by Linda Phelps
“Of course not, Anne,” said Lady Catherine. “I can’t have you mingling with the village folk and dancing until you’re hot, then cooling yourself off too quickly. Your health can not stand such abuse.”
Charlotte was not convinced that the colour that rose in the girl’s face was evidence of ill health. It might also have been the result of anger or resentment. Mrs. Jenkinson instantly turned Lady Anne’s attention to her plate, but he girl would not eat. She pushed the plate away and turned her face from her mother and her guests.
Was she sulking?
Mr. Collins, oblivious as always, continued with his vision of the ball. “To be sure, with Lady Catherine as hostess and Lady Anne as the honoured one, the other girls might find themselves sitting by the wall, for Lady Catherine lacks only youth to be as sought over as her daughter. And of course, each of the de Bourgh ladies would be dressed in the fashion of the day so as to put the others beyond notice.”
Charlotte took a sip of her wine. She found her husband’s constant flattery to be preposterous, but Lady Catherine nodded in pleasure, which inspired him to say, “And the ball would not end until the sun was spreading light on the land, for there would be two sets of musicians, one to play when the other flagged. And, of course, a fine supper, and perhaps even a bit of breakfast at daybreak.”
“Indeed, Mr. Collins, you present an exquisite picture. When Anne is well, I will give such a ball, and I will consult with you on the menu. Between us we shall devise a ball that will be talked of for weeks.”
“Months!” said Mr. Collins, “and I doubt not that the London papers will report the guest list.”
Desserts were presented, and even here Lady Anne seemed to have no appetite. It was almost as if the fork she held was inadequate to crush the thin shell of pastry that encompassed a bit of chocolate cream. Mr. Collins, having finished his portion off, rose as the ladies withdrew, leaving him to the solitude of port wine.
“Well, Mrs. Collins,” said Lady Catherine. “What think you of Rosings?”
“It is the finest house in which I have ever dined,” said Charlotte. “Mr. Collins told me something of it in praise, but I can only say that reality has trumped anticipation in this case.”
She found that Lady Anne was watching her, a look of speculation on her face. Then, when she was sure Charlotte was watching, she rolled her eyes.
“My gracious,” thought Charlotte. “I do sound exactly like Mr. Collins. Is it possible Lady Anne does not relish his constant flattery?”
“Trump,” said Lady Catherine. “May I assume that you are a whist player, Mrs. Collins?”
“Indeed, your ladyship. I know the game and take pleasure in it.”
“That is exceedingly fortunate.” Lady Catherine smiled. “I wonder Mr. Collins did not mention that when he apprised me of your merits in his attempt to get me to sanction your marriage.”
“He may not have known,” said Charlotte. “I do not believe we have ever been together in a party where such a game was played.”
Surprisingly, Lady Anne joined the conversation. “Perhaps Mrs. Collins can replace her husband in our foursomes. Lord knows, she must be able to play better than he.”
Mrs. Jenkinson put a warning hand on the girl’s arm. Lady Catherine said, “In that case, Anne, you and I will play as partners and Mrs. Collins will play with her husband.”
“That would be more bearable,” the girl said. Her face was pinched with sudden ill temper. Had she been Charlotte’s charge, Lady Anne would have been sent directly to bed with a cup of hot chocolate. Did not Mrs. Jenkinson see that the girl was not in a companionable mood?
Lady Catherine scrutinized not her daughter, but Charlotte. “I cannot tell you what pleasure I have taken in hearing of you and now meeting you. I told Mr. Collins to find a woman I could welcome to my drawing room and dinners, but who would at the same be a thrifty and efficient house keeper. I can see that in you, Mrs. Collins, he has taken my advice precisely, and very much to his own advantage.”
“And to mine, too, Lady Catherine,” said Charlotte. “I am so pleased to be here and in this company.”
Lady Anne cast her look alive with cynicism. Her apparent fatigue had disappeared. Startled, Charlotte wondered, “Have I, for the first time in my life, discovered a person who realizes that I am an actress?”
