Chapter Introducing Mrs. Collins
Dear Charlotte,
Thank you for your letter of last month. It was a consolation to Jane and myself in such a time of turmoil. We also received the letter from your husband, which was interesting, and which gave comfort in a way unique to himself. I am inclined to think you perhaps did not have a hand in its writing.
I promised to write when there was better news, and I am glad to say – there is!
Although our measure for what is good news is set very low at the moment.
Lydia and Wickham are married. Perhaps you already know for I believe my father wrote it to Mr Collins.
It is not what anyone with sense would wish for, but given the prospect of a far worse outcome, most of us feel grateful.
We have so many to thank for the achievement of the scheme: certainly my uncle, Mr Gardiner, but chiefly, it was arranged by – you will not believe it – Mr Darcy!
He who I imagined had sighed with relief to be out of my sphere when he heard the story.
He must have paid Wickham a great deal to persuade him to marry, and he has bought him a commission in the regulars – a regiment up in Northumberland, far away by design.
The thought of Wickham sharing that uniform with the calibre of men we know to serve the army is galling.
But it is done, and I will never have the words to thank Mr Darcy.
But, my friend, you must be thinking, Eliza, do not pretend you do not know why he acted so.
Let me be truthful with you, then, and tell you that I hope so much it is for me that he acts.
But I cannot be sure of it. He certainly had his own motives; I believe he wanted to play a part in taming Wickham and lessening any further crimes he might commit.
Therefore, I cannot know that his acting in my interests was for me, or if my interests merely coincided with his own wishes.
You will already know that Jane and I would wish the whole affair to be as little known as is possible.
The marriage must be announced, because any suspicion that they remain unmarried is intolerable, and yet we still fear the looks and whispers of society that are bound to come.
When I think of that, it seems even less likely that a man such as Mr Darcy would attach himself to me.
My father is still very unwell. This matter has shocked the life from him; he walks slowly, he eats little, and his humour is much reduced. He blames himself, I know, but I have never seen someone take on such guilt and worry into their bones as he has.
Your mother and father have visited us, which was kind and timely; their show of support helps lessen our status as pariahs, as I am sure they knew. Was it at your request that they visited? That is just the sort of clever thing you would think of.
You said little of your own news in your last, which was unsurprising given its purpose to comfort, but I would be glad to know more of my friend.
Are you well? Have you spent more time at Rosings?
Do you expect any visitors during the winter months?
Even in these last weeks, I have thought of you, Charlotte.
I cling to Jane for comfort, but I miss your honest counsel – and your wit.
Perhaps I could visit you in the coming months, depending on your plans, and providing Mr Collins will allow the association.
Your affectionate friend,
Eliza