by C. J. Hill
“Indeed my dear. Of course you must be hungry! I almost forgot that you are not as hardy as I am. I barely eat from breakfast to dinner on some days, being occupied as I am in my work! Let us return to the inn and order whatever you require and I shall partake in a small portion of it.”
Accordingly, they retraced their steps back to the inn and entered through the parlour door so as to completely avoid the bar area. They found themselves in a small but warm and welcoming parlour with a bright fire, where several other travellers were sitting around enjoying the warmth and discussing their different journeys. Charlotte and Mr. Collins selected a small table close to the fire and were immediately visited by the lady of the inn who asked what they would like as refreshment. Charlotte opened her mouth to order a pot of tea and some small edibles but Mr. Collins anticipated her, making the order himself with great pomposity directed towards the lady, and attracting no little attention from some of the travellers near their table.
Charlotte endeavoured to ignore the whispers, as her husband, no doubt, was the topic of discussion, and smiled brightly at Mr. Collins who actually appeared, strangely for him, to be a little discomfited and was busying himself with the table arrangements. When all was to his satisfaction, Charlotte laid her hand on his arm to attract his attention, feeling his tension melt as she diverted his thoughts to a more pleasant aspect.
“My dear, how long shall it take for us to arrive at Hunsford?”
“We have at least another three or four hours to travel and so shall not arrive until possibly eight o’clock this evening. I do hope that you will be able to endure it for that long – the stage is not as comfortable as our previous equipage, but once we reach Hunsford we shall be met by Lady Catherine’s carriage so to arrive at our home in grand style. She is always so thoughtful and attentive to others’ comfort. Lady Catherine travels a great deal and understands the weariness that can be experienced at the end of a long day’s travelling.”
“I’m sure she does! And how kind to allow us the use of her carriage, but I do hope she is not intending to pay her respects this evening? If she does I know she will gain a very bad impression of me – tired as I am.”
“No, indeed not. Lady Catherine much prefers her own home in the evenings. She will call at her first convenience, I assure you – it may even be as early as tomorrow morning. She has been extremely anxious to make your acquaintance, as has her daughter of course; you are almost of a similar age.”
The driver called through the window into the parlour to alert the travellers that the stage was about to leave for Kent. Charlotte hastily gathered up her belongings while Mr. Collins finished the remains of the refreshment, and then she followed him outside where the carriage was waiting, already loaded with their trunks and other items. As she was handed into the interior, Charlotte nodded politely to the three other passengers already seated and realised that, truly, this stage of the journey would be a trial considering the lack of space and privacy with barely any view outside due to not only the darkness which had fallen in a thick blanket but also to the small inefficient windows on either side. How she longed for a quiet room and a soft bed; she was really becoming quite uncomfortable and tired. How Mr. Collins had endured such a trip so often in the past few weeks gave testament to his endurance and dedication to her and her happiness. Such thoughts helped Charlotte appreciate her husband more than usual; she felt that she must begin to build a reserve of such recommendations against her foreseeable irritation at him. His embarrassing behaviour at the inn and prior to leaving Meryton was tempered by these new thoughts passing through her head at just how conciliatory he had always been towards her, how thoughtful indeed. She smiled at him as the carriage jerked and swayed out of the inn yard and onto the highroad.
Mr. Collins, squashed between a farmer and his friendly wife, caught Charlotte’s unexpected smile and, disconcerted at such a public display of affection, was merely able to nod politely at her and then look pointedly out of the window at nothing but the vague outline of trees and walls.
After a while, Mr. Collins could contain himself no longer and began a conversation with his seat partners which lasted a good deal of the journey, as he discovered, to his great satisfaction, that here were two of his parishioners with whom he had not yet made proper acquaintance. It certainly passed the time for them, being equally engaged in whichever direction the conversation tended, but Charlotte, becoming more and more uncomfortable, unable to rest her head or adjust her seating position, found the journey quite gruelling and could barely keep a fair countenance when included in the conversation sparkling across the footrest.
