Charlotte Collins: A Continuation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice (2 page)

One

1820

"Do not tell me that you intend to spend the rest of your days in this dreadful sitting room, Charlotte," Maria said, settling herself on the faded upholstered chair beside the fireplace with a flounce.

Charlotte set aside the letter she had been writing to her cousin Mary Emerson in London, abandoned the writing desk, and walked to the settee, knowing all too well that she would be unable to complete her correspondence now that her sister had joined her. In lieu of paper and quill, she picked up a cup and saucer from the mismatched tea set on the tray beside the settee. The cup was empty. She felt the pot; it had gone cold. Such a bother.

She rang the bell for beverage reinforcements, lowered herself to the settee, and regarded the room. She had to admit that it was rather dreadful, the furniture worn, and the rented cottage small, but at least she had such comforts, and two servants as well.

"I do intend to sit here in this room, for, despite its faults, I find it rather pleasant."

Indeed, it was the loveliest room in her cottage. Two comfortable chairs with curving wooden arms flanked a cream-colored settee, which had probably been white at one time. The seating area was situated in front of a modest but cheery hearth, and an old writing desk was tucked between two windows, facing south and opening toward an herb garden. As the sun made its course through the sky each day, it brightened the room and nurtured the plants outside and the occupants inside.

"How dull." Maria, who obviously did not feel nurtured by the small room, practical furnishings, or the sunlight, clucked her tongue as she glanced around her.

"I much prefer the quiet life, and now that Mr. Collins has gone to his reward, I feel that I deserve mine. I shall enjoy my little home and meager income, and I shall live out my days as a very eccentric old widow."

"Old? Bah! You are but five-and-thirty years old, and that is not so very aged." Maria leaned forward. "You must get out into society again."

Charlotte reclined against the settee. "Must I?"

"Indeed, sister, for you have worn your widow's weeds far longer than required, and you of all people deserve a happy existence after living with such an odious man as Mr. Collins."

Charlotte smiled at her sister, wishing for her sake that the world worked in such a manner, that people actually received that which they deserved, and knowing it never would. Maria had reached her early twenties and remained unmarried, but still she retained the hopefulness and innocence of youth.

Foolish girl, Charlotte thought as she studied her sister. Maria's blond hair had slipped its pins and now the loose strands glinted in the firelight. Without so much as checking her own coiffure, Charlotte knew that her dark hair remained neat and precise. She was never anything but neat and precise.

Maria blew a wisp of hair out of her face. "And it would fit in with my plans."

Charlotte narrowed her eyes. This certainly did not bode well, and she meant to interrogate her sister immediately, but before she could demand an explanation, the door opened, and Edward entered balancing a tray of fresh tea things.

Edward Effingham. His name was grander than his intelligence. And even if his family had managed to retain its fortune, he would not have married well. Edward was her housekeeper's son, a young man of fourteen years with thin strawberry blond hair and a body as sturdy as a fence post. A good servant, he tended to many household duties, but his mind seemed to be caught somewhere in early childhood.

He walked into the room with slow, metered steps and placed the tray on the table as though he carried royal porcelain and not chipped pieces from Charlotte's old set.

He made a deep bow and rather than exiting the room unobtrusively, he said, "Mama told me to make certain that your tea is properly set for you, Mrs. Collins. She told me not to open my mouth and speak a word to you, but I cannot know if the tray pleases you without asking, can I?"

Charlotte cast a cursory glance at the teapot and fresh cups. "Everything is as it should be. Thank you, Edward."

He grinned in relief and exited the room without remembering to take the old tea tray with him. The door closed with a click behind him as he returned to Mrs. Eff in the kitchen. Charlotte turned her attention back to her sister. She had been watching Edward's departure as well.

"He's forgotten the old tea tray," Maria said. "He is not the brightest lad, is he?"

"No, but he is kind, and that often makes up for mental facility." Moreover, Charlotte was grateful for her servants. Her family had been unable to afford much household help, and so she, Maria, and her other siblings had often been required to prepare meals or beat rugs. She certainly did not desire a return to household chores. She added, "Besides, he and Mrs. Eff have released me from most of the kitchen drudgery."

"It
is
nice to live in a home in which I am not required to cook." Maria's face had turned wistful, reminding Charlotte that something was amiss. "I wish to have servants of my own one day."

"Yes, now, tell me of these plans to which you have so subtly alluded."

"I know that my visit was intended to endure only a few months, but..." Here Maria paused dramatically and mustered a pouty expression. Trouble was certainly afoot. "I had hoped that I might come to reside with you here in Westerham. Mama and Papa are ever so feeble, and they have made arrangements for our brothers and sisters. I am the only child who was to remain at home. However, they will never again make proper chaperones, and I shall have no hope of meeting a gentleman suitable for marriage unless I can move about in society. I am virtually an old maid, you know."

Charlotte poured two fresh cups of tea and considered her sister's situation. Their parents' health had continued to decline, leaving Maria without the benefit of society during the prime of her young life. She had not had the opportunity to experience the exuberance of youthful courtship. Or its disappointments.

Indeed, Charlotte had never experienced love as such and had doubted its very existence until she had too late seen the evidence of it. Now, she believed that it was a rare commodity. "Better to be an old maid than unhappily married."

