by C. J. Hill
She squeezed his hand gently and looked into his troubled eyes.
“William, I am glad that I now know more of your past. I confess it has troubled me not to know of it as I believe that as your wife I should have known it from the first. Your reluctance to share any personal information has almost caused me to think of far worse scenarios than those to which you have confessed today.
“You cannot change your childhood - it is in the past and there it will stay. Our life together is in the future and how we arrange it is for us, and no one else, to decide. You say that you feel awkward when conversing with others, particularly those whom you do not yet know well. Perhaps that is something with which I can assist you, my dear, so that you do not feel discomfort and doubt each time. For those whom you do know well, such as your parishioners, I do not think that you can claim any such inhibitions when you see how they regard your kindness to them. Be strong, William and lay past ghosts to rest.”
In an unusual moment, for it had been a long and unusual morning, the couple embraced quietly, feeling that at long last they were embarking upon their life journey together without any obstacles or secrets blocking their passage.
XXX
Now that all secrets between them appeared to be disclosed, William and Charlotte re-shouldered their separate and joint marital burdens and again focused the entirety of their attention upon those who mattered the most to them, and the world which they inhabited.
It was a very busy time with the added pressures of housekeeping increasing Charlotte’s workload, the like of which she had not had to deal with in her father’s house. Lucas Lodge, while on an enforced budget, could still boast of several kitchen maids to help the cook with the extra preserving chores, whereas Charlotte found herself to be the only assistant to Mrs. Hall when the young girl from a neighbouring farm could not be spared. On the days when Jessie could be spared, Charlotte immediately relinquished all into the capable hands of Mrs. Hall and left to visit her parishioners whom she guiltily felt she had been neglecting rather badly recently. Charlotte took great pride in the improvement in relationships she had fostered since her arrival in Hunsford and counted those families such as the Betts as amongst her dearest friends.
With Mrs. Betts she had a comfortable rapport, enough to have those feminine conversations which are so valuable to both parties. Charlotte sorely missed her dear friend, Elizabeth, and the confidences they had enjoyed, but many topics of conversation that she wanted to have were beyond the bounds of her friendship with Elizabeth; a certain decorum must be preserved between a married and unmarried friend, Charlotte felt, and was quite convinced that Elizabeth could not help her in the matter that troubled her now. Ever since her discoveries and the self-revelations of her husband, Charlotte had felt a certain reluctance to discuss anything further with William and he had shown no interest in doing so either, almost as if he regretted his honesty. So other than the usual conversations regarding the running of the house with Mrs. Hall, Charlotte found that her one friend in whom she could confide was indeed Mrs. Betts, and she valued the opportunity to embark upon meaningful discussions with someone as knowledgeable and thoughtful as her new friend. In truth, Charlotte had been feeling rather off-colour recently and she wanted Mrs. Betts’ advice as to what she should do to relieve her discomfort.
Happily, Charlotte found herself unwanted in the kitchen one morning and immediately set off for the Betts’ farm in search of company and advice. She was welcomed into the cottage and asked to sit at the well-scrubbed table while Mrs. Betts prepared the dinner and several other baking tasks all simultaneously. Charlotte watched her friend knead bread, stir the fire, chop vegetables, and soothe her youngest child who was teething, judging by the wetness of her face and wretchedness of her crying.
“At least allow me to comfort the poor child while you are so busy, Mrs. Betts. I am sure that is something at which I am reasonably proficient.”
Mrs. Betts smiled and gratefully relinquished her daughter to the waiting arms of Charlotte who cradled and rocked her until she gratefully fell asleep, relieved at last from the nagging pain in her mouth.
“You have a natural motherly way about you, Mrs. Collins, if you don’t mind me noticing! There’s none so many as can soothe a fretful child as quick as that. You will make a fine mother when your time comes, that’s to be sure.”
Charlotte smiled and placed the child in her day rocker by the window and then returned to her seat at the table.