“I too find Mrs. Collins to be an addition to our little company,” the girl said. “I hope that she and I will become friends.” Then, as if the effort had been too much, she gestured for Mrs. Jenkinson to place a shawl over her shoulders. “I find her much more amusing than I would find a ball, for instance, should I ever be allowed to attend one.”
“Thank you, Lady Anne” said Charlotte. “I hope I am able to fulfill your expectations in that direction,”
“Nonsense, Anne. We need only to see you stronger. Perhaps in the spring.”
“Yes, or if not that, in the summer, or the autumn,” the girl said.
Her mother, either not hearing the words or not marking their tone, said, “Are you by any chance musical, Mrs. Collins? Do you play or sing?” She gestured to the pianoforte
“I play a little,” said Charlotte, “although in these last weeks I have not had much leisure for practicing.”
“I will hear you,” said Lady Catherine. Obediently, Charlotte went to the instrument and performed two songs she had known from childhood. They were not difficult numbers, but played with expression and taste, they passed for such.
As she played, Mr. Collins abandoned his lonely place at the dinner table and entered the room. He was unable to hide his surprise at finding his wife so occupied.
“You did not know that Mrs. Collins is musical, Mr. Collins?” asked Lady Catherine. “She has quite a tolerable ability to play, as we can now see and hear.”
“I am all astonishment, my lady,” said Mr. Collins. “I had never imagined this to be one of my wife’s talents. I am happy for your sake that she has the ability to entertain you.”
“I fear that as a clergyman’s wife she will find herself too laden with duties to be able to maintain a degree of competence in this endeavor, but I will suggest that whenever you have a spare hour, Mrs. Collins, you work to maintain ability.”
“Of course, Lady Catherine,” said Charlotte. How this maintenance was to be achieved was a mystery, since the rectory had no instrument. In fact, having heard her husband lead off hymns during the morning’s service, she wondered if perhaps he was unable to discern one note from the other. She had heard of such cases.
“I regret that I never learned,” said Lady Catherine, “and the precarious state of Anne’s health has unhappily put such a study out of her reach.”
Mr. Collins recognized his opportunity. “I am sure we all agree that had that not been the case, had you, Lady Catherine, had the correct opportunities, and had Lady Anne been in a state to undertake a study so strenuous as music, that this house would ring with sweet melodies every night, melodies performed with a perfection that is not often met with.”
Lady Anne stared at him, and then fell into a spell of coughing, which alarmed Mrs. Jenkinson to the point that she offered the girl an additional shawl, a sip of wine, a handkerchief, and a sweet in the space of a minute. The girl waved away all but the wine as she struggled to catch her breath. When she was again quiet she pointed to the card table. “Whist,” she whispered. “She offered her wine glass to be refilled.
Lady Catherine was immediately distracted from both her praise of Charlotte and her concern for her daughter. “Yes. Mr. Collins, please to bring the playing cards. You know where they are kept. You are to partner your wife on this occasion, as you do in life.”
Charlotte had heard from friends in Meryton that Mr. Collins had, while attending an evening party at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Phillips, demonstrated that his skill at cards was much inferior to his skill at speechifying. Mrs. Phillips, while recounting the game she had partnered with him, had used the words, “dreadful” and “appalling
” to describe his abilities. These judgments were verified within a few minutes of the start of the game. The idea that an ace was more powerful than a king, and that a trump could be more powerful than either was something the clergyman seemed unable to grasp. He was equally confused by the necessity of playing a diamond, if he had one, upon another diamond. None of this was as unpleasant as his constant apologies for his mistakes.
Lady Anne, however, finding herself and her mother collecting point after point, smiled triumphantly, her pale face flushing slightly from the heat of battle and her nearness to the fireplace.
