Hunsford, Kent
Charlotte
Charlotte sipped her cup of tea gratefully, savoring the aroma and flavor of Jane’s home-mixed blend. “If you ever were in want of a profession, my dear friend, you might consider selling this particular tea. It is wonderful.”
“Thank you, Charlotte,” Jane began, only to be cut off by her husband.
“Indeed, my dear wife excels at her duties. These herbs, though we purchased them and were not grown ourselves, have been expertly mixed. Why, I flatter myself to say that even Lady Catherine has not such an excellent addition to her afternoon teas. I said to her just last week, “Lady Catherine, I wish to gift you with this particular…”
Charlotte continued to drink her tea, successfully ignoring Mr. Collins’s chatter. What a shame that Jane could not even accept a sincere compliment without her husband interrupting. Her friend bore it all with patience, though, and merely turned her attention back to the repast before them as her husband continued to speak. Before long, however, Mr. Collins’s preference for food overtook his desire to fill his mouth with words, and he once again fell silent.
Charlotte considered all that had happened since yesterday. Once back at the parsonage, Jane had excused herself. She claimed a headache, but Elizabeth professed a belief that her sister needed a moment to compose herself after the scene at Rosings Park. Charlotte agreed, and both friends were grateful to have witnessed a little of the old Jane again.
The ladies told Mr. Collins of Lady Catherine’s guests at supper that night, and he expressed an eagerness to make the acquaintance of other exalted individuals. Jane had calmly warned her husband that, by all appearances, his patroness did not like her guests, but Mr. Collins brushed off her concern.
“Lady Catherine’s hospitality and beneficence know no bounds, my dear. I am sure she will open her home and her heart to her relations. Dear Miss de Bourgh is, by your account, pleased with her grandmother’s presence. There is no mother as fine as my patroness, none willing to please their child as she is. Lady Catherine will enjoy her guests.”
“As you say,” Jane murmured. Charlotte noted the twitch of her lips, testifying to her amusement. Charlotte turned the conversation to other topics.
“I believe I shall walk out today.” She dabbed her lips with her serviette and set it beside her plate. “The weather is very fine.”
“Shall I accompany you?” Elizabeth asked.
“If you like. I cannot go as far and as long as you can, my friend, so I beg your patience in our endeavor.” Charlotte smiled at Elizabeth and winked.
“I promise to temper my enthusiasm for the exercise.” Elizabeth placed her hand over her heart as if she were making a solemn vow.
“I shall hold you to it.” The two ladies stood and left the room to collect their outerwear. Ten minutes later, bonnets and pelisses on and gloves in hand, they left the parsonage and ventured onto one of Elizabeth’s favorite walking paths.
“I do not believe I have ever come this way.” Charlotte admired the flowering foliage on either side of the path. Trees arched over the dirt trail, shading their journey.
“This path is not as well-worn as others. I do not encounter many people when I walk it. There is a lovely bluebell meadow a few minutes from here.” Elizabeth held a low branch out of the way so Charlotte could pass. “A stream crosses it, and there are several places one might sit and contemplate the universe.”
“The universe? Are your thoughts so profound when you seek your solitude?”
Elizabeth laughed. “Not usually. I confess, my thoughts have been on yesterday’s tea since last night. What a spectacle! How incredible it was to see Lady Catherine so flustered! Do you think she employs a walking stick because Lady de Bourgh does?”
Charlotte, too, laughed. “I had not considered it, but you may be correct! They do not get on well, do they?”
“By all appearances, they are mortal enemies.” Elizabeth shook her head. “Lady Catherine’s remark about being low born seems to speak of her long-held prejudices. I wonder what Lady de Bourgh’s origins are.”
“She carries herself like a lady of rank, no matter where she came from.”
“Yes.” Elizabeth agreed, brushing her hand against the rough bark of the trees as they walked. “It is likely that she has held her rank for longer than she was a maiden.”
The trees broke, opening to a large meadow. Charlotte could hear the babbling of the stream amidst the chirping of the birds. Bluebells were blooming all over, and there were several fallen logs that provided places to sit.
“This is lovely, Lizzy.” Charlotte breathed in the morning air. “I shall be quite happy to spend the next half an hour admiring this place. I think I shall go sit over there by the stream.”
“I wish to continue on. Shall I return for you in a while?”
Charlotte nodded. “Yes, you go on. I do not wish to be subject to your petulance should you not get your exercise.”
Elizabeth swatted Charlotte playfully and then continued across the meadow. Another path into the trees could be seen, and her friend quickly disappeared down it.
Charlotte perched on a large rock next to the stream. It was not very deep or wide, but she could see a few small fish darting in and out of the weeds and the rocks. It flowed in the direction of Rosings Park. Perhaps the stream emptied into a pond where gentlemen could angle after fish.
“Hello!” A deep, masculine voice sounded behind her, and Charlotte shrieked in surprise. She startled and lost her seat on the rock, slipping and landing in the stream on her backside. Water splashed up around her, soaking her bonnet and fichu.