She listened dully to the farmer’s wife explaining the village of Hunsford – they lived on a farm further out of the village but visited every week to sell their produce and livestock. Mrs. Betts was delighted to be the first person to meet the new parson’s wife and felt it her duty to start her education immediately regarding all of the families in the village along with their personal histories. She had to say, when regaling her friends later about the encounter, that she found the new Mrs. Collins to be very polite but cool. “Rather stuck up really, but maybe it was because she was tired,” she laughed. “Or maybe, she was worrying about her wedding night!”
Mindful of the fact that she would no doubt see rather a lot of Farmer and Mrs. Betts in her new role as the wife of the village parson, Charlotte tried her best to respond to the information, to show an interest in the history of people she had never met, and to begin with a positive impression, but she was very tired and could barely remain civil.
Thankfully Mr. Collins appeared indefatigable in his ability to continue conversations with his parishioners; he was delighted to be able to impress upon such a captive audience the seriousness and dedication of their new parson and his close relationship with their employer, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Needless to say, neither the farmer nor his wife had ever set foot inside Rosings Park as guests which proved to be of great satisfaction to Mr. Collins as he preened himself in the knowledge of his intimate acquaintance with her.
Just as Charlotte had resigned herself to her discomfort and the increasing cold pervading the interior of the carriage, lights were seen in the distance and she was delighted to hear that they were at the stop closest to Hunsford where they would change for the final, short portion of their journey.
Chilled to the bone and stiff from inactivity, Charlotte appreciated the hand of the driver helping her negotiate the steps from the carriage. She roused herself and started to count off her trunks and bags as they descended from the roof and the rear of the carriage. Mr. Collins was all action and activity as he recounted and moved each trunk a small distance to indicate their belongings.
“Where is Dawkins?” he demanded each time he returned to the increasing pile of bags. “We are punctual and he has no reason to be late. Lady Catherine would certainly not allow him to be waylaid without a reason; she is entrusting her carriage to him for the evening and he should be deserving of that trust. This is too bad of him to leave us here in the dark and cold awaiting his arrival. He should be here beforetimes to help with all of this.” He was working himself up into a state of righteous indignation at the incompetence of his servant.
Charlotte could only stand exhausted, waiting and listening to her husband, as she had the good sense to understand that she could hardly defend a manservant she did not yet know and did not want to aggravate her husband further. Perhaps Dawkins was continually late; she could offer no calming thoughts or remedies regarding the problem.
At last they were unloaded. Farmer and Mrs. Betts had set off walking to their farm down the road apace but not before offering to come back with their cart to help Mr. Collins and his wife to their home. Mrs. Betts looked at Charlotte sympathetically as she left.
“Do not worry yourself, Mrs. Collins. All will be well in the morning – you will feel better when you are warm and comfortable in your new home. ‘Tis only the cold and dark that depresses you
now.”
Charlotte thanked the couple for their concern and their companionship and tried to agree with the assessment of her future comfort, but was secretly very glad when they disappeared down the lane.
“My dear. Wrap yourself in this blanket. I do apologise for this delay. I cannot think what Dawkins is doing; I gave him careful and explicit instructions as to our expected arrival date and time. He has always been most prompt and efficient in prior times.”
Charlotte could see that her husband was now not only embarrassed but also beginning to become worried about their transport home.
“Perhaps you should go into the inn over there and ask if any person would be willing to transport us to the Parsonage, Mr. Collins. We should start to make plans for Dawkins’ non-arrival if we are to reach our destination before tomorrow. I will wait here with our belongings.”
Much enraged and agitated, Mr. Collins silently nodded his agreement and strode off towards the inn, leaving Charlotte feeling much worse than she had all day. To be so close and yet so far was frustrating and depressing; all she longed for now was a hot meal and a warm bed in which to relax and sleep. Although it was their wedding night, Charlotte was convinced that Mr. Collins would not force his attentions upon her after such a day; she hoped that this would be the case and it certainly would raise him in her estimation if he did not.
