P&P The Untold Stories: In Which Charlotte Collins Faces the Inquisition by Diana Birchall

Lady Catherine inspects the household of the new Mrs. Collins

January 13, 1811

Charlotte had now been married a month and was quite as satisfied with her situation as she had ever dared hope to be. If her husband was not the pleasantest of companions, there was only one of him, and any man, not vicious, might easily be managed by a clever woman. In the case of Mr. Collins, it was only needful for Charlotte to be willing to adapt her expressions to the flattering sort he plainly needed for his contentment. This was but a small sacrifice, for Charlotte, though ordinarily a plain spoken woman, felt it a gratifying improvement to have only him to please, by such simple and expedient means. At Lucas Lodge, she had been required all through her young womanhood to assist her mother with the care of her many younger brothers and sisters, a slavery that had reduced her to little more than a bonne or nursemaid. How much, therefore, she now delighted in having her own house, may be imagined; and with her intelligence and tact she was quite equal to the business of keeping Mr. Collins happy, occupied, and not too much in her own way. In the intervals when Mr. Collins was silent, or away from the house, as did happen for several hours of each day, she could enjoy her own peaceful occupations, to her heart’s content.

February was too early a month for gardening, but Charlotte discerned that Mr. Collins was all eagerness to be planning and planting, and she encouraged him to draw up handsome schemes for laying out the vegetable and flower gardens, and set him to pore over seed catalogues. Then he must spend a good deal of time surveying his parish, and visiting those parishioners who were in difficulties. In this he was frequently joined by his patroness Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who had the greatest delight in cottage visiting, and considered Mr. Collins to be her adjunct, rather than the other way round, as might have been supposed.  They were often busy for several hours together, in the happy occupation of looking into their villagers’ affairs, and no one would disturb Charlotte, although on her husband’s return she must pay the tax of listening to the whole story of what Lady Catherine had done, and said, and decreed, to every person in and around Hunsford.  Charlotte generally took out her sewing then, and while Mr. Collins talked, need not give more than half an ear to him, with an occasional interjection of, “That was very well done, my dear, upon my word.”

Fortunately, he was as a man about the house not unamiable, nor difficult to please for one who was such an efficient housekeeper and judicious manager as Charlotte, and she had only to accept his compliments on her contrivances, which was no severe hardship. From the start, he violently approved of her disposition of cupboards and cabinets, and of her pleasant but firm manner with their domestics. And as the cooking in the establishment improved immeasurably, under Charlotte’s direction, from the bachelor meals he had ordered, he really did not know how to be grateful enough, or more pleased with his own acuity and genius for selecting such a paragon of a wife. In moments, he shuddered at the narrow escape he had from his cousin Elizabeth, whom he was now certain would never have suited him at all.

As for more intimate matters between husband and wife, Charlotte had always known she must accept them as a matter of course, and there was nothing about the person of her young and healthy husband to disgust; especially after she had given him a little tactful and delicate instruction. Mr. Collins often rewarded her with expressions of assurance that she pleased him, more than any other woman in the world could have done; and in being very conscious of his blessings, he did much to reconcile Charlotte to hers.

So the marriage prospered from its earliest days; but Charlotte was also fully aware that there was a second person, not in her household, whom she must conciliate. This was Lady Catherine de Bourgh.  Charlotte had come to Hunsford prepared to endure much interference in her business, and she resolved ahead of time to meet every attack with patience. That Lady Catherine should approve of Mr. Collins’s wife was of the most extreme importance. Charlotte could scarcely be more cognizant of this than Mr. Collins himself.  Lady Catherine had nothing less than the power to make or to ruin her happiness; and so she deliberately set out to please, and to promote the most harmonious intercourse possible between Hunsford and Rosings. Charlotte well knew that the benefit of Lady Catherine’s patronage was inestimable; she might help her brothers find places, her sisters husbands. Elizabeth might have found it disagreeable to dance attendance upon a Lady Catherine, but Charlotte sensibly accepted it as part of the price of her happiness, and she welcomed the most outrageous impositions willingly, or at least quietly. This was greatly, be it noted, to the relief of her husband, who had been anxious that nothing like conflict should arise between the two women most important to him.

