Page 47 of Introducing Mrs. Collins
20th October 1812
Dear Mr Collins,
I am given to understand that an event is to take place greatly to my dissatisfaction. That is, the wedding of my nephew, Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy, to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I have put forward every objection to the match most keenly, and I am shocked with the response I have received from them both. I do not condone the marriage and will not send them my good wishes.
Further to my other objections, it has been hinted that they are to marry from Pemberley, not from Longbourn, which is most unseemly. Worse still they have chosen to invite guests well beyond immediate family to join them for the ceremony, which I find vulgar, bordering on vain. My dear sister Lady Anne would not have approved. I can only assume these theatrics stem from the habits of Miss Elizabeth Bennet and not from my nephew, who has a more modest sensibility, like his dear mother. Should you receive such an invitation, I assume I may rely upon your loyalty in ignoring it or, perhaps more wisely, writing to decline your attendance. I will be extremely disappointed if I discover you have been part of a union which has brought great unhappiness on my family.
My daughter Anne rallies well enough, but inwardly, she must suffer greatly from this blow, even while she insists that she does not. The betrothal of my nephew and my daughter has been in place since their infancy, and for Darcy to throw her off now is a disgrace. I do not solely blame him, however: I witnessed for myself how artful Miss Elizabeth might be when she visited you last. I have met pretty girls before, but she was pretty in a rather underhand way.
When I think that you might have been tied to such a girl! What fortune that this was avoided, and that you were guided instead to dearMrs Collins, who is a far superior creature to her friend – or rather, erstwhile friend – Miss Bennet.
I am sorry indeed to add this calamity to the other difficulties which have recently beset you both. I enclose a secondary letter for Mrs Collins to read privately at her discretion, if you would be so kind as to pass it on.
Yours sincerely,
Lady Catherine de Bourgh
20th October 1812
Dear Mrs Collins,
No doubt your husband has disclosed the contents of my letter regarding the forthcoming marriage of my nephew; I urge you to encourage him down the sensible path. I know I may rely on your spousal influence, as well as your moral conduct.
But the reason I am writing is that I have heard of your recent loss. I hope you will forgive my being frank in addressing it directly; I have been in the same position several times, and I have never found delicate words to be of much use in dulling the pain.
You will by now be operating your life at a normal pace, I think, and appear to others to be quite recovered. I know that in truth you will be still in some turmoil, carrying a weight with you, which, though it will become lighter and easier to manage, you will always carry.
If I may, I offer the following advice: to include your husband in your grief. While Mr Collins’s feelings will not be the same as your own, he, too, will be suffering, and he has the potential to be a sympathetic ear to you. He is a man of unique skills, not all of them suited to marriage, but he loves you very dearly – that much is clear – and I suspect he would be a comfort to you, if you would let him.
I expect this letter to remain strictly between us, and I shall not remark upon it when I see you next.
I am reliably informed that the poplars at the bottom of your drive are overgrown and are now encroaching upon Rosings parkland, so my gardener will cut them back at some point this week or the next.
Yours sincerely,
Lady Catherine de Bourgh
CHAPTER I
‘I will go if I am invited, William.’
‘But, my dear, please consider,’ began Mr Collins desperately, ‘We owe a great deal to her ladyship, and she has made her feelings very clear—’
‘And I am making my own feelings clear,’ replied Charlotte, her knitting needles striking one another with some fervour. Knitting was a rare discipline which Charlote did not excel at, and it was not soothing her mood.
Mr Collins involuntarily leant away from her. He was in some turmoil. He had never before had so stark a choice to make between his patroness and his wife. But while he was used to Lady Catherine being forthright and obstinate (which he rather considered her natural right), he had not come to expect it from Charlotte.
Something had shifted in their relationship since their loss a few weeks earlier. Sometimes, when trouble strikes in a marriage, there is an opportunity for a couple to grow closer from it, in the shared task of holding their grief and their disappointment together. But for Mr and Mrs Collins, the chance to truly share that loss passed them by. Charlotte often thought about Lady Catherine’s advice, but although she tried to act upon it, she could somehow never find the right words or the appropriate moment.
Mr Collins had, in those first few days, keenly wished to be a support for Charlotte, but as it was, she had been quite apart fromhim, surrounded by women, tended by Mrs Brooke, protected by her mother. When Lady Lucas left, he had seen a chance to swoop in, in her absence, to be Charlotte’s protector and comforter. He had rather looked forward to the opportunity to be so. But it was at that very moment that Charlotte had seemed to strengthen, or harden, and she had had no need of tending or consolation. She had started to dress differently; her tone was slightly sharper, her movements brisker. She seemed filled with a vigorous energy, to which he did not know how to respond. He did not want to upset her and was largely glad to see that her spirits seemed recovered, but he feared this change; he felt more than ever that he did not know how to reach her, and certainly not how to influence her.
In truth, he had received little word of consolation himself for the loss of his expected child. He had been much on his own and, apart from a few kind words from Mrs Brooke or the occasional holding of hands from his wife, he had not had any comfort. He was not adept at guessing other people’s thoughts, but even he sensed well enough that his wife was not able to talk to him about it yet. Perhaps she never would. But while Charlotte had spoken about it to her mother, and to Mrs Brooke, he had not a soul he felt he could mention it to, and so it remained trapped within him: not only an unspoken sadness but one about which he had absolutely no understanding. The way in which he had been raised by his father, and the dearth of women close to him in his life, meant that he did not know how often this happened, or why it happened or what it meant for the future.
With his wife seeming so far away from him, his chief anchor in life was in the form of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. And to threaten that accord, as odd a connection as it was, was a grave concern for him.
The afternoon had grown dark, yet Charlotte seemed resolved to keep knitting in the dim light. Her hands moved as determinedly as she spoke. ‘I will not be dictated to by Lady Catherine,William. She is kind to us in many ways, but in this matter, she is displaying a profound lack of rationality, and I will not bow to it.’
Charlotte did not appear to require a response, and Mr Collins felt unwilling to proffer one, particularly while his wife was armed.
