by A V Knight
Crossing the length of the room could have been walking a mile for all the weight of Charlotte’s feet and the frantic beat of her heart necessary to manage it. She could not name what gave her comfort, but some shift in the Colonel’s bearing told her that he knew she was there and was giving her all the time she needed to either go forward or back without the pressure of his gaze. After that, all the steps were like floating.
With the man’s eyes comfortably out the window, Charlotte took her place beside him and leaned against the table. “Are you well this morning, Colonel?”
The man finally looked at her and Charlotte felt a bit of a fool for such insipid words. “I am well, Miss Lucas. And yourself?”
She ought to say she was well and, though she was excited to see her siblings again, lie and say she would miss Rosings with all the implication that it was not the building she would crave. Instead, Charlotte answered honestly, since to do otherwise would earn her his disappointment.
“In truth, I am discomfited.”
“I take it your dinner with Mr. Collins did not go as well as you hoped?”
His tone could not have sounded more like Elizabeth. “No one left the table mortally offended, which I’ve discovered is the best anyone can hope for in a dinner at Rosings.”
The Colonel did not meet her temper. “I am sorry for what my aunt said to you on your first night here. It was reprehensible.”
“How did you know?"
“Darcy got it out of her. Or at least, he got Lady Catherine’s interpretation of things, which I would never take as the whole truth, but I assume it was near enough that I apologize on her behalf. In truth, I’m so mortified that I’m tempted to write your parents and apologize and they weren’t even in the room.”
“Don’t.” Charlotte snapped.
The Colonel started in surprise and Charlotte flushed at reacting so when he’d been trying to tease. The Colonel leaned in to force Charlotte to look him in the eye. “I would never, you have my word.”
“I know you wouldn’t. I’m sorry. I’m simply…”
“Discomfited.”
“Yes.”
“May I ask what happened last night? You seemed… content to join Mr. Collins at the Parsonage when last I saw you.”
“Eldest daughters must learn to be content with many things.”
“A younger son understands that better than most. But, in truth Miss Lucas, what happened?”
“Nothing that I should not have expected. Mr. Collins was himself.” Charlotte pressed on, aching at the notion of detailing Mr. Collins’ deficiencies to the Colonel. “How did your family dinner go?”
The Colonel knew full well Charlotte was avoiding the question, but let her get away with it. “As they generally do when Darcy and I have spent too much time in Lady Catherine’s company.”
“You were forced to hear about closets for the tenth time this trip?”
The Colonel laughed. “If only. Darcy got a lecture on it being high time he thought about taking a wife, while I was subjected to a speech on the ills of men of good breeding joining his majesty’s military.”
“What else would she have a second son do? While I’m certain you’d be an excellent parson, I can’t imagine that you’d enjoy spending your days as Mr. Collins does, roaming from house to house and reporting back to your brother about everyone’s business.”
The Colonel stepped away from the billiards table and braced himself on the windowsill across from Charlotte. “To Aunt Catherine, actually.”
“She wanted you to have Mr. Collins’ place?”
“She and my father had it all worked out that I would be here until the pastor at my father’s house, Hillfield, is ready to retire. Hopefully, by then my pride would no longer be an object and I would be happy to return home.”
“But you joined the militia instead.”
“No Miss Lucas, I joined the army.”
“I beg your pardon?” Charlotte straightened.
“With Uncle Darcy’s blessing and his financial support to buy my commission, I joined the army proper. My father was furious, but he wasn’t the sort of man to turn up at my posting and insist that I come home, so I remained abroad. I wrote him every chance I had, and after nearly a year of furious silence while Uncle Darcy was working on him, father forgave me for leaving home against his wishes.”
“How old were you?”
“Sixteen.”
Charlotte hated the idea of her own younger brothers running off to the continent to fight a war, and it was written across her face.
“My father felt quite the same way you did, but I was in service under good men who did their best to see me safely through. There was quite a bit of yelling from Father when I came home for my first leave, but by the time I left, it was as though we’d never been apart. Even now he writes me once a week about all the goings on at home with the same detail and love as he did when I was abroad.”
“But what led you to transfer to the militia?”
Charlotte had expected the Colonel to offer up one of his confiding smiles and mention his father, but instead, he hesitated. After a long moment where Charlotte showed his silence the same respect he had shown hers, the Colonel sighed. “Georgiana. Or rather, my shared custody of her after the death of my dear uncle. You see, my cousins were in the fortunate position that they knew their father was dying. They were able to be home with him in the winding down time of his life and all of us were given the chance to say goodbye. My own commanding officer gave me two months leave and told me if that wasn’t enough then to write to him and he would extend it as long as I needed.”
“That was kind of him.”
“It was some part kindness, but some larger part that no one with sense tells the Earl of ---- no when he writes a letter demanding his son. As it was, Georgiana was 11 when my uncle died. Darcy was 22. He was as prepared for the passing of the estate as he could be. He’s never been the sort of fellow to put off a responsibility for tomorrow that he could handle today, so he had been involving himself in the managing of the estate since he was a child.”
“So you were concerned not for Mr. Darcy, but for Georgiana.”
