Charlotte

by Linda Phelps

  Charlotte managed not to give a sharp answer, but she was forced to turn on her heel and walk quickly into the house to avoid doing so.

  Lady Catherine’s carriage rattled past just as the sun was setting late one July evening. Mr. Collins, taken by surprise, had only time to bow in its direction, a response he felt was entirely inadequate to the occasion. He rushed into his house. “I must go directly to Rosings to welcome them back,” gasped he. He began to straighten his collar and smooth his hair. “They will think me very ill-mannered if I do not do so at once.”

  “Husband, I pray you, notice the hour. It is past ten o’clock. They will be wanting their beds. You shall go directly after breakfast in the morning.” She had difficulty convincing him to stay home. He felt his responsibilities toward Lady Catherine to include as timely a welcome back as he could produce.

  “They will not want you now,” insisted Charlotte. As he sometimes did of late, he heeded her advice, although with a considerable show of reluctance. “If Lady Catherine is displeased with you, give me the fault. Say I did not wish to be without you at night.”

  Accordingly Mr. Collins was eating hastily of the breakfast Charlotte had prepared, scarcely able to contain his impatience to enter, after so many days, the doors of Rosings. However, just as he was rising from the table, the unmistakable sound of a carriage sounded at their own front door. The couple stared at each other, Even Mr. Collins was unable to convince himself that Lady Catherine so desired his company as to come to the rectory at this hour. But when they went to the window, the visitors proved to be she and her daughter.

  Lady Catherine and Lady Anne swept into the house, scarcely waiting for Mr. Collins to open the door. Without preamble Lady Catherine said, “I understand, Mrs. Collins, that you have discharged Nancy for what must be considered a minor offense. I very much disapprove of your action.” Lady Anne nodded her agreement. “I will remind you that it was I who placed Nancy in this household, and it is here I wish her to remain. I pray you take her back at once.”

  “Oh, yes, Mrs. Collins,” cried Lady Anne. “You must keep her here.”

  “Yes, of course,” said Mr. Collins. “I told Mrs. Collins at the time that we should not take such an action without consultation with your ladyship.” Sweat had broken out on his brow. “If that is your wish, we will certainly take her back in our employ immediately. If you know where she can be found, I will send Mark at once to recall her.”

  “I demand that you do so, Mr. Collins. You must know that Nancy served at Rosings from the time she went into service, and never have I had a more dedicated servant. The house keeper, who had charge of her, taught her all the necessary skills and refinements needed by a girl in her position. I sent her to you because I knew she was ready for such responsibility. Mrs. Collins, I am sorry to say that you have entirely disappointed me.”

  Once she finished speaking, all three turned to Charlotte with looks of accusation. She tried briefly to stare down her husband, whose sudden change of opinion as to who was at fault infuriated her. Certainly he owed her a degree of loyalty. She postponed her indignation, for once Lady Catherine had spoken, the subject was effectively closed. “Of course, Lady Catherine, if it is so important to you, I will receive her back in this house with nothing held against her.”

  “That is what I expect,” said Lady Catherine, not succeeding in hiding her sense of triumph. “Come, Anne. Your anxiety is now at an end and you can eat a proper breakfast at home.”

  Nancy was in the house before noon. Charlotte, entirely perplexed as to how she should treat the girl, merely nodded to her. The girl nodded back and then carried her bundle of personal things up the stairs to her room.

  Unexpectedly the door at the front of the house opened with a bang. Lady Anne, breathing rapidly, burst into the entryway and led Charlotte to the sitting room. “I have walked all the way from Rosings to express my pleasure,” she said.

  “Pleasure?”

  “My pleasure that Nancy is living again at this rectory. I need Nancy to make my life bearable,” gasped Lady Anne. She sank into a chair and fanned her face with her hand. “By taking her back into your household, you have done me a great service.”

  “Then why not have her as your own servant?” asked Charlotte, not bothering to hide her vex.ation “Why must she be here?”

  Lady Anne dropped her voice to a whisper, looking over her shoulder to see if anyone was standing at the entrance to the room. “I tell you in confidence, for I trust you completely to keep my confidence, that she is my connection to my cousin. I could not continue to live if she did not fill this position.”

