by Linda Phelps
“As I have said,” said Mr. Collins, recovering his poise, “Lady Catherine is the most cordial, condescending, and generous woman in all of England. We are all privileged indeed to live in proximity to Rosings, her splendid home. And while I am exceedingly sorry for the weakened condition of Lady Anne, I can only be grateful, as I know you are, madam, that this condition keeps her and her mother in the neighbourhood rather than depriving us of their influence by enjoying the season in town.”
“Yes, that is very fortunate, although to be truthful, I had expected the Lady Anne to be much more sickly looking. I have heard of her sad condition for so long.”
“Perhaps she put on a good face for us,” suggested Charlotte. “I have known her some weeks, and I will say that she seemed to be in unusual spirits today. Let us hope this is a harbinger of a considerable and long-lasting improvement in her health.”
“Mrs. Collins,” began Barbara, “do you think she was in earnest when she mentioned the possibility of mother and me coming to call? I would so like to see Rosings.”
“And I,” said Mrs. Marsden.
Mr. Collins was scarcely able to contain his alarm at such a hint. Charlotte said, “I will try to determine what was meant by the suggestion. I expect all will depend on the decision that Lady Catherine makes in the case. Let me discover what will be allowed.”
“That is kind of you,” said Mrs. Marsden “We do not wish to violate the proprieties now that we have been in the company of the most magnificent person in our neighbourhood,” and gesturing to Barbara, she rose and took her leave.
“My dear,” said Mr. Collins, once they were alone, “I fear you are preparing to take liberties which will be offensive to Lady Catherine. I remind you that she is our patroness, and that we must take care not to intrude on her privacy in any way.”
“She will not object to my asking her desire in the matter, “said Charlotte, “particularly when she must realize that Lady Anne welcomes companions of her own age.”
“Mrs. Collins, I must insist that you give up this plan to introduce the Marsdens to Rosings. Their presence would be in insult to the tradition and stateliness of the house, its grounds, and the family. I forbid you to speak of it to Lady Catherine.”
For the first time in their brief marriage, Charlotte spoke directly. “Mr. Collins, in this matter as in many others, I will do what I think is best for Lady Anne. I am sure that she needs companionship. I will do all that I can to see that it is provided. I will try to convince Lady Catherine that Barbara Marsden is a well-bred girl, as likely as any other in this neighbourhood to provide entertainment and friendship to the lonely daughter of Rosings. If I can bring such a relationship about, I will do so.”
“Mrs. Collins!” said her husband. Charlotte resumed her tiny stitches, reining in her temper while waiting for what he would say.
However, after a moment he left the room.
She reflected on her earlier wish for conversation in her little sitting room. Her wish had been granted. It would take time for her to decide if such a gathering had been an improvement over her solitude.
Chapter Seven
My dearest Eliza,
In only a few short weeks you will be here with us in Hemsford. I wish you an easy journey and good weather. It is impossible for me to express how I long for your company.
I particularly wished for you on the morning of Thursday last. My little sitting room was graced with the presence of Mrs. Marsden, of whom I have spoken, her daughter Barbara, and—prepare to be astonished—Lady Catherine and her daughter Lady Anne! This gathering came about quite by accident. How I wished you could have been here to see it and then tell of it with the particular sense of fun for which you are so famous! The situation was very uncomfortable until Lady Catherine thought to take Mr. Collins from the room so she could instruct him in some early planting she felt he should do.
Lady Anne is, as I’m sure you remember, is of a sickly constitution, but as I see her somewhat regularly, I begin to think she is made dispirited by her lonely life. She regards me as a friend—of which more when I see you—and when I left the room for only a minute or two, she managed to achieve a degree of intimacy with Barbara Marsden. They were conversing like any two girls about balls, the ones they have been to, the ones to which they would like to go, how they would dress and wear their hair should they ever attend such an entertainment. It was clear that both have thought on the subject a great deal, so they were easily able to speak companionably.
Lady Anne went so far as to ask permission for Barbara Marsden to come calling on her. You and I would have enjoyed the look on Lady Catherine’s face when her daughter made that request.
To hasten the story, I ventured to mention to Lady Catherine that I thought the intercourse between the two girls would be beneficial to both, Barbara receiving a bit of breeding she will not get in her own home, and Lady Anne a chase to get a little exercise by walking (and to lighten her spirits by having a congenial companion, but I did not mention that. I am not convinced that Lady Catherine wants her daughter to have a congenial companion). To my pleasure, Mrs. Jenkinson urged my suit. She cares very much for Lady Anne,, and she knows that the girl needs a change of scene from time to time.
So now twice, on fine mornings, Barbara Marsden and I have left Mrs. Jenkinson to the pleasures of the housekeeper’s company while we walked with Lady Anne. Both young women are very curious about the circumstances surrounding the courtship of Mr. Collins and our subsequent marriage. They want the story to be one of romance and victory over numerous obstacles. I am hard pressed to preserve their illusions.
We stayed on the sunnier paths, & we walked slowly, for it is true that Lady Anne has not much strength, so I let the two girls talk while I appeared not to listen!