“I confess, I do long to become a mother, Mrs. Betts but I worry that I never shall become one; I fear that my age goes against me.”
“Never fret yourself, ma’am! I am older by far than you are now and look at that little’un that’s asleep! Age is nothing to it if you are healthy and strong, as you are. It is no mystery; do not deny your husband and sure enough you will be a mother before the year is out – you mark my words. The marriage bed is a wonderful thing for the getting of children!” Mrs. Betts smiled knowingly at Charlotte and poured her another cup of tea. “Can I offer you some cake, my dear? Fresh made this morning, it is.”
“I thank you, Mrs. Betts, but no. It looks delicious but I have several mornings of late felt rather unwell – today was one of them – and can take nothing more than a cup of tea. It is all that I can take until dinner, which is unusual for me; generally I have a healthy appetite. I hope that I am not ailing for something. It is so busy at the moment that I cannot be spared for long.”
“I did notice you are unusually peaked, ma’am. And this feeling unwell – is it a nausea that you feel, Mrs. Collins?”
“Indeed it is, Mrs. Betts. Sudden and chronic and precludes me from achieving all that I would like to each morning. Several days I have had to refuse to attend Lady Catherine with Mr. Collins for fear that the illness would re-emerge, and sometimes I have had to leave Mrs. Hall on her own to tend to the chores while I walked outside to steady my stomach. It always goes away but I hope that it is not something terribly debilitating. William would be so worried about me if I were to be ill.”
Mrs. Betts smiled knowingly and, after asking one or two more carefully-worded questions, took Charlotte’s hand.
“I would not concern yourself unduly, Mrs. Collins – why your husband’s worries will merely begin in a few months or so! You must take more care of yourself from now on; no more hard work in the kitchen and less gallivanting about the parish. From what you’ve told me, you are to be a mother, and a good one at that if I am to be the judge. The Lord has blessed you and that’s a fact!”
Charlotte could not believe her ears! With child? Her? She hardly could think about her few encounters with William without abhorrence but if this was to be the prize, then she could endure far worse than that.
“How can you be so sure Mrs. Betts? Did you have similar symptoms to mine? This is all so strange! I came here this morning one person and I will leave here an utterly different person just from something you have said! And to think I had no knowledge of it! But I should have guessed should I not? What an imbecile you must think me! I must leave and inform my husband – oh! What will he say?”
Charlotte was all in a flurry of nervous excitement – Mrs. Betts had managed to utterly discompose her, while at the same time causing her great joy. With child! Her overwhelming joy at the news quickly cast aside any doubts and she hastily took her leave of Mrs. Betts, who was smiling quite contentedly at the effect of her advice, and walked as quickly as she was able back to the Parsonage.
The delight expressed by Mr. Collins when he heard the news can be imagined! Being able to inform Lady Catherine that his family was to increase filled him with great joy and satisfaction and, once he had assured himself that his dear Charlotte felt quite well and needed for nothing, he left her sitting in a corner of the garden, as she insisted that she was quite unable to withstand a visit to the great lady herself, and took himself with great haste to Rosings Park for his daily visit to impart the news at the earliest opportunity the convers
ation allowed.
He returned an hour later with a jaunty air, carrying a small package under his arm. He found Charlotte where he had left her, as she had taken the opportunity of solitude to reflect upon her state and to adjust to her future as a mother. It was perhaps the happiest hour she had ever spent in her entire life. Unlike her husband, she was in no rush to inform anyone else and hugged the secret to her like a warm shawl, cherishing the fleeting private moment.
She looked up as her husband entered the garden gate and took happiness in his obvious delight; Lady Catherine had clearly been most complimentary about his news and had allowed him to expand upon it at length, judging by the time he had been away.
“My dear! Lady Catherine is extremely delighted about our news and mentioned several times how befitting a clergyman it is to set a good example for his flock as a family man and a good father. She is most anxious to call upon you and insists upon advising you as to which doctors and medicaments you should use. Imagine that, my dear! I am to be a father to someone I will be able to mould - along with your assistance, of course. How happy you have made me, Charlotte. Our lives will very soon be complete, with everything as it should be.”
