Charlotte Collins: A Continuation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice

by Jennifer Becton

  Meanwhile, Charlotte remained in the sitting room with her book in her lap. She attempted to read but soon abandoned the pursuit when her mind continued to wander. Despite all attempts to the contrary, Charlotte thought of gentlemen. What had become of her? She had not been this preoccupied even when she was in the prime of her youth. Perhaps it resulted from her sister’s proclamation of love for Mr. Westfield. Or perhaps it stemmed from her conversation with Mr. Edgington. In any case, Charlotte continued to think of how much altered her life might have been had she experienced true love.

  At first, this fictitious true love had no form or face. Then, much to her chagrin, she could not prevent herself from filling the void with the faces of men of her acquaintance.

  First, she imagined her marriage with Mr. Collins. She recalled his manner and his words. She thought upon their days together and her feelings regarding him. Indeed, she would not call it love that they shared. It was rather more like strained companionship.

  Next, the face of Mr. Basford entered her mind. She attempted not to think of him, knowing his poor reputation. She felt an embarrassed flush reach her cheeks merely at the thought of him. It was not proper for her to contemplate him. Any sort of amity with him would be insupportable.

  Now, Mr. Edgington was a proper prospect for a woman such as her. He was a widower of excellent family and reputation, and strangely enough he seemed to have an interest in her. Charlotte had always been rather plain, and she had not had the inducement of a large dowry to entice gentlemen. Though it was difficult to acknowledge, men had little reason to show her attention.

  Mr. Edgington, however, had experienced marriage. He must have come to realize that there were aspects of greater import than a fresh face, family support, and deep pockets. Although deep pockets never hurt. Perhaps Mr. Edgington was the gentleman with whom to explore the possibilities of love that had escaped her.

  Charlotte scoffed at the turn of her contemplation. Such nonsense for a woman of her age and experience, but for some reason she felt strangely buoyant.

  But would Lady Catherine accept her?

  Likely not.

  ~**~

  The feeling of hopefulness did not last past the dinner at the Farmington’s, however. The evening began well. Of course, most dinner parties have the advantage of expectation—of food and conversation and merriness. Only on rare occasions are these expectations met, and certainly, this was not one of those times.

  While not as grand as the Cards’ home, the Farmingtons’ house was a large and welcoming residence. Miss Farmington greeted them at the door and escorted them into a well appointed drawing room. The furniture was upholstered in rich shades of jonquil yellow, and wax candles had been lit, causing the room to take on a dull yellow hue though it was past dusk.

  The party conversed pleasantly until Mr. Card arrived. He entered the room, his posture erect and his hands clasped behind his back. He too was well appointed. His coat fit closely across his shoulders, giving him an aristocratic mien. His conduct and bearing were decidedly more aloof than ordinary. He surveyed the crowd, spotted Maria, and then walked purposefully in the opposite direction. No one, save Charlotte, took note.

  Maria attempted to join the group with which he conversed. His bearing turned unambiguously cold, and although her sister appeared not to notice, it incited questioning glances from those who were assembled around them.

  As the party moved toward the dining table, Miss Farmington arrested Maria, pulling her into an alcove in the hallway. Charlotte lingered behind them to listen to their conversation and wondered when she had lost her shame. “Maria, is something amiss between you and Mr. Card?” She need not have stood so close, for Miss Farmington’s voice carried, and Charlotte hoped no one in the dining room had heard.

  “I do not know to what you are referring, Miss Farmington.” Although Charlotte could not see Maria, she felt fairly certain that her words were accompanied by a head flip.

  “He is acting very strangely. How can this fact have escaped your notice?”

  Charlotte waited as her sister contemplated a proper response. It took long moments. “If you believe him to be acting strangely perhaps it would be wise for you to question him, not me, for I am the same as I ever was.”

  Charlotte did not approve of that idea at all.

  “Indeed I shall. It is fortunate, then, that Mr. Card is to be seated beside me.”

