I am so sorry.
Cannot you understand what a predicament
I must apologise heartily for my
I know you did not understand my reasoning, but I felt obliged to
I miss you.
Charlotte
Now that one obstacle was out of the way, Charlotte knew she’d have to face the much more complicated matter of how to address Mary. Writing countless letters hadn’t provided the clear answers she required, so she was finally forced to acknowledge that she ought to visit. If she could only persuade Mary to give her a moment, a single chance to apologise from the bottom of her heart, perhaps she could begin to undo some of the damage she had wrought previously.
That morning, Lady Lucas decided to pay a call to another family friend who lived around the corner, but Charlotte begged off, claiming a mild headache. After her mother had left the house on foot, Charlotte slipped out and used the Palmer-Parkers’ carriage to travel across town to Mary’s house.It took her a long moment to pluck up the courage even to step out of the carriage and walk up the steps, and longer still to knock on the door.
Pitt answered, and his face told everything Charlotte had been afraid of. “Good morning, Mrs Collins,” he said, stiffly, not moving to let her inside. “May I help you?”
“Who’s that, Pitt?” a woman called.
Charlotte froze. Had Mary moved on so soon?
“It is a—” his lip curled with distaste “—a friend of Miss Bennet’s, Mrs Langley.”
Charlotte had entirely forgotten that Aunt Cecily was supposed to be returning home. “Oh, I—”
“Let me see.” Aunt Cecily appeared in the doorway, and Pitt moved aside. She was dressed in a simple ivory gown, trimmed with ivory lace, the buttons polished to such a shine that Charlotte could see twenty tiny versions of herself reflected in them; each one looked terrified.
“Pardon me. I ought not to have come,” Charlotte said, backing away hastily.
“No, don’t think you’re getting away so easily. Come in, girl, and let me have a look at you,” Aunt Cecily commanded. Charlotte had no choice but to obey, her mouth dry. In the foyer, a tall man and a red-haired woman hovered outside the door to the drawing room—this must be her husband, George, and their lover, Edith.
“Hmm,” Aunt Cecily added, eyeing Charlotte with disdain. “So you’re the chit who’s broken my Mary’s heart.”
“Um…” said Charlotte, wishing she were dead.
“Cecily,” Edith scolded.
Mr Langley rolled his eyes. “And they tell me that the English are well-mannered.”
“When we mean to be, certainly. And when we intend to get our point across, I believe we’re as blunt as the French. You’ll stay for tea.”
“Oh I really couldn’t—” Charlotte began, but Cecily had already swept into the drawing room.
She followed, feeling only slightly better after Edith and Mr Langley shot her sympathetic glances.
Pitt served tea with his usual civility, though Charlotte had the distinct impression that he would very much like to pour the contents of the pot over her head. Cecily lounged on the couch, Mr Langley beside her, while Edith wandered about the room, apparently unable to sit still. Charlotte sat opposite, twitching. She had made love in this very room, on this very couch. She had found joy in this house and lost it here too. Tears prickled her eyes but she focused on the cup in front of her, determined not to weep.
“So?” Cecily asked. “What have you to say for yourself? It is an audacious move indeed to turn up here after what you did.”
“I never meant to hurt her.”
“If that is true, then why did you? And why have you not written since?”
“She threw me out,” Charlotte pointed out. “And I tried, but I… I could not find the words.”
“An apology would have been a good start,” Cecily snapped.
She deserved that. “Yes, it would have. Though I hardly think I could ever apologise enough. And besides, I could not be sure that anything I wrote would actually be read.” The idea of Mary recognising her handwriting, and throwing a letter into the fire without so much as opening it was a painful one. “I came to say that I will be accepting the position Mr Mellor offered me, and will therefore be living at Amberhurst, if Mary would like to visit me there.”
