4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

November 29, 1811 Lucas Lodge Charlotte

C harlotte hummed a tune while she rolled the bread dough around the tabletop to shape it. Mama would be livid if she found out her eldest was in the kitchen, but there was something soothing about shaping a loaf of bread. Lucas Lodge’s cook, Mrs. Turner, would bake it and serve it with the evening meal. Cook kept Charlotte’s visits to the kitchen a secret, and Charlotte repaid her kindness by assisting while Mama was out.

Milly, one of the upstairs maids, poked her head into the kitchen and glanced around. Seeing Charlotte, she stepped inside.

“Miss Elizabeth is in the parlor waiting for you, miss,” she said.

Charlotte frowned. It was not Longbourn’s day for calls. Why was Lizzy upstairs? “Is everything well, Milly?” she asked.

“Miss Elizabeth did not say. But if you ask me, miss, she seems rather agitated.” Milly curtsied and slipped out.

She removed her apron and hung it on a hook affixed to the wall. “I am sorry to leave you without finishing,” Charlotte said to Mrs. Turner. The cook waved her away with a grin.

What could have brought Elizabeth to my door so unexpectedly? Had Mr. Collins mentioned that he would be proposing, and her young friend felt she needed to rescue Charlotte before she did something foolish? If that was her purpose, Charlotte would do her best to reassure Elizabeth that when Mr. Collins proposed, she would be pleased to accept.

She had spent hours the night before rehearsing her words to Elizabeth. The second Miss Bennet’s disapproval would sting, but hopefully she could be made to see Charlotte’s perspective. She reached the parlor and pushed the door open, revealing Elizabeth pacing the space and wringing her hands. At Charlotte’s entrance, Elizabeth turned and exclaimed, “Oh, Charlotte! Jane is engaged! To Mr. Collins!”

Charlotte’s smile froze on her face as her mind struggled to comprehend her friend’s words. “Engaged? To be married?”

“Yes, Charlotte, what other sort of engaged is there?” Elizabeth’s sarcastic words did not wound her. Instead, she felt numb to all sensation. Her careful plans were in ruins.

“How did this come about?” she asked in a hollow voice.

“I do not know! Jane will not speak to me of what occurred this morning!” Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears. “We spoke last night. Miss Bingley sent Jane a letter filled with all manner of falsehoods. Jane was discouraged, and doubted Mr. Bingley’s affections, but I convinced her to wait, to test Miss Bingley against her words to determine the truth of the matter. Then, this morning as Mama saw Mrs. Long and her nieces to the door, we came across Jane and Mr. Collins in the small sitting room. He declared them to be engaged and she did not deny it. Papa has granted his blessing. Oh, Charlotte! It is all wrong.”

“Did you imagine that no young lady could see any value in Mr. Collins simply because you could not?” Charlotte’s words were harsh, and she knew it, but she did not care. She was wounded. Her heart ached for what she had lost, though she had never really had it to begin with. If only Mr. Collins had spoken with Papa last night! Then his honor would be engaged. Who was she fooling? His honor was engaged. He had intimated he would make her an offer last night.

“Charlotte! That is not fair. Mr. Collins is nonsensical. He and Jane are not suited.”

“I disagree. Mr. Collins may lack sense, but with Jane’s calm guidance, he will improve.” Charlotte’s words conveyed her own designs upon marrying Mr. Collins. She knew he was malleable. He took his patroness’s word as truth, no matter how silly they were. Shelves in the closet, indeed. Yes, another woman could fill that role easily. She shook herself mentally and refocused on Elizabeth. “It is worrying that Jane will not speak with you,” she mused. “Surely, she would wish to confide in her dearest sister.”

“She went to her room with a megrim after Papa announced the engagement.” Elizabeth sighed. “When she would not speak with me, I came here. Your good sense has always been soothing. Tell me, how am I to rescue my sister?”

“Does she require rescuing?” Charlotte shrugged. “Your father cannot force his will upon her—she is of age. By all appearances, she entered the engagement willingly and has not protested Mr. Collins’s assertions that they have an understanding. Jane has, I imagine, acted in a prudent and practical manner. If Miss Bingley’s words are true, then Jane has lost her chance with Mr. Bingley. If he were certain of her affections, nothing could keep him away. And if she were certain of his feelings, she would be confident of his return. Mayhap your sister could see that and chose to act in a way that would secure her future.”

“I well remember your admonishments that Jane should show more than she feels. Do you mean to suggest that Mr. Bingley’s actions are because my sister acted as society dictates, behaving with propriety and circumspection until he declared himself?” Elizabeth’s words came fast, the anger in her tone blasting Charlotte.

“Do not assign words and opinions to me that are not my own! You came to me for comfort and understanding, and I am trying to provide it. Jane’s motivations are her own, though I can comprehend some of what she is feeling. She is nearly three-and-twenty and has been out since she was fifteen years old, yet Mr. Bingley is the first man to show any serious interest in her. Prospects are thin on the ground in Meryton, but even in London, where gentlemen are more plentiful, your sister has had no success in finding a husband. Were I in her position and Mr. Collins offered for me, I would not hesitate to accept.”

“She is not on the shelf,” Elizabeth stated in exasperation.

“No, but each season that passes puts her a little closer to that unenviable state.” Charlotte sighed. “I was young, once, Lizzy, full of hopes and dreams. I have never been romantic, but even I wished to have some affection for the man I would marry. Now I am seven-and-twenty and firmly on the shelf. I would accept any offer of marriage now, as long as the man had an occupation that could support me and any children we had. I can make a modest income stretch. Jane’s decision was logical. Now her future is secure. You must also see that her acceptance of your father’s heir frees your mother from her fears.”

Elizabeth’s tears finally began to fall, and she collapsed on the settee, burying her face in her hands. “He cannot love her.”

“Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance,” consoled Charlotte. “Mr. Collins has dwelt at Longbourn for nearly a fortnight. Jane must have some idea of his defects. It is likely that they will be fond of each other, and love will grow from that.”

“But she loves Mr. Bingley,” Elizabeth protested weakly. “Her heart is engaged.”

“Broken hearts mend. It may take time, but she will let go.” Charlotte patted her friend’s shoulder before sitting next to her on the settee.

“We dreamed of love as girls, not fondness.” Elizabeth sat up and pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket. “It is not too late for Jane to cry off.”

“Jane is not built for unhappiness.” Charlotte nudged Elizabeth with her elbow. “It is your responsibility as her sister to respect her decisions, little though you agree with them, and to help her find contentment.” How ironic it was that every argument Charlotte used to convince Elizabeth to stand by Jane were the same ones she had rehearsed to earn Lizzy’s support once Mr. Collins proposed. Now, it was not to be.

Mama would be disappointed. Furious, even, that one of Mrs. Bennet’s daughters had managed to steal a perfectly good suitor from Charlotte.

“Go home, Lizzy,” Charlotte said softly. “Jane will confide in time.”

They stood, and Elizabeth hugged her tightly before departing. Feeling unequal to the day, Charlotte retreated to her room. Tears threatened, though she refused to let them fall. She spent the afternoon in quiet contemplation, debating where life would take her now, and waiting for her mother to appear. Lady Lucas would doubtlessly hear the news of Jane’s engagement whilst going about her calls. Her mother’s beratement would come as soon as she returned home.

She had borne the expected chastisements with ease in the past. Mama mostly complained about things her daughter had no control over: her looks, her fortune, and her origins. Now, though, Mama would have new fodder for her attacks. How could Charlotte have let Mr. Collins slip through her fingers? I shall never escape.