Charlotte Collins: A Continuation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice (12 page)

Eleven

When Charlotte and Maria arrived at their cottage in Westerham, no invitations awaited them, and Charlotte would not be understating matters to say that Maria was desolate. However, she soon learned that Mr. Westfield was in town, and her spirits lifted quite miraculously.

But Mr. Westfield did not come.

Charlotte began to wonder if there was a defect in the character of all males that caused them to show interest in ladies and then desert them altogether.

Soon, Maria's desolation returned, and desperate for consolation of company, she took to following Charlotte about the cottage. She followed her to the kitchen, the garden, and even to her bedchamber at night.

Charlotte was desperate for relief. She had briefly considered hauling Mr. Card and Miss Farmington to the cottage and demanding that they repair their friendship. She also considered finding Mr. Westfield and dragging him by his blond hair to pay a call on her sister. But it would not do to have him see Maria in such a state. She would certainly make a cake of herself by chattering Mr. Westfield into oblivion.

Charlotte could not have anyone else chattered into oblivion. It was too cruel a fate, as she well knew. Even now, Maria was talking, and she had not marked a word. She listened now.

"I find that yellow is the cheeriest color, do you not agree?" Maria did not even pause to allow a response. "But green is also a happy hue. Green suits me much better. You have always said so. And that is why I often wear the color. I do want to look my best, and green brings out my eyes. Well, actually my eyes are blue, but still, green compliments them very well. Blue and green match, I believe."

Charlotte stood. She did not care if blue and green matched or if Maria wanted to wear puce each day for the rest of her life.

"I am going for a walk."

"I shall join you."

"No!" Charlotte's voice had been harsh, and she moderated it. "I am going for a
long
walk."

"How long."

"Very, very long." She would walk to France if she could.

"Oh." Maria looked dejected, but then bounced in the direction of the kitchen. Poor Mrs. Eff. Charlotte hated to abandon her to Maria's conversation, but she had to preserve her own sanity.

Charlotte put on her sturdy boots and left the cottage before Maria could change her mind and accompany her. She shut the door quietly behind her. She could hear Maria's voice from the kitchen. She was saying something about goat cheese.

Poor, poor Mrs. Eff.

Charlotte hurried away from the cottage in the direction of the tree line. If Maria changed her mind--or if Mrs. Eff tossed her from the kitchen--she would not look for her in the dense undergrowth. She walked a few paces to the path and decided to take the direction of the pond, which bordered the Farmington's land. As she walked, her tension eased, and she became eager to explore the surrounding countryside.

At a bend in the path, she came upon a party of walkers from the direction of the Farmington's property.

Charlotte stood face to face with Miss Farmington, Mr. Card, Mr. Westfield, Mr. Basford, and a young lady Charlotte could not identify. Maria would be so disappointed not to have come, for she could have used this as an opportunity to regain her place in society.

Everyone stared mutely at each other for long moments, and then several of their party spoke at once.

Greetings were made, and introductions were given, but Charlotte was so surprised to have met them that she forgot the young lady's name as soon as it was given.

They all lapsed into silence. Charlotte did not know what to say. And given the extraneous circumstances, neither did the others.

Finally, Mr. Westfield spoke. "Mrs. Collins, we have been picnicking and are on our way to the trout pond."

"I was walking." It was quite obvious that she was walking. Charlotte felt like a fool.

Mr. Basford stepped forward. "Won't you join us?"

"Oh, yes, do join us," Miss Farmington's words did not sound sincere, but Charlotte decided to join them anyway. It was the right course of action.

Before Mr. Basford could offer Charlotte his arm, the nameless young woman reached for it and beamed. "I would not mind an escort over such treacherous terrain."

Mr. Basford allowed her to take his arm, but caught Charlotte's gaze and rolled his eyes. The treacherous terrain was a well-manicured path. Perhaps she feared that a wayward pebble might find its way into her walking boots. The horror!

Although Mr. Basford's expression conveyed Charlotte's own thoughts on the girl's behavior, it was audacious, and she sent him a look that she hoped communicated her disapproval.

He only smiled back. "Mrs. Collins, do you need assistance over the terrain as well?"

He offered his other arm.

