Charlotte

by Linda Phelps

  Mr. Collins studied her face with something that seemed like curiosity. “But, my dear, can you not also congratulate me on my fortunate escape from being entangled in this situation? Can a minister’s wife have such a sister?”

  Charlotte conceded the point. “And, of course, you would have had to answer to Lady Catherine on such an occasion,” she said, suppressing the ironic tone she wished to use. “I am happy for your escape, but no matter what you say, I will have sympathy for Elizabeth and her sisters. All her sisters. I do not think Lydia is in a fair way to have a happy marriage, and for this I can pity her. I have told you my thoughts. Good night, sir.”

  Lady Catherine approved the letter as it was written, encouraging Mr. Collins to send it as soon as possible. He walked into the village for that purpose that very morning, paying the phenomenal sum required to have it delivered by express mail.

  Charlotte moved through her household duties, not speaking to either her husband or Nancy. Her thoughts were entirely on the Bennet family and especially upon Elizabeth, who must be suffering from the false attempts of the neighbours to console them. She longed for another letter from her mother.

  When it came, it was brief.

  My dear daughter,

  You will be wanting to know what further is said of the distress at Longbourn. I can tell you little except that Elizabeth returned with her aunt & Uncle Gardiner. They cut short their tour once they had the dreadful news. I am sure that Eliz. is a great comfort to Jane. You recall how intimate they have always been. .

  Mr. Bennet has returned from London without locating Lydia & Mr. W.. Mrs. Bennet’s brother, Mr. Gardiner, has gone there in his place. Mrs. Bennet continues to keep to her bed, and from what our Sally has learned from Mrs. Hill, she is entirely done up by her nerves. She is suffering indeed. I have copied for you a recipe for the egg dish with grouts, which you are so fond of. It requires a great many eggs, but I suppose that your hens are still laying. In any event, it will settle your poor stomach, although I assure you the sickness will not last many more days.

  I pray you do not lift heavy objects, and take a rest each day to relieve your limbs.

  Charlotte smiled. Despite the fact that she was a wife of eight months, her mother must continue her supervision. Pleased that Lady Lucas had remembered this particular food preference of hers, she read the instructions so as to begin to gather the ingredients. Did all mothers take this degree of interest in what their children ate, even when the children were grown and in households of their own?

  Charlotte pushed the letter into her pocket. She had lately determined that she would not again show any letter she received to Mr. Collins. Then her thoughts turned to her friend Elizabeth. How she would like to be at Lucas Lodge, within an easy distance to walk to Longbourn. How she would like to hear Elizabeth find the humour in the situation, if there was any to be had. She considered whether when she wrote her friend she should admit to knowing of the scandal or pretend she had heard nothing.

  A carriage pulled up to the front door. Would it contain Lady Anne, who would want to discuss the ‘romance’ of the runaway couple, or would it be Lady Catherine, who would today find that Charlotte’s housekeeping was no longer of the required standard for Lady Catherine’s minister’s wife? She weighed the possibility of slipping upstairs, leaving Nancy to explain that she was not well.

  Before she could decide, Mrs. Marsden glided into the room, trailed by her daughter. “Mrs. Collins,” said she, “I have been thinking of you for some days now. Are you well? Is the heat oppressive to you?”

  “I thank you, Mrs. Marsden. I am quite well.”

  “Barbara has been to walk in Rosings Park with Lady Anne, and she has come back with a most sensational story, involving, I believe, the sister of Elizabeth Bennet who was lately a guest in this very house.” Mrs. Marsden glanced around the room as if she expected to find Elizabeth still there. “As you are from the neighbourhood of the disgraceful girl, I suppose you know some details of the events which are not yet public.”

  Charlotte looked at Barbara. “What did Lady Anne tell you?”

  The girl began to speak. “She said that the sister of Miss Elizabeth has run off with a handsome officer in the army, that their families made this necessary by forbidding them to marry. Their love for each other is so powerful that they cannot bear to be apart. They escaped when the girl came out her window on a ladder that the man had raised for her. Then they took the fastest horses they could hire to take them to Gretna Green before anyone could stop them. They are for now safe from their domineering families, but it is impossible to know how long they can remain so.” She paused for breath.

