Page 30 of Introducing Mrs. Collins
‘You are much better where you are. Do not rush to recover, sir; take your time and be fully healed before you test it.’
‘I know not how I will ever be fully…’ He started to speak bitterly, but tailed off. ‘I will not hurry it, Mrs Collins. I thank you very much for visiting. I will be appreciative indeed of your company in the weeks to come, if you can spare it.’
‘I can, and I will. May I bring you anything to comfort you, or amuse you? A book? Or some other pastime?’
‘I can do little but read. I am struggling to name another pastime I could enjoy in this state.’
Charlotte thought. ‘You might sew.’
He guffawed and winced again. ‘Sew?!’
‘And why not? Because you think it so much a lady’s activity? You think it trivial perhaps? Or easy?’ She was provoking him, but in good humour.
‘No, it is only that I have done enough of that on campaign.’
‘Sewing?’ she asked incredulously.
‘Most soldiers know how to sew. I do not know how to embroider a pattern, but I take some pride in my skill with repairs and patches. My stitching is better than most.’
She looked at him curiously. ‘I should have thought, as a colonel, that would be done for you.’
‘Ordinarily, it is, but I have always done my own if there is time. When on campaign, I find it curative.’
She smiled and nodded. She added this to the little library of information she had of him.
‘But I have no uniform to patch at present.’
‘Well then, there is nothing for it. I will teach you the piano.’
‘Oh my!’ he exclaimed good-humouredly.
She laughed, curtsied and exited.
As she walked home, she felt very satisfied with the meeting. She recognised a healthier accord between them, provided by their changed circumstances, though she could hardly rejoice in the reason for his change. He was, understandably, very different from how he had been in the spring, less able to put on a mask of well-being, and even before she delivered her own news, he seemed ill-equipped to deal with anything other than companionship at present. Although it was not planned, the revelation of her pregnancy had worked as intended: it had drawn a line between them. She could be a friend to him now, a companion, a nurse at times, but all from a place of safety – she had seen from him that he would respect it.
She pulled her shawl close about her as the evening breeze grew harsher. Catching a thread on the button of her dress, she was reminded of his admission, which conjured in her mind the image of a weary soldier sitting in his quarters, patiently sewing a patch onto the sleeve of his torn shirt.
10th September 1812
Dear Charlotte,
Thank you for your letter of last month. It was a consolation to Jane and myself in such a time of turmoil. We also received the letter from your husband, which was interesting, and which gave comfort in a way unique to himself. I am inclined to think you perhaps did not have a hand in its writing.
I promised to write when there was better news, and I am glad to say – there is! Although our measure for what is good news is set very low at the moment. Lydia and Wickham are married. Perhaps you already know for I believe my father wrote it to Mr Collins. It is not what anyone with sense would wish for, but given the prospect of a far worse outcome, most of us feel grateful.
We have so many to thank for the achievement of the scheme: certainly my uncle, Mr Gardiner, but chiefly, it was arranged by – you will not believe it – Mr Darcy! He who I imagined had sighed with relief to be out of my sphere when he heard the story. He must have paid Wickham a great deal to persuade him to marry, and he has bought him a commission in the regulars – a regiment up in Northumberland, far away by design. The thought of Wickham sharing that uniform with the calibre of men we know to serve the army is galling. But it is done, and I will never have the words to thank Mr Darcy. But, my friend, you must be thinking, Eliza, do not pretend you do not know why he acted so.
Let me be truthful with you, then, and tell you that I hope so much it is for me that he acts. But I cannot be sure of it. He certainly had his own motives; I believe he wanted to play a part in taming Wickham and lessening any further crimes he might commit. Therefore, I cannot know that his acting in my interests was for me, or if my interests merely coincided with his own wishes.
You will already know that Jane and I would wish the whole affair to be as little known as is possible. The marriage must be announced, because any suspicion that they remain unmarried is intolerable, and yet we still fear the looks and whispers of society that are bound to come. When I think of that, it seems even less likely that a man such as Mr Darcy would attach himself to me.
My father is still very unwell. This matter has shocked the life from him; he walks slowly, he eats little, and his humour is much reduced. He blames himself, I know, but I have never seen someone take on such guilt and worry into their bones as he has.
Your mother and father have visited us, which was kind and timely; their show of support helps lessen our status as pariahs, as I am sure they knew. Was it at your request that they visited? That is just the sort of clever thing you would think of.
You said little of your own news in your last, which was unsurprising given its purpose to comfort, but I would be glad to know more of my friend. Are you well? Have you spent more time at Rosings? Do you expect any visitors during the winter months? Even in these last weeks, I have thought of you, Charlotte. I cling to Jane for comfort, but I miss your honest counsel – and your wit. Perhaps I could visit you in the coming months, depending on your plans, and providing Mr Collins will allow the association.
Your affectionate friend,