Charlotte looked at the others who had already started down the trail. Mr. Card and Miss Farmington walked ahead with Mr. Westfield. Charlotte chose to walk alone. "I am used to navigating my way alone, thank you, Mr. Basford." She was truly content with the arrangement. She could hear the others chatting ahead of her, but she chose to enjoy the birdsong and wildflowers they encountered along the path. Before they arrived at their destination, the pond, the pace began to slow.

"I am exhausted," Miss Farmington complained.

The young woman on Mr. Basford's arm, whose name Charlotte continued to forget, agreed eagerly.

"This heat is oppressive indeed." Mr. Card said. He was sweating. But did it originate from the exercise or from Charlotte's presence? Charlotte hoped for the latter. Perhaps his discomfort would spur him to accept Maria's apologies and mend their friendship, and consequently restore her place in society.

"Shall we have a seat then?" Mr. Westfield pointed to a fallen log by the pathway. He leaned down to wipe the dirt from the bark and assisted Miss Farmington to sit.

Miss Farmington made much pretense of adjusting her dress. "What a charming spot! Mrs. Collins, will you sit as well?"

Doubting the sincerity of her invitation, Charlotte shook her head. "I take great pleasure in walking." She had developed the habit on the days when Mr. Collins remained inside the house to compose his sermons. "I think I should like to see the pond. You all relax here and I will be back as soon as my curiosity is assuaged."

"Allow me to accompany you," Mr. Basford offered.

"There is no need." Charlotte hoped to avoid being alone with him.

Miss Farmington waved a hand at her and spoke to her as if she were a simpleton. "You cannot go alone, Mrs. Collins. You could be attacked by some wild animal or a band of criminals. We will be fine resting here for a quarter of an hour."

Charlotte highly doubted that untamed animals or roving bandits occupied the Farmington's land, but she allowed Mr. Basford to guide her back to the path, and they walked for a while in silence. The woods deepened and soon the forest floor became a sea of lush green ferns accented by deep brown leaf cover. The temperature seemed to cool, and the air around them became moist and rich. Charlotte inhaled the scent and smiled. She could hear the sound of the stream as it meandered its way to the pond ahead. Charlotte was glad she decided to continue the walk, even if she was forced to be in Mr. Basford's company.

Thankfully, he remained silent and he proved to be a perfectly acceptable walking companion after all. He appeared to enjoy the atmosphere as much as she did.

Soon, the forest began to thin somewhat, and as they walked to the top of a rise, the pond came into view. Charlotte stopped and watched as some ducks took flight. The trees were reflected in the shimmering water, and someone had constructed a covered log dock.

"It's lovely."

Mr. Basford agreed. "Shall we walk to the dock?"

"Yes. I would like that very much."

They followed the path down to the wooden structure and walked to the railing. Charlotte leaned over, peering into the water to search out the fish that might be swimming below.

Beside her, Mr. Basford took a cloth from his pocket, unfolding it to display a heel of crusty bread. "I took the liberty of bringing this along. I thought I might see if the fish were biting."

Charlotte felt almost childlike joy at the prospect of something as simple as feeding fish. He broke the bread in half and gave a lump to her.

Together, they leaned over the railing and dropped crumbs while Mr. Basford occasionally told her the names of the different types of fish that appeared near the surface. Soon, they were surrounded by ducks who had regained their bravery and even some turtles had been drawn to the lure of food.

The bread was soon gone, but they lingered on the dock while the animals gradually took their leave.

Mr. Basford looked at her, and she flicked bread crumbs off her dress self-consciously. "I am sorry that you and Miss Lucas were not invited to the picnic."

"Do not trouble yourself..."

"It was wrong and I hope you know that you will not be excluded from the ball my uncle will be hosting soon."

She felt relief for her sister. There was an additional benefit: if Maria were allowed to rejoin her friends, Charlotte would be released from her constant conversation. "You are very kind."

He waved a dismissive hand, startling a duck. They stood silently for a time and then they returned to the path, walking slowly to the rest of Mr. Basford's party.

"I believe my nephew has an interest in your sister."

"Does he?" Maria would be thrilled. The day was improving indeed.

