by A V Knight
“He did. He just sat there and didn’t say anything. All I could think of to say was to ask him if Bingley ever meant to return to Netherfield. He supposed that he didn’t, and I suggested that it would be better for us all if he were to quit the neighborhood entirely.”
“Oh Lizzy, you didn’t.”
“I stopped myself before I said anything terrible about the man for his interference, but I almost wish I had. After that, I left him to struggle to find a subject, and he asked me how I liked Kent and did I not consider it too near Longbourn! It was such an odd conversation, Charlotte.”
Elizabeth spoke again of his silences, and despite Charlotte’s attempt to make sense of his behavior, their various conjectures ended at the belief that the gentleman simply could not find anything to do. At this time of year all field sports were over and the Colonel had left him behind for a walk. In the rest of the house there was only Lady Catherine, books, and a billiard table. To Elizabeth, this was justification enough for Mr. Darcy’s appearance in their rooms, though Charlotte tried to suggest the possibility of his partiality to her. Elizabeth responded with nothing but laughter. Charlotte did not think it right to press the subject and raise expectations which might only end in disappointment if she had misunderstood. Though, she was certain that if Elizabeth had a moment’s belief that Mr. Darcy was in her power, all her dislike of the man would vanish.
CHAPTER TWELVE
They were excluded from the next family dinner, and Charlotte could not pretend to be disappointed. It felt not unlike tempting fate every time they consumed the attention of Lady Catherine’s nephews and Charlotte was not in the mood to test the Lady’s temper again, and certainly not in front of those nephews. Both men had shown their quality and were Lady Catherine to start insulting Sir Lucas again, Charlotte did not expect them to accept it. But still, Charlotte did not want to be proven wrong and disappointed in them.
Instead, Charlotte returned to how she had been spent her days before the gentlemen’s arrival: rambling about the park with Elizabeth at her side. It was easy to ignore what an utter failure this trip had been when she had Elizabeth’s arm in hers. She could justify all her squandered hopes when she could pretend that time with Elizabeth had always been her goal.
However, their quiet time together was interrupted when they happened upon the Colonel and Mr. Darcy. The men seemed rather engrossed in their conversation, but before Charlotte could begin to contemplate turning back down the walk, Mr. Darcy looked up and bid them a rather stiff hello. The Colonel’s surprise gave way to more obvious pleasure. “Darcy and I were just making our tour of the park as he and I generally do every year. Were you intending to go much farther, ladies?”
“I am afraid we had no specific intentions, Colonel,” Elizabeth said. “Charlotte and I simply thought it too beautiful a day to spend indoors.”
“I could not agree with you more heartily, Miss Elizabeth. Would you ladies like to join us for our ramble?”
Both women hesitated, though for rather different reasons. While under normal circumstances Elizabeth would be happy to have a guided tour of the length and breadth of the park, she did not wish to do so in the company of Mr. Darcy. Charlotte’s concerns were rather more with Lady Catherine’s temper. The Lady would blame them for luring her nephews out of the house and every moment in their company would only increase her wrath. However, with the sun on her face, Mr. Darcy staring at his shoes, and the Colonel raising an eyebrow at her, Charlotte found she did not care for such common sense.
“A walk strikes me as a splendid idea, Colonel. Lizzy and I would be happy to join you.”
While Charlotte had been under the impression that after their first weeks of isolation she and Elizabeth were rather well acquainted with the different paths one might follow through the park, their knowledge was nothing compared to healthy young men who had spent no small part of their youth getting lost in this park in attempts to avoid their aunt. They did not say it so bluntly, but Mr. Darcy did confess that when Georgianna was quite young their father had sent her here to have some feminine influence. Though Darcy had been unwilling to abandon his sister entirely, he had spent no small amount of time outside.
While Elizabeth could not keep herself from asking Mr. Darcy about what ‘feminine things’ Lady Catherine had seen fit to teach his sister, Charlotte fell back beside the Colonel and asked if the two brothers had been sent to their aunt’s house for similar reasons.
