Charlotte

by Linda Phelps

  “Yes, that is true,” admitted Charlotte, “but Mr. Bennet is neither very old nor infirm, and he may live for many years, which I pray he will.” Mrs. Marsden’s smile inspired her to add, “I am sure you understand that Elizabeth is my dearest friend. I cannot wish ill for her or for her sisters or mother.”

  “You are a true friend,” said Mrs. Marsden. “I suppose you have never heard any tales about me?”

  “Indeed no,” said Charlotte. “If there were something to tell, I hardly think any of Mr. Collins’s parishioners would share it with me, although I am sure that any tales about you would be false.”

  “Not entirely, I’m pleased to say,” said Mrs. Marsden. “It is told that I sometimes entertain certain people, which I do. As you expect, the village detects a degree of scandal in my hospitality.”

  “I am sure that they are like all people in all villages,” said Charlotte. “They depend upon the neighbours to provide them with topics to discuss during calls.” She was puzzled by the direction this conversation had taken. It was as if Mrs. Marsden had a desire to confide in her.

  “However,” said Mrs. Marsden, “these last few weeks I have not had the pleasure of the company of a guest in whose presence I normally take great delight. And I understand that I must blame you for my loss.”

  “I?” said Charlotte. “What can you possibly mean? I have no knowledge of any friend of yours, nor have I spent time with any such person.”

  “But you have, Mrs. Collins. I speak of my friend of many years, Colonel Frederick Fitzwilliam. When he stays at Rosings, he is in the habit of coming to call on me two or three times a week, but during this sojourn, I saw him only three times altogether. I cannot be mistaken as to the cause of his negligence.”

  Charlotte looked at her in alarm. Could this woman know her secret? She felt that she was colouring. Flustered for one of the few times in her adult life, she tried to read the face of her companion. “I don’t understand your meaning,” said Charlotte, but even to herself her voice lacked conviction.

  “Do not concern yourself with my feelings, Mrs. Collins,” said Mrs. Marsden. “I perfectly understand that the Colonel would be delighted to find an available woman directly across Rosings Park. The excuses he made to escape his aunt and come to see me! Some of them were quite clever, and she, wrapped up entirely in her own concerns, as she is, never suspected a thing. But I can see from your face that you also never suspected a thing.”

  Charlotte could not regain her usual poise. “Never,” she gasped.

  “Please do not think I begrudge you Colonel Fitzwilliam,” said Mrs. Marsden. “He is by no means my only friend, while you, situated as you are, cannot easily find someone to keep you company.” She smiled warmly at Charlotte. “I hope we can remain friends. One might say we have quite a bit in common now.”

  Without Charlotte noticing, the room had darkened. Large drops of rain began to pelt the windows. Mr. Collins came in from the kitchen, shaking water from his hat, while Barbara and Lady Anne rushed in the front door, shrieking at the sudden cold that had found them as they walked.

  Charlotte asked in alarm, “You are not too wet, are you? Shall we have a fire? Please, Lady Anne, take my shawl.”

  “When Barbara saw the clouds, she prevented us from going further into the shrubbery, as I desired. I am grateful to her.”

  “Barbara” was it? In this use of a Christian name Lady Anne indicated the intimacy she felt when with the other girl.

  Within two minutes, they heard the carriage which contained Mrs. Jenkinson pull up in front of the rectory. Lady Anne, regaining her customary dignity, bid a civil goodbye to those in the room.

  “Well, Mr. Collins,” said Mrs. Marsden, once she was gone, “I hope you do not catch a chill. We members of your congregation could not do without you.”

  “I am quite sure I shall not, Mrs. Marsden,” said he, “although perhaps it would be wise to have a fire in this room, even if it is spring. My concern is for Lady Anne. One so delicate as she should not be subjected to the vicissitudes of weather. Lady Catherine will, I fear, be quite distressed.”

  Charlotte sped to the kitchen and ordered that Nancy come make them a fire. She could not trust her face to behave when she was in the presence of both Mrs. Marsden and her own husband. She took a moment to splash cold water on it, and then returned to the sitting room in an approximation of her normal countenance.

