The Unexpected Miss Bennet (12 page)

They all sat in silence. Charlotte’s parlour was bright and cheerful, with the sun from the garden coming in, but there were still tea things and crumbs on the small table and the pillows were askew. There were more clothes in the corner, some half-finished knitting, and other small unfinished tasks lying about. They all looked around awkwardly.

The baby’s crying got louder, then stopped abruptly. The door opened. They all stood, but only Mr Collins appeared. He looked at them, still as flustered as before. Then he bowed awkwardly to Lizzy. ‘Dear cousin, my wife asks for you at the moment. Ah, you see, the blessed event, the blessed – well, he is taking the nourishment that is natural to him and Charlotte – er, Mrs Collins, er, that is, she asks for you, cousin.’

Lizzy looked confused but obediently she followed Mr Collins upstairs. They all sat again. No one knew what to say. Georgiana swung her foot, looked around, and bit her lip. Mary found herself thinking only of the dirty tea things. She could not imagine Charlotte leaving the house so untidy. She must be very busy, she thought, trying to remember everything she had ever heard about lying-in and childbirth. The mamas spoke about such things in hushed tones and didn’t let the young girls hear anything. But it seemed as if babies left one with very little time to take care of one’s house.

Mary began to gather the tea things, half-expecting Mr Collins to pop out and cry, ‘Don’t touch them!’ She carried on, cleaning up the crumbs and using a small napkin to dust. The table gleamed under her ministrations. She left the tea things on the tray and began to tidy the small parlour. Georgiana and Darcy looked at her.

‘Mary, what—’ Georgiana began.

‘Charlotte would never leave her house untidy,’ Mary said, gaining more confidence as she neatened things. ‘So she must be very busy with the baby and has no time for visitors. The least I can do is help to make things nice. Though I thought they had at least one maid.’

Georgiana looked at her brother and then stood up. She gathered up the tea tray. ‘We should at least bring this to the kitchen,’ she declared.

‘Georgiana,’ Darcy began. He said no more, but his tone of voice indicated that he expected that was all he needed to say, and that she would obey. Georgiana wavered, but held firm.

‘Mary will help,’ she said. ‘I can’t just sit by, Darcy.’

‘You don’t have to help,’ Mary hurried to say. ‘I can, only because old intimacy forgives impertinence. Not that it would be impertinent of you, Georgiana, but for poor Charlotte.’

‘Mary is wise, my dear,’ Darcy said. ‘She knows what is due an old friend, but you are a guest.’

Mary took the tray from Georgiana’s unwilling hands and went to the kitchen. Poor Georgiana, she thought. She had a generous nature but was forced by her station to remain aloof. Perhaps she should learn how to keep a house anyway. A girl had no control over her fortune or her fate. If Lizzy Bennet could marry a rich man there was very little to bar grand Georgiana Darcy from marrying a poor one, or one who became poor.

It was not a mean thought but it was a curious one. Mary was reminded of the old song that she had sometimes heard the housekeeper at her parents’ house, Mrs Hill, sing.

None of us knows, she thought. Well, she supposed that she would remain an old maid her whole life. She could count on one hand the young men that she knew – Charlotte’s brothers, some of the young men in Meryton who gave her not a glance. The curious Mr Aikens. Mary felt an unaccustomed flush, remembering the way he had whispered in her ear, and their friendly intimacy on the grass at Pemberley. The curious Mr Aikens had not thought much of her at all, though. He had danced with Georgiana and all the other girls, his good humour and high spirits equal to them all. So why did her nerves turn cartwheels whenever she thought of him?

It turned out that Charlotte did have a cook. The woman was tending to the kitchen range and when she saw Mary she gave a relieved sigh and took the tray.