“Not quite. Andrew and Aunt Catherine have quite similar dispositions, so for him, visits were rather a treat.”
“And for you they were rather more like eating your vegetables?”
“A comparison could be drawn. Though as I was a rather stubborn child, I did notice that when my father wanted to convince me of something and he felt that I wouldn’t listen to his good judgment, he would either send me to Aunt Catherine’s or Uncle Darcy’s, depending upon which he felt I might be more apt to listen to.”
“Ah, so Lady Catherine was not so much a carrot as she was a stick?”
“A truly formidable stick.”
Despite Mr. Darcy’s disposition, conversation flowed easily between the four of them. While three of their party were capable of conversing with ease, Colonel Fitzwilliam had long developed the skill to lure stories out of his cousin. Despite the objections Lizzy would no doubt give if asked, she seemed to take a certain pleasure in reaping the benefit of whatever tales the Colonel managed to unearth.
Their return to Rosings after so pleasant a walk in the gentlemen’s company was dashed by Mr. Collins’ greetings at the door. He shuffled his feet then bowed, more to Lady Catherine’s nephews than the ladies.
“Mr. Collins! It is a pleasure to see you. Have you been here long?”
“Yes, Lady Catherine and I were… discussing matters. Considering the object of our discussion, I would like to offer my apologies to you gentlemen for interfering with the limited time you are able to spend together with your family. It was never my intention to have my desire to renew the acquaintance of my cousins come at the expense of your own family time.”
“There is no need for such apologies, Mr. Collins.”
“Your graciousness on the subject is appreciated, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Lady Catherine and I both agreed that it would be better for your family to spend the evening together without the interference of interlopers.”
“That is severe speech, sir.” Charlotte would have paused if she had been the recipient of the Colonel’s tone or Mr. Darcy’s frosty glare, but Mr. Collins jutted out his chin. He was, quite practically, far more terrified of Lady Catherine than her nephews.
“Sometimes harsh truths must be spoken, Colonel. This is a matter of which I am sure men of your long experience must be aware.
Charlotte stepped forward and slid her arm through Mr. Collins’ before he could say another word and venture from implication into outright insult. “Tell me, Mr. Collins,” Charlotte asked, “when did you and Lady Catherine have the chance to discuss these matters? I would hate to think that we have been accidentally infringing so much upon the Lady for days and failed to notice.”
“You have not, Miss Lucas,” the Colonel reiterated.
“As loath as I am to be the bearer of bad news, Lady Catherine first spoke to me of her concerns on the preservation of familial solitude the very evening her nephews arrived. Of course, being such upstanding gentlemen, her nephews felt the need to pay their respects to visiting young ladies, which deviation in their attention might be excused because they returned quickly to their aunt’s company and you displayed such common sense in refusing their polite offer to join the family for dinner. However, I am afraid that in the days since the gentlemen’s attention has been far too often lured away from their family.”
Behind a clenched jaw, Charlotte nodded along. “And did Lady Catherine repeat her concerns to you?”
“I’m afraid she felt the need to do so this very morning, Miss Lucas. I apologized to Lady Catherine most
profusely for such a reminder being necessary and promised that I would do better in seeing to it that my cousins and their associate would interfere less in the rare time that her family was able to spend together.” Charlotte stiffened her arm, for if she did not then she would have slid it out of Mr. Collins’ grasp and very likely turned on her heel only to demand that Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam summon her a carriage. Instead, Charlotte steeled her spine and swallowed back her pride. If she opened her mouth it would be to reprimand Mr. Collins for thinking he had the right to scold the gentlemen like children for shouldering the burden of politeness he ought to have carried.
