Chapter XIII
Elizabeth emerged from the carriage with a red face and a fraught expression, handing a wailing infant to Charlotte with outstretched hands.
Charlotte took the little girl, unsure of quite how to hold her; Sofia was bigger than expected and rather unwieldy.
Elizabeth was followed by a maid with green-looking skin; both looked relieved to alight.
Elizabeth exhaled and, grinning ruefully at Charlotte, exclaimed, ‘We are here! Quite a journey!’
The maid attempted a smile but, clearly suffering, begged to be excused and went inside with Mrs Brooke.
‘Shall I take her back?’ asked Elizabeth, arms out.
‘Only if you wish to – we are comfortable enough now,’ said Charlotte, and it was true; once she had worked out how not to drop the little girl, Sofia had stopped crying and seemed fairly content in her arms.
‘Then I will not, and I will be grateful for it. This bodes well for my stay. You may have her whenever you wish,’ Elizabeth said, grinning as she followed her friend into the house she knew so very well.
‘Oh!’ Elizabeth murmured as she entered, looking around. ‘Oh! It is the same, but it is different. How lovely to be here!’ She turned and embraced Charlotte, over Sofia’s head, who made a gargle of objection. She was a charming little thing: red-cheeked and with a mop of unruly blonde hair.
‘Oh, but I have not introduced you yet: Charlotte, meet Sofia; Sofia, this is Charlotte. I do hope you will be friends,’ Eliza declared with exaggerated formality.
‘I am sure we shall!’ Charlotte craned her head back to observe Sofia’s face more clearly.
Sofia regarded her, too, with serious eyes, forming a judgement of her. She looked very like her mother, but her current expression was all Darcy, Charlotte thought.
In the drawing room, Sofia crawled around, occasionally tumbling or pulling herself up into a wobbly stand like a tiny drunkard.
Elizabeth filled Charlotte in on all that she had missed – which was, understandably, all about her daughter: her birth, her eating, her looks, her moods.
Elizabeth leant into the difficulties and frustrations of motherhood, but it was clear from her face that she was exceedingly happy and proud.
‘Only Darcy could have hired a nursemaid with such a weak stomach!’ said Elizabeth, now recounting the journey they had just made.
‘Honestly, I told him that I should just take Mrs Reynolds on this trip, but he said it is not her role and that the journey would be too hard on her. I wish he had seen how hard it was on Frances! She puked every third mile from Derbyshire to Dunstable.’
Charlotte laughed hard. ‘Has Frances been Sofia’s nursemaid since she was born?’
‘No! She was hired for the trip and will likely stay on for a while, if this has not entirely put her off. We have not needed a dedicated nursemaid – which, as I am sure you can imagine, has shocked Lady Catherine out of her wits. But we have a very full household – so many staff! – including Mrs Reynolds, who adores Sofia. And then there are Georgiana and Kitty, who are also besotted, and even—’
Elizabeth stopped suddenly, quickly recovering herself before continuing, ‘Even Mr Darcy agrees that a nursemaid is unnecessary, but he thought it wise to have one for this trip and was reluctant to spare Reynolds. God forbid those two should be parted. My goodness! It is sometimes like living with one’s mother-in-law – if one’s mother-in-law had seen you in your undergarments. ’
Charlotte laughed. She was filled with joy – sitting in her own home, able to welcome her dearest friend to stay, chattering and joking like she had when they were girls.
‘And what of your news? The last you wrote, you were being lectured by Mr Thacker?’
Charlotte chided her friend. ‘Nonsense! I said no such thing. He has been so patient with me; I could not have done anything without his help.’
‘He is a pleasant man,’ Elizabeth conceded. ‘And you know his wife, you said?’
‘Yes! Jane – another Jane. She is very good company – but you must have met her?’
Elizabeth shook her head. ‘I have not. Their marriage was still new when I was last at Longbourn and the occasion never arose. I knew the first Mrs Thacker. She was kind. She taught Jane – my Jane – and I to dance.’
‘Mrs Thacker said she died when Amelia was but ten?’
‘Yes. It was dreadful. Mr Thacker was…’ She broke off. ‘He could not be consoled, which was all the worse for him having a daughter to take care of.’
‘But it seems he got through it. He is very happy now, I believe. You know they have a little son?’
Elizabeth smiled. ‘I heard. I think the new Mrs Thacker, as my mother calls her, has worked miracles. For two years, he was hardly living, could not cope with his daughter and managed to do only the necessities of his work with Father. And then he met this lady, and overnight, he changed. I have often found it so; a broken man cannot rally without a woman beside him.’
‘Is it not true the other way round?’ pondered Charlotte.
‘Not at all,’ said Elizabeth, so immediately and with such conviction that it made Charlotte laugh.
