I started breathing again, relieved. It was too bad I couldn’t be myself with Mr. Bennet. He would have been an interesting friend.
Marriage
“…Miss Lucas … accepted him solely from the pure and disinterested desire of an establishment…” Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 22
Whereas before journeying to Hertfordshire I’d been hoping to return having tried hard enough to satisfy Lady Catherine, but without a wife, I now found myself set on wedding Charlotte Lucas. I worried it would be difficult, as I was acting like an unmitigated ass and didn’t dare not to, but our next meeting showed me she had the same idea I did. When the Bennets brought me with them on a visit to Lucas Lodge, Charlotte made a point of spending time with me. A woman as forthright and kind as I felt her to be wouldn’t make the effort if she wasn’t actively seeking a proposal.
My hopes thus bolstered, I sought her out the next morning and was pleased she contrived to accidentally meet me. It showed she was smart, and I very much wished for an intelligent woman to spend my life with. As a final test of her suitability to deal with Lady Catherine, though, looking into her eyes, I was almost beyond carrying about it, I gave her one of my pompous speeches. She didn’t even waver. I wanted to kiss her.
The desire, which I didn’t dare act on, was cooled by the realization that the time had come to make my formal proposal. Not because I had cold feet, but because I couldn’t bring myself to deceive her completely. I was under no delusions. Charlotte didn’t know who I truly was. She was definitely marrying me for coldly practical reasons, and the truth was, the living she thought she was getting wasn’t yet a certain thing. I felt obliged to tell her so, though a sudden fear she would refuse me weighed down my tongue.
“I don’t hold the living at Hunsford,” I forced myself to say. “It’s contingent on Lady Catherine’s approval, more than ten months hence. I would ask you to wait for that approval if I didn’t think it would jeopardize my chances of obtaining it.”
“You mean that since Lady Catherine wants a wife, you must have a wife.”
“Yes.” It was an unusually brief answer for me. For once, for this important moment, I met her eyes without artifice, silently begging her to agree.
“I will risk it.”
I got down on a knee. “If you accept me, I will be the happiest of men. Will you marry me, Miss Lucas?”
“Yes,” she said, and, to my joy, she did.
Charlotte turned out to be the perfect wife. She allowed Lady Catherine complete control of our household and dealt with her superbly. Perhaps a touch vindictively, I pondered the notion that dealing with such a headstrong friend as Elizabeth Bennet for so many years had taught Charlotte how to handle domineering women. Vindictive or not, I was sure it was true.
Charlotte also arranged things so that she often avoided spending time with me during the day. It saddened me, and would have made me bitter, except that it also made my life easier. When I was alone, I didn’t have to pretend, other than to make sure I maintained my slump in case anyone chanced to enter the room. As to that, it was so uncomfortable, I took to hiding myself in my study, saying I was working on sermons, but in truth working my muscles through a series of exercises I’d learned at university, when I’d spent my free time boxing. It helped, but I wished I could engage in a generally more vigorous lifestyle.
It saddened me as well that, in a way, Charlotte and I saw the most of each other in the presence of my patroness, for we were both so stifled on those occasions. A bright spot was that when Lady Catherine mentioned how gardening was the equivalent of saving, Charlotte immediately spoke of the healthful exercise of gardening. I could tell, by the minute signs I was learning to read in my wife, that she truly meant it, and had a passion for the task.
I was so pleased, I almost told her how much I enjoyed the outdoors and exerting myself, but I bit the words back. I would tell her next year. For now, I would have to silently delight in my wife’s love of gardening. Even without getting to share it with her, to me, it brought us closer together.
It also did, indeed, save us money. There were no frivolous flowers in our garden. I’d vowed to myself that I would come out of the year at least two hundred pounds richer, even if I didn’t get the living. That way, we could have something to fall back on until I could provide for us better. As economical as I, Charlotte sold eggs and planned to sell some of our produce. She made cheese and we lived adequately without spending much. Admittedly, it helped that we now dined twice a week at Rosings.
