by Linda Phelps
Your loving Charlotte
. In time the snow disappeared so that once again people could travel to see each other. Charlotte was duly called upon by the women of the families she saw in church, and as was required, returned their calls promptly. In general they were mothers of large broods of children, some of whom invariably accompanied them, making conversation largely impossible. However, several of these women had daughters of an age that entitled them to be regarded, not as girls, but as young women. Once they became comfortable with her, they turned the conversation to Assembly balls, which were evidently only scheduled for two or three moonlit nights during each year. Sometimes the more forward ones mentioned their dream of a ball at Rosings. Charlotte was reminded of Lydia Bennet’s demands to Mr. Bingley.
The woman to whom she came closest to friendship was Mrs. Marsden. a widow with one daughter. She shared with Lady Catherine a fine sense of her own superiority to other people: she had, however, enough civility to curb her imperious comments when she called on Mr. and Mrs. Collins. The clergyman, at all times managed to get praise of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Mrs. Marsden and her daughter Barbara smiled and nodded as he expected. Both paid proper respect to Mr.Collins, although as events transpired, Charlotte sometimes wondered what they said about him—and her—when they were not present.
“Yes, Mr. Collins,” said Mrs. Marsden, whenever an interval in his words allowed her an opening. “Upon my word, you are fortunate indeed to have such a magnificent and generous patroness as Lady Catherine.”
“I will go so far as to say the entire parish is fortunate,” said Mr. Collins. “There is not another lady in all of England who cares so intimately in the concerns of her people.”
“As you say, we, her people, have much to be grateful for.”
Mr. Collins nodded in approval. Charlotte was relieved that her husband did not detect the sarcasm in Mrs. Marsden’s words,
Luckily, Mr. Collins was not so eager to make calls as he was to receive them. Thus it was that Charlotte, having found her way to the Marsden house, was able to indulge her desire to hear what this parishioner actually thought of the Great Lady.
During one such call, the conversation moved again to the idea of a ball at Rosings. “Has there ever been such a thing?” asked Charlotte. She found, as the weeks wore on, that she herself would have welcomed an entertainment more stimulating than dinner at Rosings and a game of whist in which she was invariably partnered with her husband. She had asked this question once of Mr. Collins, but being himself new to the neighbourhood, he could only speculate upon the magnificence that would have held sway had such a ball occurred.
Mrs. Marsden said, “I recall that when Lord de Bourgh was alive the neighbourhood was frequently entertained. However, when he died, all thoughts of festivity seem to have died with him.”
“Of course, a period of mourning would be required,” Charlotte said.
“This mourning has gone on for ten years, and it seems to restrict only general entertainment, such as Assembly Balls and large parties as Rosings. I notice no pronounced wearing of black. Do you?”
Grateful that Mr. Collins was not present to hear these frank remarks, Charlotte managed to nod and appear doubtful at the same time. “Perhaps when the Lady Anne has had an improvement in her health—”
“Her lack of health does not prevent Lady Catherine from subscribing to our Assembly balls, yet she seldom gives more than a pound or two, and she never attends.”
“You must remember that the daughter, Lady Anne, is in frail health. Perhaps she wants to spare her the exertion and excitement until she is more hardy,” said Charlotte.
“The girl seemed well enough before her father died, but since then I have only seen her at church, and to speak honestly, I do not expect such a transformation.”
“Poor Lady Anne,” said Charlotte. “I suppose she feels the loss of her father yet.”
“Still,” said Barbara, “I do wish Lady Catherine would occasionally present us with a ball, Lady Anne could sit on a sofa and watch and listen, and the rest of us could have our fun.”
“I do not believe Lady Catherine recognizes any such obligation to us,” said Mrs. Marsden.
“I should so like to have the chance to wear a real ball gown,” sighed Barbara. “Mrs. Collins, did you have many balls before you came to us here?”
“Quite a few. The Assembly was very active, and shortly before I married a young man and his sisters moved into the finest house in the neighbourhood. They held an excellent ball for us. I hope” she added, “that Lady Anne will soon be well enough to make such an undertaking feasible.”
