Chapter 15
The Parsonage
Hunsford
Kent
“I will return by dinner unless, of course, Lady Catherine requires me for some special purpose. If so, I will arrange for a message to be sent to you by one of her ladyship’s servants.”
“Thank you, Mr. Collins,” Charlotte said with a smile at the rector.
Her husband was not romantic, handsome, charming, or even sensible, but he was a kindly husband, and that, along with his good income and position as heir of Longbourn, made him a most acceptable partner to her, at least. Her friend, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, was a romantic, along with being young and handsome, and had refused Mr. Collins’s offer of marriage in no uncertain terms. Charlotte could only be grateful; she had been a single lady on the shelf one day, engaged a week later, and now was mistress of her own home.
Collins glanced at the timepiece on the mantle and squeaked, “Oh, I must hurry if I am not to be late, and Lady Catherine is always most displeased when I am tardy!”
An instant later, he jammed his hat on his head and rushed out the door, letting it slam rather loudly behind him.
Charlotte waited two minutes to be certain he would not return before reaching for her knitting basket and pulling out a half made baby sock.
She was quite certain now that she was expecting a child, but she did not care to share that knowledge with her husband yet, as the man would undoubtedly inform Lady Catherine immediately.
The mistress of Rosings believed that she knew everything there was to know about everything under the sun, and Charlotte had no desire at all to be harangued with endless advice about how to enjoy, or endure, a pregnancy.
So far she was enjoying it. Her latest letter from Elizabeth Bennet, which had arrived only the day before, informed her that Jane Bingley was having a difficult time with her own pregnancy.
Perhaps Charlotte too would succumb to nausea and exhaustion, but for now, she felt well enough to manage her household, her husband, and her knitting.
She bent over and added a few more rows when the door to the sitting room opened and a maid entered and announced, “Miss Anne de Bourgh.”
Charlotte cast the knitting aside hastily and stood up in surprise. “Miss de Bourgh, good morning!”
“Good morning, Mrs. Collins,” Anne said. “I do apologize for disturbing you, but I have a favor to ask.”
“I am honored by your visit,” Charlotte declaimed because, of course, she could say nothing else. “Susanna, bring tea for us.”
“Yes, Madam,” the maid answered, retreating from the room and closing the door.
“Do sit down and tell me how I may serve you,” Charlotte suggested, waiting until her guest had taken her place on the settee before resuming her own position.
Anne blew out a breath and managed a shaky smile.
“Mrs. Collins, this is forward of me, but I have little time, so I will be direct. I have written a letter to my cousin Mr. Darcy at Pemberley, but I do not wish my mother to know, and our butler always informs her of all my correspondence going out. I was hoping that you could send a letter to Mrs. Bingley at Pemberley and enclose my missive with it? I believe you and Mrs. Bingley are friends.”
“We are,” Charlotte agreed, suppressing her surprise. “However, I am closer to Elizabeth Bennet and owe her a letter. She is currently at Pemberley and will be for at least ten days, which should be plenty of time for your letter to reach her, if you are not in a hurry, that is.”
Anne considered and then nodded, “That would do very well, for my mother will not send her letter express. They should arrive at about the same time, if you can write to Miss Bennet soon, that is.”
“I can send my letter out by tomorrow morning,” Charlotte promised.
“Thank you, Mrs. Collins,” Anne said, her face turning pink with relief as she reached into her reticule.
“Here is my letter to Darcy, and may I ask for another favor? Perhaps you could arrange that Mr. Collins is not aware of my visit today? My mother thinks that I am resting in my bedchamber at the moment.”
“I will speak with the maid, and assuming that no one else saw you…”
“Oh, I was careful that I was entirely unobserved,” Anne declared, standing up. “Now I must go.”
“You do not wish to stay for tea?”
“No, I must return before anyone discovers I am gone. Thank you again, Mrs. Collins. I am most grateful for your assistance in this matter.”
/
“Oh, Miss Darcy, we are all friends here!” Caroline Bingley enthused. “I am certain you would not wish to deprive us of the pleasure of hearing you play the pianoforte when you are so very accomplished?”
Georgiana stared with wide eyes at Miss Bingley before turning a piteous look on Elizabeth.
Darcy, along with the other gentlemen, had entered the music room only a few seconds before and was thoroughly startled.