  Miss Farmington pulled Maria from the alcove and led the way to the dining room. Charlotte followed at length, found her appointed seat beside Mrs. Farmington, and was quickly engaged in conversation. Maria sat on the opposite side of the table between two of Miss Farmington’s young friends, and the three of them chattered happily, completely ignorant of the others around them.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Charlotte regarded Mr. Card and Miss Farmington. She could hear very little of their conversation, but she took notice of their continual glances in Maria’s direction. Mr. Card’s countenance was cold, and she was unaccustomed to seeing such an expression on so pleasant a gentleman.

  The longer the two spoke the more shocked Miss Farmington appeared. She reached over and patted Mr. Card’s arm comfortingly, and Charlotte was quite certain that she saw her call Maria an old fool.

  In good conscience, Charlotte could not call her younger sister old, but unfortunately, she had to agree that she had behaved foolishly where Mr. Card was concerned. Perhaps she did deserve a measure of the censure that was certain to come her way.

  For the remainder of the evening, Miss Farmington stayed at Mr. Card’s side, fawning over him and making sure Maria was a witness to it all.

  Indeed, Maria had seen, and she came to Charlotte in due course. “You see, the situation has not turned out as badly as you predicted. See there how Miss Farmington is enjoying his company, and what a charming couple they make. Mr. Card will soon forget his ridiculous proposal to me.”

  “I do not know—”

  “—Oh, pooh. You just refuse to acknowledge pleasant things.”

  Maria flounced away, leaving Charlotte with a reprimand lingering on her tongue. Alone again, she sat down to observe the room. It was clear that the news of Maria and Mr. Card was now known by everyone present and would soon be the talk of Westerham. Based on the cold glare in the eyes of Mr. Card and Miss Farmington—and the lack of conversation partners who had come Charlotte’s way—she concluded that her sister—and herself by extension—would not appear in a positive light.

  Oblivious to the entire situation, Maria spoke animatedly with the assembled company. Charlotte could hear her voice floating above the others. “I do not comprehend why everyone is so quiet this evening! Perhaps it is owing to too much of Mrs. Farmington’s good wine.” Her friends looked on with barely concealed disdain as she raised her glass to her lips and drank deeply.

  Leave it to Maria to misread the situation so completely. It would not do to have her sister intoxicated; her conversation was questionable enough without the benefit of red wine. Charlotte resolved to stem the tide of the damage immediately. She stood and walked to the corner where Maria was in the process of questioning Mrs. Farmington about the vintage of the wine.

  “Mrs. Farmington, thank you for an enjoyable evening,” said Charlotte quietly, “but I beg you would excuse us.”

  Maria stared at her. “But it is so early.”

  “I do apologize, but I am feeling rather unwell and would like to be at home shortly.”

  “Oh dear,” Mrs. Farmington said, “I will have a carriage brought round.” She rang the bell and issued orders to the servant who arrived. Then she called her granddaughter to bid farewell to her guests. “Constance, do escort Mrs. Collins and Miss Lucas to the door.”

  “With pleasure.” Miss Farmington did not attempt to conceal her rudeness. She offered her arm to Maria. “Shall we?”

  Charlotte walked behind them, again listening to their conversation. Still no shame. “I am sorry to speak so in front of your sister, but how
could you do such a thing to poor Mr. Card?”

  They stopped abruptly at the door. Charlotte narrowly avoided a collision.

  Maria took a confused step backward. “Do such a thing?”

  “Your rejection of Mr. Card’s proposal, of course, you ninny.”

  “Oh, that,” Maria said lightly. “I had thought he would not mention it.”

  “Not only have you broken his heart, but you have done it for the stupidest reason imaginable.”

  “Wha—” Maria was flabbergasted.

  Miss Farmington sighed in frustration. “You imagine yourself to be in love with Mr. Westfield, and I supposed you believe that he returns your feelings.”

