Chapter Text
A/N: There have been multiple portrayals of Mr. Collins through film. For my story I'm going with Austen's description of him as a tall, heavy looking man but with the face of 2005 P&P Collins. I LOVE the 1995 P & P but that Collins is not attractive enough and Matt Smith from the P & P & Zombies is TOO attractive so I went for middle ground with the 2005 version. As for Charlotte, I'm going with the 2005 version of her too (mainly because I love her in Lark Rise to Candleford).
Charlotte kept a step and a half ahead of her husband, fighting the temptation to break out into a run to rid herself of his presence. How had this happened? How could she have married such a silly, infernally stupid man? Why had she not heeded Lizzy's warnings?
She knew how. Her fear of dying a spinster, of being a financial burden to her parents, of never having children...all of those things had been part and parcel of her decision to pursue Mr. Collins. And pursue she had. She had taken her own advice to Jane and shown more interest and affection for him than she ever truly felt. Even now, months into a marriage, no real love or adoration had kindled. Mostly because William Collins was a complete and utter imbecile.
"Darling, you are walking at quite a speedy pace this evening," Mr. Collins huffed, a bit red-faced behind her.
"I forgot to tell Bessie what to make for breakfast tomorrow. I thought if I hurried I might be able to discuss the menu with her before she leaves," Charlotte replied as she made a concentrated effort to slow down. She was trying her best to conceal her anger from him even though she was near to tears.
Mr. Collins considered her words for the briefest of moments with his hand rubbing his slightly portly stomach. "My dear, I feel that it is best for you to run ahead and let Bessie know. I would hate for her to forget to make me fried eggs. My breakfast would not be complete without them."
Oh, what a misfortune indeed it would be if Cook forgot to prepare your precious fried eggs, Charlotte thought to herself as she took his concern for his morning meal as a much needed opportunity to walk briskly ahead.
Pulling her coat tightly about herself, Charlotte fought tears that sprang to her eyes. She'd told Lizzy that she wasn't romantic and that she didn't care about love. She'd tried in vain for months to downplay her husband's careless remarks and embarrassing foibles out in public. But tonight it had been all too much.
It had started like any other dinner with Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Her husband greeted the older woman with a sweeping bow and peppered her with a handful of premeditated compliments. Charlotte, for her own sanity, had learned to turn a blind eye and deaf ear to her husband's overly sycophantic behavior. Lady Catherine was his benefactress and while Charlotte did not share his admiration for the woman she did her best to act the part of a respectable wife. She knew the connection her husband had with his patroness was one built from her husband carefully stroking the other woman's ego. And while she would much rather spend her evening elsewhere, she understood the importance of fostering this relationship.
However, Mr. William Collins had gone quite out of bounds this evening. She had stared in abject horror as the contents of the letter she had received from her mother, Lady Lucas, about the likelihood of a future engagement betwixt Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet, spilled forth unhindered from her husband's mouth. Apparently what was spoken of between a married couple was not sacred. Charlotte had not thought she would have to spell out to her husband that the bit of gossip her mother poured out was not meant for anyone but them especially when such knowledge could potentially harm the future happiness of a dear friend.
But her opportunistic husband had looked upon this news as a way to solidify his place in Lady Catherine's good graces. Despite his attempt to keep his glee in check, it was nonetheless evident as he told the news under the humble guise of a warning. He declared that he did not wish his noblewoman to be uninformed about members of her own family.
Charlotte had readily recognized that Lady Catherine had not received the news well. Her eyebrows had arched and a sneer of disgust was plastered on her face at the mention of Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Mr. Collins, as always, had been absolutely clueless of the other woman's reaction to the intelligence he had divulged and had been quite taken aback when she had said she would like to retire early. Charlotte shook her head as she remembered the confused frown upon her husband's face as they had been practically shooed off the property like a pair of unwanted pigeons.
As Charlotte neared the parsonage, she shook her head again at the cluelessness of her own husband. On top of that, she was now worried about how the news would affect her poor friend. It was quite obvious to anyone with eyes that Mr. Darcy was quite taken with Lizzy. And if Lizzy accepted his proposal it meant that she had real affection for the other man. Because unlike her, her friend had sworn that nothing but the deepest love would induce her into matrimony. And if for some reason her friend was not able to achieve happiness because of something her husband had said...Charlotte did not know how she would live with the guilt of it.
Stopping by the kitchen, Charlotte remarked to Bessie to make sure that she included fried eggs on tomorrow's menu.
"Yes, Mrs. Collins. I do know how well Mr. Collins loves him his fried eggs. That he do indeed, Mizus. That he do indeed," the cook answered.
Handing her bonnet to Mary as she passed through the sitting room, she said, "Please inform Mr. Collins that I am not feeling well and am retiring early this evening."
Mary curtsied slightly and Charlotte made her way upstairs.
Once in her room, Charlotte began to pace back and forth. She was a rational, sensible woman but everyone had their breaking point. Charlotte thought she might have just reached hers. How she wished she could be like her friend Lizzy and speak openly and frankly. She would love to give Mr. Collins a piece of her mind. But that wasn't like her. If she acted upset all of a sudden her husband would worry that she was ill in the head. No, she would never be able to share her true feelings with her husband. All her reservations and frustrations must be kept to herself.
Charlotte changed into her nightgown and readied herself for bed. She took deep breaths in and out to calm herself, splashed herself with cool water, but none of it seemed a suitable remedy. Her mind was still ablaze.
Spying her leather notebook upon her desk, she decided that if she couldn't speak aloud her thoughts she could at least write them.
