A Companion For Miss Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Ellen Carstairs

  Mr Collins looked suitably impressed and introductions took place.

  Mr Collins would have gone on his way, but Charlotte and her grandmother managed to keep him talking for a good ten minutes before they parted.

  The meeting accomplished, Charlotte’s grandmother sent an invitation to Mr Collins, asking him to join them for tea the following day.

  Mr Collins sent back his acceptance, and the ladies set about planning the tea and deciding what Charlotte would wear.

  Mr Collins arrived punctually the following day, bowing and beaming and looking about him with interest as he was shown into the drawing-room. Mrs Shale was sitting in an upright chair, dressed again in black. She had a cane which she held in front of her, its point on the floor, and both her gloved hands rested on top of it.

  Charlotte was sitting beside her, looking well in a dress of sage green muslin.

  Mr Collins had scarcely greeted his hostesses when he noticed the fireplace and pronounced it almost as splendid as the one at Longbourn.

  ‘For you know, dear lady,’ he said to Charlotte’s grandmother, ‘I have just inherited a very fine estate in Hertfordshire.’

  ‘Charlotte has already informed me of it. A very fine house, Mr Collins, you are to be congratulated. And may I say it could not have gone to a worthier gentleman. Please, do take a seat.’

  Mr Collins sat down.

  ‘My granddaughter has told me about your noble calling, and has said that you are still considering going into the church. Let me beg you, dear Sir, to do nothing of the kind. I am a good judge of character and I can already see that you are a leader of men. Where Mr Collins goes, others will follow. You must use your influence wisely, Mr Collins, and take up your position as the master of Longbourn.’

  Mr Collins tried to look like a leader of men, but was not sure how to do it, and his face took on a variety of contortions before it settled into its usual sickly smile.

  ‘Charlotte, ring for refreshment, if you please,’ said Mrs Shale.

  Charlotte stood up and walked across the room so that she could ring the bell.

  ‘Such a graceful young woman,’ said Mrs Shale. ‘So elegant and well bred. Not like the younger girls who giggle and smirk and make themselves and their husbands ridiculous, but a mature and confident woman who gives a lead to the ladies of the parish. What an excellent wife she will make, when she finds a man good enough for her. She has turned down many suitors because they could not meet her high standards. There are many young women, Mr Collins, who would marry at their first opportunity, but a young lady of Charlotte’s discernment will only marry a worthy suitor; one who, like her, is capable of giving leadership by example to those around them.’

  Charlotte felt a blush rising to her cheek, for although she was determined to catch Mr Collins, she was afraid her grandmother’s blatant remarks were doing her no service. However, a glance at Mr Collins showed her that he was impressed by her grandmother’s words.

  ‘You speak with remarkable discernment, ma’am,’ he said.

  Mrs Shale nodded her head in acknowledgement of the compliment.

  ‘As I was saying,’ she went on. ‘You must give a lead to those in your parish. If you had not inherited Longbourn then you would naturally have given a lead as a clergyman, but now you must inhabit your proper sphere. You must take up residence and show the people of Meryton what it means to be a country squire.’

  Mr Collins replied ponderously, ‘I am glad to have your opinion, ma’am, for my future has troubled me.’

  ‘Let it trouble you no more, Mr Collins. You must take up you position and adorn it with your person.’

  ‘If you really think —’

  ‘I do, Mr Collins, I do. You must set an example to your neighbours, you and your wife.’

  Mr Collins have an awkward laugh.

  ‘As to that, ma’am, I have no wife.’

  ‘Then you must get one, Mr Collins,’ said Mrs Shale. ‘I am sure any of the Miss Bennets would be glad to have you. A fine gentleman of your handsome person and intellectual abilities is a very great catch, Mr Collins, with or without your estate.’

  Charlotte blushed to the roots of her hair at this blatant flattery, but Mr Collins saw nothing ridiculous in it. Quite the contrary. He beamed with pleasure. It was balm to his wounded sensibilities to hear himself so praised, after his frustrated attempts to woo Jane.

  Mrs Shale settled her hands more comfortably on top of her cane.

