Posted in August, 2002
"Miss Anne, come away from the window, you'll catch your death!" fretted Mrs. Jenkinson. "I don't know what your family's fascination with staring out windows is!"
"Trying to decide whether or not to jump," muttered Anne de Bourgh under her breath. Fortunately, or unfortunately as the case may be, Regency windows tended to be placed too low to the ground to achieve the usual desired effect, so most of her family members resigned themselves to merely staring out them morosely. Her mother, Lady Catherine, was the only one who had actually ever jumped, shortly after her marriage to Sir Louis, but as she managed to end up only badly scratched from the rose bushes below, she gave up the practice entirely.
"Did you say something, dear?" asked the older woman.
"No, nothing," murmured Anne moving away from her bedroom window, as her companion threw a shawl over her shoulders. Anne tended to mutter, murmur, and whisper a lot, mostly to herself, as no one but Mrs. Jenkinson tended to listen to or take notice of her anyway. She didn't resent it; that was just the way it was.
"Let's go down to the main drawing room where it is warmer, and I'm sure your mother will enlighten us with some handy household hints," suggested Mrs. Jenkinson. "Then later perhaps one of your cousins will drop in and propose to you."
"No thank you, Mrs. Jenkinson, I think I'd like to sit here for a bit," Anne said softly, taking a seat by the fire. "And I don't feel like marrying one of my cousins today, but maybe later we can take the phaeton over to visit the Collins."
"As you wish. Shall I get you some tea?"
"No thank you, please sit down."
"Mr. Darcy is such a tall, handsome young man. He would make a fine husband, and it is your mother's wish. Are you warm enough?"
"Yes, thank you. Fitzwilliam has been a very considerate, gentle and loving husband on the few occasions I had the honor of being his wife. Unfortunately, as I usually end up dying in childbirth before our first anniversary, I would prefer not to marry him again for a while. It takes so much out of me."
"As it would anyone with your delicate constitution, Miss Anne. Now, Colonel Fitzwilliam is a fine officer, and has such a pleasant nature. A woman could live quite happily married to him."
"Yes, and I have on many occasions, but you know the Colonel is not likely to settle down with one woman any time soon."
"He prefers you best, you know, Miss Anne. You have won his heart more than any of the others. Would you like a biscuit?"
"Not now, thank you. I believe I am preferred more for my fortune than my charms, not that the Colonel has anything to do with the choice. Authors like to tie things up in neat little packages, and as the Colonel needs to pay some attention to money, they have him pay some attention to me."
"At times he pays too much attention to Mrs. Collins," sniffed Mrs. Jenkinson disapprovingly.
"Charlotte, I believe, is a close second in his affections, but Georgiana, Miss Bingley, and even Miss Elizabeth Bennet have their supporters. A woman may live happily with the Colonel for a time, but hardly for ever after."
"Let me fluff that pillow for you, Miss. Your mother would love to see you settled and happily married."
"She would love to see me happily married to cousin Fitzwilliam and settled at Pemberley, but we have already covered that ground - although we get on tolerably, he and I don't suit each other and never will. Besides, me being settled does not necessarily mean Mother will be happy - a good many of the stories that end with me happily settled start with mother dying dreadfully, and she is never too pleased about that."
"I should think not, Miss - she should be quite put out!"
"Poor Mother dies nearly as much as Mr. Collins and Mr. Wickham, although not nearly so violently. She usually just falls ill and dies quietly."
"A pity for such a generous woman, to be cut down in her prime, with so many treasures yet to bestow. Here, let me put your feet up on this stool, and I'll pull up the toes of your stockings to give you a bit more room at the ends. There!"
"Thank you. If anyone ever writes about me marrying my true love, I would move into that story and never come out again. With him I could truly live happily ever after!" Anne whispered wistfully.
"Him? Him who?" asked Mrs. Jenkinson in alarm. "This isn't about that wretched stable boy again is it? If your mother thought for an instant that I was so derelict in my duties that I would allow you to run off with that boy again..."
"Not him, silly. My true love." Anne stood and went back the window. Looking off into the distance she said, "Don't worry, he's...unavailable...at the moment - and he tends to pay court to someone else - but these authors have a habit of making the most unlikely matches sound feasible. I'm sure one day one of them will come up with a way for us to be together."
