Lady Catherine's Necklace (3 page)

Mrs Jenkinson gazed at her employer's daughter in silent wonder. It was the first time in six months, to her knowledge, that Anne de Bourgh had spoken two consecutive sentences, let alone to a stranger.

II

Charlotte Collins and her sister Maria were up in Charlotte's bedroom, Maria seated in a slipper-chair, anxiously observant of her sister, while Charlotte paced energetically to and fro. Experienced now in childbirth, she knew that this was the best thing to do so long as energy and resolution held out. Maria watched in admiration and apprehension. An unmarried girl, she was not supposed to be so intimately acquainted with the stages of labour as her sister, but she had companioned Charlotte through the latter's two previous confinements, and felt a reasonable degree of confidence in her knowledge of the various developments to be expected in the process of parturition, and how soon it would be necessary to summon Mrs Denny, the housekeeper, and Mrs Hurst, the midwife, who were both at present below stairs drinking tea and sloe gin.

‘The house seems most remarkably quiet without William,' Charlotte presently observed. ‘It was fortunate indeed that the snow melted in time for him to be able to make his way as far as the stage-coach stop.'

‘Do you think he will really be able to accomplish his business at Longbourn within a week?'

‘Not for a single minute. It seems entirely improbable,' Charlotte said matter-of-factly. ‘He will be obliged to write to Lady Catherine asking for an extension of his leave. All the affairs of an estate cannot be wound up so quickly. But his ownership of Longbourn cannot help but raise him somewhat in Lady Catherine's estimation. An
Esquire
after his name will cause her to use him with a trifle more consideration. I calculate that he may remain away for at least two and a half weeks.'

She spoke as if the prospect of her husband's continued absence from home would be no hardship, and went on:

‘But you say that, latterly, Mr Bennet lived at Longbourn alone? So there will not be a great household to disperse?'

‘No, certainly; since Mrs Bennet's death and the departure of Kitty, he has spent less and less time in Hertfordshire. Mostly he would be staying in Derbyshire with Elizabeth or Jane.'

‘And Mary? Where is she?'

‘She has gone to live with Kitty in London. Kitty, you may recall, was married two years ago to some connection of their uncle, Mr Gardner. Do you think, Charlotte, that Mr Collins will wish to give up his living here, and reside at Longbourn? It is a much bigger house, and more comfortable than this one.'

‘No, I do not think he will wish to do that,' replied Charlotte with decision. ‘He is far too dependent on Lady Catherine's favour and goodwill to wish to sever himself from Rosings. I think he will find a tenant for Longbourn and so augment our income – an increase we shall be glad of, with the enlargement of our family. Mr Willis tells me that this time I am to expect twins.'

‘Oh, Charlotte!'

‘I shall not mind that at all,' Charlotte said calmly. ‘I dare say they will amuse each other. And as soon as they are weaned, I plan to start teaching Lucy and Sam.'

‘Are they not rather young for that?'

‘Lucy will be four and Sam three; I think children cannot begin learning too early. I shall keep them at home with me. I cannot agree with our mother's practice of boarding children out in some cottage in the village until they are six or seven; by that time they grow shockingly spoiled, pick up all kinds of unsuitable language and also, as often as not, contract some illness which may prove fatal.'

‘Good heavens, Charlotte!' said Maria, greatly startled at this rejection of Lady Lucas's well-known tenets of child-rearing.

‘Well? Did not two of our brothers take smallpox from the village children and die?'

‘Yes, that is true. But then, why are Lucy and Sam boarded out at present?'

‘It is only for a week or so, until I am on my feet again. Lady Catherine does not approve of my opinions either,' Charlotte added calmly. ‘And Mr Collins, of course, took her side, but on this point I am resolved to be firm and have my way. Why, for that matter, Lady Catherine's own son, Eadred, the elder brother of Anne de Bourgh, contracted a putrid fever while boarded out in Hunsford when there was a typhus epidemic, and died before he was out of short coats. (This was before Mr Collins came to Hunsford.) I am told that Sir Lewis was heartbroken; he died himself shortly afterwards.'

‘So Anne de Bourgh once had a brother.'

