Chapter XIII
Charlotte pressed her head to the floor in her bedroom, lifting the blankets to peer under the bed. Nothing. She had checked every drawer, every bag and pocket, though she knew that was silly. She knew where she had left it; it simply wasn’t there.
She hurriedly walked downstairs again and entered her sitting room. Flicking through her poetry books again, she made a sound of exasperation, loud enough that Mr Collins poked his head around the door, enquiring, ‘Are you well, my dear?’
‘Oh, I have lost something, but it is not of great import.’
‘My dear, why did you not say? What is it?’
‘Just a… poem that I have written. It is nothing.’
‘You have written a poem? You are uniformly charming. It must certainly be found – Brooke!’ he called with urgency.
But Brooke could not reply, for at that moment, the bell for the door sounded.
Mr and Mrs Collins looked at one another and, establishing neither was expecting a visitor, quickly made their way to the drawing room, Charlotte removing her apron as she went, Collins smoothing his hair so it lay even flatter on his head.
Once seated, they immediately rose again, as Brooke entered and announced Lady Catherine de Bourgh. She came in wearing her usual expression of distaste, peering around the room, finding little to her liking.
Mr Collins practically jumped forward to greet her. ‘What an honour, Lady Catherine! Tea, please, Brooke. Would you care to sit here, your ladyship? This is our best chair. But perhaps the light is in your eyes? This room can be dreadfully bright.’
‘It is all perfectly acceptable,’ returned Lady Catherine.
This was an honour indeed. Lady Catherine rarely visited them in their home.
‘May I enquire after Miss de Bourgh, your ladyship? I do hope you both had a pleasant time in London.’
At this, Lady Catherine looked pleased for the first time since her arrival.
‘My daughter is well – particularly well at present, Mrs Collins. But I will say no more on the subject of Anne.’ She took a sip of tea, before proceeding to say more on the subject of Anne.
‘I have reason to feel hopeful for her future, but all of us know that nothing can be guaranteed.’
‘Indeed!’ Mr Collins picked up the reins of the exchange. ‘Miss Anne de Bourgh has long been considered one of the brightest stars in the firmament of greater Kent, but if she should see fit to shine that light elsewhere, we should all—’
‘I understand from my nephew, Mr Darcy,’ Lady Catherine cut in, ‘that Mr Bennet is not in good health. Has this intelligence reached you, Mrs Collins?’
‘Indeed. I did not know that it was widely known. Eliza told me in a letter.’
Lady Catherine said sharply, ‘It is not widely known. I have been told privately by my nephew about his father-in-law. I did not hear it from a village gossip.’
Mr Collins leapt in. ‘Of course, and how pleasing it is to know that you are on good terms once more with your nephew. The Darcys were gracious, indeed, in hosting my wife, and with your permission only, it will be a pleasure to welcome them back into our acquaintance. But should you say the word, we would strike them from our lips and never speak of them again.’ Collins was in fine dramatic form, emboldened by the honour of his patron’s visit.
‘You exaggerate the situation, Mr Collins. I never had any quarrel with the Darcys; I only wished they had consulted me more in their plans.’
Charlotte had to work hard to mask the incredulity she felt. Only Lady Catherine could deny entirely a fall-out so expansive that most of the Home Counties had heard of it.
‘I suppose you have considered the consequences of Mr Bennet’s ill health?’ asked Lady Catherine, posing the question more to Charlotte than to her husband.
Charlotte hesitated. She had not; her mind had been preoccupied of late. ‘I do not know yet how serious it is.’
‘I believe it is very serious,’ replied Lady Catherine quickly. ‘I believe it is getting more serious by the day.’
Charlotte suddenly felt a great weight upon her, that of having neglected her friend. While she had replied to Eliza’s last letter, she had allowed the contents of it to slip from her mind amid her own exploits. Should she have gone to visit the Bennets? Would she be welcome?
But clearly, Lady Catherine was speaking of the more material consequences: the entailment of Longbourn. ‘It seems likely that you may have a time of change coming, Mr and Mrs Collins. It behoves you both to be ready for it.’
They were silent, Mr Collins readying himself, as ordered, for such a change of circumstance, Charlotte not ready at all, thinking only of what she would be leaving behind.
