by Linda Phelps
“You do not comprehend the extent of her anger!” cried Mr. Collins. “Lady Catherine wants you to appear at once! That is what she bade me. We must go now and attempt to placate her,” and shouting for Mark, he urged Charlotte to the small stable where the pony grazed at his manger, surprised at being called to work at this late hour.
“So Lady Catherine was not pleased with your news,” said Charlotte, as the little carriage was pulled over the road to Rosings. “Perhaps you would have been wiser to allow her to receive the information from another person.”
“Indeed that was the problem. She had also had a letter from Mr. Darcy by this morning’s post, so my information was not first. I fear she interpreted my good intentions as a way of rubbing salt in her wounds,” said Mr. Collins. “I do not know what was said in the letter, but Lady Catherine was, I must say, crimson with anger. I have never before seen her in such a state. And of course poor Lady Anne is weeping at having been abandoned by her betrothed. I have not seen the family in such a state before. It cannot be good for the health of either. I tried to express my concern on this matter, but neither was willing to hear me.”
“I am grieved that they are unhappy, but what is this to me? Am I expected to suggest a remedy?”
“Oh, my dear Charlotte, you do not comprehend the power of Lady Catherine’s indignation. If a remedy could be made, she would have already made it.” Mr. Collins shuddered at the memory.
“Let us hope they have achieved a degree of resignation by this time,” said Charlotte.
Her hope vanished immediately when she was shown into the familiar drawing room. Lady Catherine stood pointing a long finger at Charlotte. “Mrs. Collins, I blame you for this disaster. I now comprehend that when you invited your friend Elizabeth Bennet to spend time here, you were scheming to throw her in the path of my nephew. I neither know nor care if the plot was yours or if you were attempting to aid her in her disgraceful purpose.”
“Lady Catherine, I assure you—”
“Do not think to deceive me, Mrs. Collins. The question that I put to your husband earlier was whether he too had a part in this conspiracy, but he has convinced me that it is not so. Therefore, the blame falls to you. What have you to say for yourself?”
“I say that—”
“Tut. That will do. Your only course now is to admit that you have been my enemy despite the kindnesses I have continually extended to you. And is this your manner of appreciation? Is this my reward for extending the hand of friendship to you?”
“Indeed, Lady Catherine—”
“Do not try to apologize. It is a worthless endeavor. I bid you farewell. Mr. Collins, while you are welcome in my home, I do not wish to see your wife here again. Please see that she does not accompany you when you come to call”
Lady Anne’s sobs grew louder. “I beg you. Mama—”
“Of course, Lady Catherine,” said Mr. Collins, wiping his brow. “You are in the right. You cannot be expected to forgive her disloyalty.”
“Mr. Collins!” cried Charlotte. “This is unforgivable. You know that I am not guilty of any of these offenses with which I am charged. It is your responsibility, as my husband, to protect my name. For shame, Mr. Collins!”
The clergyman darted his eyes from one to the other of the woman who ruled his life. Never had he imagined he would have to choose between them. He made his decision a few seconds later. “Mrs. Collins, I demand, as your husband, that you admit your deviousness, not to say your ingratitude, to Lady Catherine, who has been so good to us both, and that you begin to seek her forgiveness.”
“Thank you, Mr. Collins,” said Lady Catherine. “It is well that one of you understands the gravity of the situation and what is needed to alleviate my displeasure. Mrs. Collins, where are you going?”
Charlotte turned on her heel and walked out of the drawing room, certain she would never enter it again. The pony and gig waited near the front door. She climbed up, took the reins, and left her husband to find his own way home.
Chapter Eight
DESPITE HER DISTRESS, CHARLOTTE found that sleep came quickly. For a few minutes her mind raced wildly. Had Mark heard her order to clean the gig and stable the pony? Why had Lady Anne not come to her defense? Had Nancy remembered to lock the fowl coop so that a fox could not get in? Had Mr. Collins so little regard for her that he would abandon her in this fashion? Would her parents receive her if she left the rectory? How would she travel to Lucas Lodge?