The most interesting thing I heard involves Mr. Darcy! As you may remember, he is nephew to Lady Catherine, and occasionally comes to Rosings to spend a week or two. From these encounters, Lady Anne finds herself much in the way of love for him. Barbara spoke of some village man who is courting her, and Anne spoke of “my cousin” and her hopes that she will marry him.
Now that you know of it, I’m sure you will be sympathetic to the extreme if you ever again see Caroline Bingley, for I fear her cause is hopeless.
Which reminds me to ask, has Jane seen Mr. Bingley or his sisters yet? Surely they know she is in town.
But we can save all these questions and discussions until we are in my sitting room, stitching on some ornamental object.
With anxious eagerness to see you,
Charlotte.
Charlotte thought she could see an improvement in Lady Anne’s health. She credited the exercise the girl was getting with her easy walks around the near gardens of Rosings. Whenever possible, Charlotte filled her pocket with wholesome toast, well buttered and covered with jam. Lady Anne, whose every meal ended with an offering of rich desserts, was eager for the plainer fare.
She had begun The Mystery of Udolpho, and for a time she had no other conversation. Charlotte finally wrested the subject from her. “So, I understand your cousin often comes to Rosings for Easter,” said she, examining a pear tree almost ready to flower.
“Yes. I will be so happy to see him. You remember he is the one who will bring me another book by Mrs. Radcliffe. When I was smaller, he brought me pretty toys and ribbons. He never forgets me,”
“That sounds as well as having an older brother,” said Charlotte innocently. “And do you expect him this year?”
“I do. It is the happiest time of the year for me. I wish he would also come at Christmas or Michaelmas or even Midsummer’s Night.”
“But why does he not?” asked Charlotte. “Perhaps when you are stronger he will visit Rosings more frequently. He may fear he tires you.”
“Oh, no, he is always considerate of my health. He will only walk with me on days such as today, when it is dry and warm. He always gives me his arm lest I become fatigued. Then in the evening he partners me at
whist and instructs me that I can become a better player.”
“It is no wonder you look forward to the pleasure of his visits.”
“He has seen much more of the world than I have, and he sits with me and tells me long stories of far off places. Sometimes he has brought me fashions from these places, although Mama does not like for me to wear them.”
“That is unfortunate, but since you leave home so seldom, perhaps you can wear them on days you know you will not have callers.”
“My cousin prefers to see me in brighter colours than I usually wear. He says they flatter me and draw attention to my eyes. He says I have ‘fine eyes’”
“Indeed you have, especially when they have been set to sparkling by a bit of exercise. Or,” Charlotte teased, “do they sparkle because you speak of your cousin?”
Lady Anne coloured becomingly. “Please don’t laugh, Mrs. Collins. To be in the presence of my cousin is one of the things I most long for. I—like him very much.”
“And with good reason, from what you tell me of him. Is he a favourite of your mother?”
“Yes,” said the girl, “but she has others she favours more.”
Charlotte was puzzled by this remark. But the pair had reached the end of their walk and were at the windows that led into the drawing room, so she did not have a chance to ask for a clarification. Mrs. Jenkinson drew the girl into the room and immediately swathed her in a shawl. No tea was proffered, so Charlotte made her way back to the rectory.
She thought of Lady Anne and Caroline Bingley and perhaps some other ladies of whom she knew nothing. Despite his manners, Mr. Darcy seemed to have a gift for winning the affections of many of the women whose society he shared. Once again she thought of Elizabeth Bennet who had destroyed any interest he had in her by acting upon the grudge she bore him. Charlotte considered that an imprudent and impractical way to act, but when she remembered the tenderness on the face of Lady Anne when she spoke of her cousin, she was glad for the girl.
Book Three
Chapter One
CHARLOTTE’S GUESTS WERE COMING from London. She scurried around the house, assuring herself for the third or fourth time that everything was in readiness. There were clean linens on the beds, provisions for meals in the scullery, and pies and cakes, carefully covered with cheese cloth, in the pantry., She had hoped to add to this abundance with a fish that could be prepared for their first course at dinner, but Nancy reported that none was to be found in the village this day.
The parlour table was set up for the serving of refreshments, while a kettle was kept on the verge of boiling, ready to make tea as soon as it would be needed. The windows gleamed with reflected sunlight, and there was not a speck of dust on floor or furniture. She was in perfect readiness for the first guests of her married life.
Mr. Collins was too restless to remain in his study, even though from there he could see any traffic on the road in front of the house. Every few minutes he came to her to ask, “Are you convinced they are coming from London? Are you certain they did not delay until this morning to begin to travel from Hertfordshire?”
“If they have done so, Mr. Collins, we have no way of knowing of it. Let us assume they will be here midday. If they are not, we will adjust our thinking accordingly.” She was patient with her husband. She realized that her friends were likewise the first guests he would welcome into this house. Since he had no family of his own, she knew that he especially wanted to impress her father and sister. She recognized further that a part of him wanted to show his cousin Elizabeth Bennet just what she had relinquished when she rejected Mr. Collins’s ill planned offer of marriage.