Maria's expression soured briefly. "Even you are not convinced of the truthfulness of that statement. Confess. You have always believed that it was better to be unhappily married than to be a poor old maid."

"Yes." Charlotte could not dispute that she had believed so in the past. Mr. Collins had certainly made her reconsider her previous philosophy, and now, she was less certain of her opinion on the matter.

Maria ignored her tea and picked up the bonnet that she had discarded earlier that morning. She began to arrange a bow of pale green ribbon. Concentrating on her task, she appeared to give little thought to her words. "I shall find security and love, I am certain of it, for I still have my beauty, but I require a chaperone to set a toe into society. Mama and Papa cannot do it, but you could. Though you continue to wear your ugly colored gowns, you are no longer in mourning and can attend balls and parties. You are an independent woman."

"My independence was hard won." Charlotte said, recalling the tediousness of her daily interactions with her husband that had resulted in her current situation. How many ponderous sermons had she been subjected to? How many simpering compliments had she endured? And worse, how many fireplace mantels had she heard him describe in painful detail? "Note the carvings, my dear, the fluting, the ribbons. All are of the finest quality. A masterful hand created this artful mantel." And on and on he would go until Charlotte wished humanity had never discovered fire, for there would be no fireplaces on which to lavish his praise. Yes, her independence had been hard won indeed.

"But without your help, I have no hope of winning my own or of finding love." Maria looked up from her bonnet. "You must be my chaperone."

Charlotte looked at Maria's shining face and wondered if she had ever felt so hopeful. Perhaps as a very young girl she had imagined meeting the perfect gentleman and falling in love with him. Perhaps, buried deep within her the hope existed still, but she was now too practical to live for something that might never happen. Her security had not come easily, and she simply did not have the will to go into society and become swept up, and then disappointed, by the quest for love, even if it were her sister's quest and not her own.

But then there was Maria with her head full of wishes, and Charlotte knew that for some people dreams of love did come true. Her friends Jane and Elizabeth Bennet had both had the good fortune to be able to marry for love. And by pure coincidence, their beloved gentlemen had both possessed great fortunes. Charlotte had not had the luxury of marrying for love, but perhaps her sister might.

"If Mama and Papa approve, and continue to send your allowance, you may keep the small bedchamber upstairs as long as you like, and I will serve as your chaperone."

Maria squealed like a young girl, leapt off her chair, and flung herself onto the settee and into Charlotte's arms. "And may we go to the winter ball in Westerham in two weeks' time?"

Charlotte groaned aloud. She had not expected the onslaught to begin so suddenly.

"Pray, say yes, sister. A gentleman will be there whose acquaintance I do so wish to make. An
American
." Maria said the word as though it were exotic and strange. "He is said to be just about my age and is traveling with his uncle on a tour of Europe. They are relatives of Colonel Armitage and are staying at his house for the duration of their visit."

Charlotte eyed her sister. An American? What could she possibly be thinking?

The Armitages, at least, were a well-respected family of decent fortune. Colonel Armitage had been in service to England, and he had elevated his whole family's status. Mrs. Armitage was a quiet, unassuming woman, who seemed to disappear when her jovial husband was near. Their children had made very good marriages. This American gentleman came from good English stock, and if he was on a European tour, he obviously had a good income as well, but Charlotte would withhold her good opinion until she had seen proof that he was not a barbarian, which was unlikely.

"He is said to be very handsome..."

There was the real inducement, Charlotte thought.

"...and Americans are reputed to be less particular about rank and age and other things about which we English are so concerned."

Supposing it could do no harm, Charlotte smiled in encouragement. "Indeed? Well, then I suppose you must meet him."

"Then we may go to the ball?"

"Yes, I suppose we may. Quite a picture I shall make in my somber attire among all the angelic white muslin and pale-colored gowns." She plucked at the drab gray fabric of her skirts.

"It has been two years, and it is perfectly acceptable for you to begin wearing other colors." Catching Charlotte's reproving look, Maria continued, "But somber shades quite flatter your coloring. You will not make such a dour picture as you suppose. You may be the belle of the ball yet."

Maria was being kind. Absurd, but kind. Charlotte was an old widow, no matter in how loving a light her younger sister viewed her.

However, against Charlotte's will, a tiny thrill of forbidden delight coursed through her at the prospect of attending a ball, of meeting new people and conversing with old friends without the weight of Mr. Collins always about her shoulders, and of dancing again. But who would dance with her now? Her days as a debutante were over years ago, Charlotte reminded herself, quickly squashing her excitement under the weight of reality. She was just coming out of mourning for her husband and must perform her duty as chaperone to her sister.

"No one will spare a second glance at me. And certainly no gentleman."

"I would be happy if a man would only look once at me."

Charlotte sighed. "You desire a marriage so much even after seeing my own less than ideal one?"

"I do. Honestly, I do. For I have seen what is possible when one marries for love."

Charlotte understood Maria's reference perfectly, and she did not blame her one bit for desiring the same love that Jane and Elizabeth had found. "Then we shall ensure that you meet your young American, but we will do so with the utmost decorum and propriety. Otherwise, straight back to Mama and Papa you go."

Maria straightened and blinked. "What a thing to say! I shall behave myself very well."