by Linda Phelps
It was not until Easter Sunday, almost a week after the gentlemen had arrived, that the people at the rectory were honoured with an invitation to Rosings. Mr. Collins, apologetic for his inability to show his guests the elaborate entertainments he relished, now praised Lady Catherinefor including them in a family party. By this time Charlotte rather wished that the gentlemen would leave before she must again be in their company. For the sake of her composure it would be well if she never saw Colonel Fitzwilliam again. Nonetheless, she found herself dressing with extra care.
They had not been invited for dinner, but merely to spend the evening. Mr. Collins, gratified by even this offhand gesture, resumed his usual posture of grateful obsequiousness, leading the ladies to Rosings as if earthly life could be expected to offer them no greater pleasure.
They found Lady Catherine in conversation with her nephews. Each greeted the members of the party with courtesy, but did not Colonel Fitzwilliam spend just a little longer when acknowledging Charlotte than he did with the others? She willed her heart to beat in its usual steady rhythm. But again, was not his greeting to Elizabeth rather longer than manners demanded? Even Maria received his attentions.
It soon became apparent why he had been so delighted to see them. He was just speaking with Elizabeth to see if they had any mutual acquaintances when he was interrupted in his civilities by his aunt’s demand for attention. There could be no doubt that he turned to Lady Catherine with reluctance.
The Rosings people had been discussing Darcy’s latest purchases for his library at Pemberly, his estate in Derbyshire. That is, Lady Catherine gave her opinion of what he had acquired, and insisted upon removals and additions to the current list.
Charlotte took a chair next to Lady Anne, who followed each speaker with her eyes, unusually alert to what was happening in the drawing room. “You look very well tonight,” she told the girl. Your colour is excellent. That dress makes me think of spring.”
“I am so pleased that my cousin is here,” said Lady Anne.”
Mr. Collins, having made his speech of appreciation for the kind invitation, was largely ignored, and was forced to content himself by agreeing with Lady Catherine’s statements.
Charlotte was perfectly positioned to attend to all that went on. She was reminded of her days at Assembly balls in Meryton where she, more than any of the matrons lining the walls in their chairs, knew immediately when any couple moved from friendship to love or began the opposite journey. For now, she listened to all, but focused on the voice of Colonel Fitzwilliam. It had such a pleasing tone. She wished that Lady Catherine had more interest in his opinions. She would hear him speak more.
Lady Anne entered the conversation just once. “Do you think, cousin, that your library nears completion? You have been adding to it for as long as I can remember.”
“No gentleman’s library is ever complete,” Lady Catherine said before Darcy could speak.
Said Colonel Fitzwilliam, “Darcy is acquisitive by nature. He enjoys the buying of books rather more than he enjoys the reading of them.”
Lady Anne laughed, a sound rarely heard in the drawing room of Rosings. It startled Mrs. Jenkinson who was some distance off stitching a new fire screen. “You are warm enough, my dear?” she called.
“I am merely enjoying my cousin Fitzwilliam putting my cousin Darcy in his place,” said the girl, in a voice that contained neither weakness nor petulance. “He is perhaps one of the few people in this family who is not afraid to prick Darcy’s dignity.”
Mr. Darcy had the grace to look amused, while Colonel Fitzwilliam smiled appreciatively at Lady Anne.
“My dearest Anne,” said Lady Catherine. “People in our position cannot have too much dignity. It is our duty to preserve the responsibilities of rank.”
Charlotte saw that Elizabeth had removed herself from this conversation and was yet again examining the various objects of decoration in the room. When she took a seat near a small table, Colonel Fitzwilliam removed himself from his aunt and went to sit beside her. They were soon engaged in what seemed to be an entertaining conversation, his easy manners and her archness making them immediately comfortable with each other. “If I were not married--” Charlotte thought, and then forced her attention back to Lady Catherine who was now advising Darcy on a new type of plant to buy for his shrubbery. Darcy, however, was only partially attending. He frequently glanced at the lively couple on the other side of the room, his responses to his aunt becoming briefer.
