Chapter VIII
‘My dear, it will not be acceptable to Lady Catherine for Elizabeth to be absent without good reason.’ Mr Collins was frantically dusting the top of his hat as Charlotte fixed her bonnet in the hall, readying to leave.
‘There is a good reason, William. She is unwell. She has been confined to her bed with a headache all afternoon and is clearly in a great deal of pain.’
‘Being in pain is no good reason not to attend tea, my dear, when the tea is offered by so high an acquaintance. A headache may be concealed, with good skill and a willing heart—’
‘William. Elizabeth is not attending, and that is an end to it. Lady Catherine may glower, but I can withstand that, and so can you.’
Mr Collins knew when he was defeated but was grudging indeed to set off to Rosings without a full party and with a dusty hat.
It was therefore a smaller gathering at tea than they had been used to these last few weeks. Lady Catherine, of course, was at the helm, but in absentia were Elizabeth, Anne de Bourgh (who was also feeling unwell) and, surprisingly, Mr Darcy whose non-appearance was the subject of some speculation.
Mr Collins sat himself next to Lady Catherine, attending her closely, while Maria sat with Anne’s companion, Mrs Jenkinson. As Figgis was pouring tea for them all, Colonel Fitzwilliam opened the doors and entered. Spying a seat next to Charlotte, he sat himself next to her.
‘Ah, one of my nephews has deigned to attend, I see. Pray, where is Darcy? I am sure you must know,’ inquired Lady Catherine, with a frown.
‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I do not know. Perhaps some urgent business came up, or he has been set upon by the local beasts in the woods,’ replied Fitzwilliam, walking to the drinks table and pouring himself something.
Charlotte grinned, but Lady Catherine did not laugh.
‘I do not find the possibility of serious injury to be an opportunity for humour, Fitzwilliam. I enjoy a joke more than anyone, but there is a time and a place for levity, and it is not over oolong.’ She took a sip and added, ‘And there are no beasts in my woods – my keeper is fastidious about such things.’
‘You are quite right.’ The colonel smiled tolerantly. ‘I am sure Darcy will return soon.’
This satisfied Lady Catherine enough for her to turn back to Mr Collins, and Colonel Fitzwilliam sat down, holding his brandy, then shifted in his seat so that he could look at Charlotte more easily.
The invitation to tea had come at rather the last minute, and Charlotte had not had time to arrange herself as fully as she usually did when going to Rosings.
She wore the only suitable dress she had that was clean, which was very simply made, sage green with short sleeves.
Instead of a chemisette, she had worn a cream shawl – which, in the warmth of the room, now lay folded beside her.
Her hair was simple – it was naturally straight, and she hadn’t had time to curl it, so it was pulled loosely back into a tuft with a few front strands falling loose.
Before they left, Mr Collins had not thought she looked ready for the occasion, but she had maintained that her appearance was adequate.
Now, Charlotte felt she had made the right decision – Lady Catherine had not taken any notice of her, and she felt comforted by that.
‘What has your day held, Colonel?’ she asked, facing Fitzwilliam. She felt reassured to be sitting with him: they talked easily with one another, with no agenda or pretence. She had never found such company with a man before and appreciated it.
‘Nothing of special note,’ replied Fitzwilliam.
‘I spent the morning corresponding with my officers and trying to learn how things fare in Spain. I have a good friend in London who kindly writes with any relevant news he finds in The Times. It is delayed, of course, but sometimes quicker than the direct correspondence I might receive from the front.’
‘And how do things fare? If you can explain in a way I might understand.’
‘From our acquaintance thus far, Mrs Collins, I know I need not simplify. But, for the sake of a pleasant conversation, I will say only that things are improving, and we have reason to be hopeful.’ He had plastered a tight grin on his face.
‘You need not be brief, sir. I would like to understand more, if you are willing to tell me. You can be explicit.’
The colonel took a deep breath. ‘Why then – it is true that things are better. The deadlock we have had for so long has been broken, thanks to Wellington. In January, he laid siege to a very important city that opened up the route from Portugal. This already makes all future endeavours easier – or, possible – to attempt. My men say, “When Wellington fights, he wins,” and so far, it is true. In battle, in action, he is a marvel.’