‘The house has been at sixes and sevens these past few months, and poor Mrs Collins still not fully recovered from the birth of her great big boy. The girl who comes from the village to help has been ill and I’ve just had my hands full. Mrs Collins has been looking forward to your visit, I must say, for all that her own mother has just been here, but you know how young mothers and their mothers are, for they cannot agree on anything, and Lady Lucas was fair determined that Charlotte tend her baby her way. Mrs Collins couldn’t be more relieved when Lady Lucas went. But you mustn’t put yourself out any more, my dear. I will just take those things and be out in a moment with your tea. Then I’ll help Mrs Collins down with her baby boy. He sleeps better in the parlour, poor thing.’

Charlotte did come down eventually, followed by Lizzy and the cook with the baby. Charlotte’s cap was askew and her shawl had a stain. But her eyes were lively and she looked upon her visitors with a pleased smile. Mr Collins fussed at her and admonished her with every other breath, and settled her into a chair by the fire. The cook placed the baby in her arms.

‘So you’ve heard my fine Robert’s cry,’ Charlotte said, looking fondly at her baby boy. Charlotte had never been a pretty girl, but she had a pleasing plumpness now and the bloom of love that lit her face lent beauty to her countenance.

The parlour was a cheerful place now, a warm fire on the hearth, a simple tea on the table for them to enjoy, and the baby to admire. They spoke of all manner of things, but mostly oohed and ahhed over the little baby boy, who slept through it all. Mr Collins spoke in his most solemn tones and platitudes but even he would lose his train of thought as he gazed at his son.

Charlotte looked around at her clean parlour and smiled at Mary.

‘Well, Mary,’ she said. ‘Cook said I have you to thank. A poor hostess I am, putting my guests to work.’

‘Not at all,’ Mary said. ‘Idle hands are a devil’s playground, as they say.’ There was an awkward pause, as she reflected that she had just called Mr Darcy and his sister idle. ‘I meant, only, that it was a pleasure to be able to help,’ she added awkwardly. Her cheeks heated with embarrassment, and she could scarcely look up.

‘Your impulse, dear cousin, was an admirable one,’ Mr Collins said. ‘A thrifty, industrious woman is a jewel, but perhaps one that shines all the more brightly for not calling attention to itself.’

Mary froze. She was hard put to keep from showing her disgust. Georgiana looked shocked, and Lizzy was angered. Mr Darcy had no qualms – he rolled his eyes. Charlotte looked ashamed. She hastened to fill the awkward pause. She held out the baby.

‘Would you like to hold him?’ she said. Mary opened her mouth but had no words, as startled as when Mr Aikens had asked her to dance. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Yes. I – I think so. Would it be all right?’

Mr Collins almost yelped. ‘Mrs Collins, do you think that is wise? For Miss Mary Bennet is hardly, that is, would it be wise to set a small infant, perhaps it would not be decent . . .’ He trailed off.

‘Mr Collins,’ Charlotte said, ‘I have known Mary Bennet since we were small, and she is perfectly capable of holding an infant without corrupting herself or it.’

Lizzy coughed behind her hand. Following Charlotte’s urging, Mary sat next to her and Charlotte passed her the small bundle. The infant in his blankets felt warm and slightly damp. His few curls were plastered on his head and his little rosebud mouth quivered in his sleep. He nestled in her arms and she could feel the rise and fall of his chest.

She looked down at little Robert Collins’s sleeping face. She felt nothing, other than a sense of disquiet. Her lack of maternal emotion was disturbing and suddenly frightening. Mary wondered when they would take the baby back. Not soon enough, she thought, panic suddenly rising.

‘There! That is quite enough,’ Mr Collins said, after the baby had been in Mary’s arms for a few brief moments. ‘Surely that’s enough. Mrs Collins? Enough?’

‘I wouldn’t want to upset my cousin,’ Mary said, trying to hide her eagerness to be rid of the infant. She lifted him to Charlotte. ‘Perhaps Lizzy? Or Georgiana?’

‘Oh! Not I!’ Georgiana said impulsively. ‘I am so frightened of babies. They seem so easy to break.’

Lizzy, laughing, reached out her arms. ‘I would love to hold him again, now that he sleeps,’ she said. ‘I fear I gave some cause for his outburst upstairs.’

