Page 61 of Introducing Mrs. Collins
She had not taken in much of the detail of the chapel during Elizabeth’s wedding; there had been much more to look at than fat cherubs and harp-playing angels, but now, with only a few days left to make the most of Pemberley, she had taken herself on an early morning private tour, enjoying the opportunity to take in its grandeur in solitude. She felt she ought to pay attention to the chapel; it was, the housekeeper had assured her,of great artistic importance.
Looking again, she believed the standing man was Jesus. She did not know the identity of the kneeling man but he looked very sorry for himself and was touching Jesus’s torso. Jesus’s torso was quite a spectacle. Really, Charlotte thought, she had never seen such a broad, muscular Jesus. His legs were as thick as tree trunks, and he wore only a thin blue cloth over his lower half. No wonder this other man was touching him.
Right, that’s enough of that,Charlotte thought, blinking herself out of the moment and turning to leave. She knew she could not help the urges she had been having these last few days, but she drew the line at lusting after Christ. She silently told herself to gain some control.
In the days that had passed since their encounter in the maze, Charlotte and Fitzwilliam had not had the opportunity to be alone again. They had passed each other in corridors or been the first to arrive in the drawing room, but the plentiful staff that Pemberley boasted meant the chances of being overlooked were very high. They were cautious. They were cautious not only for fear of discovery but for fear of the other’s feelings.
It had been left unclear whether the kiss, the embraces that had so stirred them both in the moment, would be looked on by one or the other as something to regret, or to forget. Fitzwilliam wondered whether Charlotte would think of it as a terrible mistake, while Charlotte, at her more vulnerable moments, persuaded herself that Fitzwilliam might not think about it much at all – viewing it as a brief, meaningless tryst which hardly affected his feelings, or his life. Such a response would be in keeping with many rumours she had heard of military men, even if she could not really believe that Fitzwilliam was such a man.
These thoughts crossed her mind as she made her way to the breakfast room. Elizabeth, Darcy and Georgiana were already seated, the two ladies serving one another, while Darcy read a newspaper.
A few minutes later, Colonel Fitzwilliam entered the room.
‘Good morning!’ he said amiably and sat down opposite Charlotte.
She smiled tightly and looked down, busying herself with her cutlery.
‘I have been feeling rather forlorn at the prospect of your leaving, Charlotte,’ said Elizabeth, quickly adding, ‘and you, of course, Richard.’
Fitzwilliam smiled. ‘I take no offence, madam – I am aware that I cannot be an equal part in your friendship with Charlo—Mrs Collins.’ He felt a flicker of the eyes from Mr Darcy. ‘I hope that my cousin will be just as heartsore over my departure!’ he continued lightly, trying to mask his mistake in addressing Charlotte so informally.
Darcy gave a short laugh, then folded his newspaper as if coming to a sudden decision. ‘Actually, I have a request. I have some business interests to attend to rather urgently in London, and I would appreciate a second eye on them. Would you accompany me, cousin? You could then make your way back down to Kent at your leisure.’
It was clear from Darcy’s tone that this was not an idle request. Fitzwilliam was surprised by the scheme, which would mean his departing a day earlier than planned, and crucially, not with Charlotte. He guessed at his cousin’s motive, and he acquiesced.
Charlotte, not oblivious to the sudden change, saw fit to be nonchalant about it, saying that she would travel on the 5th as planned, with Alice.
‘We will be comfortable companions and will benefit from the extra space,’ she said in good humour.
Darcy nodded sharply. ‘Good. Then it is arranged. We will leave tomorrow morning, Richard.’
That night, the party enjoyed a fine dinner and a relaxed, happy evening together, albeit one tinged with melancholy for the ending to what had been a period of great contentment for all. Elizabeth and Darcy would now embark on their married life without their oldest friends’ presence to disguise the huge change that meant. Fitzwilliam would return to what now felt like a rather odd existence: convalescing with his elderly aunt until the call of war beckoned again – and until he was well enough to answer. And Charlotte, of course, must go home. She must remember that she was married.
During the course of the evening, Charlotte played them a slow adagio on the piano. As she played, she felt Fitzwilliam’s eyes on her, and a flush crept up her neck as she tried to keep time.
When Charlotte finished, Georgiana applauded her, and Elizabeth, walking towards the piano, declared, ‘I am sure you have never been such a talent as you are now, Charlotte. Where have you been hiding your skills? None of us knew you could play like that.’
‘I did,’ declared Fitzwilliam rather defensively, from across the room.
Elizabeth looked over. ‘I beg your pardon?’
Fitzwilliam, slightly regretting speaking up, continued, ‘I only mean to say that Mrs Collins has been practising at Rosings and has entertained us there, and so she has not been hiding her talents. Her talent is no secret.’
Elizabeth looked rather irritated by this. ‘Well, thank you for that. No, indeed. I only meant, Charlotte, thatwehave not had the pleasure of hearing you play for a long time. Those at Rosings obviously know you much better than I,’ she said, with perhaps a hint of petulance.
‘You know me better than anyone,’ said Charlotte to Elizabeth, keen to soothe any upset. ‘And I, you. I recall how you hated your own pianoforte lessons with Mrs Timpson.’
Elizabeth was mollified, saying, ‘Who now has ten children.’ With a raised eyebrow to Charlotte. ‘Imagine!’
Elizabeth was oblivious to the insensitivity of her remark, but Colonel Fitzwilliam glanced at Charlotte, recognising the pain it might elicit.
Charlotte met his eyes and gave him a crinkled smile of acknowledgement, and replied evenly, ‘I hardly can.’
Later that evening, when everyone had retired to their rooms, Charlotte sat plaiting her hair for bed. Her room was lit only by a single candle, which she was about to blow out when she heard a knock on her door.
She rose and tentatively went to the door. When she opened it a crack, she saw Colonel Fitzwilliam standing before her, still dressed.
‘You cannot be here,’ Charlotte said immediately.