  “So did you have a pleasant time with Lady Anne?” asked Mrs. Marsden of her daughter. “I was not hopeful of such an outcome when you set off.”

  “She was anxious to have a companion to whom to speak,” said Barbara. “She is very unhappy that her cousin has left, and he is not expected back for some months. She had believed she would ee him in June when she is in town for a week, but she is no longer hopeful of being able to meet up with him then.”

  “Why ever not?” asked Mrs. Marsden. “I have been led to believe that they are all but engaged.”

  Mr. Collins, uncertain of his responsibility when the daughter of his patroness was under discussion, cleared his throat and said, “I believe Lady Catherine is postponing their marriage until Lady Anne is stronger. Lady Catherine wants only what is best for her daughter.”

  “Yes, Mr. Collins. We mothers are uniformly steadfast in our concern for our daughters. And having presumed upon Mrs. Collins’s good nature for much too long, we will take our leave. Come, Barbara.”

  Perhaps Charlotte did not manage to hide her relief at these words. “Indeed, your conversation was most enlightening. I shall have much to think upon once you are gone.”

  “I expect you will have, Mrs. Collins,” said Mrs. Marsden, and favoured both Mr. Collins and his wife with a sunny smile of farewell.

  Once she and her daughter had left, Mr. Collins said, “There is something quite vibrant about that woman. Indeed, I understand why you enjoy her company. She dresses rather showily, however.”

  The couple fell silent as Nancy laid a fire and ignited it. Charlotte was grateful for the respite. When the girl had left she said without bitterness, “Mrs. Marsden is not married to a man of God. She has no husband at all. She can dress as she wishes.”

  “My dear wife, do I hear envy in your voice?”

  “No indeed, Mr. Collins. Rather she should envy me, for I have a very fine husband.” To his astonishment, she came to his chair and placed herself on his lap.

  Alarmed, Mr. Collins checked to see that no one witnessed this impropriety from door or window, but he said nothing, nor did he try to remove her.

  Chapter Two

  My dear Eliza,

  I can only hope that you are having as lovely a June in Hertfordshire as we are having here. We have had very little rain in the daytime, with just enough at night to ensure that the crops are flourishing. Mr. Collins is delighted to see the fruits of his labours springing to life before his eyes.

  There is, as you know, quite a bit for me to do to help, what with Nancy &Mark being our only servants, I am happy for it, because if not for the demands on my time I would miss your companionship most severely. What a joy it was to have had you here in the rectory. I can only wish, with Lady Catherine, that you had been able to stay longer.

  My mother writes me the news of Meryton, so I am aware that Lydia has gone to Brighton with Colonel and Mrs. Forster. She is of a temperament that will take great pleasure in such a holiday. I suppose Kitty is disappointed to have been left at home, since Lydia is younger, but Mrs. Forster can surely invite whom she will and ignore whom she will.

  I have not been to Brighton myself, but I understand there will be sea bathing each fine day and balls almost every night. Perhaps you should have been invited to accompany your sister, for, as we both know, she sometimes gives rein to impulses. However, Mrs. Forster must also be aware of Lydia’s character, and I have no doubt that she will provide the restraints that might be needed.

  My mother informs me that Mr. Wickham pursues Mary King, who has recently inherited a sum of
money, variously believed to be between ten thousand & twenty thousand pounds. I hope you are not dejected by his defection, but as we know, young men must marry money when they cannot themselves earn enough to keep them as they would like to live.

  I remain indignant at your description of Caroline Bingley’s call on Jane at Mrs. Gardiner’s home. That degree of poor manners was unnecessary if her only purpose was to inform your sister that their friendship was at an end. I hope Jane does not feel sad at this display; she has lost one who made a pretense of being her friend, but was not truly one. Jane will soon realize that she is well served by learning the truth. I am sorry that she was unable to see Mr. Bingley while in town, but perhaps that too is for the best. You thought earlier that she had strong feelings for the man. His absence can only help her to forget what she once felt.