‘Were you led by him, in – at the battle you mentioned when we first met?’
‘No.’ Fitzwilliam took a sip of his drink and paused for a moment.
‘I wish we had been. We were led by Beresford, who… He was immensely brave, but the whole thing was – a shocking mess. The worst the army has seen since the start of it all. We lost thousands, thousands of men. It was – I will not be explicit, Mrs Collins. I would not wish it on you.’ He pushed his hair away from his face roughly.
‘And you… you lost many – friends?’ Charlotte asked delicately.
Fitzwilliam’s face was hardened, very different from his usual easy countenance.
‘Yes. Many.’ He took another large sip. ‘One in particular. But also, many. I must – find a place to put it. I cannot have them at the forefront of my thoughts while I am’ – he gave a bitter smile – ‘sipping tea with my aunt or making morning visits. I would be rough company indeed.’
‘It is easier when you are sipping brandy, perhaps?’ Charlotte said. She had not meant it as a jibe, but it had an effect on him.
‘Yes, I – excuse me.’ He rose and walked away.
She thought she had truly offended him and that he would leave the room. But just as she was panicking, he returned, having left his glass on the table in the corner.
‘You observe me well, Mrs Collins.’
‘I did not mean—’
‘No, I know, but it is a concern of mine. I used to drink a good deal more, and in the months after our – after Albuera, I leant on it very heavily indeed. I was not in good shape and not fit for company. I should be more careful now and not slip back into…’
Charlotte looked at his downcast eyes, how his hand twitched a little with nothing to occupy it.
‘I cannot know what you have endured, sir. But from the little you have said, it is only natural that you would need something in the way of comfort.’
He looked up and met her eyes, which looked on him with compassion.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘But that comfort, in the end, has not been good for me; until recently, under its influence, I was not a pleasure to others or to myself.’
‘I see. What brought on a change?’
‘Darcy.’ Fitzwilliam raised a smile and straightened himself subconsciously.
‘He has known me since infancy and recognised the poor state I was in. He had seen that path trodden by another member of his family and knew it could not be tolerated. He was strict with me, even brutal, and it was the best thing anyone has ever done for me.’
Charlotte nodded. ‘It is a very good thing, to have such friends – friends who care enough to be harsh.’
‘It is. Have you such a friend? Is Miss Bennet such a one?’
Charlotte thought for a moment of how Elizabeth had railed at her for her accepting Mr Collins. Was that Elizabeth showing care for her character, protection of her future? She supposed it was. ‘Yes. She is.’
‘Then we are both blessed. I walked with Miss Bennet this afternoon in fact.’
Charlotte sensed that he wished to change the subject and also noted an odd pang of jealousy within her. ‘Oh. Was she well?’ asked Charlotte. ‘She has had a headache since she returned.’
The colonel looked concerned. ‘Well, yes, she seemed a little out of sorts when I left her. I am sorry it is worse.’
Charlotte waited for him to ask more about Elizabeth, but he did not.
A moment later, the front door was heard opening and shutting, and loud footsteps clattered in the hall
‘Is that you, Darcy?’ called out Lady Catherine. ‘Pray, come and join us; you are very late indeed.’
There was no immediate response to this; the footsteps had quietened.
‘DARCY!’ repeated Lady Catherine, and then to the room, ‘I am sure it is him.’
The door to the drawing room opened, and Mr Darcy walked just two steps in and stopped.
His face was a little red and his mouth drawn into a hard line.
His fidgeting body ached to leave – that was clear.
One of his legs was hardly in the room. ‘Good evening to you all. Please forgive me, but I cannot stay. I have pressing business to attend to.’
‘In the evening?’ enquired his aunt, sceptical.
‘Yes,’ Darcy replied tersely, before leaving the room and slamming the door.
Lady Catherine was shocked, and Mr Collins was directly on hand to mollify and comfort her – a job he had been born to do.
Charlotte turned to Fitzwilliam enquiringly. ‘Have you any notion as to why he is in such an ill humour?’