A sound of a cart and horse coming along the lane alerted Charlotte that she was not visible where she was standing, and, in an effort to avert an accident to either herself or her possessions, she pulled out and waved a white handkerchief; whether the oncoming driver would be able to make out exactly what it was, was not Charlotte’s concern, merely that he should slow down and avoid her.
The cart slowed and stopped beside Charlotte and she saw to her relief that it was Farmer Betts, as good as his word, returning to see if they still needed his assistance, tired as he was from his own journey.
“Evening again, Mrs. Collins. Let me start loading your bags in the back. I’ll help you up into the seat here. Mrs. Betts sent a small morsel of food for you to tide you over until we get you home, along with a warming stone for your feet.”
Charlotte wearily smiled her thanks and climbed into the seat behind the horse.
“My husband has gone into the inn to find someone to help us. Could you go there and inform him of your arrival, please?”
“Of course, ma’am. Let me finish the loading first though.”
Charlotte gratefully removed the hot stone from its wrappings and placed it first at her feet, which were so cold she could no longer feel them, and then in her jacket where it slowly warmed her front and her hands.
“At least there is no rain,” she thought as she sat, appreciating the warm stone. “I must make my very first call to Farmer and Mrs. Betts. They have been so kind and thoughtful already to me.”
She watched the farmer stride across to the inn’s door and re-appear moments later with her husband, voluble in his thanks and determinations of what should be done to Dawkins when he reached home.
The cart creaked as the two men climbed up beside her. The proximity of two other warm bodies increased Charlotte’s comfort level even more and, consequently, her humour improved with each mile of the lane they travelled. By the time they reached a crossroads, she was able to show a genuine interest when Mr. Collins pointed out the sign fortunately lit by the almost-full moon: Rosings Park. Dark trees banked on each side of the lane and Mr. Collins informed her that this was the actual perimeter of the estate, even though they would not arrive at the house for another mile or so. Farmer Betts nodded and added that he had had some dealings with the house during shooting season, and sometimes his wife was required to help when there was a large party invited to stay.
“Look, my dear! There you see - through the trees - Rosings Park - ahead of you!”
Charlotte saw a large silhouette looming darkly to her left with only small mean specks of light at some of the windows; not a welcoming sight for a weary traveller. The cart slowed to a walk and they approached a small house across from the Rosings Estate, surrounded by hedges and small stone walls. In contrast to Rosings Park, lights were shining with a warm welcome from all of the windows and on the porch was a figure obviously awaiting them with impatience.
The housekeeper bustled to the cart, all beaming smiles and activity.
“Mr. Collins, sir! You are here at last! Whatever happened that you were not on the afternoon coach? Dawkins was waiting for you then, sir. He came back quite confused that you were not on it. He had to return to his wife to attend to her and the new baby. He sent a messenger to the inn to make sure that, should you arrive late, someone would be prepared to transport you. He thought for certain he had mistaken the day and would try again tomorrow. I decided to wait a while tonight to see if you would arrive anyway, and, well, here you are, safe and sound!”
As she was making excuse, the housekeeper was nervously helping Farmer Betts unload the luggage and carrying it into the house.
Mr. Collins waited for his chance to berate the messenger of the news about his unfortunate ending to the journey.
“Thank you for waiting to welcome us, Mrs. Hall. It would have been a dismal homecoming for my wife if you had not been here. I shall speak to Dawkins tomorrow about his utter disregard for my instructions – I was perfectly clear that we should not arrive until late in the evening and the manner in which he left us without transport was irresponsible. How could we possibly arrive before this, coming so great a distance as we did? My wife is exhausted and requires attention. Please assist her immediately.”