Charlotte noticed that Lady Anne had followed Darcy’s eyes and was herself watching Elizabeth and Colonel Fitzwilliam. There could be no doubt which of the two Darcy was watching. The girl’s brief period of liveliness came to an end with a sigh that caused Mrs. Jenkinson to hurry to tend to her
“What are you saying, Fitzwilliam?” called Lady Catherine.
“We are speaking of music, Madam,” said Fitzwilliam.
“Oh, music! Then pray speak aloud. It is of all subjects my delight. I must have my share of the conversation.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam showed no inclination to leave his companion and come to her. Elizabeth had turned so that the expression on her face was not visible.
“There are few people in England,” continued Lady Catherine, “who have more natural taste for music than I. Had I ever learned, I should have been a great proficient. The same is true for Anne, if her health had allowed her to study.”
“I am sure that is so,” said Charlotte.
“I am confident that I would have performed delightfully,” said Lady Catherine.
“I assure you that none of us have any doubts on that score. We are all deprived by that sad lack,” said Mr. Collins, “although knowing of you and Lady Anne as we do, we can imagine how delightful this drawing room would have been had you each mastered the instrument.”
Lady Anne glowered at him from beneath lowered brows. Her mother said to Darcy, “How does Georgiana get on?”
Mr. Darcy, showing a warmer aspect than Charlotte had seen before, spoke with pride of his sister’s progress with the instrument.
At that moment, Colonel Fitzwilliam led Elizabeth to the piano, and after a brief conversation, she began to play. Charlotte, who was entirely familiar with Elizabeth’s small repertoire, became inattentive. She could herself have played the song Elizabeth performed with equal skill, had she been asked, but since her first appearance in this drawing room, she had not been asked.
Lady Catherine, raising her voice so that it would carry above the music, said, “I have told Miss Bennet that she will never play really well unless she practices more. I have often told her to come to Rosings and practice on the piano forte in Mrs. Jenkinson’s room. She would be in nobody’s way, you know, in that part of the house.”
Charlotte, her face calm, reflected that the same offer had never been made to her, although Lady Catherine had heard her play and remarked on the fact that the rectory contained no instrument. She turned to look at Elizabeth and Colonel Fitzwilliam. Just at that moment he was turning a page of music while staring into Elizabeth’s eyes with what seemed to be tenderness. A dart of jealousy ran though her.
Darcy and Lady Anne, ignoring Lady Catherine, were also staring at the couple at the piano forte. Lady Anne said, “I would have played better than she does, had I been allowed lessons.”
Lady Catherine seemed determined to talk throughout Elizabeth’s performance. In short order, Darcy left her and walked over to the couple. Charlotte saw the threesome fall into conversation at the intervals when the music did not require too much concentration. She considered how much more handsome Darcy was when he smiled. As for Colonel Fitzwilliam, his face continued to express his good nature. Now, as he spoke with Elizabeth and Darcy, he seemed amused. Charlotte would have enjoyed being part of that group, but she had earned the title of matron, doomed forever to sit in a circle with her husband and Lady Catherine.
Accordingly she withdrew from the conversation, leaving her husband to voice his well practi
ced praises. After a few repetitions of Lady Catherine congratulating herself on her own merits, faithfully echoed by Mr. Collins, Charlotte turned from the group at the instrument and said to Lady Anne, “This is quite a pleasant way to spend the evening, is it not?”
“I detest Elizabeth, Bennet” said Lady Anne in a hoarse whisper. “I long for the day she returns to her home.”
Chapter Four
“LIZZY, DO CHANGE YOUR mind and accompany Maria and me to the village today. We are shopping for goods for new dresses, now that the warmer weather is almost here,” said Charlotte.
Elizabeth continued to demur. “I am writing to Jane, and I want to finish.” She gestured to a sheet of paper which was halfway filled. “Excuse me this time, dear Charlotte, and I promise that I will accompany you when next you want to go.”
“It is your choice, of course,” said Charlotte. “Come, Maria. Have you your money? Have you your jacket? Let us be on our way.”
