“Lizzy, Jane! Did you hear? Mrs. Jennings says that her maid heard that the new colonel is only thirty, and single! But surely he must be handsome, Mrs. Jennings.” Mrs. Bennet fanned herself with excitement.
“And I believe his name may start with an F,” Mrs. Jennings said, grinning at Elinor.
“Surely a plain man – or God forbid, an ugly one – could never hope to command a whole regiment,” Elizabeth observed with a wink for her father.
“That is quite right, my dear,” he quipped. “No soldier worth his salt would take orders from an ill-featured colonel.”
Mrs. Bennet waved her handkerchief and emphatically agreed. “And this time, I shall make haste in putting my own daughters forward! Mrs. Goulding may have bested me, putting her daughter Harriet into Colonel Forster’s path – well, we shall not tarry in welcoming the young colonel to the neighborhood, and then Mr. Bingley shall be sorry indeed, when he falls in love with my Jane.”
On the sofa across from Elizabeth, Jane turned pink and shrank back a little, as Kitty and Lydia boldly declared their intentions of catching the newcomer’s eye.
“If I could but be in two places at once,” Mrs. Jennings cried. “A camp full of officers may be an amusing thing for your girls, but they cannot form any serious designs on such lads. But a young colonel! And this dreadful Mr. Bingley, well! I am sure I shall hunt him down in London and tell him he ought to give up the lease of Netherfield so some other eligible fellow might come into the neighborhood. I think it is very selfish of him to let the place only for it to sit empty! It reminds me of Allenham, Miss Marianne. If only old Lady Allen would retreat to the seaside for her health and let Willoughby start a family there, eh? I daresay you found it a pleasing house!”
Beside Jane, Marianne blushed and reclined against the sofa with a grimace at her friend’s indiscretion. Elizabeth attempted to turn the subject, but she was prevented; a footman entered and announced Sir William Lucas.
Their generally jovial neighbor entered, clad in black and frowning as they had never seen before. His gaze landed on Jane and his brows furrowed for a moment before he asked for a private audience with Mr. Bennet. The two gentlemen were but a quarter hour in the study before they rejoined the ladies, their faces still somber.
“Miss Elizabeth, my daughter has asked if I could bring you back to Lucas Lodge – your father has already consented to your staying for dinner, though it shall be a dreary occasion,” Sir William said as he extended his hand to help her to her feet.
“What has happened? Is she unwell?”
“She is beside herself with grief, I fear. We received word an hour ago that William Collins perished yesterday morning in a carriage accident near Bromley. His patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, sent an express that she is managing everything for… for his funeral. It is to be in Kent; your father and I will depart the day after Christmas to pay our respects.”
The room was at once in uproar. “Good God!” Elizabeth staggered, and Sir William steadied her, tears welling in his eyes. “My poor friend! She was to be married the day after tomorrow! What a horrible thing to happen, and at Christmas too.”
Though she had never thought highly of her cousin, Elizabeth had learned a modicum of acceptance of her friend’s prudent choice, for the sake of maintaining their friendship, and she was heartily sorry at the loss her friend must be suffering. “Yes, take me to her at once!”
She cast an apologetic glance over her shoulder at the Dashwoods, who began to say that they would take their leave. Jane, Mary, and even Marianne and Elinor asked Elizabeth to convey their condolences to Charlotte. But Elizabeth and Sir William were not yet out of hearing when Mrs. Bennet began to demand to know what this meant for the entail. She was loudlycongratulating Jane when Sir William winced as he helped Elizabeth into his carriage.
***
Elizabeth passed an agonizing night at Lucas Lodge. She sat with Charlotte, occasionally joined by Lady Lucas and Maria, the entire afternoon and evening. Sir William did his part to ease Charlotte’s dismay by removing the younger children from the house, taking them into the village to purchase a few extra Christmas gifts for his bereaved daughter.
Charlotte took a tray in her room, and Elizabeth dined with her. Darkness had encroached at an early hour, and Charlotte stared out into it as she sat by the window, the untouched tray of food in her lap. “You must marry rich, Lizzy, and take me as your paid companion before I become a burden to my family.”
Elizabeth gave a snort of bitter laughter as she looked at her friend. “Oh. You are serious.”
“I am doomed to always be serious, Lizzy. I fear this was my one and only chance to marry and have a home of my own, and it has been snatched away at the very last moment.”
“I cannot believe that,” Elizabeth assured her. “You have not moved enough in the world; anyone who is fortunate enough to meet you can see your worth. Alas, not enough eligible young men have had that pleasure.”
Charlotte shook her head. “My father has taken me to London every spring….”
“If you would only learn to get on with your brother’s wife, she might be of more assistance. She is wealthy and well connected….”
“Ugh! She is vicious and vain! I really think she only married my brother as some sort of rebellion, for she has been very sour ever since Lord Avery accepted him so warmly.”
“Well, I shall tell you candidly that if your ill-featured brother can land such a catch, there is hope for all of us who have only our charms to recommend us.”
Charlotte shook her head, determined to be dejected. “Some of us have little in the way of charms. Where Mr. Collins was concerned, my greatest allure was desperation.”
There was little Elizabeth could do to dissuade her friend from the cynical turn of her grief. Though Charlotte wept for the rest of the night, she said little else, and Elizabeth could only hope that her silent companionship gave her friend some succor.
Elizabeth stayed the night, and the two friends shared a bed; they snuggled together, murmuring their affection for one another and assurances of friendship and fortitude. But the next morning, Charlotte was cold to Elizabeth.
She was already dressed when Elizabeth awoke, and she sat on a chair by the window, staring numbly at a breakfast tray. She wore a drab grey gown ten years out of fashion, and her hair was pulled back in a severe knot. Her cheeks were sallow and her eyes puffy, and her gaze was unfocused as she tipped her face up toward Elizabeth. “Jane will get Longbourn, I suppose.”
Elizabeth sank down onto the arm of Charlotte’s chair, drawing her shawl tight around the night rail her friend had lent her. “What?”
