Chapter IV
‘She is here! Rouse yourself, Charlotte, she is here!’
Mr Collins was even more at sea than he usually was in the anticipation of Lady Catherine.
For her to honour them with a visit, now that they lived so far from Kent, showed an unprecedented level of condescension that Charlotte found puzzling and Mr Collins found thrilling.
They had received the letter two weeks prior, reporting her plans to visit her nephew in Derbyshire and to call on them en route.
(Fortunately, her chaise, Mr Collins assured Charlotte, had such excellent suspension as to make the journey comfortable enough.)
That great lady arrived promptly in the early afternoon, and Charlotte and Mr Collins, in their best dress, stood outside to greet her.
Unsmiling, as she always was, Lady Catherine descended from the carriage, looking up at Longbourn as if it were an old enemy come back to challenge her.
She wore an expensive-looking but heavy gown, bordered with an immaculate lace trim.
They took her into the sitting room and Mrs Brooke brought in tea.
‘Good day, Brooke,’ said Lady Catherine, exhibiting her unparalleled memory for names – a skill she quite regularly, and audibly, congratulated herself on.
‘Good afternoon, my lady.’
Lady Catherine proceeded to make herself entirely at home, dismissing Brooke with a regal wave and assuming command of the tea-tray as if it were her birthright.
The moment she had poured she took a sip of tea, though it must have still been boiling hot.
She didn’t flinch as she swallowed. Charlotte wondered, not for the first time, what this woman was made of. Literally.
She was staring at Lady Catherine’s gullet when that lady launched straight into her favourite pastime – gentle interrogation – with all the interest of a general inspecting the troops.
‘You now have a full staff, here, do you not, Mrs Collins? It appears so. Did the majority stay on when the Bennets vacated?’
‘Indeed, most of them did, which made the transition much easier. Indeed, all stayed but Mrs Hill, who has gone with Mrs Bennet. So, it worked out very well for us that Mrs Brooke was willing to come to be with us from Kent. We are very fond of her.’
Apparently satisfied, Lady Catherine pivoted to a new topic. ‘You have seen Mr Darcy and his wife, I believe?’
‘We have indeed had that great pleasure, your ladyship,’ began Collins, ‘and we hope it was apparent the extent to which myself and Mrs Collins are natural and sympathetic successors to the legacy of the estate. In time, we—’
‘When did they depart?’
Charlotte answered now. ‘About six weeks ago, Lady Catherine. Elizabeth was the last of the family to remain in the house, even while Mr Collins and I settled in. Her presence in that period was comforting for both of us – she was able to say farewell to the house, while I had company and guidance while learning the shape and running of a new household.’
‘And was it a comfort for you, Mr Collins, to have Mrs Darcy here?’ asked Lady Catherine pointedly.
Mr Collins hesitated before saying, ‘To be sure, my lady. I was pleased to be able to accommodate the wishes of both ladies.’
Lady Catherine raised an eyebrow.
My, she is in a mood to stir the pot today, thought Charlotte, but a part of her reflected guiltily on what had just been said. How had it been for her husband to have the woman who rejected his proposal stay in his house, with her more handsome, more wealthy husband? She had hardly considered it.
She inwardly berated herself, while Lady Catherine’s conversation moved on to Elizabeth’s impending child.
Charlotte was pleased to note a surprising warmth from her on the subject.
Apparently, all past resentments were forgotten in light of the promise of a Rosings grand-nephew.
And yet Charlotte had the distinct feeling that her remarks on the subject of offspring contained a subtle barb meant for her.
While Lady Catherine paused, Mr Collins tentatively ventured a question of his own. ‘If I may ask, how fares Mr Smithson? I do hope he is guiding the parish well?’
‘You may ask.’ Lady Catherine seemed to give such a simple question rather a lot of thought. ‘He is a little less fervent than he was when he first arrived, and I think it no bad thing. He is surprisingly keen on his pastoral role. He has been present at three deaths already.’
‘An impressive record, my lady,’ attempted Collins. ‘May I enquire as to who it is that has—’
‘I believe he will hold the fort very well, Mr Collins, until such time as I find the appropriate person to take the living.’
‘Oh,’ said Collins shortly. ‘I had assumed you would bestow it on him?’
Lady Catherine lifted her teacup. ‘No,’ she returned, without further explanation.
She took another sip, placed her cup down and announced, ‘I would rather not remain any longer in this sitting room, which I remember and dislike. I would welcome a turn around your grounds, if you would honour me.’
‘Gladly,’ said Charlotte.
Mr Collins also expressed approval of the plan, but in many more words.
‘You are settled well here then, Mrs Collins? You look settled,’ observed Lady Catherine, as the three of them wandered across the lawn.
Charlotte laughed out loud at her observation and could not explain the reason.
It was Mr Collins who replied, abashed at his wife’s irreverence. ‘We are happy indeed, your ladyship, and consider ourselves blessed. There is still much to learn, but I relish it, for God did not mean us to sit idly.’
‘No, indeed.’
Once Lady Catherine had seen all that the gardens had to offer and adequately passed judgement on them – the rose garden’s scent was deemed rather overpowering, and the trees in the orchard had been too sparsely planted – she stated that she would bid them farewell.