The only truly awkward aspect of our marriage was our marital bed. While I found it hardest to maintain the character I’d assumed there, I somehow succeeded, which made things exceedingly uncomfortable for both of us. I couldn’t even allow Charlotte to see me undressed, or put her hands on my body, for she would instantly realize that my soft, slumped physique was a lie. Instead, I hardly touched her, wearing what seemed like more clothing than I donned for daytime, and only with all light extinguished.
It only made matters worse that Charlotte was perfectly willing, if totally naive. She was a twenty-seven year old virgin and I felt terrible disappointing her. There was so much I wanted to show her, so many things we could do that I was rather sure she would enjoy, but I knew the frequency and duration of our interactions was being reported. Besides, I couldn’t risk any noise. I vowed, about twenty times a night, that I would make it up to her once I secured the living. She would learn that being married to me wasn’t as disappointing in that regard as she’d come to find it.
There were days when I desperately wished I could show my true self to my wife, but I didn’t quite dare. If it went well, she would be a part of my secret, making it that much harder to keep. If telling her didn’t go well, something I didn’t like to think on but had to consider, even someone as reasonable as Charlotte could become angry, and then who could say what would transpire? I kept telling myself, it was less than a year and I would have the rest of our lives to make it up to her, along with being able to offer her the security of the living.
After we’d been allowed a suitable enough time as newlyweds, Charlotte’s sister and father came for a visit, bringing Elizabeth Bennet. I managed to act as if I wanted her to regret her refusal, another thing I would have to make up to Charlotte, but in truth, I bore my cousin no ill will. I was immeasurably relieved Elizabeth had freed me to marry Charlotte.
Charlotte was kind, cheerful and intelligent. She put up with Lady Catherine’s interference without the slightest hint of displeasure. Not only was she the perfect wife for me in that regard, doing everything possible to help me secure the Hunsford living, the love that had ignited in me when we first met had only grown. I wouldn’t be lying if I said that, each day, I fell more and more in love with my wife.
Lady Catherine’s nephews came for their annual visit and it was easy to see both Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy were attracted to Elizabeth. It was exactly the type of trouble I’d worried would follow Jane Bennet if I’d married her, although both men seemed to be upstanding. Colonel Fitzwilliam wasn’t serious in his pursuit of my cousin, merely enjoying a mild flirtation, but Mr. Darcy seemed torn. Charlotte told me she thought Mr. Darcy was interested in Elizabeth. I agreed with that from my own observations. I was glad I’d married someone so perceptive, even if it meant I had to work that much harder to hide my true nature from her.
I was sorry for Charlotte when Elizabeth left. Lady Catherine discouraged us from making friends in the community and Charlotte was largely alone. She bore it well, playing the role our patroness wanted her to play. Even when Lady Catherine’s advice was bad, Charlotte followed it. Fortunately, that was rare. As spring turned into summer, Miss de Bourgh and Charlotte grew closer, and Miss de Bourgh would often come in and stay for a half an hour. Even though I enjoyed seeing Charlotte talking and happy, I found other things to do on those occasions. The role I was playing only made it harder for them to enjoy their visits if I was in the room.
Our plan to c
ome out ahead financially was going well. We did sell eggs, and eventually chickens. We sold some of the produce from our garden. Between my savings, Charlotte’s small dowry, and our savings from the living, I calculated we would be able to have an income that would be enough to supplement a curate’s income; enough to make that a reasonable choice. I still hoped for the Hunsford living to become permanent, but I was determined to support Charlotte no matter what the outcome.
I was starting to feel the outcome would be good, however, if I could still call gaining the living good. Things were progressing smoothly, leaving me only a few areas of concern; for one, I was increasingly afraid of losing myself. Sometimes, the role I was playing came so naturally to me, I worried I was becoming the man I pretended to be. At times, I wondered if I could go back.
