Chapter XII
‘Beware, beware – Mr Cardew approaches,’ Mrs Thacker whispered into Charlotte’s ear.
They stood together in one corner of the assembly room in Meryton, Mrs Thacker in a vibrant blue dress and Charlotte in her black. She had been a widow for nearly six months and had become rather comfortable in her mourning attire. She held up her fan to hide her smile and shushed her companion.
A confident, dark-haired man of around thirty stopped in front of them – tall, thin and very well dressed. He bowed low and for too long – long enough that Charlotte almost asked if he were quite well.
As he rose, he set his eyes squarely on Charlotte. ‘A pleasure to see you again, Mrs Collins.’
‘And you, sir. Pray, how are you settling in?’
‘Very well, I thank you. Meryton has much to offer, and business is brisk, but the change of pace from London is welcome. I must say, you are looking very well indeed, Mrs Collins.’
Both Charlotte and her companion’s eyebrows rose at this impertinence, given her situation.
But the truth was, Charlotte had never looked better.
In the last few months, once recovered from the first sharp shock of loss, Charlotte had steadily bloomed.
It seemed, even to her, rather inappropriate, but it was hard to deny.
Her complexion had evened, her hair grown fuller, and a little added weight gave her a softer, more becoming shape; her countenance, too, was calm and content.
Combined with her new position as the mistress of Longbourn, this made her a most eligible prospect for marriage among the gentry of Hertfordshire – and any man of sense would not wait until her mourning period had ended to start paying court.
Mr Cardew was such a one: an ambitious barrister, recently moved to town. With his eyes on a good prospect, he had met Charlotte before – and seemed rather taken.
‘I hope I may tempt you to dance the next?’ he asked.
‘A rather bold hope, Mr Cardew. I am sure you know that it would not be proper for me to dance. But, considering the number of young ladies here, I am sure you will not have to look far for a partner.’
‘I will settle for an inferior partner for now, Mrs Collins, but I must say that I look forward to dancing with you on a future date.’
Charlotte could think of little to say that was not blatantly rude. She had no intention of promising him any future dances, so she settled for: ‘The future is such a long way away.’
He looked a little confused, it not occurring to him that he was being rejected. Instead, he took his leave and made his way across the room to a Miss Long, who had no idea she was a consolation prize.
‘He is relentless!’ said Mrs Thacker, when he was out of hearing. ‘But you must admit he is quite handsome,’ she added with a grin.
‘Is he?’ Charlotte appraised him from afar. ‘Is he not rather too neat? And so cleanly shaven – I prefer a man who has struggled against his razor.’
Her friend laughed. ‘Do you indeed? I learn more about you every day.’
Mrs Collins and Mrs Thacker had become good friends since the fate of Longbourn had been settled.
Mr Thacker had been so patient in teaching Charlotte the ways of estate management that she had warmed to him immensely.
Through him, she had naturally come to know his wife, and they had instantly become friends.
Mrs Thacker, close to Charlotte in age, was Mr Thacker’s second wife; they had a young son together, along with a daughter from his first marriage, Amelia, who was just recently out and present that evening.
‘Amelia is all a-flutter for someone already,’ confided Mrs Thacker.
‘Oh really? But she is full young to settle! I hope it will pass. Who is it?’
‘Oh, a soldier in the militia, of course.’
‘Inevitable. He will likely move on soon, so perhaps that will fade.’
‘It does not always,’ said Mrs Thacker, with a sigh.
‘Oh, I know. Just look at my sister.’
Charlotte meant the invitation literally; Maria and Mr Denny were across the room, dancing together and looking as much in love as any engaged couple ever had. They made for a very handsome pair.
‘Thankfully, Maria was still in love with him even when he was out of his regimentals,’ said Charlotte.
‘Perhaps the prospect of him being out of his regimentals was a large part of the attraction,’ said Mrs Thacker, raising an eyebrow.
‘Mrs Thacker!’ Charlotte exclaimed, unable to keep herself from laughing – then she caught the sound and stopped quickly; it was not decorous for her to be seen guffawing while still in mourning.
