She was what Charlotte could have been, and she remained keenly aware of that fact.
Mrs. Eff had provided a measure of companionship and news from society while Charlotte was secluded in the early part of her mourning and she remained her friend despite the disparity in their current social positions.
“Miss Lucas’s evening was full of amusements. However, I fear that she is disappointed by the forthcoming departure of an acquaintance.”
“I had hoped we would be more than mere acquaintances.”
Mrs. Eff patted her hand. “Ah, I understand, Miss Lucas, what it is to be thwarted in love.”
“She is hardly thwarted in love.”
Maria giggled. “You ought to speak to my sister about love, for she was much in the company of a particular gentleman this evening.”
“Was she?” Mrs. Eff turned to Charlotte. “And may I ask who was the gentleman?”
Charlotte busied herself with removing her gloves. “Nonsense. No such gentleman exists.”
“That was rather a tender farewell from Mr. Basford this evening, Charlotte. I think he is enamored of you.”
“What a thing to say!” She dropped her gloves in Mrs. Eff’s waiting hand. “Tender indeed. Mr. Basford was merely being polite, or as polite as a person such as him can be.”
Thankfully, Mrs. Eff noticed her discomfort and changed the subject. “Do you require anything else tonight? Assistance with your gowns?”
Both Charlotte and Maria declined her offer, and Mrs. Eff retired to her chamber behind the kitchen while the sisters mounted the stairs. They stopped at their separate bed chamber doors.
“Mr. Westfield was quite attentive to you this evening.”
“Yes.” Maria had a strange, sweet smile on her lips.
“Mr. Card too showed great kindness to you.”
“Mr. Card?”
“He sent his carriage for us.”
Maria mistook her meaning. “It is ever so vexing to be always at the mercy of others for transportation. Surely we can afford a chaise at least.”
Charlotte ignored Maria’s desire for transportation of their own. She must make her message plain, for Maria was intent on misunderstanding her. “He is fond of you.”
Maria yawned. “We have always been fond of each other, but there is certainly no attachment between us.”
“Perhaps you have not noticed his attentions to you.”
Maria opened her bedchamber door. “Perhaps you are the one who refuses to notice the attentions of a gentleman.”
Five
Maria sat with Charlotte in their little sitting room with the sun pouring through the open windows. They had just finished a luncheon of cold meats, rolls, and butter and had been sharing what Charlotte had believed to be a companionable silence.
“What a crushing bore this town has become now that Mr. Westfield and Mr. Basford have gone.”
Charlotte, who had been lamenting the amount of mending that had accumulated in her basket and contemplating another roll and butter, looked up from her stitching.
“Life went along quite well before they arrived. I am certain that we will survive now that they are gone.”
“That is a subject that I am willing to debate.”
“Well, I am certainly not willing to debate it. You will simply have to find something else to occupy yourself.”
“Humph,” Maria said in an unladylike manner. She had not seen Mr. Westfield since the evening of the card party, for he had been away from home when they had called on the Armitages soon after. Their visit had been brief and Maria had returned home quite put out and had been rather off ever since.
They sat a little longer listening to the tentative birdsong of early spring. Maria shifted on her chair and sighed.
“Shall we not pay a call on the Cards? It is dreadfully dull here.”
Charlotte put down her mending and studied Maria. She appeared ready to fly from the cottage with the least provocation. Perhaps an afternoon out would improve her spirits.
“I can see you will give me no peace unless I agree.”
Maria grinned. “You are quite right.”
“Then we shall go, and since the weather is so fine, we will walk through the fields instead of the road.”
“Charlotte, you know how to ruin anything that is remotely amusing.”
“I find walking an amusement in itself.”
“I do not know why.”
“It is good exercise, it improves the spirits, and it is enjoyable to see the countryside.”
“I can see the countryside just as well from the seat of a carriage or from walking the road on foot.”
“Indulge me, Maria. I have not had a good walk through the countryside in quite some time. It is much pleasanter to walk with someone than to walk alone.”
