Lady Catherine turned with the intention of sweeping from the room, but Charlotte stood. “You do not offer me the benefit of a reply?”
The older lady spun on her heel. “Certainly not. Mr. Edgington is of the house of de Bourgh and has no reason to speak falsely. I trust him.” Again, she attempted a dramatic exit.
“Folly indeed.”
Lady Catherine stopped. Charlotte stopped. The world stopped.
“Mrs. Collins, I am sorry that the situation has come to this.” She sounded anything but apologetic. “I hope you will find your way back to the straight and narrow path of which your husband, the Reverend Collins, often preached.”
To this message Charlotte had no reply.
It was the apocalypse of Lady Catherine, and unlike God, she had no mercy.
Seventeen
As Maria prepared for her wedding, Charlotte quietly prepared to depart from the cottage and return to Lucas Lodge a fallen and humiliated old widow. Her reputation was completely and utterly ruined in Westerham, and finding comfortable and affordable lodgings in town was unlikely, especially with the poor reference of Lady Catherine. Indeed, she had no desire to remain in a place that was hostile toward her, despite her need to vindicate herself.
She informed Mrs. Eff and Edward that she would have to do without their services and began to pack her few and precious books into a trunk. She did not want to remain at her parents’ home forever. She had become accustomed to her independence and she could not bring herself to abandon it, even if it meant that she would live in a small abode, with no servants, and little meat. Doing without was preferable to being a burden and a source of shame to her family.
Maria came upon Charlotte as she was putting the last of her books in the trunk. “Whatever are you doing, Charlotte?”
She looked up from her task, startled. Maria was watching her with confused, concerned eyes.
“Packing my books.”
“Well, that is quite obvious, but why?”
Charlotte closed the lid of the trunk, inhaling as the scent of paper and printer’s ink wafted into the air. She found it impossible to explain the full truth of her financial situation to her sister, and moreover, she was unwilling to burden her with her troubles right before her wedding. So she simply said, “I hope you will not think me a weak person when I tell you this, but I have decided to return to Hertfordshire. I cannot live with the specter of Mr. Edgington’s slander.”
“Oh, Charlotte…” Pity was evident in her voice, and Charlotte interrupted her.
“Do not feel sorry for me. I am content with this decision. I will be near Mama and Papa, and I will be in the company of longtime friends. And with a good measure of luck, Mr. Edgington will never visit.”
Maria’s eyes were wide with concern, and she thought for a long moment before speaking again. “Although I am sad that you have made this decision, I must say that I approve. I would worry about you here alone. Lord knows what Mr. Edgington is capable of doing.”
“Do not worry about me, Maria, wherever I am. I am a resilient person, and I will recover and rise above each new problem.” Charlotte hoped her words would convince both her sister and herself.
“If anyone can survive, I know it is you. You are the strongest woman I know.”
Charlotte gave her sister an encouraging smile, although she did not believe her, for at that precise moment, she felt herself to be the weakest of the weak and the poorest of the poor. She felt incapable of carrying her trunks down the stairs much less being able to carry the burdens her new life must impart.
But Charlotte forced a smile. “I am only sorry that I will not have the pleasure of receiving you and your new husband when you call on me here.”
“We will call on you wherever you are. No matter where Mr. Westfield and I live, even if it is the farthest reaches of America, I will always write. Every day.”
“As will I.”
A bit teary, Maria took her leave, and Charlotte continued to pack her things alone. She moved through the tasks without much conscious thought, for such serious contemplation only led to sorrow.
~**~
Days passed and Charlotte hardly seemed to notice. She received no visitors and was loathe to go into Westerham, so she was pleased when Mr. Basford called on her.
In fact, she almost burst into tears when she saw him riding toward her cottage with Mr. Westfield. He looked so strong and gentlemanly astride his tall bay horse. He was dressed in the same rather unfashionable attire as usual, and beside the dapper Mr. Westfield, he looked rather rough, but Charlotte saw him with new eyes.