Worse, would Charlotte ever forgive me for my deception? Although she acted the perfect wife, I could tell what she thought of me. On occasion, I saw her embarrassment or even contempt. It pained me, but there was no choice. Nothing was private to us. She may not fully realize that, but I did. I must maintain the part I played at all times, even to my wife.
In time, the harvest came again. To make some headway in forming relationships in the community, in a way that even Lady Catherine couldn’t frown upon, I worked a couple of days helping out on a farm where the man of the household was ill. While I enjoyed being out of doors, I couldn’t work as hard as I would have liked, knowing my actions would get back to my patroness.
In years past, the harvest had been an almost transcendent time for me. I’d blended in with the other workers, impressive for my diligence and strength, but not known as an educated man, or a clergyman. My days had been filled with the labor of the earth. My nights, I had to admit, had always been filled with the arms of willing young women who were impressed with me in an uncomplicated, physical way.
Now, I couldn’t work as I ought and everyone knew me as Mr. Collins, Lady Catherine’s toady. Though, I had to admit, even with the little I did, it occurred to me that I didn’t miss the hard labor. While I longed for more physical activity than I currently had, I realized the backbreaking work of a common laborer, while sometimes romanticized in literature and my mind, would always be a grueling way to earn a wage. Strong as I was, and intended to keep myself, I couldn’t deny a greater love for the intellectual. Of course, with Lady Catherine dictating my sermons and watching my every move, I couldn’t indulge in that, either.
As for the nights, I realized I didn’t miss the willing young women, either. Now, there was only one woman I longed for. I vowed, as soon as my year was up, I was going to show her how much.
Conflict
“But however insincere you may choose to be, you shall not find me so. My character has ever been celebrated for its sincerity and frankness, and in a cause of such moment as this, I shall certainly not depart from it.” Lady Catherine speaking in Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 56
My year was almost done. My patience had worn away to almost nothing as well, but less than three weeks remained. In light of what Martin and Ellison had said, I’d held my breath around the six week mark, but no axe had dropped. As that dreaded date passed and the end grew near, it was all I could do to maintain my façade and not let loose an explosion of nerves and possibly precipitous joy.
Charlotte was mending, and I was sitting at my desk writing what Lady Catherine wanted me to read for Sunday’s sermon. It was difficult, as I’d developed the rather bad habit of letting my eyes stray to my wife, dreaming of all the things I would say to her, and do to her, in three weeks’ time. After Charlotte finished the garment she was working on, she started looking through the box where she kept her letters.
“Where is it?” she said to herself.
“Where is what?” I asked, my ears instantly picking up the extra note of worry in her tone.
“The letter my mother sent me. The one I received two days ago. She included a new recipe she tried and I wanted to look at it.”
I watched in growing concern as she went back through the entire box of letters.
“I’m certain I put it in here,” Charlotte said, looking up at me with a frown.
“Did it contain anything Lady Catherine would be interested in?” I asked in a low voice, a sudden tension chasing away the giddiness with which I’d been contemplating the end of my probation.
“You are not saying she took it? She hasn’t been here in days. Besides, she wouldn’t deign to do that.”
“Sally might,” I said softly, after glancing around to insure we were alone. Sally, who’d looked so guilty the day Lady Catherine had stormed in asking to see the modifications I’d made to the attic. I’d long since determined she could read and I suspected she was Lady Catherine’s primary spy.
Charlotte looked at me strangely. She started to say something, but closed her mouth instead. She walked to the doorway, looking to see if anyone was listening. Coming back, she crossed to where I sat. Bending low to speak into my ear, she whispered, “They’re spying on us?”
“I thought you knew,” I whispered back.
“I thought it was confined to gossip, not reading our mail.”
I shrugged. What could I say?
She stared at me for several minutes, her eyes searching mine. I didn’t know what she wanted me to give her, but I couldn’t. Not for three more weeks. Those moments she leaned over me, her face so near to mine, were the longest of my life. With my eyes, I begged her to let it go. I vowed that I would make it up to her soon. Finally, Charlotte straightened, returning to her chair.
