“Humph,” said Charlotte. It was the best response she could muster.
“Well, it was so jolly to be out, even if it was only with Mr. Card.”
Charlotte regarded her sister as they walked. She wanted to clutch her arms and give her a good shake. “You speak of him too lightly, Maria. You should be careful of his feelings.”
“Oh, pooh.”
Six
Charlotte passed a restless night and arose early. She elected to enjoy a cup of chocolate, in the stead of her customary tea, as a consolation for her lack of sleep. The dark, bitter delicacy seemed to match her mood and yet also somehow brighten it. The house was quiet and cool at that hour, and the warm drink brought a measure of comfort to her restless spirits.
Knowing that Mr. Card desired to propose to Maria and that she was completely oblivious to that fact made Charlotte extremely uneasy. Maria was sweet, but she was an artless girl and ignorant of the feelings of others no matter how much her sister instructed her. She certainly would not have the presence of mind to spare the feelings of her long-time friend.
Charlotte contemplated simply telling her sister of Mr. Card’s feelings. It had been a difficult temptation to resist, but resist it she did. She found it unethical for her to divulge Mr. Card’s feelings even if his mother had been thoughtless enough to do so. This argument alone, however, was not strong enough to convince Charlotte to conceal the facts. It was her knowledge of her sister’s nature that solidified her decision. Maria would only make a mess of the situation if she knew of Mr. Card’s intentions. She could imagine Maria’s obvious attempts to avoid him or to slough him off on other young women. It was a charade that Charlotte had no desire to watch.
In addition, it was quite clear that Maria did indeed harbor an interest in Mr. Westfield, and she was not going to be satisfied until she had made a fool of herself over him.
What a fix! A good man loved Maria, but she did not love him. She persisted in fancying another man, who may or may not be in the process of being corrupted by his questionable uncle. And Charlotte was caught in the middle. How had she come to be in this situation? After Mr. Collins’s death, she had enjoyed a quiet life, and somehow her solitude had been replaced by vexation and confusion. Peace was nowhere to be found, and Charlotte was forced to search for solace in the cocoa plant.
After finishing her second cup of chocolate, she attempted to read, but still she felt restless. She considered a conversation with Mrs. Eff, but she was too jittery. Deciding that perhaps a walk into town and a browse around the shops would calm her, she notified Mrs. Eff of her departure and left a note for Maria, who was still asleep.
Charlotte walked briskly along the side of the road, and soon the hem of her dress was dampened with dew. Her spirits, however, were much brightened by the time she arrived in Westerham. She visited several shops but purchased nothing, and as noon approached, she walked to the Circulating Library.
She was considering a new novel when she sensed a presence beside her and glanced over to find Mr. Edgington, the red-haired gentleman who had bumped into her at the ball, perusing a volume several feet away.
“Good morning, Mr. Edgington.”
“Good morning, Mrs. Collins,” he said politely. “A pleasant morning for a browse around the shops, is it not?”
“Yes, quite.”
“What do you read?”
“I am sorry to say that I enjoy novels.”
“Why are you sorry to say that?”
“Are not novels considered to be a lower form of entertainment? Especially those whose content is comedic?”
“People who believe that must not comprehend the need for levity and release in our lives.”
“You are quite right. Our lives are serious enough, and I find it odious indeed always to read books of great import.”
Mr. Collins had been a dutiful student of sermons, and he had been displeased when Charlotte became bored of them.
Mr. Edgington smiled. “I concur. In fact, I am here for a book of travel narratives.”
“Also an interesting subject. Far more interesting than a collection of sermons.”
“Were you required to study sermons as a child as I was?” he said with a grimace. “I can vividly recall sitting in my room and reading Fordyce’s tome while my friends were allowed to run free in the out of doors.”
“I am also well acquainted with Dr. Fordyce’s advice, but not from my childhood. Mr. Collins was a great believer in his tenets.”
He looked at her earnestly. “I find many of his beliefs rather archaic. Even as a young child, I could not comprehend his idea of such severe subjugation of women. Those of your sex should be free to enjoy life just as a man might.”
Charlotte was not certain that Mr. Edgington was speaking of entirely innocent subjects when he talked of release and pleasure. His tone was placid, but something in his eye seemed to suggest conspiracy. Or was she imagining it? Charlotte hoped to temper their discussion. “I find some of his advice for modest speech and action to be useful even today, but I have no scruples in admitting that I find his ideas regarding subjugation to the male of the species, no matter how worthy, to be very questionable indeed.”
“Would you deem it questionable for me to invite you to dine with me this afternoon?”
Surprised, Charlotte analyzed him. Was it questionable? Was he flirting with her in an inappropriate manner, or was she imagining it? She had heard only positive reports regarding Mr. Edgington. Perhaps her feelings of unease stemmed from her suspicious mind. As long as they dined in a public establishment, what harm could there be in it? She was well beyond the blush of her youth, and it was acceptable for a widow to be in the company of a gentleman in public view. She placed the book back on the shelf. “I do not think it would be questionable, and I must confess I am famished.”
He offered his arm. “Then let us dine, and if you wish to make any other confessions, about your reading habits or otherwise, you may feel free to do so.”