She and Maria received them in the sitting room, which was now somewhat more bare thanks to Charlotte’s packing efforts. The gentlemen did not mark the lack of accessories. Charlotte counted herself fortunate that gentlemen rarely take note of such things. A lady would have recognized the lack and commented immediately.
The conversation, mostly on the subject of the fine weather and the upcoming wedding, was strained as the four pretended that nothing was amiss.
Mr. Basford chatted amiably, keeping the conversation on the lighter side. The four laughed, but behind it was a sort of anxious restraint. Neither Mr. Westfield nor Mr. Basford ever mentioned the ugly gossip, and Charlotte was thankful. She could not bear to speak of it to one more person, and she certainly could not discuss it in front of her sister’s betrothed.
When the gentlemen prepared to mount their horses and take their leave, Mr. Basford took Charlotte’s hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. When she met his eyes, his gaze was warm and sincere, and she felt that warmth and sincerity to her core. She felt his unspoken support and was very thankful indeed.
Maria and Charlotte stood at the window and watched Mr. Basford and Mr. Westfield ride away. The sisters stood so close that their elbows touched, their silence companionable and relaxed. Despite the tension that had existed during their time together, Charlotte was sorry to see them go. She regretted not being able to have a private moment with Mr. Basford, but his visit had managed to give her a measure of strength. Still, she wondered at Mr. Westfield’s relative quiet during the conversation. Usually an avid conversationalist, he had been polite, but not as talkative as usual.
“That was rather awkward at first, was it not?”
“Do not trouble yourself. All is well,” Maria watched the gentlemen’s progress down the path.
“Mr. Westfield, in particular, remained rather quiet, do not you think?”
“Perhaps he spoke a bit less than usual, but I see no cause for concern.”
“I cannot help but worry. My situation has caused so much strife already, and I would hate to think that it would ruin—”
“Do not even say it!” Maria faced Charlotte, “Mr. Westfield is simply tired from the wedding preparations. That is all.”
“But I still worry.”
“If Mr. Westfield truly loves me, then nothing—not a thousand Mr. Edgingtons—would prevent our marriage. So you see, nothing you have done—or not done—can hinder our marriage.”
Charlotte hoped Mr. Westfield’s love was as strong as he had led Maria to believe, but only a week before their nuptials, the reasons for his awkwardness became known.
Charlotte was working the garden, gleaning the late summer flowers and preparing the garden for the autumn. It was foolish, Charlotte knew, to tend her plants when she would be vacating the property in only two weeks’ time. But still, she could not stop herself. Chopping flowers off their stalks and hacking in the dirt provided a somewhat ladylike method for relieving her tension and venting her frustrations. She had just beheaded a rather pretty rose when she heard footsteps approaching at a rapid pace. Charlotte turned, the rose still in hand, and saw Mrs. Eff hurrying down the path with Edward following behind. Her bonnet had fallen from its place on her head and hung on only by its ribbon, and between her swirling skirts and the dust kicked up by her boots, Edward was almost obscured.
Charlotte stood, her knees protest
ing at her sudden movement, and she dropped the rose in the direction of her basket. It fell instead onto the ground, but she took no notice. “Mrs. Eff!” she called out in surprise. “What is the matter?”
Mrs. Eff stopped before her, unable to speak for want of breath. She held up her hand to halt Charlotte’s questioning momentarily. Charlotte looked to Edward, who was breathing less heavily. The lines on his young face conveyed his concern.
“Maria…” he said. “So sad.”
Charlotte’s eyes flew to Mrs. Eff, who quickly shushed Edward. “Where is Miss Maria?” she asked in a strained voice.
Charlotte looked around her. “Still in the kitchen, I suppose. I left her working on her wedding attire. What has happened?”
Mrs. Eff raised a shaking hand to her forehead. “Oh Lord…. I hate to be the bearer of ill news.”
“What is it?” she whispered, as though Maria might be able to hear her through the walls. Somehow, though, Charlotte already knew. There could be little doubt that Mr. Edgington’s slander had caused more damage. And to Maria this time. But what was the nature of this damage? Please, God, do not let it be the wedding.
