Page 82 of Introducing Mrs. Collins
Charlotte looked sceptical. ‘But does Mr Denny want this?’
‘He does. He did. He had grown rather disillusioned with the militia since Brighton. He is now well established in London; he is at Berry’s in St James’s, with a good starting income and the prospect of taking a house within the next two years. So, your father and I have relented. Thank goodness, because Maria would have been furious. It will be a fairly long engagement, but they are happy enough with that.’
Charlotte leant back, finally satisfied with the information provided. So, a sister engaged – and not to a soldier after all but to a merchant. She wished it could have been simpler for Maria: that her beloved, in regimentals, might have asked her freely, and she might have been able to accept, immediately, without a care. But this was romantic nonsense; they would have had nowhere to live. Maria would have been galloping around the country, with no money, no friends. Charlotte also felt relieved, in a way, that even marrying a handsome soldier whom you loved entailed planning, changes, sacrifices and patience. Few unions were immediately perfect.
She looked towards the house and saw Mr Collins sitting with Edward on the terrace. It was an unusual pairing; Collins always seemed a little afraid of children, especially confident schoolboys, and Edward had always thought her husband a little odd.
Before they left later that afternoon, Lady Lucas took Mr Collins’s hand warmly and said, ‘Thank you for talking to Edward,’ before bidding them both farewell.
They walked slowly home to Longbourn – it was a beautiful evening and the path was dry, and there was nothing to hurry or compel them. Charlotte took the opportunity to question her husband on the substance of his conversation with her young brother.
After some reticence, he answered, ‘I asked him what he had meant when he said he had no friends.’
‘Oh, yes. An odd thing to say – of course he has friends.’
Collins looked curiously at her. ‘It is very possible for a boy to go through schooling without having friends. It is not the state one hopes for, but it is very possible.’
Charlotte regretted being so dismissive, realising that her husband was more likely an authority on this matter. ‘And he does not?’
‘He did have, but they have begun to be unkind to him.’
‘Why?’ asked Charlotte incredulously.
Again, Collins looked at her as if surprised at her naivety. ‘Young boys do not need a reason to turn on one another. It might be anything – one’s breeding, one’s voice, one’s gait, reading the wrong book, wearing the wrong colour…’
‘Then, what was your advice?’
‘Only to try to see it through. Their actions may stop, or they may not. But he can survive it, and that will be a path to something better – as it was for me. I told him, as I have always believed, that education is the best way of choosing the company you keep.’
Charlotte smiled and nodded; this aphorism seemed in keeping with what she might have expected him to say.
‘I also told him that of the two cruellest boys who I had the misfortune to know at Oxford, one of them is now an MP, and the other drank himself into an early grave.’
Charlotte laughed, then stopped herself. ‘Was that a comfort to Edward?’
‘I believe it was. I find comfort knowing that there is no reasoning to who finds happiness or success – the Goliath in the schoolyard might fall into nothing, and your brother might yet tame a lion.’
‘But… will he be happy at school, do you suppose?’
Mr Collins frowned, saying, a little grandly and pompously, ‘Our task in this life to is to find happiness in what we are afforded and to improve what we find.’
Charlotte turned to him curiously. ‘My mother says that. She has it embroidered on a sampler.’
‘I know,’ replied Mr Collins, with a shy smile. ‘I saw it in the parlour.’
Charlotte started to laugh, and very tentatively, as if it were a new sensation for him, Mr Collins joined her.
CHAPTER VI
Charlotte sat down heavily, her stays suffocating her. Her dress felt too hot, too tight, for the warmth of the room. September was unseasonably, unreasonably warm. In any other circumstance, she should be in a light petticoat, outside, not entombed in layers of heavy fabric, sitting in a stifling drawing room, surrounded by so many people, all of their chatter making the air even hotter.
She feared she might faint, so she pulled at the ribbons of her bonnet and removed it hurriedly. She wished her mother were next to her, but Lady Lucas had taken charge and was greeting people and directing the staff in Charlotte’s stead. Maria was too overcome to be of comfort, and Elizabeth had not been able to attend, having only recently given birth.
Jane Bingley entered the room and, seeing Charlotte, came to sit beside her. Jane was perhaps the perfect friend at this moment: calm, patient, but strong. She was stronger than people gave her credit for. She took Charlotte’s hand in hers and held it, saying nothing.
Two weeks earlier, Charlotte had been at breakfast with her husband, discussing their trip to Bath. ‘If it is only my mother and Edward, then we should share the carriage; it will be easier travelling as one.’
‘As you wish, my dear,’ confirmed Collins, smiling but then wincing.