Mary chose that moment to join them and swept down the stairs in irritation that her time at the pianoforte was being interrupted by a summons to the Parsonage for dinner. Elizabeth offered the gentlemen a curtsy and followed in her sister’s wake, taking Mary by the arm and beginning a conversation with her so she didn’t have to endure a word from Mr. Collins. Charlotte turned to say goodbye to the gentlemen, but the Colonel had already turned on his heel and started towards the house, with Mr. Darcy lagging a step behind. Charlotte did not need to hear a word from either of them to see the stiff line of the Colonel’s shoulders and know his displeasure at Mr. Collins’ comments.
Convincing Mr. Collins to apologize would be impossible, and so Charlotte did not waste the effort, even though Mr. Collins did not leave behind his commentary on respect for one’s superiors for the entire walk to the Parsonage and throughout dinner. Charlotte attempted to turn the conversation to any other subject in the world—even religious dialogues would have been preferable—but every word from the women’s lips only spurred him on. Elizabeth remained ruthlessly silent, while Mary seemed to find scolding to be a perfectly acceptable topic. She joined in enumerating the defects of presumption, ingratitude, pride, and eventually young people in general and her sisters in particular.
“I confess to you Miss Mary, despite my most profound attempts on the subject I have never been able to understand why young people think it appropriate to speak to their elders with such disrespect. Why, just last week some young lady of the neighborhood thought it appropriate to disagree with Lady Catherine on the appointment of the closets in her home. Lady Catherine has an untold number of closets within Rosings Park and has provided valuable advice to women on this subject and many others for many a year, and still, the young lady thought her own experience equal to Lady Catherine’s. I was baffled by the presumption.”
“There have been many times where I have attempted to curtail Lydia and Kitty over their histrionic speech towards those with far more life experience than any of us, and yet they do not seem to understand why I find such behavior worthy of censure. Although I must admit, there are those individuals whose age in no way makes them superior.”
“You are quite correct that age is not the sole criteria for superiority, for even youth might have enough experience to be aware of those whose advanced age has brought no sense. I agree that true superiority is reserved for those individuals with all the benefits that accompany superior breeding, and they should be treated with all the deference and respect available to us. There are few things I find more offensive than those individuals who seem to think that they have the right to associate freely and familiarly with those who are truly above nearly all society in sense and station.
“It is in this regard that I am grateful that all of my young cousins that you were the one able to attend, Miss Mary. For out of both houses to whom Lady Catherine offered her invitation, I feel you are the only one who genuinely understands the distinction of rank and all the deference that should come with such status.” Mr. Collins leaned into Mary with a conspiratorial smile, as though she was the only person in the world who would understand. “There was a moment when young Miss Henrietta—”
“Mr. Collins.” Charlotte stopped him and had to pause before she snapped the words lurking behind her teeth. “While I can concede that there is some value to be had in the preservation of rank as it so concerns you, I must ask that you leave my sister out of your commentary on the subject.”
“I did not mean to offend,” he condescended. “It is simply—”
“But you did offend, Mr. Collins. For all her flaws, I will not have my sister spoken of in such a manner.”
Mr. Collins smiled, as though Charlotte was objecting for form’s sake. Charlotte did not flinch. She had debased herself by catering to Mr. Collins’ every whim, but on this subject, she would not bend. Her siblings were foolish and impetuous in the way all young people were, but they were kind-hearted and quick to learn. More still, they were hers, and even if Mr. Collins were her husband Charlotte would not accept such sneering words about them.
Charlotte stared at Mr. Collins expressionless until he accepted that there was nothing coy about her objections. Even then, he sputtered for several long moments before Charlotte spared him the pain of attempting to find some justification since his apologies were all reserved for Lady Catherine. She turned to Elizabeth and asked if she had heard from Jane today. It was a pointless question since she had been there when Elizabeth had received her letter, but Elizabeth answered Charlotte nonetheless and together they filled the rest of dinner with their own aimless conversation.
As it was, the evening did not last much longer. They pressed on just long enough that Charlotte could reasonably tell herself that she was not storming out of the Parsonage in a huff. Mr. Collins did not find his words soon enough to stop them, and Elizabeth kept Mary refrained from any comments that might worsen the situation.