The outing was successful, with the result that the sisters had each the materials for new gowns when they returned to the parsonage. Nancy opened the door for them.
“Has anyone called in our absence?” asked Charlotte.
“Yes, ma-am. That nephew of Lady Catherine’s, the handsome one, is here.”
“Mr. Darcy,” said Maria. “He did not stay long, I suppose, since we were out.”
“He stayed above half an hour with Miss Elizabeth, He’s here yet.” said Nancy. She took their bundles from them and disappeared into the back of the house.
Maria and Charlotte hurried to the sitting room. Mr. Darcy was indeed settled there, his chair very close to Elizabeth’s. He rose and apologized for his intrusion.
“I am sorry to have missed seeing you, Mrs. Collins, and you, Miss Maria,” he said. “But I was fortunate to find Miss Elizabeth who was kind enough to give me her company for a few minutes.” He resumed his seat, asking the proper questions of the new arrivals, answering their enquiries about his relatives at Rosings, and as soon as manners permitted, took his leave.
“What can be the meaning of this!” said Charlotte, as soon as he was gone. “My dear Eliza, he must be in love with you, or he would never have called on us in this familiar way.
“You would know that was not so if you had been here,” said Elizabeth. “I was pressed to get ten words out of him. He did not wish to talk about the weather, and replied to all my other conversational introductions with nods of his head and silence.”
“Oh, Lizzy!”
Elizabeth demonstrated, playing the parts of both herself and Mr. Darcy. “And, Mr. Darcy, do you find Rosings to be pleasant?”
“Yes, very.”
“And you aunt is well? I hope we did impose on her during the evening.”
“She is well.”
“And your cousin, Lady Anne? I am afraid we tired her.”
“She is well.”
Charlotte and Maria were overcome with laughter, Elizabeth, imitating Mr. Darcy’s deep voice and solemn manner was impossible to watch otherwise.
“That is unfortunate,” said Charlotte, when she had control of herself. “It would be wonderful if he were in love with you.”
“It would not be wonderful for Lady Anne,” said Elizabeth. “Let us hope we can soon wish her joy.”
“If he loved you, you could have your revenge,” said Maria, who knew the history of the relationship between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy.
“Not even for that, Maria,” said Elizabeth, shuddering.
“I suppose that Rosings, lovely as it is, does not supply young men with much amusement.” said Charlotte.
Elizabeth resumed writing her letter, while Maria paced the room restlessly. Unwilling to be indoors, she suggested further exercise in the form of a circuit of the grounds of Rosings. “Do come, Elizabeth,” said she. “You cannot imagine how the spring is progressing. Charlotte, you come too.”
Charlotte refused. She had household responsibilities to oversee. She busied herself with checking the bed linens, which went into the wash. Then she helped Nancy make all the beds up with fresh sheets and aired pillows. By the time these chores were finished, Maria and Elizabeth, seduced by spring sunshine, had left to see which flowers were showing their heads this day. Charlotte resigned herself to her needlework while awaiting their return
Within a few minutes Mr. Collins appeared in the doorway of the sitting room. “My dear, I am concerned that I did not adequately thank Lady Catherine for last night’s hospitality. I think I shall not be happy until I have walked to Rosings to thank her again, in more detail. Will you accompany me?”
Charlotte held up a purse she was netting as a gift for Maria to take to Lady Lucas. “Not this time, my husband. I have this to do, you see, and what with the presence of our guests, I have fallen behind. But I beg you to add my thanks to all that you say.”
“To be sure, and I think I shall add to that the thanks of your sister and of my cousin. They have not the mastery of grateful remarks that I have. I shall be back for dinner.” With that he escaped to the door.
Immediately she knew he was gone, Charlotte put the unfinished purse in her sewing bag and retrieved from under a cushion the novel that Elizabeth had brought her. Mrs. Radcliffe was prolific. This book was newly published. Elizabeth said it was all the rage in London.
A new novel was almost as amusing as the company of friends. She found the page into which she had slipped a small thread to mark her place and proceeded to lose herself in romance and mystery.