“She couldn’t stop crying.” The Colonel’s voice broke as he stepped towards Charlotte. “You have to understand, Georgiana isn’t spoiled, but she is adored. My Aunt and Uncle thought they would never have another child, and then along comes Georgiana eleven years after Darcy. The whole family was thrilled at our unexpected addition. But we lost my aunt in the birth and that made Georgiana’s survival a blessing. That she has been so healthy and has a sweeter disposition than any of us, that was beyond our prayers. Georgianna was the light of my uncle’s life, and the loss of him when she was so young and he was so dear to her, I thought it would make her ill. And Darcy, I confess that most days I love him more than my own brother, but he didn’t know what to do. He knew how to be an excellent elder brother, but now he had to be a father as well.”
“So you resigned your commission.”
“Transferred if we’re going to be accurate.” The Colonel looked down at his boots and Charlotte fought the urge to reach up and brush away the hair that tumbled onto his face. “A man of my background is always welcomed into the militia with open arms. The Derbyshire militia, in particular, was happy to promote me to Colonel.”
“That sounds like it might at least be interesting, though perhaps in an entirely different way than the regular army. And your father must be pleased that you’re no longer abroad, risking your life.”
“He is thrilled. To him, there could be no better compromise.”
“And to you?”
“We all make sacrifices for our families. A truth you know better than anyone, I imagine.” The Colonel shared the same brown eyes as both of his cousins. It was a strange thing to notice, but Charlotte did not think she had ever seen the exhausted sort of bruising beneath either of their eyes that now made the Colonel’s look nearly black.
“I am quite cer
tain you know it just as well as I.”
“No, my sacrifices are for my future, yours are for everyone else’s.”
“I am not so pure-hearted as that.”
“Not pure-hearted, but practical. Your family needs you and everything you might bring to the table with your marriage. Three sisters to wed, one brother to place, perhaps two, and parents who cannot be entirely young. I must marry well because my pride cannot stand to do otherwise, you must marry because if you do not, you think they will all suffer for it.”
Charlotte swallowed, but could not pull her eyes away from the man. “I understand.”
“Do you?”
“We would make one another miserable within the month.”
The Colonel’s voice was so pained he sounded as though he was speaking through a broken bone. “I had imagined we would do a bit better than that.”
Charlotte forced all affection from her voice. If she allowed even a whisper of it, all the cards would come tumbling down. “You would regret me. I am neither so beautiful nor so charming to be worth all the fine things you would have to give up in exchange for making me your wife.”
“Don’t pretend to be daft, it doesn’t suit you.” The Colonel nearly spat the words. “It is not the things and you know it. I cannot be dependent on my brother and call myself a man.”
Charlotte wanted to spit back that he would rather be dependent on his wife, but despite the ache behind her ribs she could not make herself be so unfair. “I understand.” He gave a sad snort of disbelief. “Truly, I do. A home of my own, children of my own, you see how I have demeaned myself to achieve them and yet failed utterly.”
The Colonel stepped forward and grasped her by the elbow, only to let his hand slip away with a gulp when he realized what he’d done. “You must know that it had nothing to do with you. My aunt’s only objection is that she did not find you first. She doesn’t like it when she is forced to meet new people and her circle of acquaintances must expand.”
“She could have known me by now: a woman desperate to have her good opinion.”
“For your sake, I am sorry. It would be a relief to be married and have done with it, but for myself I am grateful.”
“Because you would not have spoken to Mr. Collins’ wife.”
“I imagine that Mr. Collins’ wife would have to be quite a different creature than Miss Lucas. I am happy to have known her.”
“And I you, Colonel.”
There was, after that, nothing more to say. Instead, Charlotte had the certain sense of something ending, something reckless and pleasurable that she would treasure forever, but over nonetheless.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Elizabeth returned from her walk late, flushed and so out of sorts that despite so near their last night at Rosings, she claimed illness and stayed tucked away in her bedroom. An evening alone in Mary’s company stymied whatever urge Charlotte had to share the events of her morning. After all, what could Elizabeth tell Charlotte that she did not already know? If Elizabeth had her way, she would drag Charlotte to wherever the Colonel was and demand they try again, unwilling to accept that anything so practical as lacking the money to support themselves and Charlotte’s siblings should keep them apart.
After all this, Charlotte could not summon up the disappointment that ought to accompany their departure. She spent their last day at Rosings in isolation while Mary availed herself of the pianoforte and Elizabeth went on another early walk only to cloister herself in her room. Charlotte could tell Elizabeth was tempted to feign illness once again, but she must have seen something in Charlotte’s expression and joined them for one last dinner with Lady Catherine. Charlotte was grateful for Elizabeth’s presence, despite the discomfort between her and Mr. Darcy that suggested something had had happened with Charlotte was otherwise occupied.
Because the meal itself was not tortuous enough, Charlotte was forced to endure Colonel Fitzwilliam taking his cousin’s one-word replies and turning them into several minutes of dialogue that spared them all Lady Catherine’s observations. If she had not noticed the wrinkles about his eyes that spoke of little sleep or the way he could not bring himself to sit still, Charlotte would have thought the Colonel entirely unaffected by what had passed between them. But that he was, and yet still managed to smooth all their rough edges, made Charlotte’s heartache.