Charlotte smiled her agreement and then brought his attention to the package which was still in residence under his arm.
“My dear! What have you under your arm, may I ask? Surely not a gift already from Lady Catherine?”
“Oh, I almost forgot! Lady Catherine immediately set out to find you something to reflect her delight with your situation, my dear! She insisted upon it, although I demurred, and had her maid produce from I know not where, this delightful little infant gown. It was apparently one of Miss de Bourgh’s and is only a little worn. Do not you think it a great omen to be given such an item?”
Mr. Collins beamed with proprietary pleasure at his ability to provide gifts from such a noble connection and Charlotte tried her best to match his enthusiasm, although she dreaded just where all this interest on the part of Lady Catherine would lead. Charlotte knew from her experiences with the lady that she loved nothing so well as interfering in the name of assisting and was not a woman to be effectively refused. Still, she thought ruefully, it is better to keep friends with the lady than not, and who was she to refuse any help to come their way?
Later that day, as Charlotte sat writing a letter to her mother to impart her news, a letter arrived from that quarter which sent her into quite a confusion of feelings and which managed to undo all of Charlotte’s comfortable happiness.
The letter had been sent in a rush – the ink was smudged in places and several words illegible as evidence of her mother’s haste in her desire to spread the news as quickly as possible.
Lucas Lodge
August 3rd ~
My dear daughter,
I thank you for the letter of July 20th ~ and enjoyed your news. I do hope that all continues to be well with you and Mr. Collins. You seem to be kept quite busy there in Kent with your parish and garden. But, enough of that for now. I have news of great import and, I think I am not being overly scurrilous in saying, of a scandalous nature regarding our friends, the Bennets. The whole of Meryton is agog with it!
I heard in the village that Mrs. Bennet had taken to her bed and was refusing to come down, and that Mr. Bennet had been called away to London most urgently in the night, and has not yet returned even as I write this letter several days later! Well, as our acquaintance is such, I called at Longbourn upon the pretext of enquiring after my friend and yours, and was admitted upstairs to visit with Mrs. Bennet who was, as had been reported, in quite a state and suffering very badly from her nerves. I immediately thought of your friend Lizzy – perhaps some accident had befallen her upon her travels. But she assured me that Lizzy was absolutely well but expected home very soon as she had to shorten her tour in Derbyshire as her uncle Gardiner was urgently needed in London. So I then assumed that something terrible had happened to his business and that Mr. Bennet was required in London to assist in the matter in his absence. I was reluctant to pursue the topic for fear of being over-inquisitive, but then Mrs. Bennet provided more information of her own accord, the like of which I hope never to have happen within our family.
As you know, Lydia went to Brighton under the protection of her friend’s husband, a Colonel Forster, and very much against the sensible warnings of Lizzy, as you told me. Well! It would seem that Lizzy was justified in her assessment of her sister and the irresponsibility of allowing her such freedom! Lydia has disgraced her family in such a manner that there seems nothing can be done to redeem her actions.
She has eloped with Mr. Wickham! Can you imagine my dear? Eloped! To Gretna Green they believed at first but have as yet no evidence as to the veracity of that assumption. So Mr. Bennet has been in London for the past week trying to find them out and to ensure that the marriage has taken place. If the couple has taken lodgings there, it will be an impossible task to unearth them and they could be living together in sin for all we know!
How shocking it all is, although Mrs. Bennet appears to be more concerned that her husband should not enter into any fight when he does actually find Wickham, in the expectation that Mr. Bennet would come off the worse. I am not sure whether her concern is for her husband’s safety or for her continued assurance of living at Longbourn. Mrs. Bennet also seems unconcerned about the ramifications of her daughter’s actions; she constantly bemoans the fact that she was unable to arrange their wedding (assuming it has taken place) and considers that to elope with one’s lover is a romantic act and so predestines their partnership to a fateful happiness!