Maria agreed reluctantly to her sister’s proposition. It was a short distance to the Cards’ home, and Charlotte took great pleasure in the journey, enjoying the breezy spring weather. Maria complained incessantly. “My hair will be in such a state after walking in this wind.”
“It is but a gentle breeze.”
“My dress will be covered in mud.”
“We have crossed no puddles.”
“What if it rains?”
“It is not going to rain. The sky is blue and not a cloud in sight. Now do be quiet and leave me in peace.”
The Cards’ home was called Crumbleigh and was one of the finest estates in Westerham. Mr. Card had inherited Crumbleigh and a substantial fortune, making him one of the richest of their acquaintance. Maria always said it was a shame that all that money was wasted on such a man as Mr. Card, who was kind and obliging almost to a fault. She was at a point in her life when she believed that masculinity was defined by egotism, hardheadedness, and difficulty. While Charlotte appreciated both kindness and masculinity, she had rarely found them combined in the proper ratio in one man.
Mrs. Card received them cordially in a large, sunny sitting room.
“How glad I am to have visitors. And what a fine day for a long walk.”
Privately, Charlotte thought that it must have been quite some time since Mrs. Card had indulged in a long walk, fine weather or no.
“That is precisely what I told my sister.”
Mrs. Card smiled and then summoned the maid. “Go and tell my son that we have visitors.” Then she turned to Maria. “Jonas will be very glad to see you. He has been quite dull these past few days.”
“I am sorry to hear that. Has he been ill?” Charlotte asked.
“No, indeed. I believe he is in need of society. Young men these days seem to thrive more on society than sport. I believe that the two of you will do the trick.”
Mr. Card arrived and was attired in a deep brown coat, tan breeches, and a creamy white cravat tied in a barrel knot. He appeared stylish yet sober and refined. He smiled as he greeted the assembled ladies and announced, “What a fine day! Shall we all not stroll through the gardens?”
“What a jolly idea,” Maria said sourly.
Mr. Card’s eyes widened to an almost impossible degree. “You do not wish to see the gardens? They are quite nice.”
“Perhaps we could find a quiet bench and have a nice chat while Mrs. Card and Charlotte stroll. I am quite sick of strolling, and we must still walk home.”
Mr. Card beamed. “There is a very pleasant bench in the rose garden, and I would enjoy sitting with you.”
The four walked through the house, the women’s dresses whispering as they walked, while Mr. Card’s boots punctuated the quiet with gentle taps on the polished stone floors.
Charlotte had always loved Crumbleigh, although she could have wished for a less disintegrated-sounding name. She could remember visiting Mr. and Mrs. Card with Mr. Collins when they had first married. She had stood in the massive entryway and tried not to gawk even as she secretly marveled at the size of the hall and at her reflection in the sheen of the floor.
After she had been married to Mr. Collins
for some time, she had lost some of her admiration for fine things. She could not recall all the times that she had listened to her husband discourse on such items as window dressings, vases, or furniture. Although they could only afford modest accoutrements themselves, Mr. Collins could not be prevented from praising the belongings of others. It had gotten to the point that Charlotte wanted nothing fine in her house for fear that he would boast about it to all he met.
Now, looking around the Cards’ house, she felt not a twinge of jealousy. Maria, however, ran her hand along the cool marble trim and gazed longingly around her. Poor girl. It really was unfortunate that she had no feelings for Mr. Card, for he admired her, and she admired his home.
The group arrived in the rose garden, where Mr. Card and Maria tucked themselves on a little bench among the roses.
“Let us walk this way, Mrs. Collins.” Mrs. Card directed her toward a small path. “We will leave them to speak alone for a time.”
They chatted about the weather and then the subject turned to Mrs. Card’s favorite topic of conversation—gossip. Mrs. Card’s tongue was wicked and the breadth of her knowledge of the happenings in Westerham took Charlotte aback. Mr. Holloway had acquired a new sow, which he described to everyone as just as fat as Mrs. Holloway but better company. Apparently, Mrs. Holloway shared her husband’s opinion of the quality of their time together, for she had become quite close, it was rumored, with an unnamed gentleman of their acquaintance. Mrs. Holloway had hinted at the affair but would not identify the man.
