Page 9 of Introducing Mrs. Collins
Charlotte was more naturally the comforter in their friendship, being a little older and more steady, and Elizabeth felt such gratitude to be brought in again, out from the cold.
After a fine dinner that evening, when the ladies retired to the drawing room, Elizabeth felt bolder in questioning her friend ona topic that had long been on her mind. Maria was playing the pianoforte, providing a convenient mask for the conversation.
‘Charlotte,’ Elizabeth whispered into her friend’s ear, ‘how are you finding – having relations? Is it… bearable?’
Charlotte was sensitive to the subject, not wishing to brook her friend’s judgement or concern, but she felt more secure in confessing the difficulties of her marriage now that they were growing closer again.
‘It is tolerable. And it has only happened a few times. In truth, I find the day-to-day affections harder, because they are expected so frequently and expected to flow naturally: a kiss on the cheek, a hold of the hand, a fond look. I have said it to you before, but I feel surer now than ever that I am not romantic. I feel like an actor, guessing at what a rush of love must look like or when a spontaneous embrace might happen. I do have kind feelings for my husband – he has many virtues which are only apparent on regular acquaintance, but I do not feel…that. No rush of feeling, no flutters. You know this: I am not drawn to him. I never have been drawn to anyone. I can act the part for now, but it is very tiring. And I am only two months in.’
Elizabeth paused before replying, keen to check herself these days. ‘You act it well, then, and your natural fondness for him helps – anyone can see that you are good with him, and more patient than most. Perhaps it will get easier, and perhaps affection will grow. They do say, do they not, that in marriage, sometimes love is wont to grow as time passes? Years give life to love.’
‘Sometimes,’ said Charlotte quietly, eyes fixed on the fire.
‘Sometimes,’ agreed her friend.
She would not say it, but Elizabeth felt quite worried by the crack shown in her friend’s resolve. This situation – a loveless but comfortable match in a happily situated house – made sense as long as her sensible friend wassurethat it did. But this was the first moment she had seen worry, weariness, even regret in Charlotte,and for her to show it suggested that there was a good deal more below the surface.
They sat in silence, until Maria finished playing and demanded a game of whist, a welcome distraction to them all.
CHAPTER VI
‘You look well, Mrs Collins; the spring air must be agreeing with you. Though you do seem a little thin. You are walking too much, which I have warned you about before. I will ask Cook to bring you some biscuits.’
Lady Catherine de Bourgh occupied her seat like a throne and was demonstrating her unique ability to convey concern for and judgement of a fellow creature in equal measure. While the seats in the drawing room at Rosings were not arranged in a particular formation, Lady Catherine was somehow still sitting at the head. Draped in a thick ruby fabric, she – presumably deliberately – stood out from the rest of the company in their pale spring colours and light dresses. She was a naturally commanding presence, tall, strong-featured, and when she spoke, her voice was deep and powerful. Her words were ponderous enough to confirm her superior status, belying the fact that what she said was, more often than not, rather trivial.
‘I assure you I am well enough and need not—’ attempted Charlotte.
‘Figgis! FIGGIS!’ erupted Lady Catherine.
A weary older man appeared at the door.
‘Bring some biscuits for poor Mrs Collins or she will faint.’ She dramatically stirred her tea, then tapped her teaspoon on the side of her cup, which rang out like a bell, exactly timed to make her request seem like a divine commandment.
Charlotte knew Lady Catherine well enough now to make no further protest. She was feeling proud and happy to share the experience of visiting Lady Catherine with her family, and more particularly with Eliza, with whom she could reflect upon it afterwards in a way she had not yet been able to. Post-visit analysis with Mr Collins was always full of praise and self-deprecation and admiration of household décor, but with Eliza, it would be much more fun and far less complimentary.
As Mr Collins’s new wife, Charlotte seemed to be an object of interest to Lady Catherine, and as her guest on many previous occasions, she felt that she had been met with approval. Charlotte had an ability to know exactly how to behave with different kinds of people and to enact it without much effort. Since becoming a regular visitor at Rosings, she had employed this skill often; finding the correct mode to suit the situation and behaving this way. As it made her own life easier to have smooth relations with her husband’s patron, why should she not?
Bringing Elizabeth as her particular friend was, she knew, a risk to this finely tuned balance, but one Charlotte was willing to take. And, if a quarrel did occur, it would at least be a moment of diversion, which would make a change.
Lady Catherine seemed to sniff out the potential for discord early on. She seemed vexed by Elizabeth’s prettiness, even though this was hardly the fault of Elizabeth. She proceeded to interrogate her new guest about her upbringing, her education and that of her sisters. Elizabeth answered for her family’s slightly unusual manner of raising five daughters without reservation. Mr Collins, across the table, looked rather worried and at points dismayed by Elizabeth’s lack of reverence. Charlotte, for her part, listened and rather enjoyed the exchange.
If only Lady Catherine were to meet Lydia and Kitty,thought Charlotte,she would be truly shaken.
When Elizabeth remarked upon the unfairness of younger sisters having to wait until their elder sisters were married before they might enjoy society, Charlotte positively grinned. Unlike her sister, her father or her husband, she had no fear of Lady Catherine, and she could see that Elizabeth did not either. Therefore, she offered no assistance to her friend or excuse to Lady Catherine. She was watching two strong, opinionated women find their match, and she enjoyed the sport. The conversation would not benefit from an umpire.
The next day held the opportunity for reflection, and Elizabeth did not disappoint. The two friends sat in the sitting room at Hunsford after luncheon, in loosened stays, the sewing they had intended to do discarded by their seats. Elizabeth had never been much of a seamstress and only ever did a quarter of whatever she started. Charlotte had a mind suited to it. She was currently working on an elaborate embroidery, a design of her own, formed of repeating patterns in bold colours: purples and golds – miles away from her mother’s muted samplers. But she enjoyed it most when she could concentrate on it, and she did not want to squander the good company she had in this moment. It lay on her lap.
Elizabeth declared, ‘She is extraordinary, and I do not mean that as a compliment. She has a martial quality to her. She would have made a very good governess.’
Charlotte chuckled, thinking of how such a comparison would be met by Lady Catherine.
‘I do not think I gained her approval.’
‘Oh, mere conjecture,’ said Charlotte sarcastically.
‘You are right. My conjecture is based only on what she said and how she acted.’
‘Exactly,’ replied Charlotte, smiling wryly. ‘No, I agree, I do not think you will be a favourite with her, but you baited her!’