  How delightful that your uncle Gardiner has invited you on a tour of the Lake Country. I understand from what I have read & heard that it is a very beautiful part of England. I have not myself been there, but perhaps someday Mr. Collins & I will find the leisure to take a similar tour.

  There is very little news here. Lady Catherine & Lady Anne are presently in town. They originally intended to stay only a week, but we hear via the servants that they will extend their stay another week. Lady Anne is quite desolate that she cannot expect to meet Mr. Darcy there, &I do not myself understand why such a meeting is impossible. Perhaps the extra week will give them a chance to be in company together.

  I will not burden you with descriptions of my burgeoning flocks of ducks & chickens, but will suffice to say that they thrive. We will sell most of them, of course, but for now they convey to me pleasure at our prosperity.

  I particularly thank you for telling me of Maria’s succession of partners at the Assembly Ball. One worries that she will not attract them, or not attract the most amiable ones. The younger Long boy, Simon, seems to me to be particularly suitable for the purpose. And who knows? Matches have been made of less. I am certain the entire neighbourhood has an opinion on this topic.

  Please continue to write often. I take particular pleasure in contrasting your descriptions of events with those of my mother. Discussions of Maria’s adventures are a particularly keen example of what I mean! You and my mother see the same things very differently! My mother’s account of Anne Long’s mishap with her sash at the last Assembly Ball was quite different from your tale of the disaster poor Anne suffered. You, I suppose, observed what occurred from your position as a dancer, while she describes what she saw from her chair at the side of the ball room. Perhaps there is a lesson here for all of us, but I will leave it to you to derive one if you can.

  Your loving Charlotte

  “And what does Cousin Elizabeth report?” asked Mr. Collins. “I see you have already formed an answer.”

  “Much is the same as it has been. The most important news is that Lydia Bennet has accompanied Colonel and Mrs. Forster to Brighton, where they have gone with the regiment.”

  “Brighton!” cried Mr. Collins. “I do hope no word of this is conveyed to Lady Catherine. She would be shocked to think that the sister of someone she graciously received as a guest in her house would leave her family to stay in Brighton with a Colonel!”

  “Now, Mr. Collins,” said Charlotte. “There is nothing wrong with a young person staying in Brighton under proper supervision. Entire families go there to enjoy the sea air. And there is nothing wrong with Lydia staying with Colonel Forster and his wife. Recall that Lady Catherine’s own nephew is Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

  “Perhaps you are right, my dear,” said Mr. Collins. “Sometimes I think that despite my association with Lady Catherine de Bourgh and the many times she has invited me to dine at her house, you are rather more aware of the fundamentals of society in general than I am.”

  “Women have more leisure than men to define such things,” said Charlotte. “Our daily pursuits are less crucial to the welfare of the family and neighbourhood.” How Elizabeth would react to that speech, should she hear it! Charlotte imagined the playful scorn her friend would heap upon her. Well, Lizzy had no need of finding the best ways of managing a husband. Her turn might yet come.

  Charlotte war surprised to find that she quite enjoyed the absence of the two ladies of Rosings. Her work seemed less daunting when she did not have need of hurrying to complete it in order to walk to the great house for dinner or whist. She relished the long June days, when it was possible for her to sit in the garden and read under the evening sun.

  She persuaded Mr. Collins to accompany her on calls to many of their neighbours who had been neglected earlier in the season. Somehow she convinced him that the respect these people showed his office did not mean they were enthralled by his every word. As a result, he often let her lead the conversation, or better, removed himself from the sitting rooms to mingle with the men of the household. Charlotte had an idea what these men thought of him.

  One evening they called upon a nearby farm family. When Mr. Collins disappeared in the direction of the horse barn, Charlotte was invited to admire her hostess’s roses. Their perfume infused a small garden which abutted the brewery. Mr. Collins had been there, rather than at the horse barn, for some time, and when she caught of glimpse of him, he was drinking delicately from a large tankard. The husband of the house and the two elder sons accompanied him with their own tankards, but with considerably less care for their clothing or manners. Their voices were loud.

