by A V Knight
“You have my gratitude for forgiving my mistake.”
Before any of them could settle too much into their conversations, a butler arrived with a summons to the young men to join Mrs. and Miss de Bourgh for dinner. The man paused for a moment before informing the ladies that dinner would be served for them in the small dining room. Charlotte and Elizabeth were so accustomed to being excluded that they had nearly forgotten how insulting it was. Lady Catherine’s nephews were not so inured. Mr. Darcy all but sighed at the announcement, while the Colonel objected. “We cannot leave behind such pleasant company.”
Mr. Collins nodded along, under the impression that he was the pleasant one, but Charlotte intervened. “Thank you for the compliment Colonel Fitzwilliam, but none of us has any desire to interrupt your family dinner. Lady Catherine has been so looking forward to your arrival and it would be cruel of us to infringe upon her first evening with you. Elizabeth and I are grateful that you paid us the compliment of bidding us hello. We do not feel insulted in the slightest by you now turning your complete attentions to your Aunt.”
“Oh, but Miss Lucas,” Mr. Collins interrupted. “To refuse a meal with the family now that it has been offered is its own kind of insult.”
The pastor widened his eyes at Charlotte in silent urging to accept the invitation since his presence at Lady Catherine’s table tonight was contingent upon Charlotte’s agreement. Before Charlotte was forced to consent simply to keep Mr. Collins in good humor, the Colonel rose to his feet. “Nonsense, Mr. Collins. If anything, it shows in these young ladies the best of breeding that they are willing to place our aunt’s interests above their own. While I am sure that they would be excellent company, it is kind of them to concern themselves with our family. In truth, it is the best sort of friendship one could ask for, not an insult.”
Mr. Collins sputtered out an explanation where he desperately tried to make it sound as though he in no way wanted to encroach on Lady Catherine’s family time, he simply respected her too much to doubt that when she invited someone to a meal, she meant it. Not that Colonel Fitzwilliam would be less informed about Lady Catherine’s habits than he. Mr. Darcy turned and headed to the door before he was forced to reply to Mr. Collins, leaving the Colonel to endure the explanation with surprising grace before he praised Mr. Collins—for what, Charlotte couldn’t quite tell.
While both men knew it was quite rude of their aunt to so deliberately exclude the girls from sharing their meal without at least giving them the option to refuse it for themselves, there was little in the world that could have enticed them to join. Colonel Fitzwilliam took obvious comfort from Charlotte and Elizabeth’s honest apathy towards their neglect, while Mr. Darcy had a moment’s embarrassment over the offense but had long grown accustomed to his aunt’s behavior. Both men must have understood how awful the dinner would have been if the ladies had imposed themselves where Lady Catherine did not want them.
After polite bows, and the Colonel indulging in a rather obvious tugging on his coat to steel himself, the gentlemen departed. Though the ladies had long since put aside the discomfort of knowing that dinner had been prepared and sent to a different location on their account, on this night they felt the renewed burden of it. Even the servants seemed to agree since they failed to set a place for Mr. Collins despite his presence in the house and the way he escorted Charlotte and Elizabeth to dinner as though he expected to be included in that meal at least. Mr. Collins lingered at the door, and though the man had to be hoping for some scrap of attention from Lady Catherine, it was the most courtesy he had shown Charlotte since that first, horrible night. He was waived away before Charlotte could think of a way to capitalize on his attentions, and on his way out he cast them sad little looks at what they were being permitted to do without him.
Dinner was brief, largely occupied by a resurgence of their discussion about when they should leave. This time they had Mary’s added opinion, though she would have been happy to spend the next year in Mrs. Jenkinson’s room for the peace and quiet of practicing. In the end, Elizabeth conceded that they should wait until tomorrow to make any decisions so they could see precisely how irritated Lady Catherine was by the unexpected overlap of the visitors she wanted and the visitors she wanted to be rid of.
