Page 5 of A Prudent Engagement

She drank the whole cup without thought, and Charlotte said little, only holding her hand while she did so.

The presence was comforting. Elizabeth was sure that Charlotte expected her to burst into tears at any moment, but she had no such instinct.

Mr. Collins entered the room, sweaty hair plastered about his neck. He smiled at seeing them together. “Ah, my dear, so you did find Cousin Elizabeth to deliver the sad news to her. I went round the whole park looking for her.”

Elizabeth sat up.

Mr. Collins came forward; he had donned a sombre expression, but Elizabeth was quite sure that his mood was good. “You must be filled with much despair at hearing about the sudden death of your honoured father, but you know that you must not grieve—he was a man who existed in communion with the Church of England, and so he will have been taken up with the angels, and he will exist forever at God’s side. There is no reason therefore to be sad, or to faint, or to be filled with tears and wailings.”

“No, sir,” Elizabeth agreed without feeling much of anything. “I thank you for that thought.”

“It must make you once more wonder about a matter—but I shall not speak of that. I merely note that the ways of the world are odd, and one never knows when an heir might receive an unexpectedly early accession to fortune. My Charlotte is greatly fortunate, you see, in her choice of a husband. But I assure you, Cousin Elizabeth, that now you have been placed in such a position of deeper dependence, with no fixed promises of maintenance or support, that I shall do everything in my power that family feeling demands and that my increased fortune allows me to.”

Elizabeth had never in her life so despised a man as she did her cousin at that second, nor had she ever been so happy that she had not married him—unexpectedly early accession to a fortune gained by her father’s death or not.

As Mr. Collins seemed to be preparing another speech, all in that cheerful manner overhung with faux sadness, Charlotte exclaimed, “Mr. Collins, you must tell Lady Catherine what has befallen your cousin, and you must inform her that Elizabeth and I cannot dine with her tonight!”

“I hardly see what call there is for that. There is no person who is more suited to comfort those in the midst of grief than Lady Catherine. Her words are such that they can turn the deepest misery into smiles. I greatly look forward to hearing all that she has to say on the subject.”

Elizabeth felt deep revulsion at the thought of being made to sit and listen to Lady Catherine’s harangues on the matter. She said to him, “No, no. I cannot attend. I certainly cannot.”

“Cousin Elizabeth, you speak from—”

“Mr. Collins,” Charlotte said sharply. “You cannot wish her ladyship to remain in ignorance of this great change in the circumstances of all in this cottage. You do not need to speak about Elizabeth’s plans for the evening, but you must tell her what has happened immediately. You would not wish to neglect her.”

At that thought, an anxious expression crossed Mr. Collins’s face, as though he had already neglected her when he searched for Elizabeth first, rather than going directly to Lady Catherine upon hearing the news. The parson nodded quickly and hurried to the door, turning as he reached it to say to Elizabeth, “I had a happy thought—I shall use my influence with Lady Catherine to beg her to find you a good place as a governess. You know that she is most capable of doing such a thing, and she delights in being of use.”

“I beg you to not—” Elizabeth began.

“There is no need to proffer the thanks that your heart must be filled with,” Mr. Collins said, making a bow in her direction. “You can already see how I shall ensure that you have no additional cause to fret in your changed circumstances.”

Her cousin at last left the room, and Elizabeth slumped back into the sofa.

She had managed for the entirety of Mr. Collins’ speech, until his last comment, to only think about her papa and how greatly she would miss him. Thoughts about their material circumstances had not once crossed her mind until her cousin had felt the need to crow about how happy he was that he would have her father’s land and fortune and that she would have nothing except his aid to become a governess.

Charlotte sat next to Elizabeth and took her hand again. “My dear Lizzy. It is my husband’s usual manner, but he should not have spoken in such a way.”

“How could you ever bear to marry such a man?” Elizabeth said with uncalled for bitterness. “No, no. I apologise. I should not speak in such a way. He is not so bad. He only—”

“Eliza, I made a choice. It was a sensible one.” Charlotte squeezed her shoulder. “You, my dear friend, have never been sensible.”

“I shall need to become sensible. Two hundred pounds a year… We shall only have a tenth of my father’s income—I hate it. I now cannot cease thinking about money at such a time. It is not right! If I truly loved Papa, I could not think of anything but…but—” Her voice caught.

Dizzying pain waited for her if she thought too much about that.

“In any case,” she eventually continued, “I shall not be well suited to such a role. You see companions and governesses. Humble women who must always pretend that the words of their mistress are brilliant, who are scared to discipline their charges and are then punished for not doing so sufficiently. There is nothing, nothing…” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “I am sure that will not be necessary.”

“Your family might do very well on two hundred a year—and what the Gardiners and Phillipses are willing to aid you with,” Charlotte replied. “It is your sisters and mother who will be unhappy, not you.”

Elizabeth cried, “You need not condemn me for my unwillingness to make sacrifices for my family and their unhappiness. I must condemn myself.”

Charlotte’s face was aghast. “I had not meant that. I do see how you might interpret what I said in that way, but I truly only meant that you are well suited to a frugal life. You will not let your happiness be excessively changed by material circumstances.”

“But my family will—Mama’s happiness will be destroyed by comparative poverty. I should have married Mr. Collins instead of you. That is what you are saying.”

“I certainly do not wish that.” Charlotte pressed her hands over her eyes. “Lord, I hate, hate, hate that this news contains more good than ill for me! I grieve for you, for I love you. I wish—Eliza, I wish that…I shall always be your friend. And you are not so impoverished. I dare say that entering employment will not be necessary. If nothing else, I shall always be happy to have you about me—and when your mother dies, the income from your fortune will be more than most governesses make.”

“Two hundred pounds a year, and what we can beg from my uncles, for six gentlewomen. Not impossible, I suppose. But my mother’s brag that none of her daughters knows how to cook will not survive the summer.” Elizabeth pressed her hand against her stomach. “And Papa’s books. They are worth a great deal of money, and as I understand it, they are in no way covered by the entail. We shall sell them, and—and—”