Her face heated at his flirtation, and she hoped it was not obvious to those who observed her. Actually, Mr. Edgington was the second man who had brought a youthful blush to her cheeks in recent days.
If pressed, she would be forced to admit that she quite liked the fact that she was on a gentleman’s arm. It must be a metaphor of some kind. Being escorted meant that she did not walk alone through the streets of life. Or something of that sort.
Charlotte and Mr. Edgington entered and were promptly seated in a public room where they were served some lovely bread, cheese, and tea. At first, Charlotte felt awkward, but as the conversation flowed, she found her ease and soon they were speaking like old acquaintances. When the church chimes sounded, Charlotte was surprised, for the hour was much later than she had anticipated. Charlotte stood. Mr. Edgington rose with her.
“Oh dear! I fear my sister will be worried at my long absence. I must return home. Will you forgive my hasty departure?”
“Of course, of course. Your sister will wonder where you have gotten yourself,” he said solicitously. “May I escort you?”
“It is not necessary, sir, but I thank you for the meal.” Charlotte picked up her reticule and exited the public room, and Mr. Edgington followed.
“It would be no trouble.”
Charlotte turned, surprised to discover him so close by. She stopped. “Thank you, but it is not far, and I am not certain my sister will be up to receiving guests this afternoon.”
He took her fingertips in his hand. “Then I shall allow you to go alone, but only if you allow me the privilege of calling on you in the future.”
Charlotte did not know how to respond, but she had enough presence of mind to pull her hand from his grasp. They were in a public street! “Mr. Edgington, I am a widow…”
He did not appear abashed at her rebuke. “And I am a widower. Certainly we may be friends.”
Charlotte began walking toward home, but he kept pace. After several more steps, she stopped again and turn
ed. “Friends then if it will convince you that I do not need an escort.” She spoke the words for his benefit, but she remained uncertain. Something seemed amiss with Mr. Edgington. She wondered why she had found being on his arm so pleasant only an hour earlier.
“May I call on you next week? We can discuss sermons.”
“You may call on me provided that we do not discuss sermons.”
She managed to divest herself of him only after she agreed to allow him to call, and when Charlotte finally arrived at her cottage, she was thankful that Mr. Edgington had not escorted her, for Maria was in high temper. Mrs. Eff, who had been sitting with her in the kitchen, looked relieved to see Charlotte. Even Edward, who was tending to the fire, seemed grateful for her appearance.
“Where have you been? I thought you were just doing some shopping,” Maria demanded.
“I dined in town with Mr. Edgington.”
“You dined with Mr. Edgington!” Maria’s voice was barely under a shriek. “And just at the moment when I needed you most.”
Maria stood abruptly, nearly knocking over the kitchen chair, and stormed out of the room. Charlotte glanced at Mrs. Eff, who only shook her head. She began to follow her, but Mrs. Eff stopped her. “Give her a moment to compose herself.”
Seeing the value in her suggestion, Charlotte returned to her chair. “I am sorry, Mrs. Eff. You and Edward must have had a difficult day.”
Mrs. Eff smiled at her across the table. “It was nothing, my dear.”
“Nothing,” Edward repeated, wiping his hands on his trousers and leaving behind dirty prints.
“I should have been here.”
“You had to have your dinner.”
“It was rather impromptu. I should have come straight home.”
“You have to lead your own life.” She paused. “Were you with Mr. Edgington lately of London? The relation of Lady Catherine?”
Charlotte looked down at the table, her face turning pink. “Yes, do you know of him?”
“I know he is quite handsome and has a well-turned calf.”
“Mrs. Eff!”
“We are widows, Mrs. Collins. We are not dead, and we may certainly still appreciate male beauty, especially when it is housed in a gentleman of good family and substantial wealth.”
Charlotte glanced at Edward, who did not appear to comprehend their conversation.
“He is handsome, but I confess that he sometimes makes me uneasy.”
“Uneasy?”
Charlotte was sure that her face was as red as a poppy. “He flirts. At least, I think he flirts. But why would he flirt with me?”
“Why indeed. You have long been in need of a little flirtation.”
“I am not certain that it is appropriate. Some of the things he says seem, well, risqué.”
“That is flirtation! You are just unused to it.”
“Perhaps you are right.”
“Well, of course I am, dear.”
The women lapsed into silence. Edward came and went, restocking the coal bin in preparation for their evening meal. At length, Charlotte stood and said, “I’ll see to Maria now.”
“I shall be here if you need me.”
Charlotte found Maria pacing the sitting room. She did not appear to have benefitted from her time alone. Her hair was disheveled, and her hands grasped at the sides of her morning gown. “Maria, you must calm yourself.”
Maria whirled around at her voice and threw her hands in the air, revealing the wrinkles she had put in her skirts. “I cannot possibly calm down, and you would not suggest such a thing if you knew what I have been through since you left.”
Charlotte sat down on the chair by the fireplace and watched Maria take several more laps around the room. Finally, unable to track her along her dizzying path any longer, Charlotte arrested Maria’s progress and demanded, “Do sit down and tell me what has happened.”
Maria flopped onto a chair, ending sprawled in a very unladylike position, but Charlotte did not correct her.