  “I cannot speak for Mr.—”

  Miss Farmington’s eyes narrowed to mere slits on her freckled face. “Mr. Westfield is far above your station, and he certainly would never show interest in you.”

  Maria stared at her mutely, confusion etched in her face. Miss Farmington’s visage had turned an unflattering shade of red, and her nose became so pinched that Charlotte wondered that she could continue to draw breath. “And worse, you have ruined your only hope for marriage. Can you not comprehend that? It is now certain that you will be as sad and lonely as your sister.”

  “That is quite enough.” Charlotte spoke loudly as she stepped between the two young ladies. She touched her sister’s hand. “Maria, shall we go?”

  Maria managed to croak out a small “yes” and followed Charlotte weakly, her steps as careful as an elderly woman’s.

  Charlotte took her sister’s arm and propelled her into the small, borrowed carriage as the tap of Miss Farmington’s angry footsteps receded down the hall. Maria continued to look back at Miss Farmington’s receding form. Her face had gone very pale and she turned to Charlotte and said, “I must speak with her.”

  Fearing that her sister would call out to Miss Farmington, or worse, burst in loud sobs, she said, “No. Do not say a word until we are home, Maria. Now is the time for discretion.”

  Maria stared uncomprehendingly. “How could Mr. Card do this to me?” Her lower lip wobbled.

  “Not now. At home. The driver might overhear.”

  It appeared that Maria might protest her caution, but Charlotte kept her arm firmly around her sister’s shoulders as they bumped along through the night. She absorbed the periodic trembling that rocked Maria’s small form, and when they exited the carriage and descended into the night, Charlotte had to assist her into the cottage.

  As soon as the candles were lit and the two sisters were alone in the sitting room before the peat fire that Edward had left burning for them, Maria’s shock turned to anger, and she stormed to the fireplace. “How could Mr. Card do this?”

  “Maria—”

  “—He has ruined me. By tomorrow morning, the entire town will have turned against me. I shall have no friends. No prospects.”

  Charlotte remained silent.

  Maria’s voice rose, her face became ruddy in the candlelight. “And what will Mr. Westfield say?”

  Charlotte took a place on the settee and waited for her sister to finish raging.

  “Mr. Card said he loved me. Now he has done this. How could he? How could he possibly do this to someone he claimed to love, Charlotte? How?”

  “He is angry and hurt, Maria. Only think of the things you said to him when he proposed.”

  “I said nothing terrible. I spoke the truth. There is nothing so inappropriate about the truth surely.”

  “You said yourself that you were cross with him. That you told him you would never love him. That you loved another. He has pined for you since your first meeting, Maria. You could have let him down more gently. How would you like to hear those things from the person you loved most in this world?”

  “So I deserved all this censure?” Her voice cracked with emotion.

  “No, certainly not. Mr. Card has made his share of mistakes in this matter as well. Not the least of which was confiding in that odious Constance Farmington.”

  Maria sighed. “What a disaster this has turned out to be.”

  “Yes, and now we are left to deal with it as we might.”

  Maria collapsed on the settee with tears streaming down her cheeks and cried silently with her sister’s arms around her.

  ~**~

  The next morning, Maria did not come downstairs, so Charlotte went to her bed chamber to summon her. She lay unmoving beneath the covers, despite the sound of her sister’s movements as she threw open the drapes, allowing bright morning light to flood the room.

  Maria groaned.

  “Get up. We are going to town.”

  “I certainly am not. Everyone despises me by now.”

  “Listen, sister.” Charlotte sat on the side of the bed. “It is best to deal with matters such as this directly. You must go out and meet your fate.”

  “Last night you told me it was the time for discretion,” Maria said, her face still covered.

  “That was last night. You were in no condition to deal with this situation rationally.”

  “Nor am I now.”

  “Today, you must be. You must not hide. You must acknowledge the wrong you did to Mr. Card and make amends. It is the only way you will regain your status in society.”

  “Urgh,” Maria said. She threw the blankets back, giving Charlotte the first good look at her face. Her skin was pale, her hair matted, and there were swollen, dark circles under her eyes.