Wordlessly, she picked up another garment to mend and I went back to writing my sermon. I hadn’t written two lines when Lady Catherine entered, unannounced. Charlotte and I both stood immediately. She cast me a quick, guilty glance.
“This is outrageous!” Lady Catherine yelled, more irate than I’d ever seen her.
I kept my face bland, but my heart was sputtering in my chest. What had been in that letter? Why hadn’t Charlotte told me? We could have recopied the bleeding recipe and burned the thing.
“Please sit down, Lady Catherine. What has upset you?” Charlotte asked. “Is there anything we can get you?”
“No, there is nothing you can get me,” Lady Catherine said, all but shouting. She waved a piece of paper at Charlotte. “This letter, your mother’s letter,” she clarified in accusatory tones. “It says Darcy is courting Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Mr. Darcy is engaged to your daughter,” I said, but my eyes were on my wife, pleading with her not to point out that Lady Catherine was holding her private correspondence. “Lady Lucas must be mistaken.” Of course, the engagement had never been announced, nor, as far as I could tell, acknowledged by Mr. Darcy.
“Yes.” Lady Catherine turned to face me. She stood for a moment, huffing and puffing while she regained her composure. My heart dared to return to a normal beat. “Yes, it is as you say. It must be a mistake. I will go there and see that the rumor is instantly contradicted. You will write to Mr. Bennet and tell him his daughter can’t issue such calumny.”
I glanced at Charlotte, who gave me a barely perceptible nod. I wrote the letter at Lady Catherine’s direction. There were one or two things in it that I knew Mr. Bennet would enjoy, but I couldn’t be proud of what I said. After she left, I sat for a long while, staring out the window at nothing. Charlotte, my perfect wife, set aside her mending and came to stand behind me, her hands on my shoulder. The next morning, Lady Catherine left Rosings, the whole community abuzz with the news she was headed to Hertfordshire. Later, I found out she tried to persuade first Elizabeth and then Mr. Darcy that the two of them should not marry.
I could do nothing while Lady Catherine was away. I couldn’t concentrate on my sermon, or, rather, her sermon. I was all nerves, and swirling thoughts. My head ached and my appetite was gone. I knew that my reassurance to her was hollow. I’d seen how Mr. Darcy looked on my cousin. It was the way I looked at Charlotte when no one was watching. It was love, a
nd if Elizabeth returned his feelings, they were both too strong willed to let Lady Catherine come between them.
Nor did I wish them to. They were in love, well suited, and deserved the happiness that would bring them. I just wished they’d waited a little longer. It had taken them so much time to sort out their differences and make a match. What would a few more weeks have mattered?
When Lady Catherine finally returned, she didn’t come to speak with Charlotte and me. We didn’t receive any invitations to Rosings and I didn’t see any of the inhabitants for five days. With my probation almost over, I knew I’d failed. For all my hard work, someone else’s love had ruined my plans.
One evening, there were timid footsteps outside the parlor door, and Sally crept into the room where Charlotte and I sat, both of us pretending to work. I looked up from the page before me, a painful stab of hope quickly turning into an even more painful one of despair. Sally’s tear-streaked face told all.
“Mister, missus,” Sally said, coming into the room.
“What is it, Sally?” Charlotte asked, after looking to me.
I sank back in my chair, unable to speak.
“It’s her ladyship,” Sally said, her voice quavering. “She . . . she said as she wasn’t going to let mister stay on as rector. She said he’s related to that woman, as she’s calling Miss Bennet, and she won’t have vipers about her.”
“I take it Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth are engaged, then?” Charlotte asked. Her tone was neutral. I assumed she was pleased for Elizabeth. I hoped she wasn’t wishing she’d never married me.
“They are,” Sally wailed, bursting into tears.
Charlotte crossed to the girl, taking her into her arms and patting her back.
Pride & Prejudice Villains Revisited – Redeemed – Reimagined: A Collection of Six Pride and Prejudice Variation Short Stories Page 4