  ‘But a word of caution, with regard to the Miss Bennets. I say nothing against them, Mr Collins. A fine set of girls. But they are known to be frivolous, like their dear departed Mama. A wonderful woman, Mrs Bennet, but not a dutiful woman, Mr Collins. She presented her husband with five daughters and not a single son, if you can believe it. If you have your heart set on marrying one of the Miss Bennets, then my lips are sealed. But if not, then I would advise you to look about you for a woman whose mother did her duty and presented her husband with a son.’

  Charlotte blushed again, but she need not have worried. Mr Collins looked bemused by all this advice, but not embarrassed. He rubbed his hands together and thanked Mrs Shale for her kind suggestion.

  ‘And now I will plague you no more. Ah! Here is tea. Charlotte, my dear, will you pour?’

  Charlotte poured the tea.

  ‘Thank you, my dear.’ Mrs Shale took a sip of her tea and then said to Mr Collins, ‘I always say you can tell a real lady by the way she pours out tea. All the ladies in my family are true proficients in that respect.’

  ‘I was just about to say that Miss Lucas performed the office with a degree of gentility and sensibility not often to be met with,’ said Mr Collins. ‘I have seldom seen the office carried out with such charm.’

  ‘Ah! Sir, you are a man of true discernment,’ said Mrs Shale, smiling at him complacently.

  The two ladies plied Mr Collins with tea and cakes. Mrs Shale also plied him with compliments.

  At last, tea was finished and he sat back with a satisfied smile on his face. He was full of tea, cake and flattery, and was beginning to think himself a very fine fellow.

  ‘Now, Charlotte, what news from home? How are your brothers doing?’ asked the crafty Mrs Shale. She turned to Mr Collins. ‘Charlotte has many brothers, Sir. I hope you do not mind if she gives me news of them, for she had a letter from home this morning.’

  Mr Collins said he did not in the least mind, and Charlotte shared some news of their exploits.

  ‘Fine boys,’ said Mrs Shale with a happy sigh. ‘I am a lucky woman, Mr Collins. I have so many grandsons. I love all my daughters and granddaughters, but a family needs sons and grandsons as well. The poor Bennets learnt that to their cost. Mrs Bennet was an excellent woman, but frivolous, Sir. Five daughters and not one son. Beware of frivolous women, Mr Collins. You do not want to find yourself in Mr Bennet’s position, twenty years hence, with plenty of daughters and no heirs.’

  All this time, Charlotte had been trying her best not to be appalled by her grandmother’s remarks. Not only did she find them embarrassing, but she thought they would work against her and give Mr Collins a disgust of her. They were so pointed, she thought they could not please him. But she soon saw that she was wrong. Mr Collins was not a clever man, and subtlety would have been wasted on him. Even her grandmother’s broad remarks did not immediately make him turn to her and look at her as a potential wife. But although Mr Collins was not clever, neither was he stupid, and gradually Charlotte saw that her grandmother’s comments were starting to have some effect.

  Mr Collins paid Charlotte one or two clumsy compliments. She rewarded him with thanks and smiles. Encouraged, he ventured on one or two remarks about the desirability of Longbourn as a home, and she replied that it was an estate that any woman could be proud of.

  After tea, Mrs Shale suggested that Charlotte should show Mr Collins the garden.

  The two young people went out into the garden. There was very little to see, for it was November, but neith
er of them were interested in botanical specimens. Charlotte encouraged Mr Collins to speak, and out poured all his boasts about being the new owner of Longbourn, as well as his grievances at finding that Jane would not marry him.

  ‘I felt it my duty to give an intimation of my intentions,’ he said. ‘I had no desire to deprive my cousins of their home. I am sure that young women of Miss Bennet’s age are married every day, but her uncle felt it was too soon for her to think of such things.’

  ‘Too soon for Miss Bennet, perhaps, but not for you,’ said cunning Charlotte. ‘Nor I.’

  She did not wish to give her age away, for a lady of twenty-seven years did not brag about it, or indeed mention it, but she gave Mr Collins to understand that she was Miss Bennet’s senior by a few years and that she was willing to enter into matrimony.