CHAPTER TEN
It seemed the best way to get Elizabeth’s full support behind Charlotte’s engagement was to have Mr. Collins’ proposal be the only thing in between Elizabeth and getting away from Mr. Darcy. With that in mind, they went to visit the Parsonage the next morning certain that after his repeated dismissals from Lady Catherine’s company, Mr. Collins would be grateful for their attentions. The man was so anxious to be well regarded that Charlotte thought with a bit of praise and an hour or two of privacy—that Elizabeth would not hesitate to grant—she might be able to settle the whole affair.
Before the Parsonage was even discernable down the road, they happened across Mr. Collins already on his way to Rosings Park. “My dear ladies!” Mr. Collins’ expression did not match his words. “I was just on my way to Rosings to see you!” If the man had not been glancing past them to the house, Charlotte might have believed him.
“We were just as eager to see you, sir, but we thought it would be better to come and visit you at the Parsonage on this particular morning.”
“We would not want to interrupt Lady Catherine, after all. And, my dear cousin, Charlotte and I have barely gotten the chance to see you these last weeks.” Elizabeth all but grimaced as she said the words. Mr. Collins’ confusion at the notion that Elizabeth might ever want to speak to him gave way to rather smug pleasure that the ladies might choose his company over the obviously superior gentlemen in the house, company that even he would no doubt prefer if given the option.
“Yes, it is quite good of you to come to me. We wouldn’t want Lady Catherine to feel any sort of pressure to tend to you just because her nephews had the ill grace to arrive a whole week early.” Charlotte nodded along to all Mr. Collins’ complaints about the gentlemen’s ill behavior for not considering that their dear aunt might have prior obligations or how the suddenness of their arrival must strain Miss de Bourgh’s fragile health. Of course, as Mr. Collins made his way back to the Parsonage he also returned to praising the nephews’ for adoring their aunt enough to arrive early. However, he thought that perhaps he should, as their Aunt’s parson, speak to them about offering their Aunt proper notification before their next arrival. After all, Lady Catherine was such an impressive figure that her nephews must not anticipate the hurt that their lack of care might cause.
Elizabeth took it upon herself to stop Mr. Collins mid-turn before he could head back to Rosings and deliver his lecture. She reminded Mr. Collins that Lady Catherine’s grandeur meant she was quite capable of telling her nephews whatever she wished without Mr. Collins’ interference. Mr. Collins agreed vehemently, happy to have an excuse not follow through on the impulse.
Mr. Collins ushered them into his sitting room and the rest of their morning was consumed with his stories of Lady Catherine’s impressive handling of many neighborhood disputes. Despite Charlotte’s efforts to direct him back to the last morning they had spent together outside Lucas Lodge, Mr. Collins had reverted to his first days in Hertfordshire, speaking only of Lady Catherine and directing all his efforts towards seizing Elizabeth’s attention, which under no circumstances would she give.
They left the Parsonage sooner than Charlotte would have liked and not nearly soon enough for Elizabeth, indulging themselves by taking the long way back to Rosings. It was enough time with just one another’s company that they were both recovered from their various upsets with Mr. Collins by the time they were met with an invitation to join Lady Catherine for dinner.
The invitation could not be refused and they met the party in Lady Catherine’s drawing room. While she received them with civility, it was plain that they had only been invited for form’s sake. Lady Catherine was engrossed by her nephews and spoke more to Mr. Darcy than
to anyone else in the room. Though, when Mr. Darcy was otherwise occupied or keeping his thoughts to himself, Mr. Collins was called upon to offer the required praise. He performed the task with the same skill as always but had sense enough not to interrupt when Mr. Darcy occasionally did deign to speak.
Colonel Fitzwilliam greeted them with a cheerful smile. Charlotte imaged that any break in the doldrums of Rosings must be a relief to a man whose attentions seemed to be both jealously guarded and little more than suffered. Charlotte had a flare of compassion for Mr. Darcy, who was scarcely allowed to leave his Aunt’s side before he was called back to endure some story he had heard before. The Colonel’s responsibility seemed to be smoothing over the gaps and deficiencies in conversation between the relatives. Charlotte could scarcely imagine how terrible the room would be without her, Elizabeth, and the Colonel to enliven things. Mr. Darcy must bring his cousin along to spare himself unbroken evenings of Lady Catherine talking and Mr. Collins agreeing with everything she said.