  Not understanding, Charlotte asked again, “Then why must she live here? Why can she not live at Rosings where she would be more readily available to serve your needs?”

  “You do not understand,” said Lady Anne, speaking with great urgency. “It is Nancy who facilitates my correspondence with my cousin.”

  “Lady Anne,” said Charlotte, “I do not wish such a confidence.” She paused. The girl’s words were not at all sensible. “How--?” but at that instant, Nancy herself entered the room. The curtsy she bobbed was directed not at Charlotte, but at Lady Anne.

  “You must explain to Mrs. Collins while I catch my breath,” directed Lady Anne. “I do not believe I have ever walked so far or so fast before in my life.”

  Charlotte tired of her complaints. “You have several carriages at Rosings in which you could have been carried, or you could have sent someone to tell me to come call upon you.”

  “No, no, Mrs. Collins!” cried the girl. “They do not know I am gone. They must not know that I am gone! It would be my life!”

  “I believe, Lady Anne, that you have been reading the books of Mrs. Radcliffe again,” said Charlotte tartly. “What can possibly demand this degree of drama?”

  Lady Anne gestured again to Nancy, who said, “It’s the post, ma’am. Lady Anne’s private letters are delivered to the rectory, addressed to me. I remove them from your mail and when a chance occurs I pass them on to her ladyship. Then when Lady Anne has a letter to post, John at Rosings brings it to me. We meet in the church. Then I slip away to the village and arrange for it to be sent.”

  “I fail to see the need for any of this,” said Charlotte, feeling that the story, whatever it was, cried for a rational voice. She was a good deal older and wiser than either of these girls. She had been delivered a moment in which to assert her authority. “What is the need of a secret correspondence? Well bred young ladies do not participate in such things. Why is it necessary?”

  “You do not understand!” cried Lady Anne. “I love my cousin, and he loves me, is that not so, Nancy? If my mother knew we planned to marry, she would be distressed. She would forbid it. She would lock me in my room and feed me on bread and water or even send me to live in a convent!”

  “Indeed I do not understand. It was my belief that Lady Catherine hoped for a marriage between you and your cousin. What possible objection could she have?”

  Nancy and Lady Anne exchanged glances. “No, Mrs. Collins,” said the latter. “She expects me to marry my cousin Darcy!”

  Charlotte sat forward in her chair. “Yes, Mr. Darcy. Lady Catherine wishes to combine the two estates through your marriage to Mr. Darcy.”

  “Nancy, I would like a cool cloth to put on my brow,” said Lady Anne. When the girl had gone, she said, “How can you suppose I would be in love with Darcy? He is so pompous and gloomy! I think it impossible that any woman could love him.”

  “But,” began Charlotte, and then she understood. “You are not in love with Mr. Darcy. You are in love with Colonel Fitzwilliam!”

  “Yes! My cousin Fitzwilliam! And he with me. Is it not romantic? Just like in a novel. We have been in love for two years now, but, alas, I can only see him when he accompanies Darcy to Rosings at Easter. We state our longing for each other into the letters that Nancy delivers.”

  Charlotte, shocked by this revelation, was silent. Her mind, howe
ver, was racing.

  “I thought sure that you had seen through my pretense of ill health. Had I been well, my mother would have forced me to marry Darcy. Thus I have pretended to have a poor appetite and an unwillingness to take exercise for above two years. Have I not performed wonderfully?”

  “To be sure,” said Charlotte. “You convinced me. Now I can only say how happy I am that you are not ill.”

  Lady Anne continued, “Fitzwilliam is so good to me! It is he who has sent me the other books written by Mrs. Radcliffe. What a time Nancy had preventing you from knowing of it! She feared you would pick just the wrong day to receive the post. Or worse yet, Mr. Collins might have been the recipient. Think what he would have done. He would have gone immediately to my mother, and then what would be our fate? Fitzwilliam says that our love is even more imperiled than that of Emily in Udolpho. What means would my mother take to keep us apart, if she were to find that we have corresponded for two years?”

  What means indeed? Nancy returned with the cool cloth and placed it on Lady Anne’s head in a practiced way. With this small gesture Charlotte could see that the two had long had an intimacy unlike those that customarily existed between women who differed so in rank. “Lady Anne, do understand that I cannot be part of any subterfuge. I have responsibilities to your mother.”

