I believed myself healed,she reflected dismally.But I was mistaken. A heart that is broken does not so easily mend.
A pang of guilt accompanied the memory of her flight from the park. Mr. Darcy had called her name—and she had fled.
My courage always rises whenever I face trials or intimidation,she mused.And yet, at the first sign of distress, I fled. My word, what a fickle creature I have become!
Had she not longed for the chance to speak with him, to hear his explanation? And when that opportunity was presented, she had turned away.When did I become so contrary?
There was nothing for it now. The moment had passed, and she was already well on her way to Kent. Mr. Darcy might seek her at Gracechurch Street—or he might not. Should he go, the Gardiners would surely guard her whereabouts from those unworthy of such knowledge. It was poor consolation. A traitorous, fanciful part of her longed for him to pursue her—for some proof, however irrational, that he still loved her.
Even if he did speak with you, ’tis unlikely he would renew his unofficial addresses.
She huffed, crossed her arms over her middle, and turned once more to the window.He made me no promises.There were only implications—allusions. Still, she had hoped he might offer for her, and when he had left without a word, it had devastated her.
Elizabeth had no desire for thoughts of Mr. Darcy to overshadow her lovely holiday in Kent. She gathered every memory of the gentleman—and all the feelings attached to their acquaintance—and wrapped them, in her mind, with proverbial paper, locking them away in some imaginary trunk. Her visit with Charlotte would not be marred by the longings of her heart. Instead, she would celebrate her friend’s felicity and enjoy the comfort of the Collinses’ hospitality. Perhaps if fortune smiled, she would even meet the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh herself.
By the time the carriage slowed before a handsome, gray-stone house on a quiet lane, the hour was such that their hosts hadalready laid out tea. A low stone wall enclosed the parsonage, its base bright with spring blossoms. Trees shaded part of the dwelling, and Elizabeth suspected a kitchen garden lay behind it, well out of sight.
Awaiting them wereMr. and Mrs. Collins, Elizabeth thought wryly. Charlotte wore a white mobcap and apron, and her arm looped through her husband’s. Mr. Collins stood tall and proud, his usually greasy hair clean and freshly combed, his typically rumpled attire pristine. When he grinned, it was without sanctimony or condescension—merely genuine.
Sir William descended first and then offered his hand to assist Elizabeth and Maria. Together, they approached their hosts.
“My dear Sir William! Cousin Elizabeth! And Miss Maria! Welcome to our humble abode. Come! We have tea waiting, and I—that is,we—wish to show you the parsonage. “He seemed inclined to say more, but Charlotte placed a gentle hand on his arm. He fell silent, casting his wife a look of grateful admiration. She stepped forward and greeted her friend and family with warm embraces.
They entered a pleasant drawing room at the front of the house. “Mr. Collins’s study lies across the hall,” Charlotte explained. “This room is reserved for callers. I have a private parlor at the back of the house for my own use. ’Tis very comfortable—but I shall show you later. We have a lovely tea prepared: biscuits, tarts, and an herbal blend called Kentish mint—all locally grown.”
“It sounds delightful,” Elizabeth said, taking a seat beside Maria as Charlotte began to pour and serve the tea. Mr. Collins soon launched into conversation with his father-in-law, leaving the ladies to their own.
“I trust your journey was an easy one,” Charlotte said, passing Elizabeth her tea. She next served Maria, who accepted with a grateful smile.
Elizabeth nodded. “Indeed, it was. What lovely country! I believe I could live in Kent forever.” She smiled happily and took a sip. “This blend is excellent! What sort of mint is grown here that would give it such a robust flavor?”
“I have yet to learn the secret. The garden behind the parsonage boasts three varieties.” Charlotte sipped her tea and gave a small hum of satisfaction. “We have other herbs as well, some of them imported. I wished to welcome you with a taste of Kentish fare.”
“I heartily approve. Never have I had a mint tea so fine! Thank you, my dear friend.”
After their repast, Mr. Collins conducted them on a tour of the house, proudly pointing out various improvements. When they reached the bedchambers, he paused before one of the closets.
“Lady Catherine had shelves installed here,” he declared. “They have since been removed. I once managed well enough with folded garments—after all, a gentleman’s attire differs greatly from a lady’s. But now that I am married, my dear Charlotte has wisely observed the necessity of having a place to hang her gowns. I dare say, my shirts are far less wrinkled when not folded and kept on a shelf.”
Elizabeth exchanged a look with Charlotte, her eyes dancing with amusement. Inwardly, she wondered what other changes her friend had quietly introduced into her husband’s habits.
This may prove a most diverting visit indeed.
Chapter Twenty
March 5, 1812
Kent
Elizabeth
“Charlotte,Icanseethat marriage agrees with you.” Elizabeth sipped her tea, smiling at her friend over the top of the cup. “Why, I have never seen you glow so brightly!”
“Thank you, Eliza.” Charlotte took a bite of cake, chewing with thoughtful deliberation. “Mr. Collins has proven to be an exemplary husband and partner. He performs small acts of kindness each day and strives to emulate my proper behavior. What is more, his devotion to Lady Catherine has begun to wane. Do not mistake my meaning—he still calls on her weekly as she demands, but he returns with more complaints of her highhandedness than praises for her beneficence or condescension.”
“And you had nothing to do with his transformation.” Elizabeth’s sarcasm was obvious, her grin shared knowingly with her friend.
“Imayhave pointed out a few things. Thankfully, he is receptive to gentle direction. Other men might insist they know better than their wives. I am well aware of the blessing it is to have a husband who willingly seeks to correct his faults.”
