Page 54 of The Fee Entail

I was standing by the little pony cart with the boy the soldier called “young Simon,” even though he was bigger and older than me, when Charlotte had a proper row with the man. I knowed right off she didn’t like the soldier. Anyone with two eyes could see that, but he was a persissant sort of chap. That’s a word Mary taught me, though back then I just thought he was stubborn as a old mule. Being stubborn might be handy when you’re a-crawling through mud and smoke trying to kill folk, though he ought to have remembered that killing goes both ways. Charlotte wasn’t gonna put up with him much longer.

They went at it like tomcats for a good while, and I didn’t pay it no mind ’cause I was busy finishing off the sweeties Simon brought. After a bit, I reckon he just wore her down and she agreed to talk to the Bennet sisters. I never knowed any of them afore. Truth be told, I didn’t really know Charlotte afore we run off together, neither. Miss Lucas used to come round her father’s farms, of course, and I remember she give me a twist of barley sugar once when I was ten, but my Da’s farm was a poor, muddy thing. With six brothers, I doubt my own mam knew which one I was half the time.

The soldier talked Charlotte into letting him git us a room at the inn. I could tell she still didn’t want his help, but I reckon she was too done in to fight him no more, or maybe she was running low on coin. As for me, I didn’t hold no grudge against soldiers, and I still don’t. The one what hurt me was a wicked man, to be sure, but once I seen what the whip did to his back, I figured I didn’t need to think on him no more. It warn’t the first time I’d been beat, and I didn’t expect it would be the last. Charlotte told me about the terrible things what coulda happened—the same bad things that happened to her—but since they didn’t happen to me, there’s no sense frettin’.

The room we got was very grand, and likely cost more coin than we had to spare. Charlotte just sat down on the soft sofa and looked lost. I didn’t know what to do for her, ‘cept for one thing. Back then I was a skinny, scrawny little thing, no bigger ’n a mite, from having to fight me brothers for every crust of bread. My Da always said I was just a extra mouth to feed and no good for heavy work, and my mam mostly looked right through me.

So while Charlotte sat staring at the wall, I walked over and climbed right up on her lap. I fit there easy enough and put my arms round her waist and laid my head on her shoulder and held on tight. After a minute, she put her arms round me too, and we sat there a-crying together for a good long while. My own mam had never once held me like that, so far as I could remember. I knowed right then that Charlotte would take good care of the babe in her belly, no matter how it got there. Charlotte Lucas would never blame a little mite for his father’s sins.

She’d told me a bit about how babies worked, so I thought I had it all figured out. We’d go live in a little cottage somewhere and find work. Maybe I’d be a maid, which sounded a sight easier than being a farmer’s girl. Charlotte would have the babe, and we’d look after it together. That was all there was to it. I didn’t know nothing about how the rest of it would work, and I didn’t care. We could even live on another farm and I’d be happy, so long as I got to stay with Charlotte.

We sat holding on to each other for a long time. The shadows moved all the way across the floor, so it must’ve been hours. Back then, I didn’t know how to tell time except by what chores needed doing in the yard, or by how my belly pinched afore the next fight with my brothers at supper.

When we was all cried out, we went over to the pitcher of water a nice maid had left on the table. I reckoned the soldier must have pockets full of gold, ’cause that maid treated him like a king, bobbing curtsies and saying “yes sir” until my head spun. A bloke like that dropped more money on the floor by mistake than my Da seen in a year, so I figured the maid was just being clever. I didn’t blame her a bit. If I was going to be a maid soon myself, I oughtta watch and learn the tricks.

We washed our hands and faces, and I catched myself just in time to use the towel instead of wiping on my skirt. Then Charlotte undid my hair, brushed the tangles out, and plaited it back up again. There warn’t nothing wrong with my hair, really, except I think she just needed somethin’ to do with her hands. I was happy to sit still for whatever she wanted. Anyone what took me away from my Da’s farm could ask anything of me they liked.