‘She did. I suspect one of the reasons why she is so sickly and lacking in spirit is that both parents greatly favoured the boy (or so I am told), and Anne has always been made to feel inferior. Ever since the boy's death, Lady Catherine has been in the habit of drawing invidious comparisons between the poor girl and her dead brother – “Your brother Eadred would never have done that; your brother Eadred would have been able to learn that easily” – very unfair and guaranteed to make the poor girl even duller and crosser than she is already. I do not think Colonel FitzWilliam is at all anxious to hasten on the match.'

If Charlotte had been looking at her sister just then, she would have noticed Maria turn very pale. But Charlotte was peering between the window curtains and went on: ‘Well! I declare, talk of the devil, there
is
the colonel now! I just this moment saw him ride past. I had understood that he and Lord Luke were not expected until next week. I wonder what brings them so soon? I am sure it is not the colonel's own inclinations. No doubt he comes to escort his uncle. He himself always seems so bored at Rosings.'

Maria's complexion had turned from pale to pink. She now inquired, with tolerable calm:

‘It is certain, then? They are to marry? Anne de Bourgh and Colonel FitzWilliam?'

‘Yes. Lady Catherine told us at New Year that it would be announced at Easter, when they are gone out of mourning for some great-aunt. Anne will have fifty thousand pounds at her majority, you know, very likely more, so it is a fine thing for the colonel. Despite the fact that he is the younger son of the Earl of Wrendale, I understand that he has hardly a feather to fly with. And he may well feel sorry for the poor girl; he is a good-natured, kindly fellow, I have a great regard for him. Anne was half promised to Darcy, you know; or so Lady Catherine thought – at least, she always spoke of the match as if it was an arranged thing. So when Darcy married Elizabeth Bennet, it must have been quite a severe blow to Anne, both to her affections and to her vanity. Perhaps FitzWilliam thinks that marrying her is the least he can do to make amends for his cousin's defection. In any case, both Lady Catherine and her daughter will be delighted to see him.'

‘Who is Lord Luke?'

‘Lord Luke Sherbrine. He is Lady Catherine's brother, and brother to the Duke of Anglesea. Never married. He lives somewhere up in those northern parts, near to Mr Darcy and Colonel FitzWilliam.'

‘Mrs Denny tells me that there are other visitors at Rosings House just now'

‘Yes, a Mr Delaval and his sister. They had a carriage accident. Lady Catherine offered them hospitality, for the lady suffered a sprained ankle. And it turned out a fortunate chance for William, since Mr Delaval, it seems, is in orders and can conduct the services on Sunday.'

‘How do you know all this?'

‘William met the Delavals before he left. And one of the footmen at Rosings is Mrs Denny's brother,' said Charlotte, laughing. ‘Not much goes on at the great house that is not immediately reported to us. I heard that the lady and gentleman are very handsome and well mannered.'

‘Perhaps Anne de Bourgh will fall in love with the gentleman,' said Maria hopefully.

Charlotte turned and gave her young sister a very earnest, considering look.

‘My love, put the colonel out of your head! He is not for you.
You
have not got fifty thousand pounds. And, even if you had, he is promised to poor sickly Anne. You would not be so heartless as to wish to deprive her of her second, perhaps her only, chance – oh, heavens!'

She put her hand to her side with a sudden gasp.

‘Oh, Charlotte! Is it time to fetch Mrs Hurst?'

‘Yes, I think you had better do so. And tell her to bring me a cup of hot tea!'

Maria ran for the stairs.

*   *   *

That evening found Colonel FitzWilliam calling at Hunsford parsonage.

His overt purpose was to inquire after Mrs Collins, but when he saw Maria Lucas in the parlour, his face lit up and he momentarily forgot all about his official mission.

The colonel was not a handsome man. But there was something remarkably direct and likeable about his craggy countenance: his face reflected his thoughts and emotions with great fidelity, and just now it was plain that what he felt at the sight of Maria was an incautious delight.

‘Miss Maria! I had no idea – nobody told me that you were here at Hunsford!'

‘Nor I that you were here, Colonel. I – I had understood that you were expected later, some weeks later…'

He said, ‘I brought my uncle, Lord Luke Sherbrine. He wished to consult my Aunt Catherine on a matter of family business, and he is becoming too old and frail to travel unescorted all the way from Derbyshire.'