  Mrs. Marsden raised an eyebrow. “It sounds very much like a novel, does it not, Mrs. Collins? One does not expect adventures of this sort to happen in the ordinary course of things.”

  “I feat that Lady Anne has added some flourishes to the tale,” said Charlotte. “To my mind, the elopement is not so much romantic as it is foolish.”

  “Mrs. Collins,” demanded Barbara, “have you heard more of what has happened? Are they married? Are their families showing forgiveness? I so want to hear what happened next.”

  “It is not a novel, Barbara,” said Mrs. Marsden. “You must not think in terms of volumes and chapters.”

  Charlotte pondered the speed with which the story of one wayward girl had spread. Her father had written to Mr. Collins who had told Lady Catherine the details. Lady Anne enriched the story and told it to Barbara Marsden, who told it to Mrs. Marsden, from whence it would soon be known throughout Hunsford. Where would it travel after that? “I think it would be a great kindness to the involved parties, whether Lydia Bennet is innocent or guilty, if the story stopped here, “suggested Charlotte.

  “Oh, of course, Mrs. Collins,” said Barbara. “You are right. But before we stop this discussion, will you please tell us what has happened since the couple ran away?”

  Charlotte started to deny any knowledge of ‘what happened next’ but quickly realized that what she did not reveal would be revealed elsewhere with embellishments. “I have heard that they are not married, but have hidden themselves in London. It is a matter of great distress to Lydia Bennet’s family, and I say again, it would be a kindness not to discuss it.”

  When the Marsdens had left, Charlotte thought with even more longing of taking some time to rest in her bed. Then, with certainty that she was right, she went instead to the small desk in the sitting room and began a letter to Elizabeth.

  My dear Lizzie,

  Please understand that I do not in any way want to add to the burden you are now bearing in regard to your sister Lydia. I am afraid the story has traveled to Hunsford, as you will have realized if you have read my husband’s letter to Mr. Bennet.

  I will speak frankly: I disagree with Mr. Collins and Lady Catherine on the particular criticisms they have voiced of your entire family. I have never spoken ill of the way you were raised. I hope you know that I remain your friend despite this misfortune. I hope further that I do not disturb you by mentioning the situation, but I assure you that my admiration & love for you have not changed in the least because of what Lydia has done.

  Mr. Collins intends to use the rumours as a basis for his sermon Sunday next, the text; Jeremiah 13:27. As you know, my husband denies that your sister should ever be forgiven for her errors. I do not agree with him. I suggested his text be John: 8:4. We are unhappily at odds over this issue. I feel that if your sister exhibits proper contrition, she should be treated leniently. I am sure that your entire family will receive her privately. She will certainly need some succor if she is to survive.

  I pray daily that there will be a satisfactory solution to all the problems involved herein.

  Sadly aware that she had now performed every possible act of disloyalty to her husband, the man who had given her a home and saved her from spinsterhood, she surrendered to her weariness. She ascended the stairs, and once in her bed, despite a crash of emotions that
dismayed her, she was soon asleep.

  Chapter Five

  “MY DEAR,” SAID MR. Collins, “I have received another letter from your father.”

  Charlotte wiped her hands on her apron and reached for it. “Is there finally news from Longbourn? It has been days since we have heard anything?”

  “I very much fear that the news from Longbourn will never again be read without trepidation,” said Mr. Collins. “My uncle Bennet must suffer the shame of his daughter’s behavior until he dies.”

  Charlotte shook her head. “Mr. Collins, I beg you, do not speak again of Mr. Bennet’s death. It will come when it will come.”

  Mr. Collins was not so astonished by Charlotte’s criticisms as he might have been six months earlier in their marriage. He was learning that, difficult as it was for him, he would often fare better if he changed the subject. He continued, “However, as I have come to realize the deep affection you have for my cousin Elizabeth and the strain you put yourself under by thinking of her cares, I will tell you at once that the tidings are somewhat improved over what we knew a fortnight ago.”