Charlotte had taken a chair near Mr. Collins’ position, as though that would do her any good in distracting him from watching Lady Catherine and her nephew speak with all the same attention one would give a play. Elizabeth forced Mary to sit beside her and at least feign participation before they settled in for dinner. The Colonel, to Charlotte’s great surprise, sat between the women rather than directly beside Elizabeth as anyone with sense would have done to spare themselves the pain of the rest of the party’s conversation.
Charlotte shouldn’t have been surprised. At some point, the Colonel was going to stop startling her with his common sense, but she was beginning to suspect that the man’s displays of good judgment weren’t accidental. The gentleman balanced the conversation between the three ladies, talking agreeably of Kent and Hertfordshire, and of traveling and staying at home. He somehow managed to draw Mary into the dialogue with a discussion of books and music.
The conversation—for all that it might be called that—between Lady Catherine, Mr. Collins, and poor Mr. Darcy was proceeding apace to Charlotte’s left, and she did make valiant efforts to pay them anything like attention. While the words themselves were not of much interest to Charlotte, Mr. Darcy’s distraction was. She had seen distaste cross his features often enough in Meryton to know he was not offended by his cousin’s conversation being directed someplace else, but still, his attention constantly shifted away from his own party and to Colonel Fitzwilliam and the ladies.
Soon enough Charlotte gave up on attempting to ingratiate herself into Lady Catherine’s conversation and gave her whole attention to the livelier party. Whether it was Charlotte’s change of focus or Mr. Darcy’s distraction that drew Lady Catherine’s attention as well, Charlotte couldn’t tell. Lady Catherine had no scruples with calling out: “What is that you are saying, Fitzwilliam? What is it you are talking of? What are you telling the Miss Bennets? Let me hear what it is.”
The Colonel caught Charlotte’s gaze for a beat longer then he should have, an invisible rolling of his eyes before he turned to his aunt, knowing it would do him no good to pretend he hadn’t heard. “We are speaking of music, madam.”
“Of music! Then pray speak aloud. It is of all subjects my delight. I must have my share in the conversation if you are speaking of music. There are few people in England, I suppose, who have more true enjoyment of music than myself, or a better natural taste. If I had ever learnt, I should have been a great proficient. And so would Anne, if her health had allowed her. I am confident that she would have performed delightfully. How does Georgiana get on, Darcy?”
Mr. Darcy spoke with affectionate praise of his sister’s proficiency while Colonel Fitzwilliam turned his attention back to the young ladies. Charlotte listened as Lady Catherine explained the great lengths she had gone to allow Miss Mary to play the pianoforte in Mrs. Jenkinson’s room. “But it is a worthwhile inconvenience because no excellence in music is to be acquired without constant practice, and I do what I can for those unfortunate in their pursuit of some degree of excellence.”
Mr. Darcy glanced away from his Aunt as a look of shame crossed his features. For all that he was supposedly paying attention to the Miss Bennets, the Colonel caught sight of his cousin’s distress and asked his aunt if perhaps it might be time for coffee. This distracted everyone for a few minutes, and before their drinks had a chance to cool, Colonel Fitzwilliam reminded Elizabeth that she had promised to play for him. He averted any offense to Mary by saying that he imagined that Elizabeth would grace them with only a single song, and perhaps Mary would play for them afterwards so that her performance might not be interrupted. Mary took the praise with a blush, and Elizabeth sat down at the instrument directly, leaving the Colonel to draw a chair near to her. Lady Catherine listened to half a song and then talked, as before, to her other nephew.
