Page 10 of Introducing Mrs. Collins
‘I did no such thing. I answered her questions clearly and honestly.’
‘But, Eliza, you also gave a lot ofopinions…’
Elizabeth gasped dramatically. ‘Forgive me!’
‘Only God can forgive you. Lady Catherine will likely not.’
About a fortnight after this, by which time Charlotte’s father had returned to Meryton, news reached the parsonage that there was to be a visitor to Rosings: namely, Mr Darcy. Darcy was Lady Catherine’s nephew, and Charlotte knew a little of him already.
She had first set eyes on Darcy at an assembly in Meryton, at which he refused to dance with anyone beyond his own party and was heard declaring Elizabeth only ‘tolerable’. This had naturally set Charlotte against him; she had her own reasons to dislike men who scorned women at dances. But since then, she had suspected he had only made a particularly bad first impression. Charlotte had heard the list of accusations against Darcy, laid out by one Mr Wickham, another member in Elizabeth’s circle of intrigue. Wickham, an officer in the local militia whose rugged good looks had clearly made an impression on Elizabeth, had painted Darcy as the worst kind of villain, and Elizabeth had been inclined to believe him. Charlotte had not been entirely convinced; she had not warmed to Wickham and therefore kept a more open mind about Darcy. She generally had good instincts for people’s character, and while Elizabeth leapt to condemnation, Charlotte kept her counsel.
It had been many months since such matters last occupied her, and in truth, she was glad to have such intrigues reignited. Darcy’s arrival would certainly bring a pinch of spice to the party. He would bring with him his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, about whom no one knew a thing.
It was known that the pair would be in the neighbourhood but not when they might be seen, and so it was with a littleperturbation that Charlotte, one morning, spotted her husband walking back across the park towards home, flanked by two tall gentlemen, one in a navy-blue coat and the other in the red uniform of the military.
‘Eliza, Mr Darcy is approaching!’ she called up the stairs.
‘What?!’ cried Elizabeth, running down them a few seconds later.
‘Mr Darcy and his cousin are a minute or so away. I may thank you, Eliza, for this piece of civility. Mr Darcy would never have come so soon to wait upon me.’
‘Nonsense. It is basic etiquette for him to visit Hunsford.’
‘You know that is not true; it is not at all expected. Anyway, if you wish to fix your hair, now is the time.’
Elizabeth raised a derisive eyebrow at her, and yet she did set about making herself look decent. Charlotte even caught her pinching her cheeks and smothered a grin.
The doorbell rang just as the ladies reached the bottom of the stairs, and Mr Collins ushered in Mr Darcy – a dark-haired, imposing figure who towered over the company, commanding immediate attention. Next to him was a genial-looking man in uniform, a few years older than his cousin, smiling easily and looking round admiringly.
The bustle of introductions, taking of coats, moving into the drawing room and ordering tea, provided a minute or two to inspect the visitors. Charlotte, already knowing Darcy, took more of an interest in examining the newcomer. Colonel Fitzwilliam had mousy-brown hair, thick and rather unkempt for a soldier, and a weather-worn face. He was not entirely handsome, yet his manners made him seem the most appealing person in the room. Charlotte noticed that with interest that he addressed every new acquaintance with equal courtesy, whether it was Mrs Brooke or Mr Collins. He was not as tall as Darcy, but then Darcy was taller than necessary. Colonel Fitzwilliam was broad across the chest, and his eyes were keen and ready to meet—
Oh! His eyes met Charlotte’s directly, just as she realised she had been staring at him. He raised both eyebrows and nodded slightly, warmly.
She quicky averted her gaze.
‘Do you find your aunt easy company?’ Elizabeth asked, bold as ever, and Mr Collins’s eyes bulged out of his head.
She addressed the question to Darcy, though it applied to both the gentlemen. Pleasantries had already been exchanged, but Elizabeth was evidently keen to delve into more challenging territory. Darcy took such a long time to reply that it wasn’t clear if he was considering his answer or ignoring the question.
Colonel Fitzwilliam, to smooth over the silence, replied, ‘Our aunt is formidable, Miss Bennet, as I’m sure you have found yourself. She has been very good to us, however, and with only Anne for her immediate family, her house is less populated than she would like. So, while her company may not be easy, we are glad to be in it.’
Charlotte warmed to his reply, while Elizabeth was clearly irritated not to have had hers from Darcy.
But a moment later, that gentleman stirred and said, ‘I think you know by now, Miss Bennet, that I do not find much company easy, beyond my own household and most intimate friends. I will admit I find my aunt to be rather demanding at times and certainly very proud – a trait I think you deplore. But she is my aunt, and I am glad to see her when I can. And, may I say, I am glad for you to meet a member of my family.’
Elizabeth appeared baffled by the final statement, whereas Charlotte was not so puzzled; she had suspected a partiality for Elizabeth on Darcy’s part for some time, and this quietly spoken communication seemed to suggest his intentions were serious.
Elizabeth was silent, apparently extremely absorbed by her tea. Charlotte watched her – and so did Colonel Fitzwilliam, she noted.
‘Will you stay long in the neighbourhood?’ Charlotte asked the gentlemen, returning the conversation to its track.
‘I am staying at Rosings for a few weeks, Mrs Collins, but I will return to Spain thereafter,’ replied the colonel amicably. ‘My regiment is barracked on the other side of Kent, and we have been there for some months now, attempting to rebuild the ranks.’
‘Can you tell us something of the war, Colonel? Have you killed any Frenchman yourself?’ asked Maria breathlessly.
The colonel’s face hardened, changing from its easy demeanour. ‘What can I tell you… ?’ He looked at Maria’s face – so young and eager for a story. He chose his words carefully. ‘I can tell you that it is starting to feel like the tide is turning – we prevailed against the French at the start of the year. And yes, I have killed many Frenchmen and lost many men of my own. None of it is as thrilling as one might hope.’
Maria looked deflated and quietly said, ‘Oh.’