“It is a disaster. It is worse than anything I could imagine.”
Panic rose in Charlotte’s throat.
“Has Lady Catherine been here?” Could she have heard of her dinner with Mr. Edgington so soon and disapproved so heartily? Would she require them to leave the cottage?
“No,” Maria said, confusion on her face. “Why would she come here?”
Quickly, Charlotte asked, “Are mother and father ill?”
“No, indeed. What a silly question! This is about Mr. Card.”
“Oh dear,” Charlotte sighed and arranged herself more comfortably on the chair, preparing for a very long story indeed.
Tears quivered on Maria’s blond lashes, and her blue eyes filled. “He has ruined everything. Absolutely everything.”
Exasperated, Charlotte said, “For heaven’s sake, tell me what has happened!”
“He arrived around eleven. I received him quite properly in the sitting room. You would have been proud. We were both exceedingly polite. Initially, I was happy to see him, for we have always been good friends. I remarked upon his attire. He looked quite fine today. He wore a particularly well-tailored green coat.”
“He is always handsomely turned out.”
“I have always liked that about him. In any case, we chatted, but as time progressed, Mr. Card seemed to become increasingly awkward. More awkward than usual, if you can imagine it.”
“Oh dear.”
“Yes, I was driven to ring for tea and biscuits just to have something to do, for he refused to leave.”
“That was a kind decision.”
“After our tea, Mr. Card began pacing the room, and I became very uncomfortable. I did not know what to say. And here he was just pacing back and forth. Then he began complimenting me. ‘I have always admired you,’ he said. And then I knew what was amiss.”
“Did you?”
“He was going to propose, you see, and I did not want him to. Not at all. The only thing I could think of was finding a way to distract him. I suggested a walk in the garden. At first he seemed relieved, but he would not be dissuaded. He was quite determined.”
“What happened?”
“Well, I got tired of walking. I just could not get away from him, no matter how fast I went. So I sat on the bench in the garden and steeled myself for the worst.”
“Oh, Maria…”
“It was just as I suspected. He did propose. It was awful.”
“I hope you were kind to him and considerate of his feelings.”
“Kind to him?” Maria said in a high-pitched voice. “How could I possibly treat him kindly after he tortured me in such a manner. How could he not realize that I was trying to avoid the subject entirely?”
“Maria!”
“Oh! Do not chastise me, for I did not say anything too awful. I simply told him that I did not view him in such a way and that I never, ever would. Well, he would not accept that, so I told him that I loved another.”
“Please tell me that you did not. Oh no. How did the poor boy react?”
“How should I know how he reacted? All I could think about was how to get myself out of this mess as quickly as possible.”
“He must have been very upset. He has tender feelings for you.”
“Do not look down your nose at me, Charlotte. You have no idea how to deal with such entanglements.”
“I may not have had a number of lovers, but I do know that you should not have lied to Mr. Card.”
“When did I lie to him?”
“You told him you loved another.”
“Well, I do.”
Charlotte was stunned.
“I am in love with Mr. Westfield.”
Charlotte sat back in her chair, her spine straight as a piece of planed lumber. “But you hardly know him.”
Maria looked offended. She stood in her own defense. “I know him well enough. He is everything a gentleman should be. He is clever, kind, and amusing. He is all that Mr. Card is not. And I told Mr. Card a
s much.”
The situation was worse than Charlotte feared. Maria was not a delicate person, and she never seemed to comprehend the consequences of the things she said. Mr. Card would likely never forgive her.
“You should not have said such things to him. How must Mr. Card feel? He is a decent young man, handsome, charming, and rich. He has paid you the highest compliment by proposing, and how do you respond but by insulting him? You must apologize as soon as may be.”
Maria crossed her arms. “I certainly will not. He will get over his hurt pride in short order and things will return to the way they have always been.”
“Affairs of the heart are never that simple.”
Maria groaned, left the room, and tromped up the stairs, leaving Charlotte to ponder the situation.
Seven
After her initial outburst subsided, Maria did not seem very much affected by the incident with Mr. Card. In fact, she seemed to have quite forgotten it. While ensconced in the cottage, she remained merry, spending much of her time daydreaming in the garden or reclining idly in the sitting room. Charlotte, however, knew that the storm clouds were gathering and that soon the deluge would begin.
A week later, an invitation to supper at the Farmington’s arrived.
“You see, Charlotte.” Maria waved the letter with an air of triumph. “This is proof that you have made far too much of my refusal of Mr. Card. We have been invited, you see, to join a supper party at Miss Farmington’s house. I am certain that Mr. Card will also be there.”
“For your sake, I am pleased to appear to be in the wrong.” Charlotte remained unconvinced, but Maria beamed at her, unable to imagine any negative repercussions for her actions. Ah, if only imagination ruled reality. Charlotte would be beautiful and gentlemen would bring her carriages full of gold.
“I will write my reply straightaway.” She crossed to the desk and selected a sheet of notepaper. She composed a lengthy reply, turning the paper and scribbling still more words, which Charlotte could only imagine conveyed untold silliness.
Charlotte Collins: A Continuation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice Page 7