In time it was clear to even so devoted a whist player as her mother that the girl was flagging. Charlotte wondered disloyally if the wine at dinner, followed by sherry as they played, might be the cause of Lady Anne’s inattention to the cards. Lady Catherine called a halt to the game, saying, “I am sure you will accept the offer of our carriage on such a cold night. It would not do to have you walking over the fields and paths at such a time.”
“I had told Mrs. Collins of your frequent generosity in giving your guests the use of your carriage,” said Mr. Collins, beaming with pride, “have I not, my dear?”
“Indeed you have, Mr. Collins, and I can only express gratitude for this kindness with all sincerity that I can muster. I leave the actual thanks to you, sir.”
Charlotte looked at Lady Anne, and at this point, was not at all surprised to notice the ironic smile showing discreetly on the thin features of her face. Without knowing how it had happened, Charlotte felt she had been initiated into a conspiracy.
Mr. Collins proceeded to amplify his thanks until even Lady Catherine was satisfied. And, in fact, the journey back to the rectory was much more pleasant than the earlier walk to Rosings had been.
As they readied for bed, Mr. Collins said, “Lady Catherine is mightily pleased that I have chosen you as my wife, my dear Charlotte. You have made a valuable friend, and you must be sure to continue to ingratiate yourself to her. Her condescension toward you was almost equal to that with which she welcomes me.”
“Mr. Collins, I can only hope that in time I can win a degree of approval from Lady Catherine that can compare to that which you receive, although I cannot hope to please her as you have done.” Charlotte, her back turned to her husband as she undressed, felt her lips curve in an ironic smile, very like the one she had seen on Lady Catherine’s daughter. She thought “Husband, I believe I have made two friends today, and I believe I have made a better impression on Lady Anne than you can ever hope to emulate.”
Chapter Four
RESOLVED TO SHOW HER gratitude to Mr. Collins by enacting the role of perfect wife, Charlotte found her first weeks in the rectory to be ones of loneliness. The roads remained largely rutted and ice covered, so it was impossible for her to visit parishioners or for them to call upon her. As one of a large family, with neighbours who entered each other’s houses frequently without the restraints of formality, she suffered from a feeling of isolation.
Despite the iron discipline with which she normally controlled her fancies, she found herself pondering how different her life would be if she had been able to attract Mr. Bingley. She would now be in London, attending the theatre and ordering clothes from the best houses. Without doubt he had a large acquaintance, people who would call on her and she on them, with the result that loneliness would be impossible.
Upon occasion Charlotte attempted to engage her husband in some sort of conversation, but since he rarely listened to her and managed to get Lady Catherine into any interchange between them, she approached him more from duty than from an expectation of pleasure.
In her grateful obedience of these first weeks of marriage, Charlotte established a proper distance between herself and the maid, but as this left her only Mr. Collins with whom to converse, she often went hours without saying a word to another human being. The silence, while superior to her husband’s monologues, was almost unsupportable. Within days she had fallen into an easy relationship with the one person within her reach. Nancy, the housemaid, who, despite the familiarity produced by shared daily tasks, merely listened when Charlotte spoke, and responded in simple, uncomplicated sentences.
So Charlotte busied herself with her new house, but until Lady Catherine came to call, she could make no adjustments to its furnishings--not even to the point of moving a chair closer to a fireplace--which might be disapproved. She assumed the chore of feeding the fowl and gathering eggs. The fowl house was full of clucks and quacks and honks. The cheerful noises raised her spirits. She took to naming the various inhabitants of the fowl house, and at times engaged them in conversation.
“Why, Lady Anne, how well you’re looking.”
“Lady Catherine, is this corn up to your standards?’
Mr. Collins, need you squawk every minute of the day?”
She longed for spring, that she might at the least enjoy the exercise of walking. As it was, Charlotte made it her business to inspect the church itself each morning, to verify—as she said to Mr. Collins—that it had withstood the latest onslaught of wind and cold and ice.