  “But I have told you in confidence of my situation. You cannot break a confidence, Mrs. Collins.”

  Nancy turned to face Charlotte. “I feel sure that Mrs. Collins understands how a woman can have a desire to be in the company of Colonel Fitzwilliam,” said she. “Is that not so, Mrs. Collins? Is he not an amiable companion?” Charlotte turned to face her, striving to hide her alarm.

  Nancy smiled at her, her triumph very much like that of Lady Catherine at an earlier time. For the first time in her life, Charlotte felt she had an enemy. She bowed in submission. Lady Anne’s plight was safe with her.

  Chapter Three

  My dear Eliza,

  I received your letter some days ago, but there is so little to report from here that I was by no means able to answer it. I am sure that our crops & livestock progress at the same pace as they do at Longbourn or Lucas Lodge. I will not burden you with the details.

  The weather was rather wet throughout June, but now, in mid-July it is much drier. Mr. Collins frets about some of his particular plants & demands that Mark carry water to them both in the early morning and at twilight. Mark is a good natured boy, but one wonders if he does not find such labour to be beneath him.

  I am so sorry that you will not be able to have your planned tour of the Lake District. How tiresome of your Uncle Gardiner to postpone it in order to engage in business! Still, he has, according to my mother, done much from a small start, so perhaps this is for the best. For myself, were I ever burdened with the need of making money, I should have no idea how to go about it. We women must depend on men, so it is well that they are accomplished at professional duties.

  Lady Catherine & Lady Anne returned from London early this month, & since Lady Anne seems in better health than is usual, they drive out daily so she can get the air. Her looks have improved from this time in the open air, for she now has colour in her complexion which, as you will remember, was sadly missing in the colder season. I cannot say her character has improved as a result, for she still exhibits the disparities of constant chatter followed by periods of total silence. If she were not of noble blood, I would say she sulks! But that is between the two of us.

  There is talk of Lady Catherine giving a ball to introduce Lady Anne to the neighbourhood as a prelude to or practice for a similar presentation at St. James in the winter. Lady Catherine has asked Mr. Collins & me to advise her in this matter, & I encourage her as I can. Such an event would do much to animate the parish, for it is a very rare occurrence. There has been no ball in Rosings in many years, & the local assembly is not subscribed to with the enthusiasm we know in Meryton. Mr. Collins, as you might expect, ponders the details of such a party in terms of dishes & tableware that would be needed and how the ball room would be arranged & lighted. Just the other day I was shown the ball room at Rosings, which has been previously outside the sphere of rooms I have been invited to visit. It is large, rather gloomy room, but with enough candles it should do nicely. Mr. Collins has agreed that I must have a new gown for the occasion, if it occurs. My first ball dress as a married woman. What colour do you suggest? Something dark, I expect, to indicate my status as a minister’s wife. I will doubtless spend my time chatting with the neighbourhood matrons, but that is not so very different from the way I spent my time at the balls I attended in Hertfordshire.

  What have you heard from Lydia at Brighton? I should think she has too many amusements to be a good correspondent. Has Kitty recovered from her loss?

  I see that this is not a cheerful letter, for which I pray you pardon me. I believe the hot weather is affecting me, or perhaps it is something else. I do not always feel as if I am in health.

  Remember me when you tour with the Gardiners. Write me descriptions of the things you see so that I can imagine you in these new settings.

  A few days later, returning from seeing to her fowl, Charlotte came across Nancy with a handful of letters. Since she did not mean to interfere with the correspondence between Lady Anne and Colonel Fitzwilliam, she averted her eyes. She could not be expected to report upon what she hadn’t seen.

  “Here’s one for you from Lady Lucas, ma’am,” said Nancy, “and this one from Miss Elizabeth, if I recall her hand.” She gave Charlotte another slender missive which, from the outside address, promised to be full of closely written descriptions of her friend’s travels. “Most of these rest are for Mr. Collins.”

  Charlotte nodded. With Elizabeth’s tales to anticipate, she went quickly into the sitting room, where she could expect a few minutes of solitude. She tore open Elizabeth’s letter. Her mother’s letter was not likely to be so amusing.

