Page 31 of Introducing Mrs. Collins
Eliza
15th September 1812
Dearest Eliza,
I am delighted to hear that a conclusion has been drawn on such a difficult matter and wish you all as much comfort as can be found at this time. I am not as astonished by Mr Darcy’s involvement as you are. From what I have heard from Colonel Fitzwilliam, Mr Darcy appears to be a man who takes action to help a friend, and I admire him for it. I look forward to meeting him again, which I have reason to think I shall, for several reasons. Forgive me, Eliza, but I am hardly being fanciful when I say I believe he will apply to you again. I am sure he acted, at least in part, to win your approval. He has his honour, but he is not a saint.
You might already know some of the news I can impart? Our friend aforementioned, Colonel Fitzwilliam, was injured at Salamanca (you will have read about the battle, perhaps?) and is recovering at Rosings. His leg is badly injured, so he is rather trapped inside with his aunt. I have offered the best remedy I can, which is to provide alternative company, for which he seems grateful.
My other news, which is much more mine to tell, is that I am with child. Among all of the upheaval you have experienced in recent weeks, I hope this makes you glad. It certainly makes me so.
I send my fondest regards to your family, but especially to your dear father, whom I hate to hear of as being unwell. I will be thinking of him. Pray do not mention me to your mother, as I do not think she welcomes my regards.
Yours in affection,
Charlotte
CHAPTER XIV
On something of a whim, shortly after finding out about his impending fatherhood, Mr Collins decided to start employing a curate. There was no real need for this, for there was very little to take him out of the parish and prevent his fulfilling his role. And, after all, the wages would come out of his own living, which did not seem to Charlotte to be entirely helpful. However, when a polite, red-headed young man arrived at the church, with a charm that won over the elderly ladies and a gift for preaching that won over everybody else, it seemed like a decision well made. Mr Smithson was a good conversationalist, if a little over-pious, and was able to occupy a useful position at the parsonage as well as at the church, possessing as he did an unusual capacity for listening to Mr Collins at length. This was as much a help to Charlotte as it was to Mr Collins.
September proceeded with unusual sluggishness; Charlotte felt so eager for the next stages of her own journey – to have the shape and glow of a mother, to feel her baby move – that the weeks passed slowly to her mind. Having never before felt a yearning for it, she now felt as if it were the most natural thing to happen to her. It felt entirely right.
She filled her time with pastoral visits, including those to Rosings. She had visited Colonel Fitzwilliam three times since his return, and his improvement was slow: he seemed to wince a little less each time and had more mobility in his upper body, but his spirit remained rather dimmed.
And yet on her fourth visit, she immediately saw there was a marked change: he was now dressed for visitors, in a smart brown tailcoat and cream breeches.
‘You look well, Colonel,’ she said upon entering.
He turned to her and said drily, ‘I have always thought that a cravat becomes me better than a coverlet. Your comment gives me confidence that I am correct.’
This attempt at good humour was an effort made for Charlotte, but as the other visitors poured into the room behind her – namely her husband and Mr Smithson – he retreated back into silence. Lady Catherine had invited the new curate to Rosings, which was quite an honour. She put great esteem in the clergy and, though poor, a curate’s position was adjacent to that of a gentleman, as far as she was concerned – far beneath her, of course, but worthy of attention.
Mr Collins began, ‘Mr Smithson has been a worthy addition to the parish, Lady Catherine, and if I may be so bold as to make such a judgement, I believe it reflects well on Hunsford as a parish that we value the workings of the church highly enough to have acquired one.’
‘I think you are correct, Mr Collins. And you, Mr Smithson, where did you study? Oxford?’
‘Cambridge, Lady Catherine.’
‘Oh dear,’ replied Lady Catherine, wrinkling her nose. ‘Well, it will suffice, though I have always thought it far inferior. Which college?’
‘St John’s, my lady.’
She nodded – this answer, it seemed, was satisfactory. ‘Good,’ she said sagely, as he had narrowly avoided a calamity. ‘And where are your family?’
‘In Lincolnshire,’ Smithson replied hesitantly.
‘Lincolnshire is a fine part of the country,’ Lady Catherine declared. Charlotte could not help but wonder on what criteriathese judgments were formed but was relieved that, with no other information, families across Lincolnshire had been declared fit for purpose.
Mr Smithson ventured, ‘I have had the good fortune to have spent a great deal of time with the Russells of Shepton Court. They have supported me since I was fourteen.’
This information had not been previously supplied to Charlotte or her husband; if Mr Smithson had kept it specially to present to Lady Catherine, it seemed a rather calculated move – but, Charlotte had to concede, a successful one.
‘The Russells?’ exclaimed Lady Catherine. ‘Very fine people. I have dined with them – at Shepton – many years ago. The sons are old friends of Fitzwilliam.’ Lady Catherine glanced over at her nephew, who nodded noncommittally. ‘Mrs Russell’s brother went toOxfordwith my late husband. Are you still connected with that family?’
‘I am, and they delight in my appointment here.’
‘Very good,’ said Lady Catherine, exceedingly pleased with this news. She eyed Mr Collins at this moment, as if thinking to herself how disappointing his connections had turned out to be.
