Page 15 of Introducing Mrs. Collins
Deeming it safe, Maria entered the room again, with biscuits – medicine for the former tension. Charlotte pulled her sister to her side and squeezed her. She must appreciate her time with them both, in such close company. It would not last much longer.
10th April 1812
Dear Lizzy,
I am forced to write to you as I see you have no intention of writing to me, your own mother, even though you are away for what seems like a year. Things are very bad here – Hill is away visiting her sister who is dying, so you can imagine how we suffer! Your father, as you know, can hardly butter his own toast. Yes, he can read Latin, but can he fold his own nightshirt? Can he make a pot of tea? No, he cannot. I honestly do not think the timing could be worse. With Jane in London and you gallivanting around Kent, it is the worst time in the world for Hill to be away – I cannot imagine how her sister has chosen now to be so very ill, if indeed she is so very ill.I have been informed she is very ill.
I have had two letters from Jane; she is such a good girl. She has told me that she has seen the Bingley sisters – such nice, well-dressed ladies – and has been to several parties. She must catch some attention in London with a face like hers. I hope she remembers to show herself off. Modesty will be her downfall, mark me. It will not be yours, I shouldn’t think.
Mrs Timpson, whom I am sure you will remember, is lately with child, which is her tenth. Her tenth! You will have your own thoughts on that, I am sure.
I have seen Lady Lucas, as she styles herself, and she tells me that all is well with Charlotte and her new, very fortunate situation. I have had to hear it from her, Lizzy – as you have not written me any news! Have you met Lady Catherine De Borgia? How large is the Collinses’ house? Does Charlotte make it nice? Have you met any gentlemen on your stay? Have you worn your peach dress?
Why must I list these questions, Lizzy? Why have you not already offered the answers yourself? The least you can do, as consolation foryour rejection of Collins, is bring me news from Kent – a story, a little gossip. Is Charlotte with child? Has she gained weight? Do they talk about inheriting our house? I am sure they do.
I think you are coming home soon, and in truth, I will be glad of it, particularly while Hill is away. My great fear is that when she returns, she may be grieving – and, while I pity her, she will likely be at half capacity.
Your father is not well, but it is always hard to tell with him. He has a cough, which as you can imagine is a strain on my nerves, and he has gotten a little thinner – but that may be simply because Hill is not around to bring him cheese constantly. But I think he is not very ill. I think he enjoys the attention – something I cannot understand.
Write soon, Lizzy, and come home. You are missed.
Your mother
CHAPTER VIII
‘My dear, it will not be acceptable to Lady Catherine for Elizabeth to be absent without good reason.’ Mr Collins was frantically dusting the top of his hat as Charlotte fixed her bonnet in the hall, readying to leave.
‘There is a good reason, William. She is unwell. She has been confined to her bed with a headache all afternoon and is clearly in a great deal of pain.’
‘Being in pain is no good reason not to attend tea, my dear, when the tea is offered by so high an acquaintance. A headache may be concealed, with good skill and a willing heart—’
‘William. Elizabeth is not attending, and that is an end to it. Lady Catherine may glower, but I can withstand that, and so can you.’
Mr Collins knew when he was defeated but was grudging indeed to set off to Rosings without a full party and with a dusty hat.
It was therefore a smaller gathering at tea than they had been used to these last few weeks. Lady Catherine, of course, was at the helm, but in absentia were Elizabeth, Anne de Bourgh (who was also feeling unwell) and, surprisingly, Mr Darcy whose non-appearance was the subject of some speculation.
Mr Collins sat himself next to Lady Catherine, attending her closely, while Maria sat with Anne’s companion, Mrs Jenkinson. As Figgis was pouring tea for them all, Colonel Fitzwilliam openedthe doors and entered. Spying a seat next to Charlotte, he sat himself next to her.
‘Ah,oneof my nephews has deigned to attend, I see. Pray, where is Darcy? I am sure you must know,’ inquired Lady Catherine, with a frown.
‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I do not know. Perhaps some urgent business came up, or he has been set upon by the local beasts in the woods,’ replied Fitzwilliam, walking to the drinks table and pouring himself something.
Charlotte grinned, but Lady Catherine did not laugh. ‘I do not find the possibility of serious injury to be an opportunity for humour, Fitzwilliam. I enjoy a joke more than anyone, but there is a time and a place for levity, and it is not over oolong.’ She took a sip and added, ‘And there are no beasts in my woods – my keeper is fastidious about such things.’
‘You are quite right.’ The colonel smiled tolerantly. ‘I am sure Darcy will return soon.’
This satisfied Lady Catherine enough for her to turn back to Mr Collins, and Colonel Fitzwilliam sat down, holding his brandy, then shifted in his seat so that he could look at Charlotte more easily.
The invitation to tea had come at rather the last minute, and Charlotte had not had time to arrange herself as fully as she usually did when going to Rosings. She wore the only suitable dress she had that was clean, which was very simply made, sage green with short sleeves. Instead of a chemisette, she had worn a cream shawl – which, in the warmth of the room, now lay folded beside her. Her hair was simple – it was naturally straight, and she hadn’t had time to curl it, so it was pulled loosely back into a tuft with a few front strands falling loose. Before they left, Mr Collins had not thought she looked ready for the occasion, but she had maintained that her appearance was adequate.
Now, Charlotte felt she had made the right decision – Lady Catherine had not taken any notice of her, and she felt comforted by that.
‘What has your day held, Colonel?’ she asked, facing Fitzwilliam. She felt reassured to be sitting with him: they talked easily with one another, with no agenda or pretence. She had never found such company with a man before and appreciated it.
‘Nothing of special note,’ replied Fitzwilliam. ‘I spent the morning corresponding with my officers and trying to learn how things fare in Spain. I have a good friend in London who kindly writes with any relevant news he finds inThe Times. It is delayed, of course, but sometimes quicker than the direct correspondence I might receive from the front.’
‘And how do things fare? If you can explain in a way I might understand.’
