Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
E lizabeth Bennet was free. Finally, now that she had arrived in Kent, she might enjoy some time with her dearest friend, Charlotte, and some peace and quiet—away from her mother. She was filled with anticipation for the visit and took joy in unpacking her things about her room.
Hunsford Parsonage—Charlotte’s new home since her marriage to Mr Collins—was a well-appointed, lovely cottage. As Elizabeth might have expected, the best aspect of the house was the view of the neighbouring grand estate, Rosings Park. Though she had only just arrived in Kent that day, Elizabeth had already been required to hide a multitude of smiles, as her cousin produced detailed stories, histories, and financial figures for all aspects of Rosings and his revered patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
Elizabeth was given a quaint guest room at the end of the corridor. Light filtered in through a generous window highlighting a comfortable window seat fitted with embroidered pillows and a soft throw. A simple quilt covered the bed, and an overly stuffed chair sat by the hearth. It was truly inviting. The room wanted only for spring to arrive more quickly so that fresh flowers could be placed on the escritoire that sat near the window. That slight, feminine piece of furniture stood in readiness for hours of attention, for it was already equipped with fresh paper and ink.
The view out of the window offered her a glimpse of the gardens that had figured heavily in Charlotte’s recent letters. Looking at them made Elizabeth frown somewhat; in truth, Charlotte’s letters—the few she had received—had been the messages of a stranger, detailing household matters and gardening plans rather than the confidences one would expect of an intimate acquaintance.
She had been unsure what to expect when she arrived but was relieved to see Charlotte in good spirits, if a bit subdued. Perhaps it was merely the conduct of a wife which had altered her. Elizabeth admitted to herself that the gardens seemed quite well organised. She could see the gentle paths through the rows of soil that would soon welcome vegetables, shrubs, and flowers. She hoped she would still be in Hunsford when the first bounty was brought into the house.
Charlotte’s maid was assisting Elizabeth with her toilette when she heard a quiet knock on the door. She sighed with happiness when it was Charlotte who entered. It was their first moment of true privacy since her arrival.
“Hayes, you may go. I shall ring for you when I am ready to prepare for bed.”
“Oh Charlotte!” Elizabeth exclaimed after the maid closed the door. “This is a lovely home. How well situated you are.”
Charlotte smiled and sat next to Elizabeth on the bed. “ Our home is comfortable, and I am satisfied with my life here, though I have dearly missed you and news from home.”
“I missed you as well—most fervently. I was so lonely at home without you or Jane. She has gone to London, did I tell you? And my mother! Charlotte, you would not believe the near constant whining and moaning since Mr Bingley and his party left Netherfield Park!” She grinned widely and let out a deep breath. “I am so grateful to be here.”
Charlotte smiled warmly in response and clasped her hand. The moment reminded Elizabeth of sitting up at night with her elder sister, Jane, in their shared room, and filled her with a sense of tranquillity she had rarely felt since the autumn.
Elizabeth and Charlotte shared some quiet time together, mostly discussing news from Meryton. Charlotte was eager to hear of her own family and catch up with all the goings on from the neighbourhood. For an all-too-brief time, Charlotte seemed happy; it was the old Charlotte that Elizabeth had known since she was a young girl, and the doubts which Elizabeth had carried with her to Kent began to dissipate.
After a time, Elizabeth asked a question which would prove to be the wrong one. “Charlotte, did you not bring Sarah Johnson to be your maid? I expected to see her. Is she placed elsewhere in the home?”
Charlotte’s demeanour changed almost instantly, the smile fading from her face as she lowered her eyes to her lap and removed her hand from Elizabeth’s grasp. She paused for a moment before she spoke, saying, “Sarah has gone back to Lucas Lodge.”
“But...I thought it was all arranged. Did your mother need her after all? Or is someone in her family ill?” Elizabeth enquired further. Mrs Bennet and Lady Lucas were close. She was surprised she had not heard of Sarah’s return, though she had been carefully avoiding her mother for weeks.
“No, nothing of that nature. I believe her family is all in good health.” Charlotte hesitated again, then said very carefully, “I have learnt that Lady Catherine prefers to select the servants for the parsonage. Something about the relative proximity to the estate and her knowledge of the area.”
“So, you sent her back? So soon?” Elizabeth asked.
Charlotte waved her hand as if to brush away the small inconvenience, followed by a tight shake of her head and a frown that made it plain she had no wish to continue speaking of Sarah. Elizabeth was not convinced it was a matter to be dismissed but decided not to press her.
