Page 52

After providing a list of sermon topics, Lady Catherine dismissed Mr Collins without tea and sent him back to the parsonage. Arriving home early, Mr Collins was pleased to find his wife at some mundane tasks with mending that she quickly put away to provide him with a meagre tea.

“My dear, why are there no biscuits this afternoon?” he asked petulantly.

“I did not expect you this afternoon, Mr Collins,” his wife explained patiently. “I have not had the opportunity to walk to Hunsford to purchase the ingredients to make biscuits.”

Collins asked indignantly, “Is our pantry bare?”

“Almost, but be assured, if you will give me five pounds from the profits paid by Mr Wickham, I shall walk to Hunsford tomorrow to purchase items for our pantry. And the farm down the lane has butter to sell,” his wife said.

“Sell? Shouldn’t the farmer provide butter to the parsonage?”

“Tenants pay rents to the landlord,” Charlotte stated. “A parsonage does not receive tithes of money or goods directly.”

“When we have Longleaf, will the tenants give us butter?”

“There is a dairy at Longbourn that provides the house and family with milk, cream, and butter for most of the year,” Charlotte explained. “The amount of hay that is cut and dried in summer determines how much milk and butter the family will have in winter.”

Frowning to be reminded of the many things he had to learn about being a gentleman farmer, Collins turned his attention to the small bit of dry bread his wife provided with his tea.

~~~

A short note was delivered by a boy from Hunsford as Mr and Mrs Collins broke their fast the next morning. Mr Wickham had a final matter to discuss with Mr Collins before he returned to London and would call at the parsonage at three of the clock for a private interview.

“Oh dear,” Mr Collins fussed. “Lady Catherine will not be pleased.”

Charlotte ventured a suggestion that Mr Collins could send Her Ladyship a note explaining his absence that day.

“Nonsense, Charlotte!” the man replied. “I shall deliver the message in person and return before the hour of three for the interview with Mr Wickham.”

~~~

Waiting until her husband had departed the house, Charlotte ventured down the lane to the nearby farm where she purchased butter once again and returned home to bake shortbreads.

‘I shall bake the shortbreads today and tomorrow venture to Hunsford for more flour and sugar, but there will be biscuits this afternoon,’ Charlotte decided. ‘There will be enough shortbread for me to have a share as well.’

~~~

Mr Collins arrived back at the parsonage only moments before the clock chimed the hour of three.

He appeared to have run part of the distance between Rosings and Hunsford because he was out of breath and sweaty.

It was another quarter of an hour before Mr Wickham knocked on the door.

By then, Mr Collins recovered his breath, and his wife used a cloth to dry the man’s head, neck, and hands.

The two men spoke quietly while Charlotte returned to the kitchen to prepare the tea tray–a pot of fresh tea with a few short bread biscuits.

During her absence, Collins and Wickham retreated to the study for the private interview.

When Charlotte returned the parlour with the tray, she discovered her husband and his visitor absent.

Setting the tea tray on a table, Charlotte was about to search for them when there was a knock on the door.

There Charlotte found one of the footmen from Rosings Park standing with a note. The servant bowed and said, “Mrs Collins, Her Ladyship requests most strenuously that Mr Collins attend her as soon as possible. There is a matter of great importance that requires his advice.”

Taking the note from the footman, Charlotte watched the man turn and immediately begin his journey back to the manor house, two miles distant. Closing the door, Charlotte went immediately to her husband’s study, interrupted their conversation, and handed over the note.

George Wickham was amused by the change in the parson’s demeanour as he read aloud the message from Lady Catherine that she ‘required his advice for a matter of importance.’

Collins rose and addressed Mr Wickham, “Sir, you must forgive me for deserting you before we discussed your business today. My patroness requires my assistance, and I must return to her side immediately.”

“Of course, Mr Collins,” George replied. “I understand the summons from the powerful lady takes precedence over profits.”

Flustered upon hearing Wickham’s words, Mr Collins said, “Thank you, Mr Wickham. Please convey your concerns…news in a letter. And please remain to enjoy the tea my wife has prepared. You deserve to be revived before you return to Hunsford.”

Turning to Charlotte, Mr Collins instructed his wife, “Mrs Collins, show Mr Wickham every courtesy.”

~~~

Charlotte Collins stood at the table in her kitchen. She blinked and suddenly remembered where she was, ‘This is my kitchen in the parsonage.’

She felt as if she had suddenly come awake from a nap while standing on her feet. Feeling wet, she looked down to discover her apron and dress were soaked. She looked around, found no one else present and sighed with relief.

‘How did my dress become wet?’ she wondered. Then Charlotte realised she had washed the same bowl repeatedly. The dishpan was almost empty, with the water soaked into her apron and dress or spread across the table and the floor around her feet.

