Chapter II
It was still early in the morning, not quite light, when Charlotte’s trunk was loaded onto the carriage that waited in the drive of Hunsford Parsonage.
Mr Collins fretted around, checking the wheels, tapping the doors, and then, realising he had little input into the workings of the vehicle, he went back into the house and brought out an extra shawl for Charlotte, which was an unnecessary but kind gesture.
He wore a look of great concern, while she wore one of cheerful determination.
She knew that if she showed even a hint of apprehension about the plan, he would falter, so she showed even more confidence than she felt.
‘I do not like the scheme, Charlotte. What if you are set upon by highwaymen? Mr Darcy’s carriage is extremely provocative in that regard.’
‘What have I to offer highwayman, my dear? They should find themselves terribly disappointed.’
‘It is no laughing matter. The highways are safer than they were, but it is by no means guaranteed that you will find safe passage – the Great Dover Road used to be notorious!’
‘William, I shall be at Lucas Lodge by this afternoon, and from there onwards, I will be accompanied by Alice.’
‘You will allow me to remain apprehensive; Alice will be a comfort but hardly a protector. Perhaps I should, after all, go with you.’ He glanced towards the house, wringing his hands.
After Elizabeth’s letter had been received, a decision had had to be reached: whether the Collinses should attend the wedding and stay for a fortnight after, or not. Their respective positions seemed to oppose one another.
In the dilemma this presented, Charlotte saw a chance for something she now realised she had longed for: some time alone – some time apart.
So, she had set herself to making it happen.
Instead of allaying her husband’s fears about Lady Catherine, she concurred with them.
The only sensible option, she argued, was for Collins to remain.
Meanwhile, she pointed out the courtesy due to Mr Darcy, as her ladyship’s nephew; was it not sensible to retain his favour, thinking ahead to a future where he and his aunt would certainly be reunited?
The only sensible option, she argued, was for her to go.
Charlotte was calculating. She felt some guilt about that, but not an abundance: being clever about her life had been a necessity so far, and her scheming was, after all, what had brought her and Collins together. Was it so bad to use the same tools to give her some time away from him?
There were several reasons why Collins did not want to come, even setting aside his patron’s disapproval; he did not feel at ease with Elizabeth Bennet or her family, and he suffered with sickness on long journeys.
None of it appealed to him. And yet Charlotte knew that all those issues would have been nothing to him, had she asked him to come with her.
He would have done so in an instant. But she did not ask him.
As the practicalities of such a long journey might yet have swayed the decision, Charlotte used all the administrative powers she had to make the journey appear achievable, writing promptly to her mother, and to Elizabeth, to settle the finer details of the journey.
To Elizabeth, she did not state clearly that she would attend alone, preferring to explain Collins’s position in person and not wishing to invite any questions.
In due course, all was arranged: Darcy would send a carriage for her (indeed, for both the Collinses, as was presumed by he and Elizabeth), and Charlotte would travel to Derbyshire via her family home in Hertfordshire, and then, accompanied by Alice, her old maid from Lucas Lodge, she would travel on to Pemberley.
It was a substantial undertaking, and Charlotte had needed to stay very firm in her convictions to persuade all involved that she could do it. But she could. And she would.
Just as she was about to take her leave of Mr Collins, another carriage was heard approaching.
Turning, she saw a small gig rounding the corner of the drive.
It settled not far from where they stood, and with some help from the coachman, the figure of Colonel Fitzwilliam descended from the carriage and stood in front of them.
He wore a long green coat and top hat and leant on a walking stick.
He appeared in good spirits and was looking expectantly at them and at the larger carriage in front of him.
Neither party had seen the other for many weeks, and much had transpired in the interval; some degree of awkwardness was to be expected – though perhaps not quite so much as presently prevailed.
Mr Collins, to hide his confusion, launched immediately into formalities, bowing low. ‘Colonel Fitzwilliam! An unexpected honour. How may we help you at such an early hour?’
Fitzwilliam was thrown by the question. ‘Unexpected? But—’ He sensed something had gone amiss. ‘You are travelling to Pemberley, I think? I have not misremembered the day? The presence of the chaise suggests I have not.’
‘This carriage goes to Pemberley, yes,’ answered Charlotte uncertainly.
‘And I am to share it with you both. Were you unaware of the scheme? Darcy told me that he was sending a carriage for the Collinses and that I should travel with you, as we make the same journey.’ He looked at their blank faces.