Georgiana must think very highly of Miss Bennet if she thought that the young lady would be able to protect her from Miss Bingley!
“Oh, Miss Darcy!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Pray do not think me discourteous, but I hope you will allow me to play instead? I have been working hard on “Greensleeves” and believe I have finally conquered it!”
Georgiana’s distress gave way to obvious relief. “Of course, Miss Bennet.”
“My dear Elizabeth,” Caroline said haughtily, “I do beg you to give way to a far more accomplished player. I venture to say that all of the ladies here, excluding Jane, are better players than you are. That is, of course, no reflection on you, dear sister; it is merely that Louisa, Miss Darcy, and I all have had the opportunity of studying with true masters of the instrument.”
Bingley, who had walked over to his wife, turned an angry face on his younger sister, but before he could speak, Elizabeth said, “Oh, Caroline, but surely it is helpful for a less gifted player to practice before an audience? I would not dream of doing so amongst strangers but we are all friends and family, are we not?”
“Indeed we are,” Charles agreed, glaring at Caroline. Elizabeth had, by this time, sat down on the bench and, after finding the score, began playing a rousing, if not entirely accurate, rendition of the song.
Darcy, filled with admiration at Miss Bennet’s bold words and actions, which were undoubtedly meant to protect Georgiana from Miss Bingley’s harassment, quickly made his way over to his sister and murmured, “I believe, my dear, that you should retire to your bedchamber. I will inform the company…”
“That I have a headache,” Georgiana whispered back. “Thank you, Brother.”
“Of course. I love you, my dear.”
/
“I do wish that Charles would speak to Elizabeth, though I suppose it is too much to hope for!” Caroline fumed, pacing up and down the Hursts’ sitting room. “I cannot fathom her discourtesy in her insistence of playing “Greensleeves”, of all things, when Miss Darcy was waiting to perform!”
Louisa gritted her teeth and said, “I do not believe that Miss Darcy wishes to play in company.”
Her sister turned an astonished look upon her.
“Do not be absurd, Louisa! Miss Darcy is so truly gifted and she must long to display her skills! Really, Charles is too amiable. It is bad enough that he married Jane, but at least she does not put herself forward unbecomingly. Elizabeth is like her younger sisters; always eager to show off and make a spectacle of herself!”
Louisa bit her lip at these words but did not speak.
She knew, from past experience, that her sister was not inclined to listen to anyone whose viewpoint was different than her own.
She also knew that Caroline’s dislike was based on envy; Elizabeth was more beautiful and charming than Caroline, along with being witty and clever.
Caroline Bingley, aged two and twenty, blessed with an expensive education and a dowry of twenty thousand pounds, had not won Mr. Darcy as a husband and had garnered no offers of marriage during her three London seasons.
That was partially because Caroline was only interested in Darcy and had never encouraged any other gentlemen, but part of it was due to the woman’s abrasive personality.
“Caroline, I am fatigued and will bid you good night,” she said, standing up slowly.
“It is not yet nine o’clock! It is still light outside!” her sister said in exasperation.
“Yes, but I am tired, nonetheless,” Louisa said wearily and marched toward her bedroom.
She was now a full three weeks past her normal courses and was strangely exhausted and yes, on occasion, nauseous.
It seemed that at last, her prayers had been answered and she was with child.
She would not tell Caroline, or even Mr. Hurst yet; the former because she would be irritating, the latter because he had longed for a child for two years, and she did not want her husband’s hopes to rise, only to be dashed if she miscarried.
Louisa smiled at her maid and allowed the woman to assist her in removing her dress. A few minutes later, she was comfortably tucked up in bed, and within a short time, she drifted off to sleep.
/
Caroline marched down the hall in a miasma of indignation at her sister’s selfishness in going to bed so early. She needed to complain more about Elizabeth, and now she had no audience.
She opened the door to her bedchamber and jerked in surprise. Her brother was seated next to the writing desk, reading a book in the light of several candles.
“Charles, what are you doing here?” she demanded.
Her brother deliberately placed a bookmark to keep his place, set the volume onto the table next to him, and turned toward her. “I wish to speak to you.”
Caroline frowned. “Does not Mr. Darcy require your presence this evening?”
“He is spending some time with Miss Darcy,” Charles said, “largely because…”