“Lady Anne would not look handsome in a ball gown, I believe,” said Barbara. “As I say, I have only seen her at church, and not often there, but she is very small for a girl her age, and very pale. Who would dance with her?”
Charlotte saw that Barbara had no fear that she would lack partners in such a situation.
“Any number of young men would dance with her,” said Mrs. Marsden, “and marry her as well if they could. Her appearance will not matter since her wealth is known.”
Unable to resist this gossip, Charlotte asked, “So no young man is known to be attached to her?”
“Certainly no one in this neighbourhood,” said Mrs. Marsden. “None of the local men are suitably wealthy.”
“Unhappy girl,” said Charlotte. “What a lonely life she must lead.”
“I have heard,” continued the woman, “that she has a cousin she is expected to marry. He is said to be vastly rich, but that is always the way. The rich marry the rich and leave the rest of us to get by as we can.”
“I have seen him,” cried Barbara, “and so have you. Do you not remember that he came to church last Easter? A very handsome man.”
“Yes. A Mr. Darcy. There was no difficulty recognizing him as Lady Catherine’s nephew. He had the same air of pride and superiority. None of us were worth his notice.”
“I would happily be in poor health if he would choose me to marry,” said Barbara.
“Mr. Darcy!” said Charlotte. “I had forgotten that he was Lady Catherine’s nephew.” She felt a blush rising on her cheeks as she recalled the way her husband had intruded himself upon Mr. Darcy’s presence at the Netherfield ball. It had not been her breach of etiquette, but she felt shame for the incident none the less.
“You know him?”
“Yes, he visited his friend Mr. Bingley in the house I spoke of, outside Meryton.”
“And did you not find him to be very arrogant?”
“Perhaps a little,” said Charlotte cautiously. “He does present himself as such,” Then, recalling that anything she said on the subject of Mr. Darcy would be repeated throughout the parish, she added, “but he is, like Lady Catherine, of such breeding and heritage that we must admire him as we do her.”
Mrs. Marsden looked at her. Then in a conspiratorial tone she said, “Yes, Mrs. Collins. Indeed we must, if we know what’s good for us.”
“Mother, do not make Mrs. Collins uncomfortable. Her feelings about Lady Catherine are doubtless very different from ours. Consider that she knows the lady much better than we ever can. Think of how often she dines at Rosings. Surely she has seen manners from her that we cannot expect to observe on our casual acquaintance.”
“Doubtless she does see the lady differently,” said her mother, “but if I may speak frankly, I think Mrs. Collins pays quite a price for her dinners at Rosings. Is that not so?”
“I hope I am always appreciative of any kindnesses shown me,” said Charlotte. In a few minutes she managed to excuse herself from this very entertaining conversation. As she guided the pony through the lanes back to the rectory, she decided that listening to Mrs. Marsden was almost as exhilarating as saying the words herself.
Lady Catherine was in the habit of dropping by the rectory any time she went to the village, usually accompanied by her daughter, Lady Anne. On most such occasions they would enter the house, inspired by L
ady Catherine’s desire to see that furnishings were placed where she felt they should be placed and that Charlotte had control of her servants. She bustled from sitting room to kitchen to bedchambers in search of situations that could be improved under her tutelage. Mr. Collins followed, apologizing for faults before knowing if they existed.
On one such occasion, Lady Anne begged fatigue and requested to be allowed to wait on a sofa in the sitting room while her mother and Mr. Collins hunted deviations from Lady Catherine’s standards on the upper floors of the rectory. “I am too tired to run about this house,” said the girl, “and it would be a kindness of Mrs. Collins to keep me company.
“Did I not tell you to bring Mrs. Jenkinson with us?” asked Lady Catherine sharply.
“I cannot converse all day and every day with Mrs. Jenkinson,” said the girl. “Go. Inspect what you will inspect. Mrs. Collins and I will amuse each other.”