And a good thing to, for just then, they were descended upon by two ladies of around fifty with alarming coiffures – rather too many plaits and curls for one head, let alone two.
Without so much as a how-do-you-do, one of these ladies swept in with, ‘I see you are well, Mrs Collins – and that you know the new Mrs Thacker.’
‘Mrs Bennet, what a pleasure to see you! And Mrs Philips, of course,’ said Charlotte, more warmly than she felt. ‘Yes, Mrs Thacker and I have become good friends. You yourself must know Mr Thacker very well.’
‘Oh yes! Of course, long before you knew him, Mrs Collins. Our acquaintance stretches back for over twenty years!’ Mrs Bennet replied with irritation, even though Charlotte had already conceded the superior acquaintance to her.
Mrs Philips then picked up the conversation, saying to Mrs Thacker, ‘What a beauty Amelia is!’
Mrs Thacker smiled warmly. ‘Thank you; she is indeed.’
‘So much like her mother,’ Mrs Philips continued.
‘So I have heard,’ returned Mrs Thacker, smiling beatifically.
Mrs Bennet, recognising a successful parry when she saw one, turned to re-engage her own sparring partner. ‘You appear to be rather popular at present, Mrs Collins; it must be a novel sensation for you. It looked at one point as if you might stand up for a quadrille!’
‘I have no intention of dancing tonight, Mrs Bennet.’
‘But you have been asked,’ she said accusingly.
‘Yes.’
‘You are looking very well, Mrs Collins,’ Mrs Bennet continued, with evident disapproval.
‘Spring agrees with me.’
‘I imagine Longbourn agrees with you?’ she snapped back.
‘It does, thank you,’ replied Charlotte calmly. ‘I am very appreciative of it, and I hope I prove a worthy steward.’
Mrs Bennet managed to look mollified, albeit grudgingly so. Casting around for another area in which to be belligerent, she said, ‘I suppose you have not yet met Sofia? My granddaughter, Sofia Darcy! What a fine thing.’
Charlotte tried not to betray her inward sigh. ‘I have heard all about her from Eliza, and I could not be happier for them all. I will meet Sofia in May.’
Mrs Bennet’s face fell once again into annoyance. ‘May? Why?’
‘Elizabeth is coming to visit me at Longbourn, with Sofia.’
Mrs Bennet turned puce. ‘Coming to Hertfordshire, and she has not yet informed her own mother! That is just like Lizzy. That girl! And she would not think that I would like to perhaps see my own granddaughter? No indeed. She comes to see you!’ She muttered a few more objections before Charlotte could attempt any consoling.
‘I am sure she is coming to see you chiefly, but she consulted me first as I can more easily provide accommodation,’ offered Charlotte.
Mrs Bennet looked rather pleased with the idea that Charlotte was more akin to a landlady in the arrangement. ‘Well, you are probably right. At any rate, Sofia is a sweet little thing.’
‘I am sure. You must be very proud.’
Once the sisters had taken their leave, Mrs Thacker said quietly to Charlotte, ‘You are very patient with her. She positively goaded you.’
‘I know, but… consider her situation. She is a widow who has lost her home – the home in which she raised her five daughters – thanks to some old legal papers she has never even seen. I think I would be angry forever. And look at my situation – a widow, but with the other side of that coin. I have that home, thanks to those very same papers. I am the lucky one – so yes, I can bear her jibes.’
‘Still, she has had luck of her own; some of her daughters have married very well!’
‘Indeed! She is lucky in many ways. I would have liked a daughter. I’m not sure I would have wanted five, though…’ Charlotte meant the comment with levity, but it disquieted her friend.
‘Yes, of course.’ Mrs Thacker paused, before adding tentatively, ‘You may have one yet?’
‘I do not think so.’ Charlotte looked at her friend with warmth, keen to ward off any pity. ‘But I have other blessings to be thankful for. And I am well occupied, thanks to your husband.’
Mrs Thacker gave her a look of mock outrage, muttering, ‘I beg your pardon!’ and Charlotte once more laughed loudly, earning disapproving looks from Mrs Bennet and her sister.