‘Lady de Bourgh and her daughter must have been happy to see you.'

He smiled. ‘Not so happy to see my uncle, however; the pair of them, for some obscure family reason, have never been the best of friends.'

‘And – and Miss Anne de Bourgh?' Maria went on courageously. ‘I understand that I am to congratulate you, Colonel, on your forthcoming engagement.'

He became serious in a moment. ‘Ah. You have heard. Yes, it is so. My cousin Anne – well, there are strong family interests promoting the alliance; and we younger sons, you know, must be inured to self-denial in matrimonial affairs. Maria – Miss Lucas—' He swallowed and went on after a moment. ‘Miss Lucas, I was very wrong, last year – very remiss, in – in allowing my wishes, my personal feelings to make themselves apparent; if – if I have done so and – and given rise to false conclusions, I deeply, deeply repent; I can only humbly crave pardon, and my sense of wrongdoing is all the greater because I know (alas, so well) the kind and candid nature that will be ready to grant that forgiveness—'

He stopped. His gaze was full of urgent appeal.

For a moment, Maria was quite unable to reply. Her throat was tight with tears. She waited for a minute or two, then became able to say lightly:

‘Oh, fie, Colonel FitzWilliam. You make too much of so little! Let us not aspire to any heroics or grand renunciation scenes. Indeed, there is nothing to forgive. The fault, if any fault there be, was equally mine. I should have been more circumspect. 'Twas only a piece of summer foolishness, soon lost in the past. “In folly ripe, in reason rotten”, you know!'

Maria gave the colonel what she hoped was a satirical smile, trying not to let her lips tremble.

‘No, no!' he exclaimed vehemently. ‘You must not say so! For that would deprive me of some treasured,
treasured
memories, which will enrich my life to its very final moments, even should I live to be an old, old man. That misty, enchanted evening by the lake when we saw the bats flying…'

Maria's involuntary movement of pain, the faint sound of protest that escaped her, fortunately passed unnoticed, for a door near the top of the stairs opened at that moment and the clamorous noise of an infant crying made itself heard, a lusty and importunate howling which immediately engaged the visitor's attention.

‘Come, come now, Colonel, you refine too much—' Maria had begun huskily, but, without attending to her, he ejaculated:

‘Oh, good heavens! Of course! I was despatched by my Aunt Catherine to make an inquiry after Mrs Collins. But I had my own reasons for wishing to come to this house.' He paused, sighed, then firmly continued: ‘I hope from what I hear that all went as it should?'

‘Oh, yes,' said Maria with a wan smile. ‘Matters fell out just as Mr Willis had predicted. My sister, as well as the two children she has already, is now the mother of twin boys, William and Henry.'

‘Oh,' he said rather blankly. ‘That must be very – very gratifying for Mr and Mrs Collins. I am sure that my aunt will be full of approval. But I should not detain you any longer. You must wish to be with your sister. She is well? She is not too exhausted?'

‘No, fortunately she is very strong and has the ability to recover quickly from such an experience.'

‘Please give her my very warmest congratulations, as well as those of my aunt and cousin. I – I suppose we shall not be seeing you up at the house in the near future – you will prefer to remain at your sister's bedside?' He added rather doubtfully, ‘I know that my cousin Anne would wish to solicit the pleasure of your company, if that were at all possible; she has, as I am sure you know, a very strong regard for you,' Maria looked sceptical at this, ‘and is eager to renew the pleasure of hearing you play and sing; she sends all kinds of messages to your sister and yourself, and, remembering that there is no piano at the parsonage, wished to assure you that you must feel at liberty to come whenever you choose and make use of the instrument in the music room.'

‘That is exceedingly thoughtful and solicitous of Miss Anne. Please convey my warmest gratitude. But, in fact, that – that state of affairs is about to be remedied,' Maria told the colonel quietly. ‘On my way here from Hertfordshire I stayed in London for some weeks with a cousin of my father, a Mrs Jennings, who was so kind as to – as to take an interest in my performance. Learning that there was no piano in this establishment, she, with unexampled kindness and generosity, at once hurried off to Broadwood and ordered an instrument to be sent to Mrs Collins's house. We expect it to arrive very soon and – and then I shall be able to give music lessons to my niece and nephew.'