“Oh!” Elizabeth exclaimed, happy to introduce a subject that would countenance no confusion. “I nearly forgot.” She made her way to her trunk and pulled out a small bundle of letters tied with a lavender ribbon. “Your mother asked me to carry these to you. I believe you will find one from each member of your family. I am certain—”
Charlotte quickly reached for the letters, cutting off Elizabeth’s words, “Oh, I am so very eager to hear from home and appreciate you taking the trouble to bring them to me.” She looked at the letters almost hungrily, shuffling through them to see who had written, her eyes dancing with joy.
How very odd! Charlotte’s delight surprised Elizabeth. Surely it could not have been many days since her last correspondence from home, yet Charlotte had grabbed the missives out of her hand in a peculiar desperation. “It was no trouble, I assure you.” She gave Charlotte’s shoulder a friendly squeeze.
Charlotte rose from the bed, distracted and clutching the small bundle of letters. She smiled. “I shall leave you to your book. Do not distress yourself over burning the candle too long. Lady Catherine supplied beeswax candles for your use as I explained to her that you were a great reader. As you might imagine, she wished to spare you the excessive smoke of the tallow candles. Sleep well.”
Charlotte left Elizabeth’s room feeling bolstered by the strength of their friendship and ties to their past. She was comforted by a familiar face and a reminder of her previous existence. She had hoped seeing Elizabeth in person would relieve some of her bitterness, and it had.
It was very agreeable to stay up late talking to her friend, and she imagined the six-week visit might not be as bothersome as she had previously assumed. It lifted her spirits to consider the visit a much-needed respite.
Even Mr Collins had been quieter that evening and performed his duties with more restraint. He allowed the ladies to dominate the conversation at the dinner table, which was exceedingly unlike him. Of course, he said much, but he was less dictatorial.
And the letters from home! Charlotte was beaming as she approached the door to her chamber. Perchance this visit would be just what she needed to be more accepting of her new life! Once her correspondence was safely tucked into the locked drawer of her dressing table, Charlotte rang for Hayes.
“Come,” Charlotte responded to the knock on her door.
Hayes helped her quickly prepare for bed. Once dismissed, the maid turned to tell her, “The master asked that I remind you that today is Tuesday, ma’am.”
Charlotte attempted to keep a straight face while her stomach dropped, her nascent good spirits immediately gone. “ Yes, I daresay it is. That will be all for tonight then. Thank you.”
Perhaps all would not be well—it seemed her life would be just as it had been before Elizabeth arrived.
Elizabeth woke at sunrise, as was her habit, eager to begin exploring the park on her first morning in Kent. After a day confined to a carriage, it was invigorating to move her feet and feel the cold morning wind on her cheeks. While she needed her pelisse, Elizabeth was pleased to see signs of spring’s near arrival. The ground was hard and the branches bare, but tiny hints of new growth appeared all around her.
Elizabeth remained near the parsonage. Her breath formed a continuous cloud in front of her as she stretched her legs and travelled a few paths through the woods nearby. She would have ambled longer, as there were many new paths to explore, but she was disinterested in getting lost quite so soon after her arrival.
Elizabeth pushed open the breakfast room door with energy, rosy cheeked from the recent exercise. She was famished.
It was a surprise to find her cousin and Charlotte still breaking their fast. “What a beautiful morning!” she greeted them with a fervency not mirrored by her hosts, and she found herself stopping short of the table, looking back and forth between the couple.
Charlotte did not look up from her plate as she softly greeted her guest. Mr Collins’ stern countenance provided some warning to the strange tension in the air. Elizabeth gently took a seat and waited for a clue that might explain her reception .
Mr Collins broke the silence, “Cousin, as you know, I am responsible for your welfare while you are in Kent. Your father has entrusted me with your safety. Mrs Collins was unaware of your plans to take a walk this morning, as was I.” His eyebrows gathered, and he shot a quick glare at Charlotte, who simply nodded and averted her eyes. He continued his speech, “I shall expect to be in full knowledge of your whereabouts while you are our guest. I daresay, that should be an easy enough task, should it not?”
Elizabeth darted her eyes to Charlotte for some guidance on how to reply and found her friend pushing food around on her plate. Charlotte’s eyes were glazed over with a nothingness she had not seen there before. Aware that her natural teasing would not do this morning, Elizabeth hesitantly began, “As you wish, Mr Collins. I shall inform you or Charlotte when I plan to walk out in the future.”
He looked smugly pleased with his efforts. “Thank you.” He left the room with a satisfied grin and one last look to Charlotte, which Elizabeth perceived to be a warning of some sort.
