Page 49 of Introducing Mrs. Collins
Charlotte recovered herself a little, seeing how uncomfortable he was, saying, ‘It is quite possible he has, sir. The scheme is all so lately made that the letter may have not reached us yet.’
He nodded gratefully. ‘So… I may join you?’ asked the colonel tentatively, reading uncertainty on their faces that he could not fully explain.
‘Forgive my hesitation, sir,’ stepped in Mr Collins, finding his voice. He walked towards the colonel somewhat deferentially, glancing between him and Charlotte. ‘But the facts are a little more complicated than you have them. I am not attending the’ – he cleared his throat – ‘happy occasion. My wife has made plans to travel alone and visit her family on the way. I have been a little uneasy on account of the great distance, but my wife has assured me she will be quite safe.’
Colonel Fitzwilliam raised his eyebrows. ‘Indeed,’ he replied. The idea was singular, but then he had come to expect that from Mrs Collins.
Mr Collins looked enquiringly at Colonel Fitzwilliam. ‘Can I take it, from your presence, that Lady Catherine has softened in her attitude towards the match? She is apprised of your attendance?’
Fitzwilliam paused before replying, considering how honest to be. ‘My aunt is aware.’
Mr Collins looked delighted.
‘She does not condone it.’
Mr Collins looked deflated. ‘Then, I am once again conflicted. Knowing that she has been abandoned by you,’ said Collins, eyeing Fitzwilliam as he would an unfortunate sinner, ‘makes me feel I must persist in my conviction to remain. Lady Catherine must have one ally in this matter, I feel.’ He breathed a sigh and looked at Charlotte. ‘But, for you to travel…’ Here, Mr Collins was rather stuck, trapped between his wish for his wife’s safety and his desire for her not to be in close proximity with a soldier for a lengthy period.
‘If I may, Mr Collins,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam, ‘it sounds as if my presence might be a benefit to you both. You may remain here, strong in your convictions, and Mrs Collins will find safe passage with me; your fears for her will be allayed.’
If Colonel Fitzwilliam had any thoughts of spending a prolonged amount of time in a small space with Charlotte, he made a gallant attempt to push them to the back of his mind. He genuinely wished to be of help, although to Charlotte rather than to her husband.
Mr Collins looked doubtful. ‘I confess it seems rather irregular for you to travel together. What should Lady Catherine say? I have some misgivings, naturally, albeit—’
‘I will offer my own thoughts on the matter, if I may,’ Charlotte said archly.
She was truly thrown by this new development. She had spent two weeks manufacturing this opportunity for independence, and the appearance of a companion, albeit one she liked a great deal, was not immediately welcome – even if a flutter of excitement passed through her at the prospect. But setting that aside, the situation was what it was, and there was only one logical conclusion.
‘Colonel Fitzwilliam, you have been expecting to travel today, and in this carriage. Therefore, it would be insupportable to ask you to delay or find an alternative route, particularly given your condition.’
She then turned to her husband and took his hands. ‘My dear, it is an unusual circumstance, but it solves a problem, does it not? I will not be alone, should anything happen.’
Mr Collins still looked concerned, and she added, suspecting where his discomfort lay, ‘And this afternoon, I shall be with my family, and then accompanied by Alice for the remainder.’
This thought cheered him very little, but he felt that he could not object, with everyone standing there in the cold and the horses ready to leave.
As Colonel Fitzwilliam’s trunk was loaded onto the carriage, Charlotte embraced her husband, who needed more reassurance than she, and bid him farewell, kissing him lightly on the lips. He did not want to part with her, and his concerned expression did not ease.
He studied his wife, who had a vigour about her this morning, undimmed by the alteration to her plans. Her eyes sparkled, and there was a good colour to her face, no hesitation in her movements. Who was this adventurer he had married, thought Collins, in wonder and in worry.
Charlotte let go of her husband’s hand, turned to the door of the carriage and saw Colonel Fitzwilliam’s hand held out, waiting to help her up. She ignored it, bracing her hand on the door instead, and pulling herself inside. She took a seat opposite the colonel and looked out at her husband.
Her heart felt a pull, seeing how lost he looked. But so had she been. She had lost herself, she realised. Whether it was in the last month or the last year, something had gone amiss.
And as she rode out of Hunsford, out of Kent and onto the long road north, she felt some hope that she might find it again.
CHAPTER III
‘I can only apologise for surprising you in this way, Mrs Collins; it was not my intention.’
Colonel Fitzwilliam sat back, his shoulders braced against the plush burgundy fabric of the interior, attempting to occupy as little space in the coach as he could. Charlotte was sitting formally and stiffly, as if her stillness could render her invisible. In both cases, it was a futile exercise: each of them was acutely aware of the other’s presence. Charlotte wilfully ignored how close her legs were to his, while he tried not to notice how her hem had ridden up to show a glimpse of her ankle. He looked anywhere but at her ankle.
She replied in a manner that betrayed nothing of her private thoughts. ‘Please do not make yourself uneasy – a quirk of the post, or an oversight on Elizabeth’s part. She may have thought that my husband and I were both travelling together, in which case the need to inform us of a companion would have been less pressing.’
‘I see. Were you both intending to attend originally, then?’ asked the colonel curiously.
Charlotte went red. ‘I kept our response a little vague, being unsure how matters would fall out.’
Fitzwilliam nodded, sensing that she did not wish to explain herself. ‘I attempted some discretion myself, when it came to leaving Rosings. But the fact of my going could not escape the ever-vigilant attention of my aunt.’