‘I see that you were unaware. That, I am afraid, is an oversight on the part of my cousin. I thought he had written to you.’
Charlotte recovered herself a little, seeing how uncomfortable he was, saying, ‘It is quite possible he has, sir. The scheme is all so lately made that the letter may have not reached us yet.’
He nodded gratefully. ‘So… I may join you?’ asked the colonel tentatively, reading uncertainty on their faces that he could not fully explain.
‘Forgive my hesitation, sir,’ stepped in Mr Collins, finding his voice.
He walked towards the colonel somewhat deferentially, glancing between him and Charlotte.
‘But the facts are a little more complicated than you have them. I am not attending the’ – he cleared his throat – ‘happy occasion. My wife has made plans to travel alone and visit her family on the way. I have been a little uneasy on account of the great distance, but my wife has assured me she will be quite safe.’
Colonel Fitzwilliam raised his eyebrows. ‘Indeed,’ he replied. The idea was singular, but then he had come to expect that from Mrs Collins.
Mr Collins looked enquiringly at Colonel Fitzwilliam. ‘Can I take it, from your presence, that Lady Catherine has softened in her attitude towards the match? She is apprised of your attendance?’
Fitzwilliam paused before replying, considering how honest to be. ‘My aunt is aware.’
Mr Collins looked delighted.
‘She does not condone it.’
Mr Collins looked deflated. ‘Then, I am once again conflicted. Knowing that she has been abandoned by you,’ said Collins, eyeing Fitzwilliam as he would an unfortunate sinner, ‘makes me feel I must persist in my conviction to remain. Lady Catherine must have one ally in this matter, I feel.’ He breathed a sigh and looked at Charlotte.
‘But, for you to travel…’ Here, Mr Collins was rather stuck, trapped between his wish for his wife’s safety and his desire for her not to be in close proximity with a soldier for a lengthy period.
‘If I may, Mr Collins,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam, ‘it sounds as if my presence might be a benefit to you both. You may remain here, strong in your convictions, and Mrs Collins will find safe passage with me; your fears for her will be allayed.’
If Colonel Fitzwilliam had any thoughts of spending a prolonged amount of time in a small space with Charlotte, he made a gallant attempt to push them to the back of his mind. He genuinely wished to be of help, although to Charlotte rather than to her husband.
Mr Collins looked doubtful. ‘I confess it seems rather irregular for you to travel together. What should Lady Catherine say? I have some misgivings, naturally, albeit—’
‘I will offer my own thoughts on the matter, if I may,’ Charlotte said archly.
She was truly thrown by this new development.
She had spent two weeks manufacturing this opportunity for independence, and the appearance of a companion, albeit one she liked a great deal, was not immediately welcome – even if a flutter of excitement passed through her at the prospect.
But setting that aside, the situation was what it was, and there was only one logical conclusion.
‘Colonel Fitzwilliam, you have been expecting to travel today, and in this carriage. Therefore, it would be insupportable to ask you to delay or find an alternative route, particularly given your condition.’
She then turned to her husband and took his hands. ‘My dear, it is an unusual circumstance, but it solves a problem, does it not? I will not be alone, should anything happen.’
Mr Collins still looked concerned, and she added, suspecting where his discomfort lay, ‘And this afternoon, I shall be with my family, and then accompanied by Alice for the remainder.’
This thought cheered him very little, but he felt that he could not object, with everyone standing there in the cold and the horses ready to leave.
As Colonel Fitzwilliam’s trunk was loaded onto the carriage, Charlotte embraced her husband, who needed more reassurance than she, and bid him farewell, kissing him lightly on the lips. He did not want to part with her, and his concerned expression did not ease.
He studied his wife, who had a vigour about her this morning, undimmed by the alteration to her plans. Her eyes sparkled, and there was a good colour to her face, no hesitation in her movements. Who was this adventurer he had married, thought Collins, in wonder and in worry.
Charlotte let go of her husband’s hand, turned to the door of the carriage and saw Colonel Fitzwilliam’s hand held out, waiting to help her up. She ignored it, bracing her hand on the door instead, and pulling herself inside. She took a seat opposite the colonel and looked out at her husband.
Her heart felt a pull, seeing how lost he looked. But so had she been. She had lost herself, she realised. Whether it was in the last month or the last year, something had gone amiss.
And as she rode out of Hunsford, out of Kent and onto the long road north, she felt some hope that she might find it again.