Lady Catherine broke into their thoughts. ‘I have not seen the gardens of the parsonage for many years, and I am reliably informed that you have improved them, Mrs Collins. Though it is a cold day, perhaps you might grant me a tour of them?’
‘They hardly look their best in February!’ began Charlotte, but she was silenced by a look from Lady Catherine and added, ‘But, of course, it would be my pleasure.’
Mr Collins went to rise but was discouraged by Lady Catherine. ‘I will feel rather crowded on your small paths with two guides, Mr Collins. I wish to take the air with Mrs Collins alone.’
Mr Collins acquiesced but not without a good deal of curiosity.
As Charlotte followed Lady Catherine from the room, she turned and pulled a face that clearly said, I haven’t the faintest idea either!
He mirrored it instinctively, and they exchanged a brief grin – grateful for a moment of shared levity.
They had not had many, in recent months. They had not had many at all.
Just past the herb garden, Lady Catherine began.
‘You may be surprised, Mrs Collins, to learn that I consider Mr Collins to be… I care what happens to Mr Collins. I did not appoint him at random, and I had many other candidates. He is a good man, whom I trust, which is rare, and one of whom I have grown fond.’ Lady Catherine looked pained by what she was admitting and added, ‘I care about his interests.’ She spoke this statement as though to replace the previous, more sentimental one.
‘As do I,’ said Charlotte uncertainly.
‘Do you?’
Charlotte had some degree of alarm, but more than anything, she was tired of the obfuscation. ‘What is the matter, Lady Catherine?’
Lady Catherine sighed, as if Charlotte’s question disappointed her. ‘The matter,’ she returned, feeling the labour of the words, ‘is the affiliation between yourself and my nephew. It must come to an end.’
Charlotte stopped breathing. Her vision clouded, and she nearly stumbled. She reached out instinctively, and Lady Catherine allowed her to steady herself on her arm. She waited with uncharacteristic patience for a response.
Charlotte’s thoughts ran with an impossible speed. It was obvious that this was not a guess; Lady Catherine seemed sure. She would not take action in this way unless she was. Charlotte therefore asked the first thing that came to her, which was, ‘How did you know?’
‘I know more than you think I do, Mrs Collins. I see more than you think I do. I know that you are, in all other circumstances, a sensible woman. I know you are clever. I know you married someone beneath your intellect. I know your chances at marriage were low when you met him, and I know what freedoms he has afforded you. I know that there is some depth to the feelings between you and my nephew. I also know that there is no future there for you. I know you will make a wise decision.’
Charlotte blinked tears out of her eyes, tears formed from finally confronting the hopelessness of the case – and in such company, under such pressure.
After a moment, Lady Catherine encouraged them to continue walking. ‘Do I have your assurance that this situation will end?’
‘Do you have his?’
Lady Catherine was not pleased with this spark of defiance.
She snapped back, ‘I do not. I consider you, like any woman, infinitely more capable of taking charge of the situation. And it is in your interests to do so. What do you think my nephew risks in this? Nothing. He will return to war within the year. His life will continue unaffected. Were his name linked to a married woman, what harm would it do to him, a single, eligible colonel, honoured by Wellington? No harm at all. He will be unchanged.’ Lady Catherine leant in closer to Charlotte’s ear as she said, vigorously, ‘And you will be ruined. You will have no place in society, either disgraced in divorce or tortured in your marriage. It is not he but you who will pay the price for this. So, I come to you, not him, to solve it.’
Charlotte looked at her, clear-eyed, and nodded.
‘But let me be clear: I am not persuading you; I am telling you. I will not brook further harm to Mr Collins. I will not have my parish be the subject of gossip and scandal. I will not have my family brought into disrepute. I ask you, finally: do you agree to put a stop to any connection between yourself and Fitzwilliam?’
Charlotte could not help but think of a similar scene that she had heard about in detail from her dearest friend.
Lady Catherine had, only months before, paid a visit to Longbourn to entreat Miss Elizabeth Bennet to drop her connection to another one of her nephews.
Charlotte almost found it funny to think that Lady Catherine was having to repeat the same threats, the same tactics, to persuade Charlotte now.
And yet, unlike Elizabeth, Charlotte knew Lady Catherine well enough to place some trust in her motives.
Unlike Elizabeth, Charlotte had half-expected this question to arise and had prepared herself for it.
Unlike Elizabeth, her answer would be, ‘Yes.’