Page 60 of Introducing Mrs. Collins
Fitzwilliam knew the route and, holding her hand, led her out, until she could see the gardens and the house beyond.They started walking, but then, pelted by the rain, they half-ran, half-stumbled, their shoes soaked, their clothes dripping, hair slick on their faces, shivering with cold but laughing like children at their own disarray.
As they got closer to the house, Charlotte saw figures waiting for them. Alice was at the back entrance with some towels, looking concerned and then amused, and Darcy waited just behind her.
The pair sobered a little as they were greeted.
‘Quite the downpour,’ said Darcy stiffly.
‘Yes! We were the other end of the estate when it began. The run back has rather dishevelled us,’ Fitzwilliam replied, trying for nonchalance.
Darcy nodded and watched as Charlotte handed her wet, muddy coat to Alice. She was trembling now with the cold. With a backward glance at the colonel, she exited the room and made her way upstairs.
Fitzwilliam stood in front of Darcy, damp and undone, and felt oddly exposed. Darcy’s dark eyes were sharp and seemed to be probing him.
‘What?’
Darcy did not answer the question, instead stating, ‘You seem to have forgotten your injury.’
‘I—’ Fitzwilliam began, then faltered, looking down at his leg as if that would provide an explanation. ‘Yes, I suppose I did. It has not pained me all afternoon. I have not given it any thought.’
Darcy raised an eyebrow. ‘You must have had much to distract you.’
Fitzwilliam was about to reply when Darcy said quickly, ‘Richard, I—’ then hesitated and continued in another tone, ‘I will have them bring up hot water to your room.’
The moment Darcy’s footsteps faded down the hall, as if by dark magic, Fitzwilliam felt the pain returning to his leg – and in abundance. He had put extra weight on it in the maze, using it tobear the weight of two bodies. Perhaps he should have been more careful, but he had felt nothing in the moment, nor in the cold, giddy rush towards the house.
He winced as he began to ascend the stairs, and pain darted down his leg. But on balance, he thought with a grin, it was well worth it.
30th November 1812
My dear Charlotte,
I do hope that your visit to your friend has provided you with succour and that you feel ready to soon return home, refreshed and healed. To bear witness to a marriage, even a marriage that has been censured by many, is a blessing, and I trust the Darcys are grateful for your presence there, which will have added considerably to the happiness and the respectability of the occasion.
All is well here. Mrs Brooke is doing more than usual to make up for any household duties of yours that lay derelict. I am requested to pass on good wishes from the following:
Brooke sent her ‘warmest wishes’;
Colonel Raeworth, whom I saw at church, said you were ‘much missed’;
Anne de Bourgh, whom I saw also at church, which is rare, sent you her ‘fondest regards’, which was unexpected;
And finally, Mr Smithson sends his ‘best wishes’ and suggests you return as soon as may be, for your community needs you, which I thought was thoughtful.
Mr Smithson has proven to be a real boon here in Hunsford. The parishioners like him a great deal, and I confess I sometimes feel envious of how easy he is with them. I personally do not like his style of sermon; it is rather informal and plain-speaking; it suggests to the congregation that he is their friend, which is misleading and will confuse them. However, they seem to respond well to it, so on the occasions when he leads the service, I need not worry that my flock will be despondent. Quite the opposite.
Smithson has visited me at the parsonage most days. We get along famously, and he has joined me once in a visit to Rosings, in which,I must observe, he was wont to dominate the conversation with Lady Catherine. But such a connection is, to him, still a novelty, and therefore I can understand that he cannot temper his enthusiasm. She seems to respond well to him also, which, I will confess only to you, my dearest, also sparks the faint beginnings of jealousy in me. But I know that such feelings are beneath me, and thus, I endeavour to tamp them down firmly, as if pushing unwanted items into the back of a cupboard, so that they are unseen day to day. Although, considering it now, perhaps it would be more prudent to rid oneself of unwelcome items rather than keeping them in a cupboard, where one may accidently discover them one day when searching for a fresh handkerchief. (A metaphorical handkerchief, you understand.) I shall think on this further.
I have missed you a great deal. The house is rather cold without you here (not literally cold, for Brooke is keeping the fire well stocked, as I mentioned earlier). There is a quietness that I have not grown used to and do not care for. Also, your dahlias have died.
Come home soon please.
Your ever-loving husband,
William
CHAPTER VII
There were various people in states of undress, fabric falling off their bodies, some of them playing the lute and some of them the harp. Charlotte did not know who they were.Perhaps angels,she thought. She rubbed the back of her aching neck, sore from looking up at the painted ceiling of the chapel. Her eyes turned instead to the image over the altar, which dominated the front of the chapel. It was framed by intricate marble carvings, and primarily depicted two men, one of whom was standing as the other knelt in front of him.