After a while, someone knocked at the door, and Charlotte called ‘em in.

Two very fine ladies—what I now call Mary and Kitty—walked in. I tried hard to mind my manners the way Charlotte taught me, but the Bennet sisters didn’t seem to care a fig for proper manners. Mary flew across the room and threw her arms round Charlotte, and Kitty ran over and hugged me just as tight, even though she’d never clapped eyes on me in her whole life! I didn’t know what to make of it, though I know now that’s just how the Bennet girls are. Maybe that’s how all the quality greet their friends, for all I knowed. It didn’t matter anyway, ’cause Kitty was so warm and smelled so nice, like flowers. In a minute she sorted us all out and told me their names, which was confusing, though it made me feel safe.

After that, we all sat down on the two sofas, and Mary started talking. I’ve learnt since then that Mary isn’t—what’s the word?—subtle. (I had to ask Charlotte how to put the b in that one, since you don’t say it at all, which seems very silly to me.)

“Charlotte and Betsy, we cannot even begin to tell you how happy we are to see you, though distressed by how you came to be here. You will not be leaving today or tomorrow or perhaps ever again. You must come with us. We will take care of you, and you are very welcome.”

Mary also had what I now know to call excessive forwardness—those are Mary’s own words, though back home we’d just call it being brassy—’cause she reached right over and put her hand flat on Charlotte’s belly. “You are all welcome.”

Charlotte opened her mouth to say something, but Kitty jumped in first. “What Mary means to say is we have much to tell you, but the most important thing is you are among friends.”

“Perhaps your friends, but not mine.” Charlotte had that mule look on her face that I knowed so well, but Mary took hold of both her hands.

“Charlotte, trust us. We ask only that. We have so much to tell. Come with us for one day. That cannot hurt your plans. If you will not come to Rosings, let me place you with some friends, or you may stay here at the inn. Just tell me you will not leave. I know you wanted Lizzy to help you with something. Let us do it in her stead.”

By then, Charlotte was just dead beat from everything. She’d spent most of the last month with her head over a bucket casting up her accounts, so she tired out very fast. That was how we’d started that very morning afore the sun even come up, and bouncing round in a coach all day made her green in the face. It’d been a hard day, and she looked like she had no fight left in her.

Still, she was stubborn to the end. “I wish to have the story, and I would like to see Lizzy. You say she is abed? How did that happen?”

The two sisters looked at each other like they didn’t know what to say.

Kitty got off her sofa and knelt right down on the floor by Charlotte’s knees.

“Her husband… Mr Collins… he… he… you see… I cannot… not now.”

She ran out of words and looked like she was gonna cry, though she swallowed it back.

Mary said, “It is a hard story, much like yours. Will you not share your burden? Will you not allow us to help? Fitzwilliam will do anything for Lizzy. He basically adopted all of us, warts and all. Pray, allow him to help. Please?”

Charlotte frowned. “I may not have been completely fair to the colonel, but I… I… just cannot bring myself to be in his company. Do not ask it of me.”

“Oh, we do not mean that Fitzwilliam, though I believe you will warm to him eventually. He is a chowderhead, but a good man. No, I mean Fitzwilliam Darcy!”

Charlotte stared at the two of them. “That appears… unseemly. Is he unaware Elizabeth is already married?”

Kitty said, “He knows, all right! He chastises himself for it every hour of every day of his life, but please, Charlotte! Do not judge him until you know the entire story. All of it. It is… it is… it is at least as bad as yours. We wish to hear your tale as well, if you are willing to share it, and will never ask again if you do not.”

Charlotte still looked lost, and Kitty begged her, “Talk to Fitzwilliam! Or let me tell you the story! Come see Jane, Lydia, and Lizzy. Please!”

Even Charlotte warn’t stubborn enough to say no to that, and I didn’t see how she could go away without seeing her best friend first.