Once he was gone, Charlotte invited Elizabeth to help herself to some food and join her in the back parlour when she had finished. Elizabeth ate quickly, eager to see what could be done to ease her cousin’s frustration.
When Elizabeth joined her, Charlotte was already working on a basket of mending. Elizabeth offered to help and settled in beside her friend.
The first garment Elizabeth pulled out of the basket was a shirt belonging to her cousin. It was large and the seams frayed. A slight yellowing could be seen around the neck and the underarms. Elizabeth attempted not to grimace while she quickly exchanged the shirt for a pair of stockings .
Once she had begun working, she said, “Charlotte, I am sorry if I have caused any trouble for you this morning.”
Charlotte kept a staid expression on her face, but said nothing, merely continuing to stitch evenly and steadily. After a few awkward moments of silence, Elizabeth tried again. “You know I love to walk in the mornings. I shall be certain to tell you or someone in the household when I plan to ramble about.”
“Thank you,” Charlotte said, still not raising her eyes from her work.
“As you know, I have always been allowed to walk out in the mornings when at home. Shall I leave a note each morning? Or, perhaps, I can inform your cook if you are not yet awake?”
“Either would suffice.” Charlotte sighed and dropped the shirt she was mending to her lap, evidently wishing an end to the conversation. “You need not alter your personal habits on my account. I am certain I cannot keep you from your morning rambles, and I will not; but please do stop looking at me that way. All is well, Eliza.”
It certainly did not seem as if all were well, but Elizabeth could sense that the conversation was quite finished.
In her eagerness to leave Longbourn, Elizabeth had given very little thought to her concerns for Charlotte. While she and Charlotte had rarely sent letters to one another in the past due to their close proximity, she had instinctively known something was remarkably altered. Even knowing this, her frustrations with her mother had outweighed her concerns.
Elizabeth was blamed for not accepting Mr Collins, and Jane had taken herself off to London to avoid her mother’s disquiet over her failure to secure the affections of Mr Bingley. Elizabeth had been happy for her sister but had not fully comprehended how miserable her home would become in Jane’s absence. And so, she had requested—nay, begged—Charlotte to invite her to Kent.
Elizabeth was not designed to be unhappy. Even if the air in the parsonage felt stifling with peculiar tension, and even if Charlotte was clearly not herself, Elizabeth made every effort over the next week to be an easy guest, providing stories from home and being helpful to her hosts.
She assisted Charlotte with the mending in the mornings, commented regularly on Mr Collins’s garden preparations when they were at the table, but more often than not, she generally gave a wide berth to both Collinses.
It appeared they too gave each other much space. Mr Collins spent his days in his garden or monitoring those who travelled Hunsford Lane from his study, while Charlotte spent much of her time in the back parlour, which faced neither the lane nor the garden. Elizabeth surmised this was by design as there was a very fine morning room at the front of the house that went wholly unused.
Charlotte was not swayed to cheerfulness by Elizabeth’s humour as she had been in the past, and as the first week of her visit wore on, Elizabeth found herself adopting a sedate attitude, attempting to emulate her sister, Jane, who was always tranquil and demure. Surely her efforts at false serenity would allow her visit to pass peaceably. Elizabeth hoped they would. Efforts to placate her mother’s histrionics were often successful when she adopted the appearance of quiet submission.
The finest morning that week was the one during which Charlotte visited Rosings Park to practise on the pianoforte in the servants’ wing. During those glorious hours, Elizabeth read, relaxed, and took an unreported and unsupervised turn about the garden.
Beyond that glorious morning, Elizabeth had continued her early rambles in accordance with her cousin’s strictures, informing the cook, Mrs Montgomery, of her plans before she went. She enjoyed the plump and petite woman and looked forward to their friendly early morning conversations about the neighbourhood gossip and, of course, anything related to Mr Collins.
Discovering Mr Collins’s love of onions was a surprise, but it did rather explain his pungent odour. Elizabeth humoured herself by composing little witticisms about the irony that a man who smelt so much like an onion should have so few layers. Like the offensive vegetable, he did seem to leave all in his purview red-eyed and weeping. Sadly, there was no one who desired her humorous observations. Dreadful indeed to have such clever thoughts and no one to share them with! Elizabeth thought to herself with a small smile.
The later part of the week trapped everyone indoors due to unrelenting rain. Mr Collins was particularly glum to be deprived of his daily walks to the nearby estate, and their regular invitation to dine at Rosings Park for Sunday dinner was not dispatched. It was hard to combat Elizabeth’s restlessness, but she was not distraught. A change of scenery would come when the weather improved. I suppose I shall have to wait another week to meet the grand Lady Catherine.