Page 76 of Introducing Mrs. Collins
‘It is true, as you say. We are simply more settled together. That is marriage, I suppose – growing to understand each other better over time.’
Elizabeth looked archly at her friend. ‘You are concealing something, but you are not very adept at it. And yet we do not have time to investigate it at present; Darcy and I need to set off shortly. Perhaps you will have more to say when I next see you.’
Presently, the Darcys were to make their way back to Derbyshire, via Meryton, as Mr Collins had requested a ride in their carriage as far as there. He needed to deliver a letter urgently, and it also afforded him more time to converse with – or rather, talk at – Mr Darcy, which was one of his favourite pastimes, and one of Darcy’s least.
As Charlotte watched the carriage depart, she smiled to herself. An afternoon of solitude – blissful. Elizabeth was not wrong on one score; she was calm, and in many ways, she was content.
Since the cold morning when she had severed relations with Colonel Fitzwilliam, she had made no contact with him and neither had he with her. It had been understood, in their parting, that this was how it should be. She had heard nothing of his life – Lady Catherine and Mr Darcy were the only people of her acquaintance who might know anything of his movements, and they had no reason to share this intelligence with her, and she certainly dared not ask. But above that, she actively decided she did not wish to know. She had closed that chapter – the most thrilling chapter of her life, certainly, but she’d known it could only ever have been a short one, and it had now run its course.
Since their parting in February, many things had occurred: a death, a will, another new home. They had taken up residence in Longbourn at the very start of May, allowing two months for the Bennets to make their arrangements. Charlotte would have given them longer, but their attorney, Noakes, advised against.
It should have felt odd moving again so soon, but it did not. It felt like coming home. She knew every room, every path, every nook and cranny of Longbourn.
Charlotte summoned the memories now: she and Jane and Eliza entering the hall dripping with mud after a long walk, playing charades by firelight in the drawing room, snow falling across the garden and the thick ice that formed over the pond, newly baked cakes smuggled from the kitchen by Elizabeth, and the three of them huddled on the bench under the stairs, sharing whispered secrets as the night drew closer. She had come to know Longbourn well. And now it was all hers.
Charlotte still had secrets to hold in this house, but she would no longer be sharing them with anyone.
CHAPTER II
Two months earlier, Mrs Bennet had stood alongside her five daughters, all dressed in black, watching her husband’s coffin be carried down the aisle of the small church in the village of Longbourn.
In her married life, Mrs Bennet had been criticised and sometimes ridiculed for the way she had raised her daughters. Despite being an ambitious mother, she was not willing to bow to the expectations of the society to which she aspired. She had no time for those rules that curtailed her daughters’ freedoms and natural urges. She had not been strict with their education; some showed aptitude for study (Mary) and some showed more aptitude for dancing (Lydia) – she let those natural proclivities fall where they may. She had not adhered to the rule that younger sisters should not come out into society before the elder were married; this seemed unfair on the younger, and after all, her youngest daughters enjoyed society more actively than any of them!
And she certainly did not adhere to the custom which suggested that women should not attend a funeral, but stay at home, while the men represented them in church. The idea that her husband should be led to his grave by the likes of Mr Gardiner, Mr Phillips and Mr Darcy – and even Mr Collins, who was stealing their own house out from under them! – while Mr Bennet’s own wife and daughters were left to watch from behind the curtains, seemed absurd to her. An unsympathetic witness might have said that she could not bear to be left out, but as ridiculous as herbehaviour could be at times, Mrs Bennet had always had a strong sense of her rights and needs, and those of her daughters, even when it flew in the face of decorum. To some, she might have been viewed as rather modern.
Mr and Mrs Collins had travelled to Hertfordshire to attend the funeral; it was fitting for Collins to do so, as the heir to Longbourn, and Charlotte was glad to be of some comfort for Elizabeth and Jane. She did not attend the church service that morning but stayed back with a handful of other ladies.
When it was finished, Mrs Bennet and her daughters returned to the house while the gentlemen attended the burial. Upon entering, she set eyes on Charlotte and was immediately incensed.
‘Oh! I see MrsCollinsis here already. But of course she is – it is her house now, after all!’
‘Mother! Stop! Charlotte is here to help,’ cried Jane, horribly embarrassed.
Charlotte was not overly offended, having known Mrs Bennet and her ways for many years. With grace, she stepped back and gave Mrs Bennet some space. She had half expected this reaction, and furthermore, she did not disagree with Mrs Bennet that the entail was unjust. She would have felt the same, under the circumstances, although she would not have been quite as outspoken.
‘Well, Mrs Collins,’ Mrs Bennet continued, undeterred, ‘I am mistress of Longbourn for a short while yet, thank you. I do not require your help in any regard. I will take my place as usual.’ At this, she sat in her preferred chaise-longue. ‘And ask that someone other than Mrs Collins pass me a biscuit?’ With that said, and the biscuit consumed, she regained her strength and held court in the parlour until the last guest left.
In the light of the early afternoon, Charlotte took a turn in the garden alone, requiring some fresh air and solitude. As she neared the house again, she found herself confronted by Mr Wickham, who had loosened himself from Lydia and apparently come outpurposefully to greet Charlotte. He did so as if nothing untoward had ever passed between them, an aggravating smirk fixed on his face, even under these sombre circumstances.
‘And how have you faired, Mrs Collins, since our last meeting?’
Charlotte did not feel afraid of him; they were within easy distance of people who, though indoors, could step in at any moment if Charlotte were to call for them. Added to this, she now considered Longbourn more her territory than his, which gave her some confidence.
‘I am well, Mr Wickham. I trust you and your wife are also in good health?’
‘Oh yes, all well. Lydia is with child.’
‘What happy news,’ returned Charlotte evenly.
He screwed up his face as if mocking the idea. ‘Certainly. Inevitable, of course. She’s pleased. I can’t help but be grateful I ship out before it arrives. I am needed in Spain; I sail to Lisbon in a fortnight.’ He spoke with some bravado before adding, ‘I shall relish the chance to distinguish myself. By the time I return, you may be addressing me asCaptainWickham, and after that, who knows? I know how you appreciate a high-ranking officer.’
Charlotte ignored the innuendo and said, smiling gently, ‘I do not think you will make Captain, nor even Lieutenant.’
‘Why should you say that?’ he said, unease plain in his tone.
‘Let us say that I have an intuition about it.’ She shrugged. ‘I predict you will be a lowly ensign for these ten years at least. I do hope it is not embarrassing for you? An educated man of nearly thirty years old, serving as an ensign?’
Her words took effect. A suspicion was forming in Wickham’s mind that made a vein in his forehead start throbbing. In spite of this, he was still trying for nonchalance as he said, with a tight grin, ‘You can have no power over such things.’