He looked as surprised as she. ‘I truly do not. My cousin is rather secretive at times – or, I should say, he enjoys his privacy, and so it has been on this visit. I will try to get the truth of it later tonight.’
The pair were now sitting very comfortably together. It was fortunate that all other parties in the room were so well settled in their pairings that there was, for once, no other demand on their time, no one pulling them away.
‘I know nothing of your family, besides Mr Darcy and Lady Catherine. Would you tell me about them?’
‘I will not,’ replied Fitzwilliam playfully, kindly. ‘I have talked enough of myself. I would like to know more of you. I have heard about you from Miss Bennet, who has said very fond things about you but few specifics.’
‘Well, I hardly have a career to regale you with, sir! I have not travelled or written a thesis or committed a crime. What would you have me tell you?’
Fitzwilliam laughed a little but then thought for a moment. ‘If your time were completely your own, and money no object, what would you spend your life doing?’
‘You mean, if I were not…’ She glanced at Mr Collins briefly.
‘Yes,’ said Fitzwilliam. ‘If you were free to do as you wished, unencumbered.’
Charlotte took his question seriously and gave it her consideration.
‘I fear my answer will disappoint you. With so much freedom, I think I ought to say I would travel the world, discovering new lands and having grand adventures, or that I would ride an elephant or be an actress on the stage or… swim the ocean!’
‘You don’t want to ride an elephant?’ asked Colonel Fitzwilliam, his face a mask of seriousness. ‘You shock me.’
Charlotte laughed. ‘Perhaps I do not know enough of the world, to make such a choice, in an informed way.’
‘I have seen a little of the world and of new lands, Mrs Collins, and I assure you, I feel no better informed.’
‘Well then, I will tell you. I would read as many new books as could be found. I would have the most splendid garden and spend hours cultivating more flowers and fewer vegetables. I would… I would wear looser dresses, and I would not curl my hair, even for a ball. I would see my friends whenever I wished, and carriage journeys would cost me nothing and take no time at all. I would walk for hours. I would talk freely, but only when I wanted to, with a companion who loved to walk and read and laugh, and who matched me in temperament and taste and humour. I would run more and dance less!’
She was alight as she spoke, her eyes bright and animated, looking here and there, picturing what she described.
Then she turned her eyes on him squarely and said, ‘I would choose a peaceful life, sir. That would be freedom to me.’
He was staring at her intensely. ‘And what of passion?’
She frowned at him rather sharply. ‘Why, that is part of it all,’ she said, as if it should be obvious.
‘To find passion in all those things, and passion with another. I have never agreed with the stories that say you can have either true love or calm waters, that real love must be turbulent. I do not want to believe that is true. And I know that the other side is certainly not true. A life without passion is not a peaceful one.’
‘Your life is not… peaceful now?’
She looked away from him, to her hands that she clutched together on her lap. ‘No, sir. I am not at peace.’
‘What are you both talking of?’ Lady Catherine’s voice came shrill from across the room. ‘It appears you are having a lively conversation, and I must have some part in it.’
Sighing, Colonel Fitzwilliam replied, ‘We are talking of riding elephants, Aunt. Have you the inclination?’
‘Oh. No. I have seen one, you know, last year, at Covent Garden. It was not as large as I had been led to believe.’
She continued, and the whole party was expected to listen. The evening drew to a close not long after, and Colonel Fitzwilliam accompanied the Hunsford group to the carriage.
Mr Collins was first to say farewell, while Maria and Charlotte settled themselves in their seats. ‘Please convey once again to your aunt our deepest gratitude for yet another wonderful evening in her company.’
‘I shall, sir, and you are most welcome,’ said Fitzwilliam. ‘I hope I will see you again before I leave; I will endeavour to.’
‘Oh! Your absence will be felt greatly by all, Colonel,’ replied Mr Collins, dripping in sycophancy.
He would have gone on further if Charlotte, seated next to the carriage door, had not interrupted with, ‘Well then, we hope to see you, and if we do not, we wish you well.’
‘Indeed, Mrs Collins.’ His gaze swept over the group just before their departure, and landed on Charlotte. His eyes remained there as the horses began to move, and as he uttered, over the sound of the wheels turning, ‘I wish you peace.’