Lady Catherine was unable to resist her desire to examine the Collins’s arrangements. She felt that her greater experience should ever be used to improve the lives of those who depended on her for their livelihoods. It was a rare day she did not find something amiss in the rectory. So with efficient enthusiasm she began the day’s inspection by preceding Mr. Collins on an excursion to explore the attic of the house.
“May I offer you some refreshment, Lady Anne?” Charlotte said.
The girl’s weary tone had disappeared. “Yes, please. Have you any biscuits? I would quite like to eat some biscuits without having my mother’s commentary about my appetite in my ears.”
Somewhat shocked, Charlotte rang for Nancy, who denied the existence of any biscuits in the larder but offered to supply toast and jam.
“But that would be perfect. Be liberal with the butter, if you please.” Lady Anne said. “I seldom get something so mundane at home. Always French pastries and other unsubstantial treats. But make haste.” When Nancy had sped off, she added, “One can never know how long my mother will be engaged in criticizing you household arrangements.”
Charlotte could not immediately respond. She had not expected such disdainful speech from the girl about her mother. “She has been very helpful to us with her suggestions,” said she. “Mr. Collins and I are exceedingly grateful.”
“I’m sure you are. I’m sure the previous occupant and his wife were too. She, poor soul, exhausted herself with her efforts to please my mother and the people of the parish. She died several years before he did.”
“That is quite tragic,” said Charlotte.
“I think she was glad of it,” said Lady Anne. “She cannot have been happy, dependent as she was upon the necessity to please a husband, a congregation, and my mother.”
Astonished by this conversation, Charlotte groped for the proper words. “I’m sure she took pleasure in fulfilling her duties to those whom she cared about.”
“Mr. McDaniel, her husband, was a worthy gentleman, to be sure; educated and well spoken, with a sincere devotion to his parishioners,” said Lady Anne
“He seems to have been an excellent occupant of this house and position,” said Charlotte, wishing that Lady Anne would say something similar about Mr. Collins, but she did not.
Nancy entered with a tray of toasted bread and jam. Immediately Lady Anne helped herself to a slice and then to another. “Thank you, Nancy. Have you anything else to give me?”
“Nothing today, Lady,” said Nancy.
“But that is untrue” said Charlotte. “Nancy, how can you say so? Lady Anne, if you will wait one minute, Nancy will bring us tea.”
“I hear them returning,” said Lady Anne, indicating the stairway with a nod of her head. “Mrs. Collins, I will apologize now for my several lapses in manners, but I use as my excuse the fact that I am almost never out of the presence of either my mother or Mrs. Jenkinson. I cannot spend hours making myself known to you. I have not the time. You have doubtless heard that I am not expected to live for many years.” She snatched another piece of toast from the tray, slathering it thickly with jam.
“My husband and I will pray that you live a long life,” said Charlotte. What astonishing thing would this girl say next?
“I thank you for that.” Footsteps descended the stairs. “I hope we will find ways to converse privately in future. I hope we can achieve true intimacy. I believe you are a person to whom I could speak honestly, even as you persist in acting the part of a conventional clergyman’s wife.”
Acting a part! How was it that Lady Anne, this girl who led such a restricted life, was the first person to suspect that Charlotte was not exactly as she seemed?”
I hope I have not offended you, “continued Lady Anne. “And I hope you will put your brain to work devising ways we can meet in relative privacy, for I have much I would wish to discuss with you.”
“I will do what I can,” said Charlotte. She very much wanted to hear what this young woman would have to say to her.
“You understand I have put trust in your hands. Should you discuss our conversation with Mr. Collins, and he, in turn, report to Lady Catherine, our friendship would be prevented.”
“You may trust me, Lady Anne. I am pleased to think that I can provide you with this or any other service.”
“What are you saying, Mrs. Collins?” Lady Catherine asked, sweeping into the room, the faithful Mr. Collins in her wake.
“That I hope Lady Anne has enjoyed our conversation,” said Charlotte, as she rose from her chair.