"This isn't a fairy tale we're in, Miss Anne, and a woman's lot in life tends to be more grim than Grimm*. It's not likely that a white knight is going to come riding up to the window, or that you will kiss a frog and he will turn into a prince, although being fiction, both are in the realm of possibility. If you ask me, you are much better off just marrying the Colonel and staying here at Rosings where your mother can look after both you and him properly. Now let me get you some soup."
"I didn't ask you. And when I have had the honor of being the Colonel's wife, he prefered not to live at Rosings, for obvious reasons, and as he has his pride, he chose to support us on his income and save my fortune for any children we might eventually have. But as I have already said, I don't want to marry the Colonel right now, and I don't want any soup, and I don't want you telling me what to do - I have Mother for that - and I don't want a white knight to ride up to the window!" said Anne, raising her voice to a normal speaking level and stamped her foot.
"Now don't be getting upset and shouting, Miss Anne. Calm down, let me get you your salts." Mrs. Jenkinson ran to one of the bureaus and started searching through the many bottles of potions and powers kept within.
"And I don't want to kiss a frog!" Anne murmured, then looking into the distance again she added, "...but perhaps a toad..."
After a moment Mrs. Jenkinson returned to her with the salts, but Anne pushed them away.
"Never mind, let's just go for a ride, I need some air." she said leading the way.
The stable boy kindly hooked up the ponies to the phaeton, helped the ladies in, and gave Anne a parting wink, which she demurely ignored. They took a pleasant ride around the park, then stopped in at the parsonage to pay a call. Charlotte Collins greeted them warmly at the door.
"Miss de Bourgh, Mrs. Jenkinson, what a pleasant surprise. It is such an honor for you to grace us with your presence, and we are humbled by your k-kind attentions to us. Do c-come in!" Charlotte had obviously been living with Mr. Collins too long.
"Charlotte, are you alright?" Anne asked with concern.
Charlotte, coming out of a daze and suddenly realizing what she had just said, flustered a bit as she replied. "Oh, yes, pardon me, sorry, I forgot myself for a moment. Let me start again - Miss de Bourgh, Mrs. Jenkinson, what a pleasant surprise. Do come in!"
She apologized again after she called for tea, and led them to her sitting room. "I'm so sorry, I guess I've just gotten into a bit of a rut lately, but I'm due for another storyline soon- with a match that is a bit out of the ordinary for me, that should freshen me up considerably."
"Not the Colonel this time?" asked Mrs. Jenkinson, with a significant look at Anne.
"No, surprisingly not."
"Well, who then?"
"I'd rather not say at the moment, things aren't quite firmed up yet - if you know what I mean."
"Of course, we understand," said Anne, "and I am sure we will be all the more surprised and diverted because of your discretion."
Through the windows the ladies could see Mr. Collins in a screened hat working with his beehives in the garden. He was apparently just finishing because he stepped back and took the hat off his head. Anne sighed as she saw the sunlight shimmer off his oily hair, just before a number of bees swooped down to attack.
"Sweet William," Anne murmured softly to herself. Unfortunately, she was not referring to the flowers in the garden.
"So Charlotte," she said aloud, "do you think you will be away in this new...situation...for long?"
"Well, you know yourself, time usually has little to due with the way things play out, one seldom knows if one is coming or going." Charlotte then noted the direction of Anne's gaze, and quickly put two and two together.
"You know, Anne. Things have been so busy lately that even when I am here, I'm not really here, if you know what I mean."
Anne wasn't following her. Charlotte saw she would have to be more direct.
"Mrs. Jenkinson, would you mind going to the kitchen and making sure Sarah is preparing the tea properly for Miss de Bough? We wouldn't want anything to go amiss, would we?"
"Oh no, we can't have that!" exclaimed Mrs. Jenkinson, jumping up and scurrying out. Anne gave Charlotte a very confused look.
"Now that we have a bit of privacy, I can be blunt. Anne, if you take a fancy to anything at the parsonage, no matter how bizarre, please feel free to pursue it. I won't mind a bit."