  And so, by careful management, Charlotte was able to manipulate Mr Collins into proposing. What is more, he thought it was his own idea. By the time they returned from the garden the deed was done.

  Charlotte told her grandmother at once, for she did not want to give Mr Collins a chance to slip through her fingers. Her grandmother expressed surprise but joy, saying she had never seen such a well-matched couple. Then her grandmother rang for wine and told the servants they must toast Miss Charlotte’s betrothal. The more people who knew about the proposal, the more difficult it would be for Mr Collins to change his mind. By the end of the afternoon, when all the servants had toasted the betrothal, it would have been impossible for Mr Collins to retreat, even if he had wanted to.

  But he found he did not want to. He had been praised and flattered all afternoon, and it had left him feeling pleased with himself and the world.

  Mrs Shale told him that Charlotte’s parents were coming to collect her on the morrow and he could ask her father for permission to marry her.

  Mr Collins at last took his leave.

  Mrs Shale at once sat down and wrote to Charlotte’s parents, for they had not been intending to visit at all. She told them they must collect Charlotte on the morrow, and be prepared to listen to Mr Collins.

  Charlotte took the letter to the post, and then she and her grandmother began planning her wedding.

  It was only when Charlotte retired for the night that she was able to reflect on what she had done. She had engaged herself to a conceited, pompous, narrow-minded, silly man and would soon become his wife. But Charlotte was both realistic and practical. She knew that marrying Mr Collins was her only hope of a home of her own, and as she climbed into bed and blew out the candle, she was not sorry about the bargain she had made.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Whilst Charlotte was contemplating her future as Mrs Collins, and Elizabeth was looking forward to the Netherfield ball, Mr Darcy was established at his own house in London. Ever since returning from Hertfordshire he had been angry: angry with George Wickham for once again crossing his path; angry with Miss Elizabeth Bennet for deceiving him and angry with himself for being taken in by her.

  He had almost relented. After he had dismissed her, he had wondered if he had acted hastily. He had been about to speak to her again in order to find out more about the matter. But then Miss Bingley had confirmed his worst fears by telling him that she had seen Miss Bennet and Mr Wickham meeting secretly. After that, there could be no doubt.

  ‘Fool!’ he told himself. ‘To be taken in by a striking wit, a fine pair of eyes and a tale of woe.’

  He was now afraid that Miss Bennet’s duplicity had been there from the start, and that he had overlooked it because he had found her intriguing. The more he thought about it, the more he was afraid that Miss Bennet had deliberately set out to become Georgiana’s companion.

  At first he had dismissed the notion, for Miss Bennet had not known his sister needed a companion. Also her distress, after asking Miss Bingley to help her, had seemed genuine. But the more he thought about it, the more he realised that, if she were in league with George Wickham then of course she would have known that Georgiana needed a companion. The whole incident of asking Miss Bingley for help, knowing that Miss Bingley would refuse, and then running away in tears – tears he was bound to see – was now something he feared had been a charade designed to entrap him. He was afraid he had seen what he was meant to see; heard what he was meant to hear; and as a consequence he had offered Miss Bennet the position she coveted, that of his sister’s companion.

  All this must have been planned by George Wickham. It would be just like the man to come up with such a plot. George Wickham was a shameless, villainous monster. Moreover, Mr Darcy had proof of the intrigue between George Wickham and Miss Bennet, because Miss Bingley had seen the two of them in clandestine meetings.

  Mr Darcy seethed when he thought about it.

  Georgiana, poor child, had not believed him when he had explained it to her. She had defended her friend passionately, saying that he was wrong, and she had accused him of being unjust in his suspicions. But Georgiana was young, and innocent in the ways of the world. She must be protected at all costs.

  Mr Darcy’s anger did not abate, nor did he want it to, for once his anger had gone he would be left with a burning hurt, a terrible aching pain that he had been so deceived, and deceived by a young woman he had been starting to fall in love with.

  Let that be a lesson to him. Let him, in future, never judge a woman on such a short acquaintance, and never let him be taken in by a lively wit, and a pair of fine eyes sparkling with tears.