I cannot think what to say to her other than to offer my condolences. Jane was in charge in the absence of her parents and treated me most cordially. I offered my help should she require it but she insisted that she was coping well and would not wish to embarrass me with their difficulties. She was very much relieved when Mr. Gardiner and Lizzy returned to share the burden but I found your friend to be less cordial than her sister when I last visited and so have refrained from doing so since. Lizzy is an independent woman and gave the distinct impression that she considered my visits to be an interference and unnecessary; I can, therefore, add no more to my account unless I hear something in the village. Rest assured, Charlotte, I shall inform you as soon as I hear anything more on the subject.
Your loving mother, etc.
Charlotte put the letter down in shock.
That Lydia was a headstrong and irresponsible girl was not news to her but Charlotte would never have imagined her being so foolish as to put herself under the power of Mr. Wickham, the same man who had shown a preference for not only Elizabeth but also several other young ladies of Meryton.
That he was an opportunist was certain, and that he sought a rich wife was equally certain. But Lydia? Lydia was no more provided for than her sister, and Wickham had relinquished his interest in Elizabeth as soon as that had become apparent, re-directing his attentions upon Miss King and her ten thousand pounds. What could he possibly have to gain from running away with Lydia, a mere girl of sixteen, without education, manners or refinement?
Charlotte re-read the letter but it only confirmed her first reaction of shock and horror for her friend and her family. How must Mr. Bennet be feeling as he searches futilely for his daughter amongst the passages and back alleys of London? How similar to the story he related in his letter only a few weeks ago about his aunt’s unfortunate marriage and its consequences.
Charlotte’s kind heart was pained but could think of nothing she could offer to alleviate the family’s suffering. She could not write commiserations to her friend until Elizabeth informed her of the trouble herself, and Charlotte rather doubted that Elizabeth would care to share such humiliating news even with her closest friend. She had not wanted to share the reason for her discomfort at the end of her visit to Hunsford and would undoubtedly keep even more painful news to herself.
William came upon his wife as she was re-reading the letter for t
he third time and, noticing her troubled countenance, enquired as to the content of the missive. Reluctantly, Charlotte endeavoured to explain it away without giving too many details but found that under her husband’s continuous questioning stare, she confessed to the truth of the matter in all its horror.
“Well, this is indeed a most distressing matter for the family! And thank goodness my connection consists of the entail only, as it could so easily have been much more should I not have escaped a most imprudent marriage to one of my cousins. I would have had to be intimately involved now in their sorrow and disgrace!”
He paced before Charlotte’s astounded gaze before continuing with his thoughts.
“I have to believe that Lydia’s disposition must be naturally bad for her to have acted in such a licentious manner but that a faulty degree of indulgence by her parents must have played its part also. And, of course, her false step will afflict all her sisters; she has tainted the Bennet name. No worthy suitor will venture to connect himself with such a family; they are all now doomed to a life of spinsterhood, which is a great pity considering the many accomplishments of some of my cousins.”
He eventually noticed that his wife was not sharing his assessment of the trouble and hastened to enquire about her thoughts upon the matter.
Charlotte immediately sought to adjust his selfish appraisal of the situation and remind him of the human tragedy involved.
“While it is true, William, that some relief can be felt by you that this tragedy has not more severe implications for us, I cannot forget to whom it has happened. My friends do not deserve this humiliation howsoever much you believe it is of their own making through their lack of severity as parents. Parents can only do so much, for as you say, some children are naturally bad and Lydia certainly appears to have proven that very well. Her lack of awareness of just how her actions affect others has many times been displayed; she has been reprimanded for her behaviour an equal number of times but still she refused to acknowledge any wrong doing. I expect that, even now, she does not comprehend the seriousness of her actions and believes herself to be in the right. She is a selfish girl, always wanting her own way; her mother has always stood up for her and, as you have just read, continues to do so even under such damning evidence.