Charlotte, remembering the incredulous words Elizabeth had flung at her, “Engaged to Mr. Collins!—My dear Charlotte—impossible!” hoped that her friend would be impressed, possibly even envious, of this snug rectory. She glanced toward the outbuilding where were to be found her cows and pigs and chickens, all shining with health, proof that the marriage was thriving.
The morning seemed long to Charlotte. Other than the parishioners she had met and the frequent discourses with which Lady Catherine favoured them during their evenings at Rosings, she had few people she could call ‘friend’. Despite her responsibilities for her home, which took up much of her time, she hungered for company.
Often she wished to enjoy the release of giving saucy answers to Lady Catherine’s constant examination, criticism and instruction. Happily the fowl did not object to her venom. She had taken complete charge of their feeding. the chore of feeding the fowl in their shed.
While she awaited the arrival of Sir William and Elizabeth, she took refuge there.
. “Mr. Collins,” she said to the strutting rooster,” you do not offer us anything so wonderful that we should have to watch you prance and listen to you crow for hours.”
“And Lady Catherine, you have pecked the other hens until they flee when they see you approach. If it were not for your money, do you think anyone in England would put up with your manners? How dare you tell me I am not supervising the laundry properly? What right do you have to tell me the butter is incorrectly churned? When did you ever touch a churn? You are a meddlesome woman, and should tend more to your own affairs.”
As she searched for eggs, she reflected upon her relationships with the few people she knew. The Marsdens, with all the mother’s flamboyance, were her friends and Lady Anne also, but in the company of any of them she must be careful to watch her words. An indication that she was not entirely grateful for the patronage of Lady Catherine would have sped through the village. Mr. Collins would lose respect. She herself would be the subject of speculation. Worse, word would certainly get to Lady Catherine herself, via the servants of the area.
As for her friendship with Lady Anne, it must appear to be superficial; it would not do to inspire gossip about Charlotte’s motives in giving so much time to the girl. She gave the appearance of being conscientiously impersonal in her concern for Lady Catherine’s daughter. There must be no suspicion that Charlotte, was anything other than the accommodating minister’s wife. The girl exhibited at some times shyness, at others a natural sense of superiority learned from her mother, On many occasions she displayed actual poor health, either by retreating from her immediate society or by demanding special treatment. Even Charlotte was not always certain which of these actions were poses. To her, all that mattered was that the girl was not happy.
But one sickly, rather spoiled girl was not enough to occupy Charlotte Lucas sufficiently. In general the neighbourhood provided insufficient company for a woman who grew up in a large family and was used to the informal ways of lifelong neighbours who visited as they chose. Unfortunately it had become clear that no one in the park or attendant village seemed likely to fill the role of intimate friend. The better families were above Mr. and Mrs. Collins in terms of wealth and position, while the others were too far below them to be considered for dinner invitations or card parties.
For several days Charlotte had almost forgotten Lady Anne. True, she had been occupied by making everything in the house as perfect as possible, and overseeing the farm and gardens as they were prepared for spring. But that was not sufficient activity to cause her to forget her loneliness.
So, while she was eager to see her father and sister Maria, she expected more pleasure from Elizabeth’s companionship than she did from either of the others. Elizabeth, to whom in the past she had spoken as openly as she dared, who had been the recipient of any confidences she chose to impart, had been sorely missed. Elizabeth had been a faithful correspondent, filling letters with details of the neighborhood and Meryton. Charlotte frequently received the same details, in letters from Lady Lucas, although with a contradicting focus on particulars that allowed her to make her own judgment on the reality of the events so narrated.
“I will have someone with whom to talk,” she told herself. Then, aware that the required loyalty of a wife to her husband would preclude her speaking with complete openness to El
izabeth, she thought of things she might say that would show Mr. Collins in a favorable light. If she had not been able to teach him to impose limits on his remarks; she had made him more aware of the people to whom he spoke. It was a start.
Mr. Collins rushed from the garden. “My dear, I hear the carriage. They are coming, I am sure of it. Is everything in readiness?”
“Go to the doorway, Mr. Collins, and wait. I will join you.” She ran her hands over her dress and hair, and satisfied that nothing was amiss, joined her husband on the front step.
The carriage appeared and pulled to a stop at the gate. The passengers tumbled out, calling greetings. After acknowledging his in-laws, Mr. Collin, went to Elizabeth and began an inquiry as to the well being of each member of her family and that of Mrs. Phillips and any other person he had met during his time in Hertfordshire. “And your father, he is in health?” he asked for the second time.
“Indeed he is, sir,” said Elizabeth, “and as wrapped in his books as ever. You have a charming house here.”
“And your mother? She suffered none during the cold weather? Lady Catherine, whom you will have the honour of meeting soon, felt that the dampness associated with the snow might bring about any number of illnesses. She fell prey to none herself, as it turned out, but her fears for her daughter were not badly aimed.”
“Yes, Mr. Collins. Her worries are completely understandable.”
“And Mrs. Long? I scarcely met her, but I think it right to inquire after her. A person in my position must not neglect to care for each of the people he meets. I remember when we played whist at Mrs. Phillips’s evening party. Mrs. Long seemed rather out of spirits when she was paired with me as partner, but as I was only learning the game at the time—”