“Mr. Westfield and Miss Farmington disappeared sometime last night,” Mrs. Eff said.
“What?” Charlotte asked, momentarily confused.
“They have eloped. At least that is the appearance.”
Charlotte knew that the potential for disaster had existed in their circumstances, but this was an eventuality she had not expected. Mr. Westfield had eloped. With Miss Farmington. It was inconceivable.
But as Charlotte considered their state of affairs, everything became clear. Events crystallized in her mind. This explained Mr. Westfield’s odd behavior when he and Mr. Basford had last called. Even then, he had no intention of following through with his engagement to Maria. The cur! And he could not very well call off their engagement, for such a thing was not done. Instead he chose to flee, leaving Maria again in shame and embarrassment.
And it was all Charlotte’s fault. Mr. Edgington’s scheme was ruining her life and now her sister’s as well.
“Oh dear.” Charlotte could think of nothing else to say. “Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.”
Edward repeated, “Oh dear, oh dear.”
“Mr. Basford left at first light to attempt to recover them.”
Charlotte could not even offer one more lame “oh dear,” for her voice was now gone.
“It all seems so sudden, but it must have been brewing for quite a while,” Mrs. Eff said. “Mr. Westfield had us all fooled, even his uncle, it seems.”
Mrs. Eff was waiting for a reply, and all Charlotte could think to say was “Poor, poor Maria.”
“I am so sorry. She will be inconsolable.”
They stood in silence for a long moment. Charlotte attempted to gather her thoughts. What was she to do? How was she to break such news to her sister? Maria loved Mr. Westfield. It would break her poor heart.
Perhaps it was all a mistake. “How did you come to find this out?” Charlotte asked.
“You are well aware of the manner in which news travels in Westerham, through servants especially. I had to hurry so that Maria would hear it from you instead of from someone on the street. The vultures are gathering.” She took a deep breath. “Miss Eames at the Farmington’s said she saw the young lady enter Mr. Westfield’s carriage very late last night. She saw it with her own eyes.”
It was doubtful, then, that it was a mistake. Servants may exaggerate the goings-on in their households, but if Mrs. Eff believed this Miss Eames, then it must be true.
“Thank you for coming here to warn us.” Charlotte paused. “Do you know why…why he left Maria?”
“You mean, does it have anything to do with Mr. Edgington’s falsehoods?”
Charlotte nodded, fear clutching her heart at the knowledge that she had ruined her sister’s chance at love. Mrs. Eff’s face conveyed the truth though she did not speak a word. Charlotte groaned. Everyone found the ground fascinating for several moments.
Charlotte tried to be sensible. “Even the best of men might be persuaded to leave a good woman in the face of such a scandal in the family.”
Mrs. Eff’s face became a mixture of sorrow and pity, and struggling with her emotions, Charlotte only nodded. The fault was indeed hers.
No! The fault lay with the depraved Mr. Edgington, and as guilty as Charlotte felt, she must force herself to remember that fact. She had done nothing worse than trusting the wrong gentleman. Many a woman had made such a mistake, yet they did not suffer such public humiliation.
Mrs. Eff finally found her voice. “I cannot say for certain the cause of Mr. Westfield’s actions. Some people say that he simply got his head turned by Miss Farmington, and some say that Mr. Edgington’s story caused him to begin to doubt Miss Maria’s morality.”
“I do not like Mr. Edgington,” Edward said. “He is unkind. And Miss Maria is sweet.”
Edward was correct. Maria did not deserve such ill treatment. Charlotte winced at the pain she would suffer. Mrs. Eff hastened to say, “But that is all just conjecture. Who is to know what a man such as him could be thinking? The truth is that only Mr. Westfield knows for certain. It is impossible to know his reasons for such treachery without consulting the villain himself, and at the moment, he is nowhere to be found.”
“Perhaps Mr. Basford will find him,” Charlotte speculated, “but the damage is already done. She will be heartbroken.”
Maria rounded the corner of the house and entered the garden. “Who will be heartbroken?”
Charlotte, Mrs. Eff, and Edward stared at her dumbly for a moment.