September 19, 1812
I did not expect a love match. I truly did not. I just hoped that a relatively suitable gentleman would ask me for my hand one day. He did not have to be handsome. He did not have to be from a wealthy family. He did not have to be witty or charming. I only wanted a man who could give me a decent station in life and a home.
But is it worth this? To listen day in and day out to my husband's insipid drivel? To constantly be humiliated? To be forever trapped in a marriage with a man who is not his own man but rather a snivelling servant to anyone of a higher station? To be shackled to a man I can never respect? There are so many things I dislike about him.
1. His unbearable love and devotion to Lady Catherine de Bourgh and her family. His non-stop groveling makes me ill to my stomach. You are a man, are you not? Act like one for goodness sake.
2. His compliments. If he compares my hair to a recently shined riding boot or Lady Catherine's newest chair to a heavenly cloud one more time, I shall scream. I do not know why he insists upon spewing these ludicrous compliments day in and day out when he does not mean a word of them.
3. The way he brags about himself. I think the only thing my husband loves more than Lady Catherine is himself. He simply will not shut his mouth about how wonderful his life is or how amazing his accomplishments are.
4. He is ignorant and a complete dunce. I am quite surprised at him even knowing how to read. For all his reading, one would think he would not be quite so narrow-minded. Yet he is. I still cringe thinking of the unwanted sermon he launched upon dear Lizzy and her family. He certainly lacks comprehension of social situations and could care less about others' feelings or opinions.
5. Kissing him is like being kissed by a drooling dog. I do not have much experience in this to be sure but I do believe that I am not supposed to need a handkerchief to wipe off the spittle left on my cheeks afterwards.
Plopping her plume down on top of the journal, Charlotte sat back in her chair, relieved to have gotten months of frustration and annoyance out on paper. These were things she would never say aloud, not even to Lizzy. Her friend had been right. She had rushed into marriage and was currently paying the price for it.
There was a knock on her door. "Charlotte," she heard William call.
Charlotte rose to meet her husband at the door. Cracking it open, she found her husband standing with a white lily in his hand. "The lilies have just bloomed. I wanted to give you the first one. Did you know that they symbolize a rejuvenation of the soul?"
Taking the flower he offered, she held it to her nose and breathed in the aromatic scent. "No, I did not," she said.
"Mary said you were not feeling well. Would you like me to have her fetch some tea or a compress?"
"Thank you, but no. Sleep will be the best remedy."
Clearing his throat and shuffling his feet, he said, "I can see that you have already readied yourself for bed so I shall leave you to get some rest…"
"Yes," Charlotte replied, her hands on the door. "Thank you for the flower."
"Thank you for ensuring that my breakfast is just as I like," he said before stooping to plant a kiss on her lips. "Good night."
"Good night," Charlotte said, making sure to close the door before wiping the excess moisture from her mouth.
A soft smile crept upon her face as she twirled the delicate bloom in between her thumb and forefinger. Pricked by a guilty conscience, she returned to her desk and opened up her journal once more.
Maybe I was a bit harsh before. I think my harshness stemmed from concern for my friend. I do not believe telling Lady Catherine about Darcy and Lizzy's potential engagement was a wise thing to do, but I could possibly see how it would be much worse for William to have this piece of information and not tell. Lady Catherine is the type of person who would be more upset about not being in the know.
Yes, I feel I was a bit severe in my previous assessment of him. True, he is no prime specimen of a man but I could have married far worse. Especially considering my own station in life and my own plainness. There was a reason I had gotten to the age of seven and twenty with nary a marriage proposal. I am no fine catch myself. William and I are just two people trying to make the best out of what life has given us.
To assuage my guilt, I shall make a list of the good qualities my husband has.
1. He is quite good at giving little gifts. There have been many times a flower or a biscuit has found its way to me at the most opportune of times.
2. Even though he is a bit daft, he is a cheerful sort of fellow.
3. He is rather tall which makes me feel quite dainty next to him.
4. Although I confess to not caring much for his kisses, he is rather warm and strong and I do not mind very much at all to be held by him.
Yawning, Charlotte set down her plume and slipped into bed. Maybe nothing would come from William telling Lady Catherine about Lizzy and Darcy. Maybe she was worried all for naught.
The next morning after inspecting the cleaning Mary had done and going over what Bessie would make for dinner (as they had not been invited to dine at Rosings and Charlotte believed would not be for quite some time), she made her way back to her own room to acquire the novel she had been reading. After certain housekeeping details were taken care of, Charlotte found that she was able to spend many a quiet hour reading, painting, or playing the piano at her leisure. At this point in time, she was reading the most engrossing of stories and could not wait until she was steeped into that world again.
Turning the knob to her room, she gasped at the sight of someone fumbling around her desk, but breathed a sigh of relief when she discovered it was only her husband.
"Is there something I could help you find, my dear?"
"I was just looking for some ink and some paper," he mumbled. "I was going to write to my relative, Mr. Bennet, to inquire whether Darcy had asked for my cousin's hand."
Struggling to keep her face free of judgment, she forced herself to display a wan smile. His letter would no doubt be regarded with disdain just as his other letters to his family had been. "There is some in the first drawer on the left."
Her husband opened the drawer and nodded. "Ah, yes, I see." Taking what he needed, he quitted her room.
Charlotte shook her head. Something was off with William. Maybe the wild mushrooms at breakfast hadn't sat well with him. Shrugging nonchalantly, she began to search for the book she had come up here for. It was only as she was picking it up from the nightstand that she noticed her journal on the desk. It was still open to the pages she'd written on the night before.