  He was still brooding on the matter a week after returning to London. His only consolation was that Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst had accompanied him and his sister. They had been kindness itself, taking Georgiana out shopping, riding with her in the park, playing duets with her and doing anything else they could think of in order to cheer her, and to take her mind off recent events.

  They did not know the full details, and he had no intention of confiding in them. But they had not asked. They had simply made themselves useful, and he was grateful for it. Miss Bingley in particular had been most helpful.

  He had often, in the past, thought her lacking in true gentility. But over the last week she had proved herself a true friend to Georgiana, and for that he could overlook her flaws. She had cheered and encouraged, helped and entertained Georgiana. He did not know what Georgiana would have done without her constant and attentive friendship.

  Miss Bingley, at least, could be trusted. She would never encourage Georgiana to speak to George Wickham, let alone run away with him. Miss Bingley judged George Wickham at his true worth, as someone not to be tolerated. It was true that her thoughts sprang from his low birth, but that was no matter. What was important was that he could trust Miss Bingley to look after his sister, and to make sure that George Wickham, if he should dare to show his face in London, would be sent about his business.

  Moreover, Mr Darcy knew that if any such thing happened, Miss Bingley would confide in him at once.

  His thoughts were interrupted by his butler opening the door and announcing his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam was about thirty years of age. He was not handsome, but he had a good figure and he was every inch the gentleman. His hair was lighter than Darcy’s and his eyes were hazel, giving him an altogether softer appearance. But appearances were deceptive for, despite his excellent manners, he had distinguished himself in battle many times over. He walked into the room with a firm tread and an upright posture that spoke at once of his profession.

  ‘Cousin, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?’ asked Mr Darcy, rising to greet his guest.

  ‘May I not visit you without having a reason?’ asked Colonel Fitzwilliam, returning the greeting.

  ‘You surely may, but you seldom do,’ Mr Darcy said with a smile.

  Mr Darcy invited him to sit down and Colonel Fitzwilliam seated himself in a comfortable chair. Mr Darcy, too, sat down, and made himself comfortable once more.

  ‘I happen to have some leave and as I heard you were back in town
I thought I would pay you a visit. We have not seen each other for a long time and I thought it would give us an opportunity to catch up with all the news.’

  Mr Darcy gave him a hard stare.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed and said, ‘Very well, I will tell you the truth. I should not have tried to deceive you. We know each other too well for that. As you have guessed, I have a motive in coming here. I received this letter from Georgiana and I wanted to find out the truth of the matter from your own lips.’

  He took out a letter and handed it to Mr Darcy.

  Mr Darcy read it. It was beautifully written, in an excellent hand, but it was full of sorrow. It told of her grief at losing her companion.

  Mr Darcy shook his head sadly as he did so.

  ‘Poor child,’ he said. ‘Poor child.’

  When he had finished, he folded the letter and handed it back to Colonel Fitzwilliam.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam gave him a hard stare, but Mr Darcy returned his look without flinching.

  ‘Well? What have you to say for yourself?’ asked Colonel Fitzwilliam at last. ‘Have you cruelly dismissed Miss Bennet and condemned her to a lifetime of poverty?’

  He attempted to speak with humour, in order to lighten the atmosphere. Georgiana was young and her letter had been couched in somewhat melodramatic terms. Nevertheless, it had been heartfelt. And so, beneath his humour, there was a more serious note and Mr Darcy knew that he required a serious answer.

  ‘Georgiana’s letter told you the facts,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘Her companion encouraged her to speak to Mr Wickham, whom they happened to meet in Meryton. I therefore dismissed her companion and brought Georgiana back to London. She thinks I have been unfair and unjust, but she is very young and innocent. It is inconceivable to her that her friend and companion, Miss Bennet, might seek to do her harm. And yet the facts speak for themselves.’

  Colonel Fitzwilliam frowned. He crossed his legs and looked meaningfully at the drinks tray set at one side of the room.

  Mr Darcy took the hint. He stood up and crossed to the tray, where he poured each of them a drink. The amber liquid swirled elegantly around the crystal glasses as it fell from the decanter and then settled in the bottom of the glass. The winter sunlight caught it and made it shine.