At least, she did until Mr. Collins claimed her attention for long enough that Mr. Darcy could walk away from her, making with his usual deliberation towards the pianoforte. He stationed himself so as to command a full view of Elizabeth’s countenance. Elizabeth had never been one to resist the temptation of teasing, and soon enough she was stumbling the notes so she could look up at the man and declare, “You mean to frighten me, Mr. Darcy, by coming in all this state to hear me? I will not be alarmed though your sister does play so well. There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.”
And so the conversation went as Charlotte could have anticipated, with Elizabeth turning her face towards the Colonel, but speaking of Mr. Darcy and how the man had not danced. Phrase it how Lizzy may like, both she and the man in question knew her offense was not that Darcy had not danced, but that he had not danced with her. “Shall we ask your cousin the reason of this?” said Elizabeth, addressing Colonel Fitzwilliam though they all knew he was but a prop at this point. “Shall we ask him why a man of sense and education, and who has lived in the world, is ill qualified to recommend himself to strangers?”
“I can answer your question without applying to him,” said Fitzwilliam. Unlike Elizabeth, he actually turned himself to his cousin. “It is because he will not give himself the trouble.” There was a particular weight to the Colonel’s words that suggested they had had this conversation many a time before. Mr. Darcy stepped closer to the pianoforte to murmur something to Elizabeth that was beyond Charlotte’s hearing so far across the room, but while she had no view of the man but his shoulders, she was able to see the way Elizabeth looked up at him as though she had never heard words more fascinating. Unacknowledged by the two enthralled parties at the instrument, Colonel Fitzwilliam slipped away from his chair and left them to their company.
He sat down beside Charlotte with a little smirk that spoke of how proud he was of himself. He exchanged a few pleasant words with his aunt, distracting her from the quiet conversation occurring on the other side of the room and prodded Mr. Collins into chatter that would command all Lady Catherine’s attention.
Things situated to his preference, the Colonel turned his attention to Charlotte, who had been watching the arrangements with all the attention she would give the best of dancers. “I apologize that Darcy and I did not see you and Miss Elizabeth this morning. Miss Mary informed us that you’d gone to the Parsonage. Based on my aunt’s recitation of events last night, I didn’t think our presence would be helpful.”
There was no judgment in the Colonel’s speech, though Charlotte could imagine how Lady Catherine had characterized them in her explanation for why there were unwanted visitors to her home. She likely had reiterated those same foul statements to her nephews in her effort to keep them from being tempted to do the gentlemanly thing by paying the ladies any attention. Instead, Colonel Fitzwilliam had the soft smile of a man who Charlotte was certain believed not a word of whatever slander his aunt had conveyed and was in the rare position to understand all too well the perils of marriage and convincing someone to choose you.
It was that smile that made Charlotte reply. “Perhaps, but perhaps not. Your lack of presence certainly did not help things along.”
Mr. Collins chose that moment to loudly declare something in praise of Lady Catherine’s goodness, and the Colonel’s expression was so dry that the man did not need to open his mouth to convey that there was no small part of him that considered it quite the blessing that Mr. Collins had not seized the chance to propose.
This was not the place and Charlotte was not in the mood to discuss her marital prospects in veiled comments or endure anyone else’s opinion of the worthiness of her ambitions and the man they were directed towards. “If I may, what brought you here a week early?”
“In truth, I don’t know. I am at Darcy’s disposal when it comes to things like this, and he informed me that unless I had any pressing engagements that could not be moved, he wished to visit our Aunt Catherine sooner than planned.” Fitzwilliam shrugged but cast a speaking glance towards the pianoforte where Elizabeth was playing just as ill as always, but where Mr. Darcy was rather preoccupied with watching her performance. “Considering how often Aunt Catherine has written to share her thoughts about having visitors, I imagine Darcy intended to be of help to her.”
It was quite possibly the most ridiculous thing Charlotte had ever heard anyone say, and she had spent a considerable amount of time around Lydia Bennet. The thought of Mr. Darcy and his dour countenance ever being of conversational assistance to anyone was absurd. And yet, Colonel Fitzwilliam said it with such a guileless face that Charlotte was tempted to believe him. A lie though it was, it was also a completely justifiable excuse for their arrival.