Elizabeth continued on with her point. ‘No, it is not the same. Look at you! You have rallied again and again, without the need of anyone beside you.’
Charlotte was rather taken aback by the sudden earnestness of her friend. She did not count herself as particularly strong or independent. But, by circumstance rather than choice, she supposed it must be conceded that she was.
She did not know what to say, so she smiled and collected up Sofia, who was grabbing at the top keys of the piano.
‘That looks familiar,’ Elizabeth said curiously.
‘Oh, yes! It is from Rosings. Lady Catherine sent it to me at Christmas.’
Elizabeth made a face so incredulous that Charlotte had to laugh again. ‘Darcy’s aunt sent you a grand piano as a Christmas present?!’
‘You need not be so very surprised. She was very fond of Mr Collins and I think has become quite fond of me. She said it was sitting going to waste in her house.’
‘She has never given us a pianoforte!’
‘You do not need a pianoforte! You already have – what is it, three?’
Elizabeth grinned. ‘Well, I suppose it belongs with you – you are the only one of us all who can give it the life it deserves.’ She touched a few keys idly, as her daughter banged a fist on it. ‘But I must say Lady Catherine continues to surprise me.’
‘There is a lot about her that you do not know,’ said Charlotte, and then immediately regretted it.
Elizabeth, luckily, was entirely distracted by Sofia, who had just expunged a good volume of milky sick over Charlotte’s settee.
The next day, Elizabeth went by carriage to visit her mother in Meryton, so Charlotte decided to drop into Lucas Lodge. Her mother greeted her with wide arms.
‘How well you look.’ And then, because she was her mother, after all, she added, ‘But what are you wearing?’
‘What do you mean? A dress!’
‘But it is very severe for May, dearest! Must you really still be in black?’
‘It is not black! It is grey.’
‘Is it? Well, why are you in grey in May?’
‘I am still in half-mourning, Mother. I can hardly walk around in a red petticoat!’
Lady Lucas gave in and led her wilful daughter into the house.
And yet, they clashed again over luncheon – a classic Lucas summer offering of rich lamb stew with buttered potatoes and green beans.
Sir William had never experienced a light meal in his life and wouldn’t permit one now.
He quietly salted his meal, as his wife and daughter crossed words opposite him.
He was not at ease with conversations of the heart during mealtimes – and certainly not before five o’clock.
‘Is it so wrong to hope, Charlotte, that you might marry again? I do not hope it for myself – or for the satisfaction of society! But is it so impossible to think that it would make you happy? Mr Cardew is a handsome, respectable man, of about your age—’
‘It will not be Mr Cardew, Mother – that much I guarantee.’
‘Well, there are others in the town whom I believe have taken an interest.’
Charlotte sighed. She took a mouthful of lamb, chewed and swallowed it, while she decided how much to say.
‘Mother, I have the great luxury of being content with myself and my situation. I would not risk that state for anything but the very greatest love, and I have not encountered that since—’ Charlotte stopped, then corrected herself, ‘I have not encountered that in Meryton.’
‘When you married Mr Collins,’ said Lady Lucas, proceeding carefully, ‘I felt some sadness that you would not experience the… thrill of a romance: the to and fro, the push and pull of courtship, the fun of wondering and guessing – the drama, I suppose, of true love. That is what your father and I had, you know, at first.’
Sir William’s eyes went round, and he silently skewered a potato.
‘Your marriage… Well, it was a very convenient match, and so’ – Lady Lucas searched for the word – ‘straightforward.’
Charlotte nodded. She was not offended.
Her mother took it as leave to continue. ‘But that is why I so wish that you might find something different now. I do not say I am glad about poor Mr Collins’s fate – I think he was a good husband to you – but I do not want you to shut yourself off. You might yet have that drama, that thrill.’
Charlotte thought for a moment, chewing again.
The lamb was rather tough. She turned to face her mother.
‘If it consoles you, then know this: I have felt some of what you describe. Do not ask me when or with whom, for I shall not tell you. I tell you only so that you may not mourn those things for me. But if you think I seek them now, you are mistaken. I do not wish to guess, nor to tease. I do not wish to chase, nor to evade. I do not wish for sport or riddles or to dance around it. When I next find love, I hope it simply walks towards me in a straight line.’
Lady Lucas listened well to her eldest daughter, her first-born – her favourite, in truth – and felt the quiet joy of truly understanding her. What she had just said was so very Charlotte, and she loved her for it.
‘I am only glad,’ she said, in a conciliatory tone, ‘to hear you say, “next”.’ She patted Charlotte’s arm over her grey linen sleeve, while Sir William studiously, and with great care, cut a single potato into twelve equal parts.