The doorbell rang. Charlotte heard Nancy scurry to answer it and then male feet making their way to her. Arranging a welcoming smile on her face, she rose to face this newcomer. “I’m sorry,” she began, “but Mr. Collins has just left to walk to Rosings.” Then she stopped. The person who stood in her doorway was not a parishioner but Colonel Fitzwilliam.
“I know that, Mrs. Collins,” he said. I saw from the window of my room that he was headed that way.” He smiled at her in a way she could not quite interpret. “But your friend, Miss Elizabeth, and you sister are not here. I was hoping spend a half hour with the lovely young ladies of the parish house.”
“I am sorry again,” said Charlotte, “but they set out on a journey in search of flowering spring bulbs. I am not sure which way they went or when they will return, but if you walk yourself, you may catch sight of them.”
“I am perfectly content to spend a half hour in your company, Mrs. Collins, if I am not interrupting your reading.” He glanced at the book which she still held. “May I?” he asked, reaching for the volume. “Ah. A Sicilian Romance. I read it only last week. It is very entertaining.”
“Oh, don’t tell me!” cried Charlotte. “There is so little to surprise me here in Hunsford, that I relish any suspense that comes my way.”
“I quite understand,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Darcy and I feel an obligation to come to Rosings at least once every year, but my Aunt Catherine does not change, nor does she think to provide us with any novelty by way of company. I had previously met Mr. Collins, and when I heard that he had married, I amused myself by trying to imagine what sort of woman his wife would be.. May I sit?”
Charlotte could not recall a time she had felt more flustered. Would it be when she met Bingley? “Of course! I am so sorry. Please. Be comfortable.
Colonel Fitzwilliam took the chair nearest to her. “So I knew that at least one unfamiliar person would be in the neighbourhood, and I had something to which to look forward. Then, as it happened, I had no chance to become acquainted with you last night, so it will be well if I can compare you to the imaginary Mrs. Collins by speaking with you today.”
None of the social responses Charlotte had practiced for the past decade came to her aid at this time. Was this a proper conversation? Never before had anyone suggested that she should be the topic of discussion. His words made her feel quite outside herself. Regaining a degree of poise, she said, “I am sure that anything you discover about me will do nothing to alleviate the te
dium you are experiencing. I am quite what I seem, a minister’s wife in a small parish.”
“Perhaps you are,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, “and perhaps that is a disguise you wear in order to make your way in the world. You must let me decide whether you are the commonplace Mrs. Collins or someone else altogether.”
“I assure you—”began Charlotte, but he interrupted her.
“Suppose you tell me about your life before you married. Then I will decide if you are what you say, or if you only pretend to be that person.”
For Charlotte, his interest in her was intoxicating. Bit by bit she related the adventures of her childhood to him. “So, you see, my mother laid in so many times that I quite lost interest in marrying.”
“But you did marry, and quite recently.”
“Yes, but that was largely for practical reason. If I had been so fortunate as to have an independent income, I would not have married at all. .As it was, I needed a home, and Mr. Collins offered me this one.” She gestured about the comfortable room with pride. “And I am quite fond of him.” Colonel Fitzwilliam smiled at her. “It is the truth. I am very fond of Mr. Collins. He is a good husband. No one has a better.”
“Still, he’s not quite like one of Mrs. Radcliffe’s heroes, is he?” At that moment noises from the front of the house told them that Elizabeth and Maria were returning. Colonel Fitzwilliam quickly took up her hand and kissed it. Then he rose to welcome the ladies.
Despite her shock at his gesture, Charlotte immediately hid A Sicilian Romance and retrieved the purse she was netting. Colonel Fitzwilliam had moved his chair to a respectable distance from her by the time Maria and Elizabeth entered. He stood and bowed. “Ladies, I had hoped to find you here, and here you are.” Then, completely at his ease, he engaged each in conventional conversation. Charlotte, focusing her eyes on her fingers, recognized that both Elizabeth and Maria were pleased to find him waiting for them.