Grateful but trying not to be hasty, Mary transferred the baby to her sister. Little Robert whimpered and wiggled but lapsed into sleep in Lizzy’s arms. Instinctively she rocked and crooned to the infant as Darcy looked stoically fond of his wife. Charlotte watched her friend with a smile that held a hint of sadness.

‘You next, Lizzy,’ she said softly. Lizzy looked up at her with a bright smile.

‘I hope so,’ she said. ‘Mr Collins is right – it
is
a blessing.’

Mr Collins, hearing himself praised, gaped faintly at his cousin, to whom he had once declared a wholehearted avowal of love.

Unaware that he was the centre of all manner of feeling and admiration, not to mention the cause of a great undercurrent of sensibility of all kinds of meaning and portent, the baby boy slept on. Everyone kept their voices low out of respect for the infant and he would have slept for many an hour, giving Charlotte some blessed peace, had not a loud bang on the door caused him to awaken with a start and then cry.

Lady Catherine, her discontent with her visitors notwithstanding, had discovered that she could not be without them after all.

T
HE BABY, ONCE woken, could not be consoled.

‘Well,’ the grand lady said as she settled herself in the parlour with the others, looking around with a suspicious eye, ‘I see the boy has already set the household on its ear. I wonder at you, Mrs Collins, in not providing a more ordered household for your issue.’

Perhaps in sympathy for his poor discomfited mother, the infant bawled on. Lizzy hastily passed him to Charlotte, and Charlotte rocked him and cajoled but to no avail. The peace of a few moments ago was dispelled as everyone tried to think of ways to settle the infant down. Lady Catherine banged her stick on the floor and demanded that the infant should cease. Mr Collins raised his voice but could be heard mouthing only incomplete sentences as his wife tried in vain to calm both him and their son. At last Charlotte snapped.

‘Mr Collins, call Cook!’

For a moment everything fell silent, even the baby, at her sharp tones. Then the baby broke into an even louder wail. Mary sat with her hands folded in front of her, the baby’s crying setting every nerve on edge. Georgiana looked as if she wanted to run away. Mr Darcy held his wife’s hand, his mouth tight. Lizzy looked discomfited but also on the verge of laughter. Mary was careful not to look at her more than once – she knew that if she did she would start to laugh herself.

Cook, whether she had been summoned or not, popped her head around the door. ‘Mrs Collins, let me help you upstairs with the baby. Poor thing, he needs a change, doesn’t he?’ She caught sight of Lady Catherine and bobbed a curtsy. ‘Your pardon, your ladyship, if I had known you were visiting I would have brought that cordial you like.’ Her voice dropped to a whisper as though Charlotte could not hear her. ‘Let me just bring poor Mrs Collins and her baby boy upstairs and then I will have time to treat your ladyship as you deserve.’ She raised her voice again. ‘Come, Mrs Collins, let me help you up. There you go . . .’ She escorted her charges back up the stairs, the baby crying, Charlotte calling out her goodbyes and hopes that they would return when things were in less of an upheaval. Lizzy added to the chorus, assuring her that she would be back. Mary, Georgiana and Darcy, prudently saying nothing, only waved and nodded. Through it all the baby cried unceasingly.

As the door closed behind them, Mr Collins stood as a man torn between his duty to his wife and family and to his patroness. Mary could not think which was worse – if he stayed to serve Lady Catherine, or if he followed his wife. For she did not think that Charlotte cared for him much. But how much worse is it, she thought, that the man she married is more devoted to a sour old lady who treats him with such contempt and disdain? To be sure, Charlotte married for all the wrong reasons – it was not hard to see it. But so had Mr Collins. They had both done such a terrible, terrible thing, she thought. She thought of the little baby oblivious to it all and Charlotte’s wistful smile as she looked at Lizzy with her husband.

We are all supposed to find someone to love, Mary thought, but it does not seem as if there’s quite enough to go around. And so we make our bed and must lie on it. Even the marriage bed. And there she left off her shocking thought, for the idea of Charlotte and Mr Collins in their marriage bed was the most alarming thing.