Page 20 of Introducing Mrs. Collins
‘I do not doubt it. But I did not only mean Miss Bennet.’ He paused, looking at her more intensely. ‘I have greatly enjoyed our talks, Mrs Collins. It is a pleasure to be – understood by another, and that is what I have felt with you. I thank you for it. It has been a privilege to become better acquainted with you.’ His eyes seared into her own. He continued, ‘In fact, I have never felt as—’
‘That is enough,’ said Charlotte, in an urgent tone.
The colonel was taken aback. ‘I am sorry. I only—’
‘I do not really know you, and you do not know me.’ Charlotte would not meet his eyes. She went on hotly, ‘I am glad our talks have been a solace to you, which must surely be because, as a clergyman’s wife, I am a safe harbour for confidences—’
‘I do not think of you in that way,’ interrupted the colonel, too quickly.
She finally looked at him. His silence spoke more than his previous words had.
Taking a sharp breath, she stood suddenly, expecting it to break their conversation. He did not join her but stayed seated exactly where he was, his head at her waist, his body still, as if contemplating what he would do next.
She waited quietly, hardly breathing, as he slowly rose, until he stood over her, looking down. His eyes roamed her face, her hair, her mouth, and finally he said, ‘I thank you for hearing me, Mrs Collins, and until we meet again, I wish you well.’
He took a step back out of the pew and, standing in the aisle, took her bare hand, which was rough and soiled from vines and leaves and tying string, and kissed it.
He walked out of the church, and Charlotte stayed standing there in the dim light of the church, looking at the open door, holding one hand over the one he had kissed, as if she could preserve it like a pressed flower.
When she arrived home a short while later, she found a full but quiet house, its residents and guests all scattered around in different rooms. Elizabeth had returned from her excursion, but was keeping her own company. Mrs Brooke told Charlotte that Colonel Fitzwilliam had called on them earlier and waited for an hour. Charlotte simply nodded and said, ‘Yes, he found me – that is to say, he passed by the church – in the village, and he said farewell.’
As she entered her sitting room, she saw a small bunch of daffodils arranged in a vase on the side. ‘Thank you for these, Brooke,’ she called out, admiring them.
Brooke popped her head around the door. ‘Not me, madam; the colonel left them for you.’
‘For me?’ said Charlotte.
‘Yes, madam. Said they’re your favourites?’
1801
MERYTON
‘That will do!’ Charlotte exclaimed in merriment, wafting away her maid, both of them giggling. Alice was still trying to fix a curl to Charlotte’s temple, but it would not stay, and Charlotte insisted they give up. ‘Who will mind a stray hair?’
‘No one worth your attention, miss.’
‘Quite,’ answered Charlotte.
Looking at her full-length reflection in the mirror, she was pleased with what she saw: a very pretty green dress, not overly ornamented. It was not the most fashionable colour among Meryton society, but she wanted to stand out a little. Her hair was styled in a tuck, with the front tightly curled and pinned to fall softly around her face.
‘Thank you, Alice,’ she said, and the maid departed.
Maria came running in, a golden haired seven-year-old, full of admiration for her elder sister. She climbed onto the bed and asked again if she could come with her.
Charlotte sat next to her and hugged her tightly. ‘I wish you could. Shall I fold you up and hide you up my sleeve?’
Maria giggled, her eyes widening in glee as Charlotte pinned her down, tickling her until she was bent in two and caused a cacophony that reverberated around the house.
Their mother entered the room, frowning. ‘Charlotte, stop! You will spoil your hair!’
Charlotte released her sister, who ran off laughing and squealing. She stood, flushed, and faced at her mother, pushing a curl off her face.
Lady Lucas looked her up and down and felt a rush of emotion. ‘Oh! You look lovely!’
‘Thank you, Mother. I will not disgrace you?’
‘Silly!’ Her mother laughed and, reaching into her reticule, pulled out something small. She held it in her hand as if it were a secret. ‘May I add something?’
