Page 27 of Introducing Mrs. Collins
‘I do.’
‘I wonder if you might add Rosings to your list – we would welcome your company. Occasionally.’
Charlotte dared not demur and replied, ‘Certainly.’
She felt a brief jolt of excitement at the idea of seeing him again, but it was complicated by the thought of both his physical state and her own.
With a satisfied nod, Lady Catherine went to rise, but then said, ‘Your husband must be delighted.’
This must relate, Charlotte quickly calculated, to the earlier topic of conversation.
‘Yes, he is. He really is.’
‘It is a very fine thing for him. And a very good thing foryou.’
Lady Catherine seemed to imply a mysterious higher meaning, more than the usual congratulatory sentiment, but Charlotte was too tired to wonder at what she meant. She simply thanked her ladyship and saw her out to her carriage before Mr Collins could arrive home and extend the visit by an hour.
2nd September 1812
Dear Mr Collins,
I was delayed in reading your letter but now reply to it with haste, in the hope that I might catch you before I lose your approval of yet another of my daughters. Perhaps Kitty will be next; I hardly know whether to expect you to propose to her or condemn her; either seems possible, or perhaps both. Thank you for your condolences and your fears on my behalf. I was of a mind to throw off my youngest daughter’s affections, as you so keenly suggest, but after reading your letter, I no longer feel inclined to. She will have plenty in the world who will do that, you and your patroness chief among them, and I think I shall not add to their ranks. By the by, my youngest daughter is lately married; I can assure you that has no effect on my shift in sentiments. Lydia is not the most sensible of young ladies, but she is of good heart, and she does not judge others for their errors, as some do. ‘Judge not, that ye be not judged’ in Matthew is a passage well-thumbed in my Bible; presumably that chapter remains pristine in your own copy.
I suspect we will have little to do with each other these next few years, until that time arrives when you will be seated here at the very desk where I now sit. I wish you, and more particularly your wife, happiness. I have learnt many lessons these last few weeks, and I continue to do so as I reflect on the whole affair. My situation would not have been happier had I chained my daughter to my hearth but might have been improved had I educated her better, and not only with the word of God. Should you be blessed with a daughter, I hope that she thrives and that she breaks every expectation you have of her – and is all the better for it.
My best to Mrs Collins.
P. Bennet Esq.
CHAPTER XIII
It was a few days after that – in the first week of September, with the air still warm – that Charlotte headed to the ‘big house next door’, as she and Brooke called it. Charlotte felt like quite the regular at Rosings. Between social occasions and her piano practise, and now with the addition of her first pastoral visit, she almost felt she ought to start paying rent. As she walked down the beech-lined drive, she considered what might await her upon her arrival. She not only wondered what might have befallen Colonel Fitzwilliam, but could not help recalling their last meeting.
In the days after he left in the spring, she had, in her modesty, persuaded herself that she had imagined any provocation or suggestion from him that was out of the ordinary. She first told herself that she was a married woman, and any gentleman of sound mind would see she was unavailable. She also reminded herself that she was plain. She was not likely to be the object of an inconvenient lust or a wanton frisson – it was fantastical. Such was what her modesty told her.
But as well as being modest, Charlotte was also logical, and when her brain took inventory of his actions and words, she decided that, yes, there had been something. What it amounted to was probably very little, but it was not nothing – he had alluded to something more than ordinary acquaintance. But, she comforted herself, it was a fancy of his, and it was fleeting. She had no doubt it would have been forgotten, swept away by his experiences sincethen. As for her own feelings – well, her mind was now set on the future: her tiny bump and how her life was soon to change. She needed no other intrigue to occupy her. She trusted her emotions would not betray her.
She did not slip in the back door, as she did on her piano practice days, for this was a different kind of visit, the rules of which she did not know. She was shown into the morning room by Figgis and found Lady Catherine in her usual chair, with a recumbent Colonel Fitzwilliam on a large chaise-longue near the fire, a blanket over his lower body.
His face was worn, tanned and leathery, and there were hard lines and small scars where there had been none before. His hair was shorter than the last time she had seen him, roughly cut. Instead of wearing his uniform, he was now clad in a crumpled banyan, wrapped tightly about him.
Her first feeling upon setting eyes on him was a fierce protectiveness. She fought an urge to go straight to him, to tend him. But as she watched him closer, she came to suspect that such feelings from her would not have been welcome.
When Charlotte had been announced, he had smiled politely, but as she drew nearer, she saw a look of disquiet in his face.
Charlotte was invited by Lady Catherine to sit on a chair nearby; she did so, placing the basket she carried to one side. Not knowing what might greet her, she had brought some scones and a tincture for fever – items she might take on her other visits – but she did not feel inclined to offer up anything here and now. The atmosphere was awkward; she felt she was intruding on what should be private.
‘Good day, Lady Catherine,’ she said and, turning to him, ‘Colonel Fitzwilliam.’
He cleared his throat, ‘Good day, Mrs Collins. My aunt told me you might visit us one day this week. I hope you will forgive my appearance.’
‘Of course. I am sorry you are in discomfort.’
‘Discomfort is a luxury I now enjoy, following its predecessor – bloody agony.’
Charlotte was shocked at his language and visibly so; this was rather rough talk that she had not been used to – common among soldiers in barracks perhaps but not in a morning room, to a lady. He did not retract it or apologise, however, but stared into the fire, troubled.
‘My nephew has been poor company in the last few weeks, Mrs Collins – I am hopeful you might improve his mood.’