“Can you imagine? An affair amongst those of our acquaintance.”
Charlotte was not very much familiar with Mrs. Holloway, but she found the idea of an affair implausible as well. “‘Tis probably nothing but foul wind. Mrs. Holloway is certainly attempting to wound her husband for comparing her unfavorably to a pig.”
“I must admit I quite agree with his comparison,” Mrs. Card said. “She prattles on endlessly and indulges in too many confections, if you ask me. At the winter ball, I went to refill my wine glass again, and I observed her eating almost an entire tray of biscuits. Such gluttony.”
Charlotte concealed a smile at Mrs. Card, who was often deep in her cups when in company. However, she could not quarrel with her assessment of Mrs. Holloway’s conversation. She had to admit that she often found the company of certain barnyard animals more appealing than the prospect of an evening in the company of Mrs. Holloway—or Mr. Holloway for that matter—but incompetence in social settings did not mean that Mrs. Holloway was engaged in illicit behavior. That sort of thing happened in London, not Westerham.
Charlotte turned the conversation to safer topics, and she listened as Mrs. Card described her improvements to the gardens and Mr. Card’s charity to the tenants on their land. Then Mrs. Card paused, glanced about as if expecting spies to appear from behind the shrubbery. Charlotte began to fear an uncomfortable change of subject, and that fear was not unfounded, for Mrs. Card grabbed her arm, nearly pulling her off balance. “Tell me this, and tell me truly, has Miss Lucas begun to feel tenderly toward my son?”
Charlotte was quite taken aback that she would broach this subject again and stopped midstride, causing Mrs. Card, who had not relinquished her grip, to be jerked backward. A reprimand leapt to Charlotte’s lips, but she refrained and responded as politely as she could. Would this woman never cease meddling in her son’s life? Not to mention Maria’s. And Charlotte’s for that matter. “Maria has not confided as much to me, and that is as it should be. Life is difficult to navigate without one’s sister sticking her oar in. I feel that it is best to let young people work things out for themselves, do you not agree, Mrs. Card?”
Mrs. Card dragged her onward down the path. “I certainly do. It is ever so frustrating to watch people manipulating their relations, especially for monetary gain. I am only concerned with my son’s happiness, but obviously he has the potential to make a desirable match among his own class.”
“Maria is the daughter of a gentleman and certainly of Mr. Card’s class!”
“Yes, but has she any money? Any dowry?”
Anger blossomed within her, but she responded with politeness. “Then why do you support the match?”
Charlotte knew very well why Mrs. Card was pushing Maria and Mr. Card together. She wanted a daughter-in-law who could be easily managed. And Maria, bless her, had more hair than wit.
“I have my reasons, and I may as well tell you that upon only the slightest provocation, Jonas will make an offer to your sister.”
Charlotte’s mouth dropped open and then snapped quickly shut.
“I can see that you are surprised, but I do not see why. Anyone may see Jonas’s admiration.”
“Mrs. Card—”
“Pray do not make yourself uneasy. As you said just moments ago, it is best to let young people work these things out for themselves. We shall just sit back and watch.” Mrs. Card patted her hand reassuringly and then released her hold. “But I must say that I am quite disappointed in you, Mrs. Collins.”
Charlotte continued walking calmly, but she imagined issuing any number of set-downs to the rag-mannered harridan.
“After our conversation on the day of that dreadful storm, I assumed you would have nudged Maria in my Jonas’s direction.”
There was very little to be said in response that was both truthful and polite. “I will encourage my sister to marry as she wishes, and she wishes to marry for love. She has spoken of no such feelings for any gentleman.”
Mrs. Card’s ears and nose turned an unflattering shade of red, and she crossed her arms in front of her. “You must see what an advantageous match this would be for her, and indeed yourself as well. I never took you for a fool.”