"I believe so." He seemed to study her reaction, and she hoped that she appeared disinterested. "I think it may be wise to arrange for him to call on her sometime soon."

"I--" Charlotte prepared to resist the idea of leaving her sister alone with Mr. Westfield, but Mr. Basford held up a hand.

"With proper chaperones of course. I'll be with him, and of course, you'll be there."

Charlotte turned away, uncertain whether she should be pleased for her sister or unnerved at being with Mr. Basford again, despite their pleasant walk. "I suppose you believe that my concerns are unfounded."

"I confess that I don't relish the idea of accompanying my nephew to call on a young woman, but I know it would mean a great deal to you if I did."

"Then you are doing this for me?" She tried to suppress the panic she felt rising in her. Why would he even admit to having such a notion? It was preposterous.

"I suppose I am." He kept his eyes focused ahead as they walked. She stared directly at him.

Eventually, he turned to her and smiled, and suddenly, Charlotte was compelled to look ahead. She did not care to contemplate why.

"But I am also doing it for my nephew and his mother and because it is my duty."

She worked up the courage to look at him again. His face was serious.

"I know you still do not think much of my brash ways." He straightened his cravat and brushed imaginary dust from his coat. "But despite appearances, I am an honorable man."

Charlotte could not disagree with him and she felt properly chastised. Again, she could not bring herself to meet his gaze.

They did not speak again until they returned to the log where they had left the others. Mr. Basford rejoined his simpering nameless companion and Charlotte continued to walk alone.

Twelve

Time passed rather slowly as time is wont to do when one is anticipating an event. The days prior to Colonel Armitage's ball seemed to stretch out endlessly with little entertainment or distraction. Charlotte and Maria had spent their time at the cottage, receiving only a few callers, returning those calls, and occasionally writing letters to their parents, who were keeping to themselves in their small drawing room in Hertfordshire, and to Elizabeth and Mary, who demanded to be kept apprised of all occurrences of a romantic nature.

Charlotte had received a response from her missive to Elizabeth, and she was well pleased. Elizabeth had written a lengthy reply full of good natured questions and stories about her two children, Jane, who was six, and Cassandra, who was four. Their friendship, it seemed, was back on course, and Charlotte found herself divulging her interactions with both Mr. Edgington and Mr. Basford in her return letter. Although she valued the companionship and commiseration that Maria provided, there was something vitally important about having a best friend with whom to mull over such situations.

Despite Mr. Basford's words during their impromptu walk, neither he nor Mr. Westfield had called on them. Because she had not been privy to the discussion and because Charlotte had not divulged the contents of her conversation with Mr. Basford to her, Maria was not expecting him to call, and therefore, happily, she remained unaffected, but Charlotte was disappointed for her sister and angry at the entire male sex. Were all men apt to promise to call and then disappear? In her mind, she had relegated Mr. Edgington, Mr. Westfield, and Mr. Basford--and indeed most men in general--to the lowest circle of Dante's Inferno.

In her desperation for society, Maria focused on the gossip she could glean from Mrs. Eff after her trips into town. She insisted that Charlotte listen as she recounted each one.

Apparently, Mrs. Holloway was still engaged in an affair, but the gentleman had not yet been discovered. Mr. Holloway still had his pig and claimed that he would never slaughter so fine an animal, even if it meant doing without pork for a year.

Story after nonsensical story poured forth from Maria, but Charlotte could not bring herself to pay much attention, so she soon focused her efforts on embellishing bonnets and dresses with bits of ribbon or simply moped about the cottage.

When the official invitation to the ball had arrived, the serene mood was shattered by Maria's overwhelming joy.

The letter arrived on a particularly dreary morning when Charlotte had been forced to neglect her garden. She and Maria had lingered over a breakfast of toast and tea and discussed how dreadfully depressing the weather had become. Even the usually cheery kitchen with its patterned wallpaper and bright trim seemed dull.

Maria sighed dramatically. "I do not know what I shall do with myself for an entire day if this weather keeps up. I so long to be in town or to call on friends."

"This weather will not last forever." Charlotte too longed to be elsewhere.

"Indeed, it shall," Maria proclaimed, plunking down her teacup definitively. "This weather will persist just to spite me. The gods of weather know I have my heart set on Mr. Westfield, but they do not want me even to see him."