  The letter had been written over a period of several days. Her friend wrote lively descriptions of the places and people she saw, better descriptions, Charlotte thought, than what was put on paper by authors of the travel books that were currently the rage. She read slowly, savouring vivid words in arch sentences. Pleased that Elizabeth was having this wonderful experience, Charlotte made note of several places she would like to visit herself, should she and Mr. Collins ever have the time and the money to do so.

  The tale of the last day was of particular interest. Elizabeth narrated that she and the Gardeners, having arrived at Mrs. Gardiner’s childhood village of Lambton, had taken the occasion to visit Pemberly, Mr. Darcy’s great estate, which was in the neighbourhood.

  You will understand, Charlotte, that we would never have done so had we not been absolutely assured that Mr. Darcy was not in residence, nor was he expected. I felt that even so such a visit could be seen as impertinence, but my aunt & uncle were determined to go, & as their guest, I could scarcely refuse to accompany them.

  After riding through a considerable wood, we came in view of Pemberly, a fine stone building, as large as or perhaps larger than Rosings. The grounds are perfectly tended but not overly formal. In all, my first impression of the building was extremely favourable.

  In any event, we applied to the housekeeper, who showed us the public rooms, which were very grand, perfectly furnished, and each with a lovely view of the park or the lake or the woods. In short, Caroline Bingley is not worthy to be mistress of such a place! Whether Lady Anne can serve, only time can tell. You have a degree of intimacy with her that I do not have, so you may evaluate her abilities with greater accuracy than I can hope to do.

  We found several portraits in the rooms we visited. There was a fine likeness of Mr. Wickham. You will be interested to know that the housekeeper, an intelligent woman who has held her position since Mr. Wickham and Mr. Darcy were small, considers the latter to be some sort of paragon, whilst she fears that the former will come to a bad end. I realize this is contrary to the general
assessment of the two gentlemen, but of late I have come to believe that Mr. Wickham may be less than honest when he maligns Mr. Darcy.

  I saw many portraits of Mr. Darcy’s sister, Georgiana. You will remember that she is much younger than her brother, scarcely more than a child. She appears to be slight of build with a sweet face. In the great hall, I was struck by a portrait that proved to be an image of Mr. Darcy’s father when he was at the age Mr. Darcy is now. They are very like each other. It seems the older man was much revered by his tenants and servants, as is Mr. Darcy today.

  You ask why do I keep speaking of Mr. Darcy? As my aunt and uncle and I were just beginning to see the grounds, Mr. Darcy suddenly appeared from the stable! I was overcome with shame to be seen on his property, but he seemed not to think we were disgracefully intrusive. Instead he welcomed the three of us! He asked to be introduced to the Gardiners, inquired about our travels, then left us with the hope that we would explore the gardens.

  You will know that my face was hot throughout this encounter. Mr. Darcy, however, was entirely civil. As we were finishing our walk, he reappeared, having changed out of the clothes in which he had ridden from London. He very kindly invited my uncle Gardiner to use his lake and stream for fishing, & further asked if he could introduce his sister to us! She is expected tomorrow, along with Mr. Bingley and his sisters. I suppose that in a few days we shall all have been re-united. I will tell you of it when next I write.

  Charlotte laughed with delight at her friend’s news. She had hoped that Mr. Darcy admired Elizabeth. Now if only Elizabeth could bring herself to see the man as others saw him, they might yet make a match. Suppose it could be discovered that Wickham was not the victim of Mr. Darcy that he claimed to be. Elizabeth, clever as she was, had no skill for recognizing the person that hid behind a façade. She had never questioned Charlotte’s claim that “I was never romantic, you know”. She had accepted Wickham’s early confidences without doubting his honesty or recognizing their impropriety. Would she now be able to see that the Mr. Darcy she felt she knew was not the person his family and servants admired? Had she never wondered why Mr. Bingley would have Mr. Darcy as a friend if the latter was the patronizing, immoral being she took him to be? Charlotte fell into a pleasant daydream of Elizabeth, mistress of Pemberly, and her good friend, Charlotte Collins, who came to stay with her.