Mr. Collins gulped audibly next to Jane, and Charlotte’s gaze strayed to his. He pleaded with her silently as he fumbled with his watch fob, and she took pity on him.
“It has happened before, your ladyship,” she said. “I am nearly eight-and-twenty. I suppose I am not the sort of lady whom gentlemen wish to marry. I am the friend, the occasional dance partner, the confidant, but never the wife.” Her tone was self-deprecating, yet humorous as she sought to put the party at ease.
“You speak your opinions rather decidedly.” Lady Catherine regarded her with something that resembled respect. “Do not give up hope. I did not marry until nearly thirty years of age. The right gentleman may yet appear in your life.”
“I can only do as you advise, Lady Catherine.”
The door opened and a footman entered. “Dinner is served.” He bowed and stepped aside.
Mr. Bennet rose and offered his arm to Lady Catherine once she stood from her chair. Mr. Collins and Jane followed, leaving the other ladies to pair up and escort each other. Mrs. Jenkinson appeared to support Miss de Bourgh, the latter leaning heavily on the former as they left the sitting room.
Dinner was a sumptuous feast of courses, each more elaborate and richer than the last. Used to simpler fare, Charlotte found herself a little nauseous by dessert. The servants served the delightful confection, and she forced herself to consume it to avoid offending Lady Catherine.
Mr. Bennet sat to their hostess’s right with Elizabeth on his other side. Mr. Collins took the last seat on that side of the table. Miss de Bourgh sat on her mother’s left, with her companion, followed by Jane. Charlotte sat next to Mrs. Collins and across from the parson. No other occupied the end of the table.
She watched Mr. Collins tuck into his meal as she delicately consumed her own. About halfway through the second course, Jane leaned close to her and whispered in Charlotte’s ear.
“I believe you and I must have a chat,” Mrs. Collins said quietly.
“I cannot think what we have to discuss.” Charlotte now felt a little guilt at her behavior and hoped Jane would let the matter rest.
“Can you not? Your display in the sitting room put you and me in an awkward situation, not to mention my husband’s rattled equilibrium.” Jane sipped her soup delicately. Anyone paying attention to their conversation would see nothing untoward in her demeanor. Charlotte tried to match Jane’s expression and nonchalance and tried to put her off.
“You have surmised the meaning behind my words. What more is there to say?”
Jane shook her head slightly. “It is clear from your words that you have been hurt. I wish to know what occurred between you and Mr. Collins before he offered for me. I detected some displeasure on his part when you arrived; as you have likely understood, I did not inform him you were coming, and he did not ask the identity of Elizabeth’s friend when I told him I wished to extend an invitation. I would rather not try his patience and equanimity any more than necessary. We shall speak on it tomorrow.”
Charlotte nodded, a little shocked at Jane’s firm command. She left no room for argument, her usual complying nature buried under self-assurance. Jane had blossomed in the shorttime since leaving Longbourn, and Charlotte envied her friend her freedom.
The rest of the evening proceeded without incident. Lady Catherine monopolized the conversation while they had tea and coffee, and the great lady called the carriage to convey them back to the parsonage.
Once in her bed, having retreated there before Elizabeth, too, could question her, Charlotte struggled to find rest. Would Jane send her away once she knew all? Miss Jane Bennet would have forgiven and forgotten quickly. Mrs. Jane Collins’s reaction was less certain.
Jane found Charlotte after breakfast. Elizabeth had left the house for a ramble, and Mr. Collins departed soon after to attend to an ailing parishioner. Mr. Bennet returned to his room, ostensibly to pursue his book.
Charlotte sat on a bench situated on the side of the parsonage. There, a narrow strip of lawn ran between the fence and the house. Roses climbed a trellis against the stone wall of the parsonage, and the bench sat opposite under a lovely tree. It was a peaceful spot, a little removed from the busy lane and shaded enough to be comfortable as the weather grew warmer.
“Here you are.” Jane brushed a hand down the front of her gown and sat next to Charlotte on the bench. “I did not find you in the house.”
“I admit I came here in hopes to delay our inevitable conversation.” She shifted guiltily. “I ought not to have spoken when I did. I am sorry to have caused Mr. Collins discomfort.”
“Even if, as I surmise, he deserved it?” Jane’s cheeky smile lightened Charlotte’s heart. “Will you not tell me?”
And so, Charlotte proceeded to tell Jane all that had occurred from the moment she removed Mr. Collins from Longbourn after his failed proposal to the moment she discovered Jane’s engagement to the same gentleman.
“I did not think him so dishonorable,” Jane murmured when Charlotte concluded.
“I do not blame him for choosing you.” Charlotte laughed dryly. “You are lovelier, and you are family. It makes perfect sense.”
“Be that as it may, his honor was engaged. He ought not to have abandoned you.”
There was a note of something in Jane’s voice. She sounded a bit dismal and angry, and Charlotte realized they were no longer speaking of Mr. Collins.
“Elizabeth believes I have betrayed my dreams,” Jane murmured. “Mayhap I have. But it was necessary, and I cannot regret my decision.”
“What do you mean?” Charlotte looked at Jane curiously.
Jane bit her lip and looked away. “It is nothing,” she said. “Nothing at all.”
