Page 85 of Introducing Mrs. Collins
Pemberley.She knew Pemberley to be a vast estate, and Elizabeth would want to be of service however she could. She wondered whether there might be a room for her – perhaps a little cottage left empty… But now she thought about it, the idea was absurd. Pemberley was a family seat; Elizabeth had just given birth to their first child and would likely have more. They had Kitty and Georgiana already. No, it was not sensible.
She crossed it off the list.
Finally,Rosings.This seemed, even to her own mind, preposterous, but something gave her pause. Of all the people of her acquaintance, it was Lady Catherine who seemed to care most deeply about the plight of women – and to most ardently desire their independence. She had been very fond of Mr Collins, and she seemed to care about Charlotte – even if she displayed it rather harshly. Could Charlotte become a companion to her, if Anne should marry? It was all rather wild thinking, but Charlotte’s situation required imaginative thought.
Charlotte was struck suddenly by a headache. There was too much to think about, and the idea of making such enquiries left her nauseous. She called for Brooke and asked for tea.
‘Might you go and stay with your mother, madam? For a few days? You need not face all this yet, surely?’
Charlotte considered it. ‘No,’ she said eventually. ‘I do not have much time left in this house, Brooke, and I do not intend to squander it.’
‘It is such a shame, madam. You have just settled in. It is a beautiful house, and you have made it your own.’
Charlotte could only nod. She would never have anywhere of ‘her own’ again.
‘Well, it is a large house, and it is rather wasted on just me. It deserves to be better populated, does it not? Perhaps the new heir will have a wife and a family.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Brooke, smiling sadly as she left the room.
25th September 1813
My dearest friend,
I am so sorry for your loss. I wish I were with you. I can hardly believe how quickly he was taken – what a cruel fate for him, and for you. How fortunate for him to have had you with him. He loved you, Charlotte, and you brought him great happiness. I only wish you could find the same happiness. I pray you do not give up on it.
You will have heard that we have a daughter, Sofia. She is wonderful. I want to tell you about her, but only when you are ready. I think of you daily.
Your loving friend,
Eliza
CHAPTER VIII
Mr Collins’s study was becoming more of a home for Charlotte than she could ever have anticipated, it being a room she had barely visited when he was alive. As autumn progressed, she sat in it most days, occupying herself with correspondence and handling the estate as best she could, with the help of Mr Thacker, the steward. But it was also a place of leisure; here, she exchanged letters with Elizabeth, mostly about little Sofia. She was delighted to hear about her friend’s happiness as a new mother, but that joy was tempered by a more complicated feeling – a familiar pang that always seemed to accompany news of other people’s children.
She had begun to occasionally purchaseThe Morning Chroniclewhen she was in town, and she would sit in the study with a cup of coffee, reading the sections that most interested her. Her late husband’s leather chair was too low for her, so she placed a cushion on it so she could sit more comfortably at the desk. She had found Mr Collins’s university gown among his belongings and had taken to wearing it slung about her shoulders as she sat in the study. It was the right colour, after all, and it warmed her, in more ways than one. She bought new ink and paper and found herself surprised by how well-situated she was for the task of planning her future.
She wrote to Mr Noakes, their attorney, to enquire about the new heir to Longbourn, and she also wrote to Lady Catherine. She did not ask directly about the possibility of being housed atRosings – instead, her first action was to ask about Anne’s situation, as this information would indirectly influence her own.
As days passed without a response to her letters, it seemed increasingly likely that Charlotte would follow the expected route and return to Lucas Lodge. She would have to sell the little furniture that was her own, and many possessions besides; her belongings could not all be accommodated at her parents’ house. To help herself organise, she had tied a piece of ribbon onto each bit of furniture or object which would have to go. She took to walking through rooms on a kind of farewell tour of these items, saying a silent goodbye.
But then, she started a more pleasant habit – noting instead the belongings that she would keep with her: her embroidery basket; her pressed flowers; Mr Collins’s Bible; her poetry books; the emerald ring her mother had given her; the blanket Mrs Brooke had knitted for a cot; and the picture that Mr Poulteney had brought her on the day of the funeral: a framed pencil drawing of some foxgloves, intricately sketched and carefully preserved. She would not part with that.
Sometimes, when a chapter of one’s life closes, there is the sense of the next one beginning, to help pull one through it. And yet for Charlotte, the prospect of returning to her childhood home – now widowed, with no means and without the hope of love or marriage – held none of the novelty of the new beginning. It merely felt like rereading an old chapter of her life, but with the book rather worn and the ink faded.
One morning in the first week of October, a month after her husband’s passing, she heard a rigorous knock at the front door. Charlotte arranged herself, standing up as Brooke showed a gentleman she did not recognise into the sitting room. ‘Mr Noakes, madam.’
‘Oh! Mr Noakes, our attorney? I am glad to meet you.’
Mr Noakes was a serious, rather nervous-looking man of around fifty. He was almost entirely bald and wore small glasses. He bowed, and Charlotte gestured for him to sit.
‘Good morning, Mrs Collins. I hope I am not troubling you too much – I am most sorry for your loss – but I am here about the entail.’
‘Yes! I am glad; I have been waiting to hear. You need not be concerned, for I have been preparing myself for the transition.’
‘I received your letter.’
‘Good,’ said Charlotte, wondering why he looked a little perturbed.
