Page 6 of Introducing Mrs. Collins
‘It may be no trouble for you to read, sir, but it can be a trouble for some to hear. A few moralising passages from the Bible may put a sour taste in the mouth of someone torn from their gambling.’ Charlotte said this lightly, with a grin, relaxing enough in Mr Collins’s company to be more herself in conversation.
But his face had darkened. ‘I am sorry to hear of this malady in your family, Miss Lucas. You may well imagine that I do not approve of cards taking precedence over piety. If this is true, I will hope to be a much-needed influence on your family while I can.I try not to be evangelical in my beliefs, but where there is need, I will rise to the task.’
He looked truly aggrieved. Her face fell sombre, and she looked over at her family, laughing around the card table. Her father was mock-outraged at his wife’s mode of play, and Maria was in hysterics at the face he was making. Charlotte felt a physical pull to be with them, to be in that circle, merry and light-hearted.
She looked at Mr Collins, who was also observing her family. He viewed them with interest and concern and a little puzzlement. If one came across a set of badgers in the wild, one might watch them in a similar way. He was very unfamiliar with their behaviour; he did not understand it, and somehow, he felt it potentially posed something of a threat to him.
He was right. His wife-to-be was thinking of what she might miss in her future with him. Would she, in her family life, get the pleasure of a light-hearted game of cards? Would the opportunity to laugh be very frequent? She thought not, for in his response she realised that, while he might have moments of reason, Collins had absolutely no humour at all; and that was a severe limit on one’s personality, she had always found. He would never be in on the joke.
‘I am sure that, at the right time, you will be an excellent influence on them, Mr Collins.’
Mr Collins warmed to this. ‘Please, call me William.’
Charlotte immediately and instinctively felt that she didn’t want to.Not a good sign,she thought, smiling at him.
CHAPTER IV
Hannah
Wife of Charles Twyford
Born 7th July 1745
Died 9th January 1791
Charlotte was clutching her bouquet and staring at the headstone. It has caught her eye as she left the church. This woman had died on this very day, twenty-one years before. Who had she been, Charlotte wondered? Justwife– that was the most she had been remembered as. Her husband had been allocated both of his names, and he had not even died. Well, he might have done by now, but this was not his headstone. It was hers, Hannah’s, and she had not even been given her whole name. And no word of who she was: nobelovedorkindorgentleor any of the insipid things that were writ on the stones of some dead women. They only ever list the gentle traits, thought Charlotte. They never sayoutspoken and nearly always correctorfiercely loyalorphysically very strongorexcellent with horses. No, alwaystenderandmild, like the Virgin herself. And this woman had not been given anything exceptwife.
And now, as of a few moments ago, Charlotte waswife, too.
The ceremony had run smoothly. Charlotte felt comfortable and well-presented in her pale-blue dress and pelisse; she did not feel beautiful, but then she had not expected to. Everyone had sung well, and she and Mr Collins had spoken their vows as well as onecould. At his request, they had heard about how long love suffereth, as if they did not know by now, and at Charlotte’s request, they had sung ‘Glorious Things of Thee Are Spoken’. Mr Collins was dressed in his ordinary garb, though better turned out than usual.
In attendance were the Lucas family, Mr and Mrs Bennet, Elizabeth Bennet, and two of Lady Lucas’s friends. Charlotte’s sister Maria looked angelic as her bridesmaid, eighteen years old with blonde curls and a breathless excitement about the event that was not widely shared.
Mr Collins clutched his hat now as he stood in the doorway, speaking earnestly to the vicar of Meryton. The Bennets had taken their leave, giving Charlotte an array of differing congratulations; Mr Bennet had wished her ‘the best of luck’ with a wry smile. Mrs Bennet had hardly looked at her and had said, ‘Well, we all know you will have a comfortable life. I wish you well,’ while visibly wishing Charlotte ill. Elizabeth had failed to hold her gaze for more than a moment, managing to make the phrase, ‘I wish you joy,’ sound like a death knell.
Sir William and Lady Lucas were wandering with Maria out of the churchyard, towards the gate. Charlotte stood unobserved, pondering what her own headstone might say, aside from:
Charlotte
Wife of the Revd William Collins
Frugal,perhaps.Neat and tidy. Thin hair.She was being rather hard on herself and was determined to rally before she left the churchyard, but she took this moment to be unmasked, at least to herself.
Low spirits had struck her as she walked back down the aisle after the service. She felt unrooted and anxious. The second she left this place, she would get into a carriage and depart for a home she had never seen, a place she was unfamiliar with and a man she did not entirely like. She reasoned that her feelings were to beexpected and were, in fact, reassuringly rational. But the rationality of her feelings did not change the difficulty in experiencing them; she felt mad.
‘My dear Mrs Collins, there you are!’ Mr Collins appeared from around the corner. ‘The carriage is ready. Shall we take our leave?’
And with that, she left her old life, and all that was familiar to her, to start anew in Kent. She braced herself.
As they arrived into the village of Hunsford, the winter skies were already darkening. Mr Collins had fallen asleep on the journey and was snoring beside her, his head fallen back against a cushion. She leant right out of the window and spied, not half a mile ahead, a pretty white house, with tall trees either side. As it came into view, she noted how the windows glowed against the drizzling murk of the afternoon; the candles and fires must be lit, and she saw a figure on the doorstep.
The rattling of the carriage on the drive woke Mr Collins with a start, and he hastily arranged himself, before realising with delight that they had arrived. He was rosy with eagerness to show Charlotte his home –theirhome, as she must think of it now. He helped her down from the carriage and, walking towards the house, began his introductions.
‘Hunsford Parsonage is one of the oldest rectories in this part of the country, my dear – you will be mistress of a significant piece of history. And here – good afternoon, Mrs Brooke!’
‘Welcome back, Mr Collins, and good afternoon, Mrs Collins – what a pleasure. You must be cold; we have the fires lit.’
The housekeeper smiled warmly, and Charlotte liked the look of her immediately. Mrs Brooke was a diminutive woman in her fifties, with a kind, lined face, wearing a smart brown dress and a bright-yellow kerchief tied about her shoulders. She indicated the front door, inviting her new mistress to enter, and a moment later,Charlotte stood in the flagstoned hall, inspecting all around her, with Mrs Brooke helping her remove her coat and gloves.