Mrs. Eff took Edward’s hand. “Perhaps we should go.”
Maria stopped them. “Oh no. Do not leave on my account. Now that you are no longer in our service, you must stay and chat with Charlotte and me. We are lonely here without you!”
Mrs. Eff looked to Charlotte, who nodded slightly, granting permission to stay, needing her support.
“Now tell me the gossip from town.” Maria picked up the rose Charlotte had dropped and twirled it between her fingertips. “It will be a relief to hear something other than these heinous lies about Charlotte.”
Mrs. Eff grimaced. “My dear, I am finding that gossip does no good for anyone. It is getting so that no news brings me pleasure anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
Charlotte took Maria’s hand, halting the twirling of the flower. “The news that Mrs. Eff has just related to me concerns Mr. Westfield.”
“Oh?” A hint of worry colored her voice.
Charlotte was unsure of exactly how to divulge such sensitive information. “It seems that he has left Westerham.”
“Perhaps he has gone on his uncle’s business in London.” Maria tried to be sensible. It saddened Charlotte all the more.
“I am afraid not,” Charlotte paused and took a deep breath. “It seems that he has disappeared and taken Miss Farmington with him.”
“What?” Maria shook her blond head.
Thankfully, Mrs. Eff spoke. “It is believed that they have eloped.” Her voice was soft and gentle, and Charlotte was glad that she had been the one to bring the truth to light. She could not seem to find the words that would break her sister’s heart.
Maria’s fingers tightened around the stem of the rose and the blossom trembled slightly in her grasp. “No, I do not believe that. Mr. Westfield and Miss Farmington? The very idea is preposterous. Mr. Westfield loves me. He is engaged to me.” Maria looked from Mrs. Eff to Charlotte. “He loves me. He does.”
Charlotte grasped her hand in both of hers. “We know nothing for certain. That is only what Mrs. Eff heard in Westerham.” Her words were meant to soothe, but Charlotte doubted their veracity. “She thought you should hear it from us first and not from someone else.”
“It is no matter. It is not true.” The stem of the rose bent in her grasp. “I will not believe it until I have proof of it from Mr. Westfield himself. Until then,
we must assume that the wedding will proceed on schedule.”
Maria lifted her chin resolutely and began to walk toward the front of the house, but then turned around. “I will believe nothing ill of Mr. Westfield. He loves me.”
Charlotte wondered just whom she attempted to convince.
Mrs. Eff, Edward, and Charlotte stood in silence, listening to the swish of Maria’s footsteps along the path.
“I hope she’s correct in her faith in him,” Mrs. Eff said.
Charlotte nodded. “As do I.”
But neither of them held out any true hope.
~**~
For the next few days, the cottage was rather quiet, and Maria’s behavior could only be described as stoic. Charlotte was as impressed by Maria’s fortitude as she was concerned about her refusal to acknowledge her true circumstances. Maria appeared to move through her days as usual, without tears, and always speaking well of Mr. Westfield. She was unusually helpful around the cottage. She assisted Charlotte’s packing efforts and took long walks in the garden and surrounding woodlands, but she did not go into town.
Then, a letter arrived from Mr. Westfield.
Charlotte watched as Maria took it to her room, her face impassive. She did not return for several hours, and Charlotte thought it best to give her time to digest whatever news the missive contained.
She could very well guess its contents.
It was full dark when Maria entered the sitting room and took the chair opposite her sister. Her face showed the effects of tears, but she was no longer crying.
They sat in silence for many moments, and Charlotte was loath to speak, fearing what she would hear once the conversation began.
Finally, Maria spoke. Her voice was very soft, but it did not crack with emotion as Charlotte had expected. “I am no longer engaged to Mr. Westfield.” Charlotte blinked at the detachment of Maria’s voice. The sad words were simply stated as though she had just said, “Dinner is at seven,” or “The weather is quite fine today.”
Charlotte approached Maria’s chair, not sure what to do or say. Kneeling before her, she took her hand. “I am so sorry, Maria.”
Charlotte Collins: A Continuation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice Page 18