Page 8 of Mistress of Pemberley
The following morning, when Maria woke up with a dreadful headache and a sore throat, they decided to postpone their planned walk into Hunsford village. Preferring to recover quietly in her room, Maria left Elizabeth and Charlotte free to stroll on the paths around the Parsonage. Walking towards Rosings, they suddenly felt a joy that harkened to the past when they would seize moments like those to exchange confidences. For a brief instant, it seemed her old friend had reappeared, inspiring Elizabeth to take Charlotte’s arm with affection.
“I am sorry that Maria is ill, but I cherish this time spent alone with you,” she said, and Charlotte nodded.
Elizabeth, unable to contain her curiosity any longer, turned the subject to that which was burning in her mind—the impending arrival of Lady Catherine’s guests.
“You mean Mr Darcy?” Charlotte replied, and they laughed heartily. “I know little, only what Mr Collins mentioned last evening. They are travelling from London, and the entire household is preparing. Lady Catherine was quite happy that Miss Darcy was also coming.”
“It seems she is an accomplished young lady, who makes her own decisions and plays the pianoforte exquisitely. That is how Mr Darcy described her when we met in Meryton,” Elizabeth said.
“You have a wealth of information about them!” Charlotte exclaimed, surprised.
“I have a good memory. I tend to remember many unimportant details,” Elizabeth murmured, slightly embarrassed, not wishing to reveal her keen interest in the newcomers for fear that Charlotte might later recount their conversation to her husband.
“I also remember the Bingley sisters held the same opinion about Miss Darcy,” Charlotte said. Again, Elizabeth did not like her tone, which resembled that of Mr Collins when he spoke about the ‘royalty’ at Rosings.
“I cannot place much trust in the Bingley sisters. Their opinions are shaped by the family someone belongs to rather than their personal qualities…yet, I still hope that Miss Darcy is as she appears to be through the eyes of all who have spoken about her.”
Charlotte did not reply; that seemed to have become a habit of hers when speaking about Lady Catherine and her family. No one could hear them, yet Charlotte avoided discussing them. Was it a form of loyalty to her husband or simply what she felt after two months spent in the vicinity of Rosings?
Elizabeth felt that a void had opened up between them that would never be filled again with jokes, laughter, or light conversation on any subject.
“Rosings is bustling with activity,” Charlotte observed, trying to dissipate the silence that had clouded their walk. They spotted busy servants on the vast terrace. Elizabeth could not help but wonder whether Mr Collins was among them. He had been tolerable since her arrival—perhaps too intimate in his address as he referred to her as ‘dear cousin’ in a rather unpleasant tone—but fortunately, he had been a relatively indifferent host, leaving Charlotte responsible for taking care of her and Maria.
In contrast, he had exhibited great deference towards Sir William, which boded well considering their neighbour’s promise to her father.
Elizabeth could accept that Charlotte led a contented life and her husband was not unkind, but what she could not imagine was how Charlotte managed to endure a loveless marriage.
“There is something I wish to ask you,” Elizabeth whispered, her cheeks flushing; even though they were close friends, they had never broached the subject of the intimate relationship between a man and his wife.
“Yes, but there are certain matters I cannot speak of,” Charlotte replied hesitantly, her countenance shadowed by doubt even before her friend spoke.
“Are you expecting a child?” Elizabeth asked and observed her friend blushing and breathing heavily.
“I am not,” Charlotte replied, hastily adding, “at least not this month. An older lady from Hunsford informed me that it takes time…to…you know what I mean.”
Elizabeth nodded, although, in truth, she did not fully comprehend. As much as she knew the purpose of the wedding night, the actual details remained a mystery. She needed to gather more information, which was essential when considering a man as her future husband.
“It is a duty that a woman must perform, whether she enjoys it or not,” Charlotte asserted firmly. Elizabeth shuddered in horror at the thought that intimacy could be merely an obligation.
She wondered whether it might also be something more pleasant. But it was evident that Charlotte was not in the position to divulge such information—which, quite suddenly, piqued her interest.
In the silence that once again settled between them, her thoughts wandered to all the men she knew. Yet, she felt nothing but indifference and a peculiar fear of the unknown in front of her, uncharacteristic of her usual self. Seeking a husband, as their father had urged them to do, was utterly impossible. She might discover a man suitable for marriage, possessing all the qualities she imagined. However, if love did not accompany the arrangement, marriage itself was unthinkable. She could not endure what Charlotte had—a union where intimacy was merely a duty no matter how pleasant or comfortable the life that accompanied it was.
On her wedding night, she wanted to accept what was happening with confidence…and joy. An inexplicable eagerness to experience those moments took hold of her—a fluttering in her chest. But she quickly scolded herself, realising that no suitable man was on the horizon. She concealed her face, for there were secrets she could no longer reveal to Charlotte; and, unfortunately, love was a secret her friend knew nothing about.
They refrained from walking too close to the great house. Instead, they observed the bustling preparations from a distance with great interest.
“I wish to have a child as soon as possible,” Charlotte murmured. In her tone, Elizabeth saw—again—that what must occur to make a baby was not Charlotte’s favourite occupation.
Elizabeth had no regrets about her visit, even though their friendship had entered another phase, losing some of its depth. Being here, gaining a closer insight into the problems of married life, was essential for the future. She resolved once and for all that falling in love was her only way to get married.
Her father’s advice was not without merit, though. If falling in love was an absolute necessity, equally important was to learn both the virtues and flaws of the man she intended to wed. In her view, ‘seeking’ held meaning, but only when it followed falling in love.
“You are very quiet today,” Charlotte said with a hint of reproach.
“I was reflecting on what married life means,” Elizabeth answered honestly, yet certain she could never reveal her opinions on marriage to her friend.
“It a difficult thing,” accepted Charlotte, “but it also has pleasant moments—”
Unfortunately, she did not have time to say more as they were interrupted by two carriages entering the gates of Rosings and halting before the steps. The front of the house was suddenly filled with people; even Lady Catherine emerged, accompanied by Miss de Bourgh, to receive their distinguished guests.
Elizabeth and Charlotte hastened to leave the park; it was no longer appropriate to remain. Still, they could not resist turning back to catch glimpses of the commotion stirred by the newcomers. While they could not discern much about those who had arrived from London, Lady Catherine’s unmistakable voice carried even from a distance.
“Mr Darcy is Lady Catherine’s nephew,” Elizabeth remarked, recalling the awkward encounter between Mr Darcy and Mr Collins when the vicar had nearly prostrated himself before Mr Darcy in the most elaborate bow she had ever witnessed. “What a coincidence,” she continued, eyeing Charlotte, who had become unusually quiet. “What troubles you, my dear?” she asked.
“I shall be candid with you,” Charlotte finally confessed.
“Of course. We have always been forthright with each other.”
“Mr Collins informed me that we are invited to dinner. I am concerned about your relationship with Mr Darcy. I am aware you do not hold him in high regard, and…he has no particular affection for you.”
“Oh!” Elizabeth exclaimed, surprised, beginning to comprehend Charlotte’s concern. It had little to do with her; Charlotte was worried that any confrontation between her and Mr Darcy might place her husband in a precarious position.
“I am a well-mannered young lady,” Elizabeth replied, her feelings wounded. “I cannot promise to remain silent if someone attacks me or my family, but I have no intention of initiating any discord—that is all I can assure you of.”
They had arrived back at the Parsonage, and with those last words, she retired to her room, now confident she would never again visit Charlotte and certainly never see Mr Darcy or his family again when her visit to Kent came to an end.