It was not until dinner concluded and most of the young people were silently waiting for the first justifiable moment to leave that Lady Catherine turned her attention to her guests and observed that Elizabeth seemed out of spirits. “Of course, that must be because you are not prepared to go home again so soon. I apologize that you will not be able to remain at Rosings for as long as you might wish.”
“It is well, Lady Catherine. No matter how much I might wish to stay, my father wrote last week to hurry my return.”
Lady Catherine would never do something so indelicate as snort. “And you, Miss Lucas? Are you so fundamental to your father’s happiness?”
The room stiffened at Lady Catherine’s tone, but Charlotte did not have the will to rise to it. “To my mother, madam, and to my younger siblings, who have all written. They bid me bring stories of Rosings Park, but that I tell those stories when I come home.” It was a mistake to glance at Colonel Fitzwilliam, for the softness in his eyes at Charlotte’s mention of her younger siblings was not something she could bear.
“You know I always speak my mind, and I do not like the idea of three young women traveling post by themselves. It is highly improper. I must contrive to send somebody. I have the greatest dislike in the world to that sort of thing. Young women should always be properly guarded and attended, according to their situation in life. When my niece Georgiana went to Ramsgate last summer, I made a point of her having two men-servants go with her. Miss Darcy, the daughter of Mr. Darcy, of Pemberley, and Lady Anne, could not have appeared with propriety in a different manner. I am excessively attentive to all those things. I am glad it occurred to me to mention it for it would really be discreditable to let you go alone.”
“My uncle is to send a servant for us,” Elizabeth said, taking Charlotte’s hand.
“Oh! Your uncle! He keeps a manservant, does he? I am very glad you have somebody who thinks of these things. Where shall you change horses? Oh! Bromley, of course. If you mention my name at the Bell, you will be attended to.”
Lady Catherine had many other things to ask regarding their journey, and as she did not answer them all herself, Charlotte’s attention was necessary. Elizabeth rallied considerably after being asked so pointed a question, though Charlotte prided herself on being rather better able to at least look at the Colonel while he spoke. Soon enough Lady Catherine bored of listening to Mr. Collins praise every word of advice that fell from her lips and bid Mary play for them. She went to the pianoforte and for the rest of the night relieved them all of the burden of any real conversation. With the backdrop of music to distract them, Lady Catherine inquired minutely into the particulars of their journey, gave them directions as to the best method of packing, and was urgent on the necessity of placing gowns in the only right way.
When they parted, Lady Catherine, with great condescension, wished them a good journey, and invited them to come to Hunsford again next year. Miss de Bourgh exerted herself so far as to curtsey and hold out her hand to all three. While Colonel Fitzwilliam graced them each with a bow and a perfectly placid declaration that he was happy to have met them and wished them a safe journey, Mr. Darcy bowed in time and left his cousin to do the talking. Although, his eyes never left Elizabeth’s face, which was determinedly turned toward the floor. Charlotte made herself busy watching the two of them instead of searching the Colonel’s expression for something that it did not matter whether it was there or not.
While Mr. Collins’ farewells had been delightfully perfunctory on their last night at Rosings, he appeared at the house the next morning just as the ladies were preparing to climb into the carriage. He claimed he wanted the prope
r opportunity of paying the parting civilities that were indispensably necessary among family.
“It gives me great pleasure to hear that you have passed your time not disagreeably, my cousins. We here have certainly done our best; and most, fortunately, having it in my power to introduce you to very superior society, and, from my connection with Rosings, the frequent means of varying the humble home scene, I think I may flatter myself that your Hunsford visit cannot have been entirely irksome. My situation with regard to Lady Catherine’s family is indeed the sort of extraordinary advantage and blessing which few can boast. You see on what a footing I am. You see how continually I am engaged here. In truth, I must acknowledge that, with all the disadvantages of my humble parsonage, I should not think anyone abiding in it an object of compassion, while they are sharers of my intimacy at Rosings.” Words were insufficient for the elevation of his feelings and he was obliged to walk about the carriage checking on their luggage, while Elizabeth tried to unite civility and truth in a few short sentences that would somehow get them away before she shouted at the man.
“You may, in fact, carry a very favorable report of me into Hertfordshire, my dear cousin. I flatter myself at least that you will be able to do so. Lady Catherine’s great attentions to me you have been a daily witness of.”
Elizabeth could safely say that it was a great happiness where that was the case, and with equal sincerity could add that she firmly believed and rejoiced in his domestic comforts. She was not sorry, however, to have the recital of them interrupted by the lady for whom they ought to belong. “The chaise is prepared, Mr. Collins, the trunks are fastened and the parcels are placed within. I am afraid that if we do not depart soon that we will be late in returning to the Gardiners.”
Mr. Collins agreed and attended each of them into the carriage. He commissioned both Elizabeth and Mary with his best respects to all their family, not forgetting his thanks for the kindness he had received at Longbourn in the winter, and his compliments to Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, though unknown. He handed Elizabeth in, Mary followed, and then shut the door behind them with Charlotte on the outside.