has been knighted. As a consequence, most ladies speak to Mr. C as though awed by his rank, or they keep their eyes
demurely on their work in hand. As we speak mostly of the weather, which is currently notable only for the amount of dirt that proceeds from melting snow, our calls are not very lively.
I am pursued by one of the wealthier women in the neighbourhood, a Mrs. Marsden, who is even more outspoken than Mr. Darcy when she is displeased! I do not entirely trust her. She tells stories about Lady Catherine, stories which do not show the great lady in a very favourable light, & expects me to agree with her. I often do, in my heart, but she will not get me to say so! I believe I am too wise for that. I cannot guess what her efforts to get me to compromise myself are meant to accomplish. I do know that should I make one untoward remark, it would be repeated throughout the parish within hours.
She has a shy & very handsome daughter who questions me about the entertainments available in my previous existence. There are, I believe, many evening parties in the neighbourhood, but she & her mother are not invited, probably because the mother is so lacking in tact and discretion. Mr. Collins & I are also not often invited, the people being either above or below us in fortune and status. (I know you will think that Mr. Collins’s proclivity to dominate conversations may be a cause, but he is, in fact, much improved in this area.)
In truth, I am much amused by Mrs. Marsden. In some ways she reminds me of Lady Catherine, although unlike Lady Catherine, she seems to enjoy humour. . Both are outspoken and entirely convinced that their every remark is one to be heeded by the listener
I must, of course, pretend not to be amused so I save my laughter for later when I feed the ducks and chickens. I think you will not like her, but you may appreciate her conversation. She is an excellent gossip, & to her I owe knowledge of all the little secrets the parish thinks hidden from me. When you come to stay, see if you can get her to speak of Mr. Darcy, with whom she has had past interactions. Her opinion of him is much like yours.
I have made another friend, but such an unlikely one that I will not speak of her until we are together, which day is drawing nearer. I am more eager to see you than I can tell. What a number of things we shall have to discuss!