“But what do I see? Toast? And jam? My dear Anne, could you not wait until we were home again to have a proper nuncheon? It cannot be good for your health to be eating such fare. You are not of the class of people who can easily digest such.”
“I apologize that we had only this to offer to Lady Anne, and indeed she scarcely touched it, “said Charlotte. “I myself had several pieces, but she found this food to be unappetizing and did not indulge herself.” Astonished by her own lies, she added, “Is that not so, Lady Anne? So you see, the fault is mine.”
“I am pleased to hear it. You must remember, Mrs. Collins, that Anne has a very delicate constitution, which must be constantly considered.”
“What were you thinking, my dear?” asked Mr. Collins. “Lady Anne’s comfort must be our constant consideration.”
“I beg your forgiveness. It will not happen again,” said Charlotte.
“I have instructed Mr. Collins of a better way to arrange your trunks in the garret,” said Lady Catherine. “He will explain it to you. And now, we must take our leave. Come Anne.”
Mr. Collins and Charlotte escorted the pair the few steps to the door. As Mr. Collins was bowing his farewell, he did not see the beautiful smile Lady Anne directed to Charlotte. Then mother and daughter were in their coach and gone.
“Have I just entered upon a course of hiding the truth from Lady Catherine” asked Charlotte of herself. “I believe I have done, but how did it come about?”
Chapter Six
NOW THERE WAS A bit of intrigue to add spice to Charlotte’s days. When she considered the matter, she could see that Lady Anne’s life was one of inactivity and considerably more boredom than her own. The girl had no companions near her own age. She was considered too delicate to have masters in painting or music, and her governess had been removed two years earlier. Other than her mother and Mrs. Jenkinson, the girl saw almost no one except herself and Mr. Collins. Just thinking about it made Charlotte shudder.
There was certainly a danger in contravening Lady Catherine’s wishes for her daughter, but Charlotte felt action must be risked. The girl might actually die if she did not begin to live soon.
Accordingly, Charlotte was not surprised when, on their next morning visit to Rosings, Lady Anne invented a reason to see her privately. “I wish to get Mrs. Collins’s opinion on some flowers that are just coming to bloom in the conservatory,” she said, and started off. “No, Mrs. Jenkinson, you need not accompany us. I am quite sure I can be considered well tended in the company of our minister’s w
ife.” There was an acerbic tone to her voice that Charlotte had never heard before, but it could not have been strange to Mrs. Jenkinson, who immediately resumed her seat before the fire.
“But think, dearest Anne, you can catch a chill,” called Lady Catherine. “Do take your shawl, and do not linger. I fear for your health.”
Lady Anne only walked the faster, ignoring her mother’s cries.
So this was how Lady Anne conducted her days when in private with her small circle. No cowering invalid was she, but rather a girl who gave vent to her frustrations by disobedience and rudeness. And who would cross her? It would be believed that she must, because she was so delicate, be catered to when she showed temper. The ladies probably assured each other that it was her pain and weakness that made her so unruly.
“Here, take this, whatever it is, so they will know we have been here.” Lady Anne handed Charlotte a flower of a type she had never seen before. It was delicate, like the girl herself, but it resisted being plucked. “I must ask you something. Have you read a story called The Mysteries of Udolpho?
Charlotte laughed before you could stop herself. “I have.”
“Is it as exciting as I have heard from my cousin? He promised to bring me a copy when he comes at Easter, but I do not want to wait so long. Can you get me the book? I will somehow get money from Mama to pay you for your trouble”
“That will not be in the least necessary,” said Charlotte. “There is a copy in the rectory at this very moment. But does Lady Catherine approve of such a pastime, reading the novels of Mrs. Radcliffe?”
“Certainly not. That was why my cousin could not simply send me the book.. If it had been intercepted, both he and I would be disgraced.”
Charlotte took a moment to conjure a picture of Mr. Darcy in disgrace. The result was somehow very satisfying. “Lady Anne, I am not comfortable going against your mother’s wishes. We owe her so much—”