The old cow was certainly in fine form. Charlotte took a deep, steadying breath. “I was once of your opinion, Mrs. Card. In fact, I was even more determined, for I believed in marriage primarily for the purpose of improving one’s circumstances.”
“And well you should have thought as much. It is a wise opinion for a woman to hold.”
“I once agreed, but I have come to see the value of allowing love to color one’s matrimonial decisions. If happiness in marriage is indeed a possibility, I am certain that it can only result from love.”
“There is no such thing as a happy marriage.”
Charlotte glanced over Mrs. Card’s shoulder, willing some sort of interruption to occur. The appearance of Mr. Card and Maria. A carriage pulling into the drive. A regiment of soldiers marching through Crumbleigh on their way to battle. Any excuse to defer this conversation would suit Charlotte very well.
When none of those eventualities occurred, she unclenched her jaw. “I must disagree, for I have seen the evidence of them. I will encourage my sister to follow her heart. If her heart leads her to Mr. Card, then so be it.”
Mrs. Card huffed, seeming suddenly to expand to twice her size and then deflating just as quickly. “Jonas is not the sort of man with whom women fall in love easily. He is the sort whom one comes to love over time.”
Charlotte had nothing to say in response, and the two ladies walked in uneasy silence for some distance. The silence had the advantage of relieving Charlotte of both Mrs. Card’s dreadful conversation and her tour of garden improvements, but it could not persist much longer. Charlotte selected a safer topic. “Have you heard that the Americans have gone to France?”
Not seeming to notice the lack of a segue, Mrs. Card’s face lit. “Indeed I have.”
“I understand that Mr. Westfield’s mother encouraged it as part of her son’s education.”
Mrs. Card leaned in. “That is not at all what I heard.”
“Oh?”
“I have heard that the true reason is that Mr. Basford wanted to visit,” she paused and her voice dropped, “his Parisian mistress.”
“Mistress?”
“Indeed.”
The woman must be fabricating these stories. Two tales of such an illicit nature seemed improbable. “How c
ould you possibly come to know that?”
“How does not matter. What matters is that I know it. We must beware of these Americans.”
“If he were indeed joining his—” Charlotte could not speak the word and began again, “If indeed this were the case, why would he take Mr. Westfield with him?”
“Yes, poor Mr. Westfield. I believe it is safe to say that he will certainly return to Westerham a changed man. We may not trust him with our daughters. In fact, I would not be surprised at all to discover that Mr. Basford was Mrs. Holloway’s mystery lover.”
Charlotte stared at her companion. It was all so completely unbelievable. She acknowledged that evil existed in the world. She had seen it. But she did not believe Mr. Basford to be evil. She knew that stupidity existed in the world. She had seen even more of that. But she did not have the impression that Mr. Basford was particularly stupid. And Mrs. Card’s accusations would mean that he was both evil and stupid.
Charlotte had no reason to mistrust Mrs. Card, however. Perhaps it was best to exercise extra caution where the American gentlemen were concerned. She had witnessed the effects of trusting untrustworthy men, and she would not allow Maria to become a victim. Society was often more harsh on the victim than on the perpetrator of the crime.
On the walk home, Charlotte was quiet, but Maria chattered on. “I am so pleased that I thought of the idea of an outing today, for it was just what my constitution required.”
Charlotte trudged onward and did not bother to point out that she, not Maria, had suggested that they call on the Cards. There was not much point in correcting her, for she had already skittered on to the next topic.
“Mr. Card told me so many delicious stories, but I cannot seem to recall any of them. Have you ever had that happen? Your head is so full that nothing will come out? I suppose not, for you are far too sensible for that. Then we spoke of fashion. He said he very much hoped that the current enthusiasm over such tight fitting coats would soon pass, but I said I quite fancied a gentleman in a well-fitted coat. He seemed to value my opinion on the matter and vowed to see his tailor straightaway.” Maria should have paused here, but instead she launched into yet another topic. “Mrs. Card seemed to be in spirits today. I believe I detected some color in her cheeks after her walk with you. Did you have a pleasant chat?”
Charlotte Collins: A Continuation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice Page 6