The fire was still bright enough to light the room, and through the single window in the kitchen, she noticed that the evening approached. Leaving the dishes on the worktable, Charlotte lit a few candles to provide light for Mr Collins when he returned from his late visit to Lady Catherine.

Stepping from the hallway into the parlour, Charlotte again found herself confused; one chair was knocked over, and the pillows were on the floor rather than the sofa. The drapes were closed and the fire in the hearth had gone out.

‘The day is warm enough that we shall not need a fire this evening,’ she rationalised as she quickly put the room to rights. ‘And this dress is made of dark cloth. Once I remove my apron, Mr Collins will not notice.’

That was when Charlotte saw her lace cap on the floor near the front door. Her hands flew to her head, confirming that her hair was bare.

‘How?’ she wondered before a flood of memories overtook her–Eliza left yesterday to care for her mother, and Mr Collins and Mr Wickham were to discuss some matter of business this afternoon.

When Mr Wickham was present in the parsonage, Mr Collins received a message from Lady Catherine that she required his presence immediately.

Without a second thought, her husband left the house without any direction except to entertain Mr Wickham.

She remembered her husband’s words vividly, “Show Mr Wickham every courtesy.”

Being alone in her house with this man did not concern Charlotte. Wickham mentioned the urge to celebrate and decried the absence of ‘Miss Eliza.’ Charlotte had shown the visitor into the parlour and when she went to prepare cups of tea, Mr Wickham followed and took her arm.

A sudden panic fell on Charlotte while standing in her parlour.

She remembered Wickham placing his arms around her, pushed her back on the sofa, and then his hands pulled up her skirt.

She wanted to deny the events of the next minutes, but she would always remember Wickham's hands tearing at her undergarments, his face near hers, his stinking breath on her neck.

Gathering her strength as tears flowed down her cheeks, Charlotte’s mind raced, remembering hushed whispers at Lucas Lodge about women thrown from their homes because of infidelity. Even the hint of infidelity meant a husband could sentence his wife to a short, miserable life in the hedgerows.

‘I was not unfaithful…Mr Wickham forced himself on me,’ Charlotte told herself.

Then she recognised the reality of her situation.

‘Mr Collins would never believe any ill of Mr Wickham. I am his wife, but he would believe that man. Wickham paid him a few pounds, so now he can collect my favours when my husband is away…my husband walked away and left me with the man in our home. If I say anything, Mr Collins would turn me out of the house and tell everyone I am a woman a fallen woman.’

Holding the lace cap in her hands, Charlotte took one candlestick above stairs to her bedchamber and sat before the small mirror to restore her hair and cap to their proper state before her husband returned.

Coming down the stairs, she noticed as the candlestick shook in her hand, but then she suppressed her nerves and took a deep breath.

Glancing at her face, she saw the tracks of tears and the haunted look in her eyes.

Returning to her kitchen, she ensured the kettle held hot water to make tea when Mr Collins appeared. She poured some of the water onto a clean towel and wiped her face.

‘What would Eliza do?’ Charlotte wondered. ‘ If Eliza had been here, he wouldn’t have done… Or would he have locked me in the pantry and then forced himself on Eliza? Evil men do anything they want.’

Then she prayed fervently, ‘Lord, do not allow these things to happen to Eliza…Maria…any young women I know.’

She went to the tea caddy and selected fresh leaves for the evening tea. Justifying using new leaves tonight, she decided, ‘I need the fortifying flavour of strong tea tonight.’

From the front of the house, there were the familiar sounds of Mr Collins entering the parsonage and calling for his wife’s attention.

Charlotte viciously crushed the fresh leaves, shredding them before stuffing them into the teapot.

She took a deep breath, used the cloth to lift the kettle from the fire, and poured hot water over the leaves before attending to her husband.

“My dear, Lady Catherine and I spent many hours in prayer this afternoon concerning her purchase of shares in the New World Tea Company.”

“Did her ladyship pray for guidance from the Lord, Mr Collins?”

“No, she instructed me to pray that the Lord bless Mr Wickham with great fortune and his ships with good winds.”

“And did she feed you supper after many prayers?” Charlotte asked, hopeful of not having to feed her husband this evening.

“She did indeed,” Collins replied very happily.

“A sign of her ladyship’s favour for certain, Mr Collins. She prays for gold and feeds her parson,” the woman replied to her husband’s last comment. “Do you wish for a cup of tea before retiring?”

“Yes, my dear. That will be the perfect ending to the perfect day.”

As the couple shared a pot of fresh tea, Mr Collins recited several prayers he had shared with Lady Catherine while Charlotte prayed silently for guidance.

Resolved, she decided, ‘I do not need Eliza’s head to deal with today’s events.

No one would ever believe me. I shall pray for strength and deal with it myself. ’

Bitterly she mourned, ‘I have no choice but to deal with it.’

~~~