  Charlotte’s eyes flew over the page. Her father did not come directly to the point he was presenting, but disguised it in a narration of harvests and market prices. Finally she came upon the welcome news. “Why, Mr. Collins, my father says that Lydia and Wickham have married! They were wed in London and then came to Longbourn where they have been for some days! That is happy news for the Bennets and their friends.”

  “Yes, that does improve the family’s situation,” said Mr. Collins. “Let us hope that the neighbours begin to receive them again and that they attend church with great regularity and learn from the sermons.”

  “Oh, husband, the neighbourhood might appear to keep a distance, but that will be of short duration. In no time things will be very much as they were before.”

  Mr. Collins took a moment to say his next words. “You do understand, Mrs. Collins, that we can never again entertain my cousin Elizabeth, or, indeed, any member of the Bennet family.” Without knowing he did so, he took a step backward.

  “But why not?” asked Charlotte. “I would certainly not invite Lydia and Mr. Wickham to call on us, but as for the rest of the family, I would be happy to welcome them, Elizabeth most particularly.”

  Mr. Collins cleared his throat. “I have spoken on this matter with Lady Catherine, and she assures me that she will never again open her doors to a woman who is sister of one so shameless as Lydia Bennet. As she so kindly reminds me, the apple does not fall far from the tree, and what one sister has done another sister might imitate.”

  Fire flew from Charlotte’s eyes. “Husband, that is a very silly thing for Lady Catherine to have said. I do not like the idea that she is criticizing my friend for something she might, in some entirely unimaginable circumstance, select as a way to marry. I will myself speak to Lady Catherine on this subject.”

  “No!” cried Mr. Collins. “Mrs. Collins, you must not do that. Remember what we owe to Lady Catherine. Remember that she is superior to us in rank and wealth. Remember that—”

  “Very well!” said Charlotte, in a tone that told her husband that what he said was anything but well. “I will spare Lizzie the bother of spending time at Rosings, which I am fairly sure she found to be somewhat tiresome. When next she visits, she need not go farther than the rectory, if she chooses not to.”

  Mr. Collins took a deep breath. His wife was speaking heresy. “Mrs. Collins, Lady Catherine has, with her usual condescension, informed me that she will look with great displeasure upon any invitation we extend to Cousin Elizabeth. Great displeasure. Therefore, as your husband, I forbid you to have that woman or any of her sisters or even her parents in this house. Do you understand me?”

  Charlotte stared at him for a long moment. When she was sure that he recognized that she was not in the least intimidated, she nodded her head and walked away.

  Some days later, when her mother’s letter informed her that Mr. Bingley had returned to Netherfield, she allowed herself to fall into a daydream. Mr. Collins died—painlessly, in his sleep would be best—and when she returned to Lucas Lodge, Mr. Bingley called upon her with his sincere condolences. Oddly, he returned day after day with words of comfort, and then, when Charlotte’s year of mourning was coming to an end, he announced to the neighbourhood his intention to hold a ball in honour of Mrs. Collins, and privately he encouraged Charlotte to leave off her widow’s clothes and have a new dress made and—

  Charlotte jabbed her fingernails into the palm of the other hand. When she had administered enough pain, the daydream fled, a fact for which she was grateful. Then, to her own astonishment, she burst into tears.

  Lady Lucas’s letter had accompanied one to Mr. Collins from Sir William. Once Charlotte had regained her usual state of solid common sense, she sought him out. “Mr. Collins, I would now like to read what my father has written.”

  “Of course,” said he. “I am afraid you will find it rather dull, speaking as it does of apples and hay and onions that his men are now harvesting. The cost of transporting same to London is almost too exorbitant to pay, or so he says. But here is the letter. I was just readying myself to go to Lady Catherine. There is something I must discuss with her. If you like, I will wait until you are able to accompany me, if it can be in the next few minutes.”

  “I thank you, but I prefer to stay home. I believe we are expected this very night to spend the evening. I wonder that you do not wait until then.”

  “When you have read your father’s letter, I think you will see why I must go immediately. Your father tells of a circumstance in the neighbourhood of Longbourn that Lady Catherine will surely find of great interest, for it has to do with one who is close to her heart. I would not for anything have her hear it from a gossiping stranger.” Having said that, he was immediately out the door.