"I don't understand, Charlotte."
"Ok, blunter still: At this time, my connection to Mr. Collins is purely literary. If you wish to get...better acquainted...with my husband, I have no objections."
"Charlotte, I can't imagine..."
"Of course you can't, that's what THEY are for. But if you take an interest in someone that they haven't been clever enough to put you with yet, I say to heck with them! Go for it!."
"But, I would never..."
"And you won't either, if you leave it all up to them! Sometimes you have to show some initiative, even if it means being out of character once in awhile. Look, it is obvious that you like Mr. Collins - although I can't see why - and we both know he would grovel for you in a second. Go ahead, let him know you are interested, what can it hurt."
"But Mother...."
"What has she to do with it?"
"He's always courting Mother's favor, I think he's in love with her."
"And anyone else with a title or connections. Don't worry, dear, you are very well connected. I can arrange it, if you are interested."
Anne pondered for a moment. Then decided if there was ever a time to be blunt herself, this was the time.
"As you probably know, I am not usually very forward. And I won't deny that I yearn to...get better acquainted...with your husband, but madam, he is still your husband so as much as I may be tempted, I still consider him forbidden fruit. And frankly I don't see how you can arrange anything without one of them being in on it."
"Anne dear, one of them is in on it."
"What? You mean..."
"Yes dear, straight from the word processor to my mouth."
"Well then she...or is it a he?"
"She."
"She can put us together so we can live happily ever after!"
"Not likely."
"But you just said..."
"Yes, but happily-ever-afters generally take a fair amount of time to write, and frankly, she'd never commit to it. She's not very dependable and if she can't get it out in one post, it's not likely to get out at all. She tends to do better with absurd-and-amusing; if you want happily-ever-after you're better off waiting for someone else to come up with the idea."
"But William's and my happiness may depend on this, how can she not follow through? How can she be so cruel?"
"Family commitments, husband, four kids in school, job, lack of interest, ADD, you name it, everything else takes priority. You're lucky she's got this into cyberspace at all. She has good intentions, but she is not very dependable where we are concerned. Sure, you may be hearing wedding bells in that head of hers, but until it goes out to the keyboard, forget it - you may be trapped in limbo for years. That's why you have to take some of these things on yourself. Now, shall I arrange it?"
"It doesn't look like I have any other choice. What do I have to do?"
"Just be yourself, dear, and nature will take its course." Charlotte went to the window and called for her husband. He entered a moment later. Anne thought the added puffiness of his face due to the beestings were very becoming - the girl had it bad.
"Mr.Collins, Miss de Bourgh needs help counting the trees and shrubs at Rosings Park. Would you be a dear and drive her around the property so she can do a proper survey? You may have to stop every so often and help her adjust her shawl so she doesn't catch a chill. I'm sure Lady Catherine would be most obliged."
"It is I who am obliged for any opportunity to be of assistance to one, or I may say, two, of the brightest flowers of the realm. That one as low as myself should find favor to be called upon to..."
Charlotte rolled her eyes and interrupted. "Yes, dear, we know you are happy to help. Now get along, you don't want to keep Miss de Bourgh waiting." She shooed them out of the door, then leaned back against the door jam as she watched the phaeton pull out of view. "Well, he's out of my hair for awhile," she sighed.
Presently Mrs. Jenkinson returned with the carefully prepared tea, which Charlotte drank, then sent Mrs. Jenkinson back to Rosings to prepare a footbath for Miss de Bourgh's return.
Towards evening the phaeton once again pulled up to the parsonage. Sitting with Anne inside was a handsome, well dressed young man with slightly oily hair. It was Charlotte's turn to look confused. "Where's Mr. Collins? What happened?" she asked.
"I kissed him!" Anne beamed. "I kissed him and - poof - he turned into HIM!"
"Hmmm," murmured Charlotte, "I never tried that."
"Oh, Charlotte, I'm so happy. He has a castle in the Swiss Alps and he is going to teach me to ski and yodel. We will be so happy. And we are leaving right now, so give my love to Mother. Tell her I'll write soon. Good bye!" They drove off again, into the setting sun.
"Hmmm," said Charlotte again, "I wonder if that would have worked for me?"