They all made their way to the drive, where Lady Catherine’s maid and carriage awaited her.
As they neared, she sighed. ‘Ah, I have dropped my glove somewhere. I believe it must have been in the rose garden, when I took my handkerchief out to sneeze; they really were pungent. Would you be so good as to retrieve it, Mr Collins? You know best what route we took.’
Once Mr Collins, who naturally leapt at the opportunity, was a safe distance away, Lady Catherine invited Charlotte to take a turn with her around the drive.
‘I am glad to have a moment alone with you, Mrs Collins. I think you have made some wise decisions recently, for the benefit of all. I wished only to commend you on your resolve.’
Charlotte found it hard to believe this was all Lady Catherine wished to say. After a moment, she was proved right, as Lady Catherine proceeded to make enquiries which were well beyond the bounds of propriety: asking whether Charlotte was with child.
Startled into answering, Charlotte replied in the negative, and Lady Catherine’s next remark was as sudden as it was baffling.
‘Go to Bath.’
Charlotte blinked. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Go to Bath. Take the waters.’
‘Why? I am not ill.’
‘I understand the waters help all kinds of maladies – rheumatism, low spirits, and difficulties of your kind. My sister took them.’
Charlotte wondered if Lady Catherine had laced her tea with gin. ‘I do not wish to go to Bath. I do not believe water can change my situation.’ She added, rather piously, ‘I do not think it is God’s will for me to be a mother.’
Lady Catherine pulled an incredulous face. ‘God’s will? You sound like your husband, Mrs Collins. I had not marked you down as being so’ – she searched for the word – ‘passive.’
‘Passive! How can I be otherwise?’ cried Charlotte. ‘You know how I fared last time.’
‘Yes, I do,’ replied Lady Catherine, calmly and unsentimentally. ‘Are there efforts in the marriage to try again?’
Charlotte shook her head in disbelief at the temerity of her companion but found herself responding. ‘Yes. Some. But it is to no avail. Therefore, I confess, we have largely ceased to try, to save ourselves the heartache—’
‘Oh, come, Mrs Collins – you are not the first wife to have difficulties getting with child.’
Charlotte had mostly restrained her anger thus far, but it began to find some momentum. ‘This is too much! You keep saying “difficulties”; I do not know whether I have difficulties – the difficulties may not be mine! What if the difficulties are his?’
Her voice grew louder as she raised a concern that had preyed on her mind since the first months of her marriage.
Lady Catherine paused, upon receiving this.
‘You may well be right. But it does not matter. It is always us who have difficulties, Mrs Collins. It is always the woman’s problem, in the end.
I know you studied your history books, so I am sure you realise that the Church upon which your husband’s former livelihood rests was founded because of a king’s desire to remarry in order that he might get himself a son.
That king tried six different wives, and five of them received the blame when male heirs were not forthcoming.
Yet what is more likely? That all those healthy women had difficulties, or that an old king, bloated, gouty and probably diseased, was not up to the task? ’
Lady Catherine fell silent for a moment, before continuing in a voice low but unflinching, edged with a pride that had weathered sorrow.
‘I wanted more children. It took five years to get Anne. I lost three before her. No more children were to be mine. My husband wanted a boy, of course. But it wasn’t to be.
He barely looked at her, at first. Too small, too sickly.
But I loved Anne fiercely, to make up for his dismissal of her.
She was not meant to survive, but I made certain she did. She was all I had. All I have.’
Lady Catherine turned to Charlotte now. ‘People think me strong. And I am. I am strong – for her.’
‘That was your path,’ said Charlotte. ‘I do not know whether I want the same.’
Lady Catherine came back to herself and said sharply, ‘Nevertheless, children will be the best way out of your current predicament.’
Charlotte looked puzzled. ‘I am not in a predicament.’
‘Oh, but you are, Mrs Collins.’ Lady Catherine breathed out of her nose, apparently exasperated by the conversation that no one was pushing to continue but herself.
‘You may think you are content for the time being, but marriages such as yours cannot sustain happily without the addition of children. I speak as a widow and a dowager. When your husband is no longer there, what are you left with?’
‘A peaceful life and a comfortable home,’ replied Charlotte, her chin jutting out in defiance.
‘No,’ replied Lady Catherine firmly. ‘You shall be left with neither. This comfortable home’ – she gestured at the house that loomed in front of them – ‘is not yours. Your previous home was not yours. The house you grew up in was not yours. This house belongs to your husband, while he lives. And if you have a son, it will belong to him, and you may live in it. If you have neither husband nor son, you have no comfortable home. You would be all alone and reliant on the charity and pity of others. Would that afford you a peaceful life?’ She allowed the impact of her words to settle, before adding, more gently now, ‘Go to Bath, Mrs Collins. Take the waters.’
With that, she took her servant’s hand and climbed into her carriage. She waited a moment until Mr Collins returned, deeply apologetic for not having found her glove.
‘No matter, Mr Collins; I thank you for your efforts. It is always worth trying, even when the task seems hopeless. I bid you good day.’
And with that, the carriage wheels turned, and Charlotte watched the vehicle sweep out of the drive – but not before seeing Lady Catherine adjust her bonnet, give instruction to her coachman, and proceed to don a pair of immaculate white gloves.