Charlotte tried to argue that she was perfectly capable of helping with the unloading but was whisked away by the competent Mrs. Hall into the warm hallway of the Parsonage. The first thing her eye fell upon was her small writing desk which had been placed just inside the door of a room leading off the hallway and she exclaimed to see it so cosy and welcoming; a familiar thing in a sea of unfamiliarity was a happy sight indeed. Charlotte stopped to open the lid and stroke the wood, noticing that all of her personal papers had been unpacked for her, but decided that that would be a discussion for another day; tonight she was really too tired to care.
Mrs. Hall ushered her into the dining room where a small fire still burned in the grate and a welcome meal of cold meats and bread had been laid out. Mr. Collins bustled in, warmed by the exercise of moving the boxes in, and the amount of wrath he was planning to pour down upon the unfortunate Dawkins in the morning.
“Well, here we are at last, my dear Charlotte.” He managed to smile at her as he seated himself at the other end of the table and reached for some food and drink. “Not without trouble but we are arrived safe and sound. Unlike my other recent journeys, this one was filled with the added preoccupation of making sure you endured it as well as possible and I am happy to note that you were a most pleasant and undemanding travelling companion, unlike some I have had the misfortune to travel with recently. My dear, you are not eating? Are you feeling unwell perhaps? It is late, later than I had envisioned due to Dawkins’ questionable concern for our safe return. I shall call Mrs. Hall to take you upstairs to your bedroom. I will leave showing you the house until tomorrow when it is light. Mrs. Hall!”
Charlotte merely nodded her agreement, feeling numb with tiredness.
Mrs. Hall reappeared at the doorway, having discreetly removed herself from the newly wed’s first meal together in their home.
Charlotte rose from her chair.
“Mrs. Hall. Would you be so good as to show me to my chamber now? I am exhausted and feel sleep rather than food is what I require.”
“Indeed ma’am, of course you must be worn out. Follow me, if you please.”
The women went upstairs to an open hall from which several doors opened. Mrs. Hall led the way along the hall to the end and opened the door. Charlotte stepped inside and was immediately delighted by what she saw: a very feminine decor had been arranged with pretty curtains an
d coverlets, a small table and chair for her comfort and a window that looked out onto what appeared to be fields and woods.
“Lady Catherine provided several of the pieces in here, ma’am, as she saw nothing already in the house that she considered appropriate for a lady’s private chamber. She was here quite often during the last few weeks, ma’am, arranging everything to her satisfaction.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hall. It is lovely. I am sure I shall be most comfortable here. I shall convey my thanks to Lady Catherine as soon as I meet her.
Mrs. Hall curtsied and, leaving the candle and the bowl and pitcher of water she was carrying, closed the door behind her.
Charlotte surveyed the room once again and her eyes alighted for the first time on her trunks that had been sent on before her. Summoning her last amount of energy, she opened the first one only to find it empty. Of course! Unpacked! How thoughtful of Mrs. Hall, or possibly her new maid whom she had not yet met. Charlotte opened the closet and there, greeting her like old friends were her dresses and other items of clothing. Charlotte allowed a small wash of sadness to flow over her as she remembered these same items in her own room at Lucas Lodge, but then shrugged off the feeling and quickly changed out of her travelling clothes, washed, and climbed into bed.
She had a new room now, along with a new house and husband. She fell asleep almost immediately, still rocked by the motion of the coach that had taken her away from her home, family and friends in far-off Meryton.
XV
Almost as soon as she arrived, misunderstandings about transport from the inn notwithstanding, Charlotte was determined to be pleased with her new situation. The rigours of the past months and the recent journey were quickly dispelled with a comfortable night’s rest, and she awoke the next morning to the sound of knocking at her door.
Mrs. Hall entered with a cup of tea and pulled back the curtains to reveal to Charlotte the state of the weather: cloudy with the promise of rain later. As she had imagined the previous evening, her room looked out over the neighbouring fields and the outskirts of what she presumed to be Rosings’ parklands, with thickly huddled trees and shrubs enshrouding the perimeter of that house providing a decent screen from any passers-by on the road.