She did not know the hour when she was awakened by the light of a candle held to her face. “My dear Mrs. Collins, I must explain myself to you.”
“Husband, you need explain nothing.” Deliberately Charlotte turned away from, him. “I understand perfectly. You can have nothing more to say.”
“I beg that you hear me, Mrs. Collins.” Charlotte heard a note of uncertainty in his voice which was entirely new. “Charlotte, my dear Charlotte, please admit me a few words.”
“Do you not comprehend that I wish to be let alone?” said Charlotte. “Leave before we say things that will not be forgotten. I do not wish to argue with you. Each of our positions is known to the other.”
“Not entirely, my dear wife. I have been advised to—”
“I do not care what you have been advised to do!” cried Charlotte. “I no longer care to hear what Lady Catherine has to say. I beg you now, sleep in another bed. If you will not, I will.” Suiting action to words, she flung off the bed clothes and made to exit the bed chamber
“It is not Lady Catherine of whom I wish to speak,” said Mr. Collins. “It is Mrs. Jenkinson, who kindly passed on a note from Lady Anne. Here, you may read it. The first part is a number of vituperative remarks about my failure to defend you. She is quite as angry as her mother, although the cause is exactly opposite. Here. Read for yourself.”
Wearily Charlotte took the piece of paper. It had all the marks of having been written in haste, the words large and untidy.
Mr. Collins
How dare you treat the woman you love more than life itself in such a manner? She who forsook home and friends to make her life with you is entitled to your loyalty and protection! You should be willing to lay down your life to protect her. In reference to the recent display of temper by my mother, you failed to support Mrs. Collins the way a husband should. Your abject manner was disgraceful.
I would not be astonished to learn that at this very moment your wife is preparing to return to the house of her parents. She certainly cannot expect any felicity from a continuance of your cohabitation. While you will be deservedly bereft, I point out that Mrs. Collins is my dearest friend. Should she absent herself from the rectory, I shall myself be undeservedly bereft by her loss.
I suggest then that you make haste to forestall her. It would be wise if both you and she abandoned Hunsford for a time until my mother can again bear the sight of your wife.
I am entirely certain that my mother’s accusations against your wife were false. Mrs. Collins has not the character to be devious or to conspire. She is incapable of doing anything underhanded. My mother owes her a sincere apology, which, I fear, will likely never be forthcoming.
You, however, owe you wife an immediate apology –no, an hundred apologies for giving support to my mother in this matter. I pray you deliver them immediately and leave the area as I have previously suggested. Only thus can you resume a loving relationship with your devoted wife. Only thus can you and she return to your proper place in this parish.
Charlotte looked at her husband. She had never before seen him exhibit such a lack of confidence. His eyes pleaded with her.
“So, what think you of this letter?” said she, handing it back to him.
He took a moment to marshal his thoughts. “I agree wholeheartedly with every word Lady Anne has written,” he said.
This was not the answer Charlotte had expected. “Wholeheartedly? Without reservation?”
“My dear Charlotte, yes!”
“You will tender me a hundred a
pologies?” asked Charlotte, beginning to enjoy her power over this man.
“Two hundred, if you wish.” He reached for her hand, but she evaded him.
“You will tell Lady Catherine that you were mistaken when you agreed with her that I am a treacherous and ungrateful woman?”
“I will tell her exactly that, dearest Charlotte, but as Lady Anne so helpfully advises, this is not the proper time. Lady Catherine will not want to listen until days or weeks have passed.”
When he again reached for her hand, she did not pull it away. “Husband, I think Lady Anne has expressed great wisdom. We must remove ourselves from here and, as she might say, throw ourselves on the kindness of my parents.
“Ah, my dear wife, will they accept us into their home once they know of the breach that has occurred between me and my patroness? I can no longer guarantee to you the fine society in which we have been included.”