  Charlotte sat in the chair at her husband’s desk. The letter was, as he had said, very uninteresting to anyone who was not presently harvesting crops from his land. Eventually she came to this passage:

  You will remember, Mr. Collins, the ball we all attended at Netherfield when you were first in the neighbourhood. Mr. Bingley, who rents the house, has once again taken up residence. People are saying that he means to resume an attachment to Jane Bennet, with whom he seemed to be somewhat involved a year ago. I do not know if this is so, but should it prove to be, such a marriage will do much to remove the stain placed on the Bennet family by the youngest daughter.

  As you may suppose, I was among the first to call upon Mr. Bingley. He asked after my daughter Charlotte & was pleased that she is in such a happy situation. He is expecting his sisters & Mr. Darcy, Lady Catherine’s nephew, to join him very soon, & it is said that Mr. Darcy enters the neighbourhood not only as a favoured companion to Mr. Bingley but also to have the opportunity to increase his friendship with Elizabeth Bennet. Maria has told of the many times Mr. Darcy came to call on Miss Elizabeth in your rectory, & also that they walked often together in Rosings Park. What a fine thing it would be for the Bennets to have two daughters married to such superior men.

  Charlotte clapped her hands. She recalled with pride that she had been the first person to recognize the Darcy’s interest in her friend. Her second thought was pleasure that this wonderful opportunity had come to Lizzie, who had previously decided that in no circumstance would she like Mr. Darcy. Perhaps she had adjusted her opinion when the pair was in each other’s company while both were guests of the Collins over Easter. And then, of course, they had met again at Pemberly. What would prevent them from falling in love with each other? What would be more natural? Lizzie’s lack of fortune would be no hindrance, for Darcy had more than enough to maintain two houses, a large farm, a sister, and a wife. Should the other Bennet girls not marry, he would have enough money to maintain them also. If only Elizabeth realized what she was offered!

  “Lizzie, don’t be a fool!” cried Charlotte.

  Nancy hurried through the do
or. “Is anything the matter, Madam, “she asked. “Did you call out?”

  “No, Nancy, nothing is the matter,” said Charlotte happily. “In truth, I am feeling quite delighted. Is there a small bowl of soup in the kitchen? I believe I will have some right now, and a pear, or did we send all the pears to town?”

  “Not all, Madam,” said Nancy. “I am so glad you are feeling well again.” She gave Charlotte a smile as sincere as the one she had worn on the January morning when they met for the first time. “I am so very glad you are improved.”

  On an impulse Charlotte asked, “Nancy, are we friends again?”

  “I hope so Madam.” She paused and then said, “Please be sure I would never tell any tale that would bring pain to my Lady Anne. Never.” The two women smiled at each other in perfect comprehension. Charlotte felt her heart lighten.

  Mr. Collins returned in time to escort his wife to Rosings for dinner. He found her in excellent spirits, neatly dressed, and ready to enjoy the evening. In an unusual recognition of the need to exhibit consideration, he ordered the pony and the gig Brought forth. “We will not have you overtaxing yourself, my dear wife,” he said.

  “I find it much easier to get about now that the weather is changing,” Charlotte said, but she bestowed a grateful smile upon her husband.

  During the pleasant ride through the park, she asked him, “And how did you find mother and daughter? Did they think the news important?

  “Mrs. Collins, I must unhappily admit that I was the bearer of bad tidings! Lady Catherine became righteously angry when she heard about Mr. Darcy’s danger from my cousin Elizabeth, while poor Lady Anne burst into tears, and did not cease producing them until her mother ordered Mrs. Jenkinson to take her off and give her a bit of cherry brandy. It was a most upsetting scene. I regretted that my news was the cause of such sorrow.”

  “Lady Anne was crying?” Charlotte immediately recognized this as the girl’s attempt to enjoy the life of a heroine in a novel. She cared nothing for Darcy, nor would she care whom he married. “Perhaps it would have been better if you had said nothing,” suggested Charlotte.