  “Did you sleep at all?” Charlotte’s tone was softer.

  “How could I sleep?”

  Charlotte stroked her hair. Her fingers caught in the knotted strands, and she dropped her hand.

  “I did behave badly to Mr. Card, did I not?”

  Charlotte paused, pleased to see that the morning sun had brought with it a measure of mental enlightenment. “Yes, I am sorry to say you did.”

  Maria sighed and turned her head toward the window. “I was so nervous, and I simply wanted him to leave. I focused only on avoiding the issue, so when he proposed, I had no idea what to say. I had no thought in my head at all but to avoid the matter entirely. So I blurted the first thing that came into my mind.”

  “It is always wise to consider for a time.”

  “I know, and that is why I simply cannot go into town. I have no defense against my behavior.”

  “I really think you should face the world as soon as possible. If you hide away here, people will only have more fodder for their gossip.”

  Maria pulled the covers back over her head. “Charlotte, please do not make me. I am far too embarrassed.”

  Charlotte looked down at the lump in the bed that was her sister. Her sister, who was giddy and sweet, thoughtless and silly, but who loved society above all else.

  “I will not make you do anything, Maria, but I am going to the bakery for some cream cakes.”

  “Let me know if you see anyone.”

  “I shall.”

  “And do bring me a cream cake.”

  ~**~

  Charlotte walked to town, vaguely saddened that her sister had elected to remain at the cottage, and she felt quite dreary in spirits although the sun shone brightly.

  As she walked, she felt the stares of the others she encountered. Not a one spoke to her, although she could hear snippets of their conversations, which were focused on Maria’s poor behavior. Torn between anger at her sister’s stupidity, pity at the situation into which she had put herself, and fear at her own tenuous position in society, Charlotte picked up her pace, her sturdy boots crunching on the ground beneath them.

  Turning the corner beside the Circulating Library, she found herself face to face with Jonas Card.

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Collins.” His voice was polite, his manner chilly. He tipped his hat and stepped aside so she could pass.

  Charlotte responded automatically. “It is nothing, Mr. Card.”

  They looked at each other awkwardly until Mr. Card bowed and then turned to leave, but Charlotte stepped into his pa
th. “Mr. Card, let us not behave this way.”

  He faced her once again and said with not a small measure of bitterness, “How then would you suggest I behave?”

  Charlotte bowed her head at the anger she heard in his voice. He was justified in his sentiments if not in his behavior. “I can make no such suggestion.”

  “Then what is the purpose of this conversation?”

  “I confess I am not certain,” Charlotte ventured. “Perhaps, I simply wanted to reunite you and my sister as friends. You have always been friends, have you not?”

  “No, I have never been her friend.” His eyes blazed with anger. “I have never been content to be a mere acquaintance. You yourself knew of my feelings. My mother revealed her conversations with you on this matter.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “You knew that I have always loved her. Every moment I have spent as her friend has been a torment.”

  “Oh, Mr. Card—”

  “And as for her so-called friendship for me, I do not believe it exists. No friend would reject another friend in so rude a fashion.”

  “Her words were thoughtless, I agree, but I do not believe that it was her intention to wound you.”

  “Do you not? Then why would she possibly tell me that she found me unmanly and that I repulsed her? Why would she say these things unless she meant to hurt me?”

  Maria had not confessed that she had said such things to poor Mr. Card. It was wrong indeed.

  “I can make no excuses for her actions, Mr. Card, but I know she regrets the words she spoke to you that day. I do wish that you would speak with her, allow her to apologize.”

  “Speak with her! Certainly not. I am quite finished with her.”

  Charlotte chose her next words carefully. “But Mr. Card, you have not been entirely fair to her either.”

  His eyes widened, and his lips stretched into a sneer. “Have I not?”

  “By speaking—undoubtedly in righteous anger—to Miss Farmington, you have made Maria the focus of vicious gossip.”