Lady Catherine allowed one week to elapse, from the arrival of Mrs. Collins in Hunsford, until she set about making an inspection of her methods. There had been one dinner already, and her Ladyship declared herself perfectly pleased by the quiet, neat appearance of the parson’s new wife, and of the deference with which she addressed her superiors. She seemed a modest, proper, sensible sort of young woman—not too young, but all the better for that. A sennight was enough to allow for Mrs. Collins to put herself in order. Lady Catherine was impatient, but at last the seven days were passed, and she sallied forth, curious to see with what economy the new bride managed her household.

Lady Catherine came therefore when least expected, resolved to give Mrs. Collins no warning, no chance to clear up any disorder or to give her house a better appearance than it might have in the ordinary way. At eleven o’clock on the Tuesday forenoon, as soon as she knew that Mr. Collins had gone out in his gig, to make his regular circuit of the parish, Lady Catherine ordered one of her own carriages, and presented herself at Charlotte’s door.

Charlotte, discerning her from the window, came out to welcome and invite her into the house.

“I came,” announced Lady Catherine, “to satisfy myself as to the state of your arrangements.”

“I hope you will be pleased,” Charlotte answered calmly, “will your Ladyship have some tea?”

“Tea! I am not one of those ladies who require tea at this hour. But stay—what sort of tea do you purchase, Mrs. Collins?” she asked suspiciously. “Fine India tea is a luxury that does not become a clergyman’s household, you must know. Where do you order yours, say?”

“It is some I have brought from home,” replied Charlotte. “I mean to keep it only for company, indeed, for distinguished guests; and as we expect to have few visitors, my supply will last for some years.”

“Is that so? That is well thought of.  Well, now, let me penetrate into your kitchen quarters.”

“Certainly,” said Charlotte. “If Your Ladyship will step this way. I have had the maids hard at work scrubbing the cook-stove, which I am sorry to say was quite black with crocks and smuts; Mr. Collins as a single man seldom ventured himself into these quarters, and the cooking regions have had to be thoroughly cleaned from top to bottom.”

Lady Catherine nodded approvingly, at two kitchen maids deedily down on their knees, and the sparkling stove. “That is satisfactory, most.  And here is the pantry, I declare.  Let me look inside.”

“Dry goods are here, you see, and I am using this little room for a creamery for it is quite cool, and we can use it as an ice-house in summer.”

“Cleverly thought of, upon my word. And I see you have used these canisters for—what? Flour?”

“Yes; and barley is here—and nuts—and cream of tartar…”

“I have no fault to find,” Lady Catherine said, in a tone of mild surprise. “But tell me now—what did you and Mr. Collins eat last night, pray?”

“Why, the Sunday joint of beef, we had warmed over yesterday; and today we shall have hash.”

“Most economical,” nodded her Ladyship. “Well: let us go down the corridor, and look into this room—and this—” she ran her finger along a mantelpiece, and looked out the window to judge of its cleanliness and clarity. “But what is this?  Why are your writing-things and books in this dark little back drawing room? Surely the lady of the house ought to use the handsomer apartment in the front?  Would that not be more proper?”

For the first time Charlotte blushed. “I thought it best,” she said, “for Mr. Collins to retain his own book room—he is happy in it, and that way, I can have my own privacy, that is,” she floundered, lost for words, “a room of my own…”

“Hum! I should have thought it inconvenient, but you know your own interest, Mrs. Collins, I see,” said Lady Catherine shrewdly.

“I hope I am putting my husband’s interests first, as is my duty,” she hastened to answer, with modesty.

“It was not thought necessary in Sir Lewis de Bourgh’s family. But then as a bride I had a fortune of my own, which you are unhappily without.”

“I hope to be a useful helpmate to Mr. Collins, and by economy ensure that he makes the most of his money,” Charlotte said earnestly.

“Aye, no doubt; and I begin to suspect you will succeed, Mrs. Collins,” said Lady Catherine with a small and grudging smile of approval. “Now. Show me your bed-chamber. It this where you keep your under garments?”

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