“Fine society!” said Charlotte. “If Lady Catherine’s behavior this night is an example, I shall be relieved to enjoy once again the manners of a simple knight and his lady. Now you must speak to the sexton about replacing you at services, while we must both decide which of our belongings to take. We must travel post, I’m afraid, but it can’t be helped. Have you the money to pay our travel expenses?”
“One thing more, my dear Mrs. Collins,” said Mr. Collins. “Although I am not always certain how I should demonstrate to you how deeply I have come to rely upon your presence, I tell you now that it is so.”
Charlotte looked at him, “So few words, Mr. Collins?” Then she smiled and joined him in their bed. “It is surprising how often a few words can accomplish more than many.”
Chapter Nine
THE COUPLE BOARDED A coach early the next morning. Such a public conveyance offered none of the privacy they had shared on their wedding journey to Hunsford, but in the ten months since that day, they had learned to know each other, “for better or worse,” as the cleric officiating at their ceremony had cautioned. Mr. Collins felt no desire to describe the riches of Rosings, and they rode together in companionable silence. There was no need for them to speak to know each other’s minds.
They arrived at Lucas Lodge late in the day, there to be greeted by a surprised but welcoming family. Sir William and Lady Lucas’s questions were not overly probing. They guessed as soon as the coach pulled to their door that word of Elizabeth and Darcy’s engagement had reached Lady Catherine.
The following morning news of the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Collins made its way to Longbourn. Charlotte was just rising from breakfast when Elizabeth Bennet burst into the room.
“How wonderful to find you here!” said she. “I had only now started a letter to you when Hill advised us of your arrival. Are you well? You look to be.”
“I am quite well, thank you, Lizzy, and I will not ask the same of you, for I see that you are better than well.”
“I must ask for congratulations,” cried Lizzy. “Jane is to marry Mr. Bingley and I will marry Mr. Darcy!”
“I do indeed congratulate you, but your news reached us in Hunsford a day ago.” Charlotte lowered her voice and pulled Elizabeth to a window, continuing quietly, “Lady Catherine is unhappy to hear of your good fortune. We thought it best to retreat until she has become her usual gracious self again.” The friends turned knowing looks upon each other, and laughed.
“I will not say I am sorry for her distress,” said Elizabeth. “But to think that you, Charlotte, guessed Mr. Darcy’s feelings for me before I did myself!”
“You must remember that I have spent more of my time observing love than I have participating in its delights,” said Charlotte. “I believe I am quite learned in the ways of love.”
“I must tell you about the day that Lady Catherine came here to call,” said Elizabeth.
“And I must tell you of the blame she places upon me for your happy ending,” said Charlotte. “But these scenes must be recounted only for ourselves. Come, let us walk. The sun will warm the garden directly.”
After a time Elizabeth had need of returning to her home, where extravagant plans were reaching fruition in preparation for two weddings. Charlotte entered Lucas Lodge to find her parents and Mr. Collins in conversation. Her husband, now sure of his welcome, had regained much of his self assurance. In a moment he would be speaking of “my patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh” as if nothing had changed in that relationship. He was so far prevented by the unwavering rejoicing of Sir William and Lady Lucas that their daughter was again in residence and the humiliating memory of their dismissal from Rosings.
“How pleasant to have our Charlotte home again, eh, Lady Lucas?” said Sir William. “And with the two elder Bennet girls having found such fine husbands, I think we may never again concern ourselves with the eventual fate of the Bennet women.” He turned to Mr. Collins. “And you, my son, need not be troubled by the feelings of guilt from which you have doubtless suffered when you thought of the time you become master of Longbourn. You may begin to plan for that day without concerning yourself with the possibility of a dismal fate for your cousins.”
“Oh, yes,” said Lady Lucas. “Not that we wish any ill to Mr. Bennet, but how fine it will be when Charlotte is near us with her children. I am sure I will never be able to see too much of them.”
Mr. Collins bowed. “I thank you for your kind thoughts.” Charlotte took a chair near him.
