Chapter 18 #2
Charlotte was sitting in the drawing room, pretending to work on her sewing. Her sister, Maria, was next to her, working on adding a new ribbon to her favorite gown and chattering away as though the last twenty-four hours hadn’t completely flipped Charlotte’s life upside down.
She wished the cook needed her help for dinner.
She wished the maid needed help with her work.
She wished the pigs had escaped their pen and got into the garden which was now dead and empty for the winter.
In short, she wished there were some task, big or small, that she could do that would distract her from her own thoughts.
But there was nothing.
Instead, her mind kept going back to the moment when Mr. Collins took his leave this morning. He had always been an odd mixture of arrogance and humility, but this morning he proved he could just as easily mix other opposing emotions. He had seemed both resentful and apologetic.
Charlotte believed that beneath it all, Mr. Collins was at heart a good man.
He genuinely wished to be a good clergyman, and his greatest joy was assisting others, though he was not always as adept at doing so as he liked to think.
Because of this, she could well believe that he genuinely regretted being part of Mr. Wickham’s scheme.
He would not say, nor would anyone else, who the lady was who had been attacked.
Nor would he say why that could possibly have anything to do with his jealousy.
For that Charlotte was grateful. She wished she knew who to pity, but she was quite certain that, whoever the lady was, she was quite happy to have it all covered up.
Despite his apologies, he could not but look upon Charlotte resentfully, as if she were the cause of his downfall.
Perhaps she was. Perhaps he was right to resent her.
She had promised to marry him, and while they had not yet exchanged the marriage vows, it was still wrong of her to allow another man to claim her attention and even her affection.
Even so, Charlotte was glad to see him go. She now knew that she could never have been happy married to such a man. She was better off growing old in her father’s house and then in her brother’s house. She could be useful by doing so, and that was all she had ever really expected out of life.
Her reverie was interrupted by the maid announcing that Colonel Fitzwilliam had arrived.
Charlotte’s head had never moved more swiftly than when she jerked her gaze to the doorway to see him. His face was serious, and he seemed a bit nervous.
She dared not hope, but she could not silence the tiny voice in her ear that whispered that perhaps he was here to profess his feelings for her. Perhaps, perhaps he might just be here to propose to her now that she was no longer engaged.
When their eyes met, his nervousness seemed to fade a little, and he stood up just a tiny bit straighter. “Miss Lucas, I wonder if I might have a private word with you. Perhaps a walk in the garden would be pleasant.”
“Of course,” she said, ignoring Maria’s curious gaze. “Let me fetch my cloak.”
As she passed him in the doorway, he took that moment to brush her hand with his fingers. The warmth that filled her from that little touch assured her that, though she did not know what the future held, his affection for her was unchanged.
Within moments, Charlotte had put on her cloak, and she headed outside with Colonel Fitzwilliam.
As they began strolling, she said, “What did you wish to discuss, Colonel?”
“Our future,” he answered.
“Do we have a future?” she asked. “I am a disgraced lady whose engagement recently ended, and you, if I remember correctly, are the poor second son of an earl. What future could there be?”
“That is what I would like to find out,” he said.
“Charlotte, you know how I feel about you, but feelings alone do not create the stability necessary to make a family. What I would like to know is if it is even possible for us to compromise on our expectations enough to be able to find happiness with each other.”
As he had said, Charlotte did know how the colonel felt about her, just as she was certain he knew how she felt in return. The words had never been spoken, but the connection between them was so real, so obvious, that it could not be denied.
“As for myself, all I ask for is a comfortable home,” she said. “I would rather have a modest home of my own with only two or three servants than all my father’s wealth in a home that was not my own.”
She saw him nod out of the corner of her eye.
“I suspected as much, and if it was only you and I to consider, I would be on my knees at this very moment begging you to marry me. My concern is our future children. Can we raise children, educate children, with only the two or three servants you mentioned?”
“It is something I would be willing to try,” said Charlotte, “but only if I had a husband who was willing to help and support me. I would not wish to attempt it if my husband was never at home because he was always at his club or at parties.”
Though she did not say it aloud, the implication was there that she also would not wish for a husband to squander their income attempting to match the lifestyle of his wealthier friends.
Admitting even this much hurt her. He was so close to proposing marriage, but when she admitted she would not want to live the life he could give her unless he was willing to change his entire approach to living, she felt as if she was already telling him no.
Even so, she knew it had to be said. No matter how much she loved Colonel Fitzwilliam, no matter how much he loved her, their future happiness and their future children depended on their ability to be moderate in their wants.
“May I ask how much your dowry is?” he asked.
“Four thousand pounds,” she said.
“That is more than I expected,” he answered, musingly.
“When I was younger, before my father became a knight, I helped out in his shop frequently. He often joked that he made much more money when I was there than when I was not. I do not know if it is true, but because of this, he has set aside a larger dowry for me than for my younger sister.”
There was silence between them as Colonel Fitzwilliam pondered over all she had said.
Eventually, he said, “I believe it would be wise to have a sort of a trial. I will go back to London for six months. During that time, I shall attempt to live on just fifty pounds per quarter. This will give me experience and understanding as to exactly what I would need to do to adjust to a more frugal lifestyle. If I find I can do so while not making either myself or my family unhappy, I will return and will propose to you, assuming you are still available. What do you think?”
Charlotte was both pleased and terrified at such a suggestion. She was pleased that he wished to marry her so much that he would attempt to change his entire life. She was also pleased that he was not willing to make himself miserable to do so.
Yet, the thought that they must wait six months before they could even have any sort of understanding between them filled her with fear.
What if he found someone else in the interim, someone who had the fortune she lacked?
What if he discovered that he simply was not happy with frugality?
What if the impossible happened and someone proposed to her?
Should she give up a guaranteed proposal for the hope of one in the future?
“I think this plan is reasonable, though fraught with risks,” said Charlotte. “A great many things can happen in six months.”
“Let us add a pact then,” he said. “If you receive a proposal in those six months, write to me and tell me. Give me a chance to change your mind if I feel I can.”
“I will, if you will also make a promise,” she said. “If you find that you have the opportunity or inclination to marry someone else, please let me know somehow, so that I will not be waiting for something that will never happen.”
The colonel stopped moving and turned toward her.
Gently, he grasped her arm and turned her to face him.
There was fire and steel in his eyes as he said firmly, “That will not happen. There is no one in the world who could take your place, and the only way I would ever let you go was if I was convinced you were better off without me.”
“Even so, I would still ask for your promise,” she said with matching steel in her voice.
He lifted her gloved hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “I promise,” he said.
They walked for another half hour discussing their hopes and fears for their future. When he left and Charlotte went back inside, her heart felt both light as a feather, and as heavy as a boulder with the odd combination of hope and fear that filled her.