Thus it was that one morning, after a new dusting of snow, she saw footprints that proved others had been there before her, two people, a man and a woman or child, as the prints were not of equal sizes. Because the church was kept locked when not in use, she found this evidence of visitation to be puzzling. Had someone come looking for Mr. Collins? Would not everyone in the parish know to seek him in the rectory on days there was no service?
The door of the church was locked, as it should have been, but once she let herself into the apse, Charlotte was startled to see bits of snow on the floor, not melting in the cold. People had been in the building. Perhaps they were still there. Hurriedly she left, locking the door behind her.
“Oh, Mr. Collins,” she called, as she re-entered the house. “I have something to tell you!”
Her husband sat at his desk. “My dear Charlotte, I would prefer you not disturb me when I am writing a sermon. I wish to make this one especially affecting, for I am using as my text the story of the little girl that Christ returned to health after her death. I think that will be a comforting reminder to Lady Catherine that Lady Anne’s case is not at all hopeless.”
So he believed the girl’s unhealthy appearance was due to illness. Charlotte was not sure she agreed. “That is a most apt story to use, my dear husband, but before you proceed, I must tell you that someone has been in the church very lately! In fact whoever it is might be there still.”
Mr. Collins rose slowly to his feet. “Are you sure, my dear?”
“I was there not five minutes ago, and saw evidence.”
“Where is our manservant? Where is my pistol?”
It was at that instant that Charlotte realized that the only person who had a key that could have unlocked the church door was their manservant. “I will fetch Mark, Mr. Collins, although I now think that I may have overestimated the danger of an intruder. Who would it be but Mark, after all, inspecting the church to make sure all is in order?” And the other set of footprints? Nancy’s, of a certainty. She almost said as much to Mr. Collins, but caution stopped her words. “Let me discover if it was either of our servants before you ready your pistol.”
Charlotte was not surprised to find neither servant within range of her voice. With determination she again made her way to the church and, once inside, called Mark’s name. There was no answer except the scurrying of feet through the door at the back of the church. Charlotte rushed, expecting to discover her manservant, but when she reached the door, no one was in sight. Had the door of the shed where the livestock dwelt in the winter slammed shut on its own?
When she re-entered the house, Nancy was in the kitchen, tidying up the breakfast dishes with unusual energy. “Have you seen Mark of late?” Charlotte asked innocently? “I wish him to spread ashes on the walkways to keep us from falling.”
“No, madam, I’ve not seen him this morning. Perhaps he’s tending the anim
als.”
“You seem out of breath, Nancy,” Charlotte said. “I hope you are not exerting too much energy on the morning tasks, since we have a busy day ahead.”
“Me, madam? No, indeed.”
“I do not wish you to be in a condition which forces you to neglect your duties.” Nancy bobbed a curtsy and resumed her cleaning of the dishes.
Charlotte was inexperienced in the ways of love, but not oblivious to them. Suppose the church was being used as a place of rendezvous for her servants. It was wrong for them to have met in the privacy of a church on a Monday morning. If the meeting was discovered by anyone else in the community, there would be trouble, not only for the two servants, but for Charlotte herself, for it would be said that she was not in control of her household. If word were to get to Lady Catherine, as it surely would, Charlotte could expect to be upbraided by her and in due course, by Mr. Collins also. Further, since Lady Catherine had selected Nancy and Mark to be hired for their positions, her judgment would be called into question and discussed throughout the neighbourhood. Charlotte would be expected to dismiss Nancy and Mark.
What was worse, Charlotte had found the two to be excellent servants. In the few days she had known them, she had developed a degree of trust in each. It would not be easy to find replacements.
“And where will they go?” Charlotte asked herself. For the first time she wondered what had been the fate of certain menials who had been asked to leave Lucas Lodge. She did not think they had found positions in the neighbourhood. Where had they gone? What had been their lives after their dismissals? She was sure that Lady Lucas had had compelling reasons to remove them from the small staff of Lucas Lodge, but had they moved on to fortune or to distress?