They returned to Rosings at all speed, each of them retreating to their rooms despite the early hour. Elizabeth paused at her bedroom door and glanced back at Charlotte, waiting for the barest sign that Charlotte wanted company. Charlotte was tempted, oh how she was tempted. At least a hundred times before she had wished for a sister that she might speak to as Elizabeth did with Jane. It was a nice thought, that perhaps Elizabeth might come in and they would curl up beside one another so Charlotte could remind Elizabeth how she had warned against getting to know a man too well because it led to moments like this one, where you discovered same horrible truth about the person you wanted to marry when there was still something to be done about it.
“I,” Charlotte choked on the words she longed to say. “I thought that perhaps I might write to my siblings.”
Elizabeth did not point out that Charlotte had already done so that morning. “That sounds like a wonderful idea. May I join you?”
“Please.” Charlotte’s voice cracked, but her will did not. The letters to her siblings were re-written, Charlotte counseling five in the time it took Elizabeth to write to Jane. Neither spoke, Elizabeth asking no questions and Charlotte forcing away the urge to speak. All it would take was one comment on this evening and the dam would break, carrying with it all Charlotte’s fears that being Mr. Collins’ wife was becoming a worse prospect than him never proposing. Mr. Collins only remained preferable to spinsterhood so long as Charlotte did not examine him, and so she remained focused on her letter to the exclusion of all other thoughts. She wrote until the early hours of the morning, Elizabeth having fallen asleep on the sofa beside her. It was only with the comfort of exhaustion that Charlotte collapsed into bed, her mind too consumed with thoughts of her siblings to give Mr. Collins any heed.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It was strange, Charlotte thought, that the morning should dawn so bright and unchanged when her world was so different. Elizabeth woke early and uncomfortable after her night on the sofa and Charlotte sent her out on a walk to wake properly while Charlotte remained alone in the sitting room. Elizabeth left Charlotte with the silent expectance that after Charlotte had the privacy to arrange her thoughts they would discuss all they had not shared last night.
Instead, Charlotte put all her considerable effort into not thinking of Mr. Collins at all. It was more difficult in the light of day than the dead of night, but still, she managed. Charlotte could
not reject the possibility of Mr. Collins, but neither could she bring herself to seek him out. She longed to be home among the people she adored, but thoughts of her siblings pricked her conscience and reminded her that the ease of her family’s future life rested in her engagement. But still, Charlotte could not feign apologies to Mr. Collins. The most she could do was hope that Mr. Collins had always intended to propose on her last day in Kent, no matter when that last day might have been. If he did not, this whole trip had been nothing but a testament to Charlotte’s foolishness for believing that perhaps she might ever become a wife.
Though Charlotte had sought isolation that morning, it soon became interminable. Books held no interest, neither did stitching nor examining the view outside the window. Charlotte attempted a letter to her parents and made it only a few sentences before she realized she was recounting all the failed hopes and strange relief that had plagued her throughout the night.
Charlotte could not leave a half-written letter with such content lying about. The safest disposal of such sensitive information would be through burning the letter, but it being a summer day there was no fire lit in the sitting room. As it would give her a few minutes of occupation, Charlotte ventured to the kitchen to handle the disposal. It felt so lovely to take a stroll, even just throughout the building, that she did not promptly return to the sitting room. Instead, she took the long, meandering path through the house—still avoiding the set of rooms Lady Catherine preferred to inhabit. Charlotte told herself that it was the result of nothing but aimless wandering that led her to the billiards room where Colonel Fitzwilliam was less playing the game than he was leaning against the far side of the table and staring out a window.
Charlotte could justify her search to properly dispose of the post as entirely a matter of privacy until the very moment she stood in that doorway. Faced with the tense hike of the Colonel’s shoulders, Charlotte could pretend no longer. Though the man had not yet noticed her and she could be on her way back to the sitting room before he did, Charlotte had come all this way and would not convince herself to run now.