Charlotte laughed at her sister's dramatics. "I doubt very much that the weather gods, as you called them, have any interest whatsoever in your love life."

"Indeed, I suppose you are right, for I have no love life. I cannot have such a thing as long as I am trapped in this cottage."

"Have another cup of tea. It will make you feel much better."

The second helping of tea did not do as much for Maria as the invitation that was delivered soon thereafter.

Mrs. Eff entered the room and was in the process of removing soiled dishes from the table when she almost off-handedly said, "This arrived by messenger, Mrs. Collins. I did not want to disturb your eating."

She handed the letter to Charlotte, and Maria bounded out of her chair to look over her sister's shoulder. Charlotte opened and carefully unfolded the paper.

"Faster, faster!" Maria demanded. "I believe that is Mrs. Armitage's hand!"

Before Charlotte could even set an eye on the contents of the letter, Maria shrieked. "A ball!"

Mrs. Eff jumped, and the teacups clattered in her grasp.

"The ball Colonel Armitage promised to give in honor of his relations. Thank you, weather gods!"

"Maria, do be quiet and at least pretend to be civilized."

Maria scowled, plucked the paper from her hands, and returned to her seat.

"Finally, some entertainment! And I have yet to tell you the best news, Charlotte."

"Can there be something better than a ball?"

"Indeed. Mr. Westfield has already secured me for the first two dances."

"How can that be possible if you only learned of the ball two minutes ago?"

Maria blushed, her cheeks turning a deep red, her lashes downcast. "I hope you will not think it too forward, but he asked for the first two dances at the next ball--whenever it was to be held--when we last spoke all those weeks ago."

Charlotte was not entirely sure she approved of such forward behavior, but she said, "The only thing better than a ball, I suppose, is to have a gentleman with whom to dance."

"Well, of course, silly, for that is the entire purpose of a ball."

"Then I may as well stay at home, for I do not intend to dance."

"No, you may not just stay home, for I would not be allowed to attend." Her voice contained a note of panic.

"Do not trouble yourself. I know how much this means to you, and although I rarely dance, I quite enjoy balls myself. But I have other things to think of besides men."

"Well, I think you should not waste your figure. It will not last forever, you know."

Charlotte rolled her eyes and glanced down at herself. Her figure was probably her most alluring feature. Her face had always been plain, and she had accepted that, but she said, "You really ought to show more respect for your elder sister."

"And you really ought to live a little. Who knows. Perhaps Mr. Edgington will return to town for the ball and sweep you into a state of loving bliss."

"I seriously doubt that will occur at this ball or any other."

Maria tilted her blond head and said, "Only because you will not allow it."

• • •

The ball was held at Colonel Armitage's home, and Charlotte, who generally preferred the smaller, private balls, found herself almost as eager to arrive as her sister. She had to prevent herself from rushing into the carriage, which the colonel sent to retrieve them. Charlotte fidgeted with her dress and adjusted her wrap. She had worn her best gown and the monogrammed gloves that Mr. Edgington had given her before she had left London. She felt odd wearing a gift from a gentleman, but the gloves were very fine, and she found she could not prevent herself from slipping them on. And they looked very well with her gown.

Maria spent the entire carriage ride chattering loudly. Her sister's enthusiasm was infectious, and by the time they arrived and alighted from the carriage, she was very nearly convinced that it was a magical night.

Charlotte dearly loved her sister's optimism, but she rarely allowed it to affect her own opinions. She preferred to avoid disappointment at all costs, and she had found that looking forward to an event and building it up in her mind was the best way to ensure that the evening would be a complete disaster. She hoped that would not be the case.

The ballroom was quite large and more than adequate to host a large ball. Located on the back side of the house, it had the advantage of an entire wall of windows with two doors at opposite ends of the ballroom that opened onto a gracious balcony overlooking the courtyard behind the building. The doors were thrown wide open, allowing sweet-smelling air to cool the dancers and freshen the room. Adjacent to the ballroom, there was a smaller room for refreshments where many older gentlemen--who were already secure in their matrimonial bonds or who no longer cared for that sort of bondage--tended to gather and consume mass quantities of food and drink.