Lady Lucas continued, “And when that time has come, you will no longer have to bend your knee to that woman—what is her name? Lady something. I am sure that my Charlotte has not liked being beholden to her, nor have you either.”
Mr. Collins opened his mouth to defend his patroness, but Charlotte spoke first. “Mama, I hope you do not think we have been ill-treated by Lady Catherine. She has been very good to us, and our only unhappiness is that we can seldom think of ways to express our gratitude to her. Is that not so, husband?”
Mr. Collins began to add to her words, but then he stopped. “You are in the right, my dear Charlotte, as always. I will rely on you to bring us back to the happy relationship we have enjoyed with Lady Catherine during much of this last year.”
“I am delighted that you see the matter my way, dear Mr. Collins,” said Charlotte as she began to eat a second breakfast.
Several days later Charlotte was handed two letters, one in the hand of Lady Anne, and the other in a hand she did not recognize. She opened that one first.
My dear Mrs. Collins,
How suddenly you have decamped! The village is, as you will imagine, filled with rumours as to the cause of your vanishing. I cannot wait for you to return so as to hear the details.
I suppose Lady Catherine has decided you do not dance well enough for your supper. She will soon forget what has made her angry, for you—and your husband, to be sure—have made yourselves invaluable to her.
As for anticipation of dancing, remember the ball. It is to be on 2nd December. Barbara can scarcely contain her joy at the prospect, so I point out that a storm might prevent the event, or Lady Catherine could change her mind. It does not do to allow young people to put too much faith in the future.
Barbara tells me that Lady Anne has taken the defection of her adored cousin quite well, if all things are considered. Perhaps she is not the silly romantic girl I have thought her.
Her other cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam is expected to travel to Hunsford for the express purpose of attending the ball.
I do hope we both have a chance to dance with him.
Sincerely,
Susan Marsden
Charlotte immediately consigned this missive to the sitting room fire place. Then she turned to see the puzzled faces of Lady Lucas and Maria.
“I hope you have not had bad news,” said her mother.
“No, just silly news,” said Charlotte, “unkind to Lady Catherine. I would not like anyone else to see these words. Now if you’ll excuse me, here is another letter, from Lady Anne. It seems short. I will read it in a moment.
Dearest Mrs. Collins,
You are sorely missed here at Rosings. My mother admits nothing, but I know she is sorry for the words she said that evening. I think it will not be long before you will be able to return to your life here, which will be a great relief to me. I have need of you.
The ball will take place on the 2nd day of December. Mr. Collins’ absence has made some trouble, since he had so many tasks to perform, but all is getting done somehow. I do hope you are here in time to help me dress. What with my new gown and my hair arranged as it would be in town, I feel I will look quite well.
And why do I care how I look? My cousin Fitzwilliam has sent me a letter via Nancy announcing his plan to attend! I will see him soon! I hope we do not gaze at each other in a way that will arouse my mother’s suspicions.
I will pass this letter to Nancy who will see it gets in the post. Please write to me in her care. I long to know what you do and think.
Lady Anne de Bourgh
“Mrs. Collins,” said her husband. Charlotte quickly shoved the letter in her pocket. It would certainly not do for Mr. Collins to see it.
“Yes, husband?”
“I would like your opinion on this letter I have received, if your mother and sister will excuse us” He took her hand and led her to the empty dining parlour. “See what I have. It is a letter from Lady Catherine. Read what she says.”
Obediently Charlotte spread the sheet of paper.
Mr. Collins,
I am dismayed to discover that you have, without notifying me, abandoned your duties as pastor of the Hunsford parish. It is not permissible for a cleric to take leave in this fashion. I am extremely displeased with your action, for I had thought you to be a reliable and conscientious holder of the place.
If you wish to refresh my trust in you, I ask that you return immediately to your post and to the house I have helped you furnish.
You will recall that a ball is planned for 2nd December at Rosings, for the success of which you accepted several responsibilities. I must insist that you fulfill them.