Page 25 of Introducing Mrs. Collins
‘But I must console with them, as a minister! I must help them in their hour of need.’
‘I promise you that your consolation will not be welcome.’
He lay down the letter, and she walked over and picked it up, folding it roughly, anxious that she get control of the situation.
‘I have already written to Mr Bennet.’
Charlotte was puzzled. ‘… When?’
‘I wrote to them within this hour, as soon as I read of their predicament. The balm of ministerly concern cannot be delayed. I sent Brooke out with the letter a few minutes ago.’
Charlotte’s face flushed with anger. He had schemed to accomplish this quickly, before she could stop him. It was a deception, and a deliberate one. This was a side of Collins which was mercifully rare but which she detested. She did not trust him to have written a good letter. She felt sure, in fact, that it would have been at worst hurtful and at best absurd. She saw in his face that he revelled in the downfall of a family who, as he saw it, had rejected him. He believed that Elizabeth had thought herself above him, and now, with this, the opposite was true, or so he would see it.
Charlotte walked out of the room and went to their bedroom, not trusting herself to say anything to him. All she could do was hope that the letter was taken as a curio and not as an affront, and she hoped she would not be tainted by the words written by her husband. This was not a position she wished to be in, as a wife.
She felt suddenly nauseous and faint, and she lay on the bed until dusk, when she realised she was ravenous and made her way downstairs to supper, sitting opposite a quiet, guilty-looking husband.
Charlotte felt unwell for the next few days and put it down to the shock of Elizabeth’s news and the argument with Collins. But when she had to leave the Sunday church service in the middle of a hymn to expel the entire contents of her stomach on somebody’s unfortunate grave, she started to take more notice. It was not her favourite hymn, but it did not merit quite this reaction. The whole congregation had seen her squeeze out from the front pews and run down the aisle. And so, to avoid the pointed enquiries from parishioners, she did not return to the service but walked home, appreciating the fresh air.
Mrs Brooke was surprised to see her back early and enquired if she was well. Upon discovering what had happened, she raised her eyebrows and cast her eyes down to Charlotte’s belly.
Charlotte paused, accepting it herself for the first time, and gave a rueful smile. ‘Yes, I think it must be that. I am… rather late,’ she said with a meaningful look.
Brooke nodded, understanding, and smiled warmly. ‘Oh, I am happy, Mrs Collins. A little one in the house! I have been hoping! Shall you inform Mr Collins?’
‘No!’ Charlotte replied sharply. She softened herself, smiling. ‘I would rather wait until the outcome is more certain. I do not want to disappoint him.’
‘Of course, Mrs Collins. I will say nothing. May I bring you something to eat and some water?’
‘Thank you. I will go to my bedroom; I am still a little unsteady.’
Charlotte lay on the bed, her hands on her stomach. It was, of course, still perfectly flat, but she noted that – yes, her breasts were very tender, and her stomach still roiled. This must be it, she thought. There was no official moment to know for certain – merely the collection of signs and feelings put together to form a good guess. A baby. She would have ababy. How tiny it must be, she thought. The size of a walnut, perhaps, or maybe even smaller. Her baby. All of her own. Well…
Her mind clouded a little as she thought with whom she would share it. But the doubt passed quickly. This was a new start for her. Her body would change; her thinking would change. She already felt protective of her little walnut, a feeling she had never experienced before.
She felt instinctively that she would have a girl – she could only picture a girl. What might she show her? What stories might she tell her? What songs might she sing her?Hmm. I do not have a voice for lullabies,thought Charlotte, wondering if such a skill was a key part of motherhood. Her mind rested on a happy thought:I will play for her.
Over the weeks that followed, Charlotte continued her visits through the gate, down the drive, across the lawn, into the back door of Rosings and to the grand piano that awaited her. She played sonatas and waltzes and scherzos and preludes and bagatelles – all the music she could find.
She played with joy, with abandon, and she played forher. She did not know whether her baby could hear her yet, but she played all for her.
CHAPTER XII
Mr Collins was seated in the drawing room, in one of the less comfortable chairs, reading a book of sermons. He would occasionally pick up the biscuit resting on the table to his side, taking a single bite – each time scattering crumbs upon his page every time and each time, with mild surprised and faint annoyance, brushing them briskly off.
Charlotte was on a chaise-longue, considering her husband. In the few weeks since she had first known, she had been choosing her moment. ‘My dear, I have some news.’
Mr Collins looked up over his book, eyebrows raised. She waited for him as he put down his reading, then beckoned for him to join her on the chaise-longue.
She did not wish to waver, so she said simply, ‘I believe I am with child.’
He did not seem to comprehend her words for half a minute, but then, as their meaning settled upon him, his eyes widened, and tears came to them. A giddy smile formed as his lips trembled with emotion. He gently took her hands and, bringing them up to his face, kissed them.
For once, he did not have a speech prepared. ‘Oh, my dear Charlotte. Such joy. How lucky we are. How lucky I am.’
Charlotte waited for him to descend into trivialities or a speech about the fate we are handed by God or the best way to position a crib, or to suggest a list of terrible names, but he did not. He justkept holding her hands and smiling, and he looked down at her not-yet-rounded belly and smiled more.
‘I wonder if it will be a boy or a girl.’