Charlotte began the evening by standing by the opened windows. The breeze blew her skirts around her ankles as she watched the first dances. Maria fairly glowed in Mr. Westfield's arms, and although her concern for her sister's reputation continued, Charlotte could not help but rejoice in her happiness. It appeared that Miss Farmington would at least be civil, and Mr. Card had yet to make an appearance, so all might be well.

Across the room, Mr. Basford seemed pleased as well. Charlotte had yet to speak with him that evening, but the expression on his face appeared open and readable.

She was considering Mr. Basford when she felt a presence at her side. She turned to find Mr. Edgington looking at her intensely.

"Mr. Edgington, I did not expect to see you here. When did you return to Westerham?"

"Mrs. Collins," he said, bowing, "I returned only a fortnight ago."

Charlotte was surprised. The comings and goings of eligible men were not usually neglected in Westerham. She ought to have heard of his return.

"I am pleased that you had a safe journey."

He appraised her appearance. "I am more pleased to see you. I noticed that you are wearing the gloves I gave you."

Charlotte blushed. He grinned back wolfishly.

She looked down at them. "Yes, they suit my dress very nicely."

He smirked, and his red hair appeared to flame in the candlelight. He was dressed in fashionable formal attire. His deep blue coat and tan breeches fit snugly, revealing a strong, square silhouette. His boots shone, and he smelled of strong, musky cologne. He was almost overpowering.

He stepped slightly closer. "Will you do me the honor of a dance?"

She employed her standard reply. "I am afraid I did not come with the intention of dancing."

He challenged her. "You are no longer in mourning, and unless you have an objection to your potential partner, I see no reason to decline."

Charlotte shifted her weight. "I suppose it could do no harm. I only hope that you can forgive any missteps. It has been a long time since I have danced."

"Believe me, your dancing abilities are the least of my concerns." He led her to the floor.

The dance began, and Charlotte focused solely on the steps. She did not intend to ruin the dance for the other couples on the floor by her own poor skills, and even more, she did not want to make a spectacle of herself as she always had been when paired with Mr. Collins.

After the first section of the dance, Charlotte began to feel more at ease, and she was able to glance at her partner for the first time. Immediately, she wished she had not done so.

Mr. Edgington was looking at her ever so intensely. His eyes fairly burned through her. She blushed deeply and looked away. As the dance continued in silence, Charlotte could feel his stare, and the flattery initially caused by his intensity began to transform into concern and embarrassment.

She attempted several conversations, but she was unable to keep up a steady stream of distracting chatter. If only she possessed Maria's oratorical gifts! Finally, she abandoned the pretense of talking altogether.

All around them people watched and no doubt assumed that there was an attraction, at the very least, or an attachment--at most--between them. At that precise moment, Charlotte was neither attracted nor attached to Mr. Edgington, and she longed for the musicians to play the final chords of the dance, releasing her from the obligation of his stare.

She considered trying to strike up another conversation, but she disregarded the possibility quickly. Any interest she showed in Mr. Edgington would only serve to convince the people around them of an attachment that certainly did not exist.

The dance ended without another word passing between them and without Mr. Edgington looking away from Charlotte. Taking her gloved hand, he escorted her back to where Maria stood near the exit to the balcony.

He released her with a look of exaggerated remorse. "Thank you for the pleasant dance, Mrs. Collins."

Charlotte attempted to conceal her displeasure and thanked him quickly in return.

He smiled, his eyes still too intense, and said, "I hope that we will speak again before the evening ends."

Mr. Edgington then turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd.

Charlotte turned to her sister and said through gritted teeth, "I do not know what to think of that man."

She giggled. "Well, after a dance like that, there is no doubt about what he thinks of you."

"Oh no!" Charlotte cried. "Pray, do not say such a thing!"

"Why are you so upset? What is wrong with having a gentleman interested in you?"

Charlotte was beginning to doubt that Mr. Edgington was a gentleman, but she would not say as much to her sister, and certainly not in a public place.

"After all, balls are for the express purpose of making matches. I have been working toward that end all evening."

"Lower your voice, Maria," Charlotte warned in a ragged whisper.