  Charlotte heard her husband say, “Yes, Lady Catherine de Bourgh has Mrs. Collins and me to dine at Rosings two or three times a week. When there, I perform the offices of the man of the house, carving the joint, as an example. She is kindness itself to me, but I dare say, you are all aware of the concern she has for the affairs of her people.”

  “Now, Mr. Collins, I pray you do not tell me about the ‘concern’ she has for ‘her people’!” exclaimed the husband, handing his tankard to his son to be refilled. “Meddling is what I call it, and so does everyone else. Got her nose in everyone’s concerns, whether her nose is needed or not.”

  Mr. Collins spoke in shocked tones. “My dear sir, from my long and, I may say, intimate acquaintance with Lady Catherine, I must assure you that she wants only the best for her people. For instance, if she becomes aware that two neighbours are in a disputatious situation, she considers the best way to mend the discord, then acts accordingly to make all peaceful again. You must admit that she is selfless in this area, bringing peace as if she were an angel assigned by God.”

  “You say angel, Mr. Collins, but I say meddler. I’m not the only one in this neighbourhood who wishes her to tend to her own dealings and leave us to solve our own—what is it?—disputatious situations.”

  At this point Charlotte was led by her hostess back to the house, so she did not have a chance to discover exactly how her husband had dealt with this conflicting view of his patroness. He could not agree with the man, for such a dereliction would be known at Rosings in short order. However, he won no favour by defending Lady Catherine’s inordinate interest in the mundane affairs to his parishioners; who perfectly comprehended the responsibilities that attended his living. His was generally suspected of being the voice that kept Lady Catherine informed of neighbourhood matters. As Mrs. Marsden would have it, Mr. Collins sang for his supper. If he ever were to entertain a thought of Lady Catherine that was not entirely laudatory, his sense of shame and ingratitude might be his undoing. Charlotte foresaw that nothing would ever alter his opinion of the lady. Her patronage represented the highest point in society he had reached or could ever expect to reach.

  A day or two later, when Mr. Collins was working in his garden, Charlotte entered his study to retrieve the sermon they had been working on together. She had thought of a few phrases that would bear deletion, for she knew that the congregation was no more eager to listen to him speak on a fine summer day than it had been on the coldest Sunday of the winter.

  Thus it was that she discovered Nancy rifling
through papers in a drawer of her husband’s desk. “Nancy! What are you doing?”

  The girl jumped. She stared at Charlotte with a stricken face, eventually managing to utter, “I needed a bit of paper to write on. I meant no harm.”

  “If you had need of a bit of paper, it was your place to ask for it,” cried Charlotte. “But that will not be necessary now, since I am discharging you.”

  “Oh, madam, please no!” said Nancy. Tears welled in her eyes. “I won’t never do such a thing again, I promise you, but let me keep my position. You can lower my wages for this quarter, but I pray you, don’t make me leave.”

  “How can I not?” said Charlotte. “You have violated the trust I put in you. You must leave this house for good before nightfall.”

  Seeing that her mistress spoke with determination, the sobbing girl ran from the room. Charlotte sank into her husband’s chair, for her legs would no longer hold her. She had not previously discharged a servant. She hoped she would never again have to do such a thing. She had rather liked Nancy, who had been, if nothing else, a hard worker.

  After reflection she sought Mr. Collins, who was found kneeling as he examined a cucumber which was just beginning to put out fruit. Upon hearing the story he said, “You have done exactly the right thing, my dear. When next we see Lady Catherine, we will ask her to name a suitable replacement for the girl. Until then I very much fear that you will be doing both your chores and hers.”

  “I’m sure there must be a girl in the village wanting to train,” said Charlotte. “I could take the pony tomorrow and inquire. I do not relish doing all the work until Lady Catherine can give us her recommendation.”

  “Mrs. Collins,” said her husband, “I must suggest most strongly that you do not settle this matter yourself. We do not want to displease Lady Catherine, to whom we owe so much. We will wait for her return.”