Charlotte Collins: A Continuation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice

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Authors: Jennifer Becton
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Mr. and Mrs. Card with Mr. Collins when they had first married. She had stood in the massive entryway and tried not to gawk even as she secretly marveled at the size of the hall and at her reflection in the sheen of the floor.
    After she had been married to Mr. Collins for some time, she had lost some of her admiration for fine things. She could not recall all the times that she had listened to her husband discourse on such items as window dressings, vases, or furniture. Although they could only afford modest accoutrements themselves, Mr. Collins could not be prevented from praising the belongings of others. It had gotten to the point that Charlotte wanted nothing fine in her house for fear that he would boast about it to all he met.
    Now, looking around the Cards' house, she felt not a twinge of jealousy. Maria, however, ran her hand along the cool marble trim and gazed longingly around her. Poor girl. It really was unfortunate that she had no feelings for Mr. Card, for he admired her, and she admired his home.
    The group arrived in the rose garden, where Mr. Card and Maria tucked themselves on a little bench among the roses.
    "Let us walk this way, Mrs. Collins." Mrs. Card directed her toward a small path. "We will leave them to speak alone for a time."
    They chatted about the weather and then the subject turned to Mrs. Card's favorite topic of conversation--gossip. Mrs. Card's tongue was wicked and the breadth of her knowledge of the happenings in Westerham took Charlotte aback. Mr. Holloway had acquired a new sow, which he described to everyone as just as fat as Mrs. Holloway but better company. Apparently, Mrs. Holloway shared her husband's opinion of the quality of their time together, for she had become quite close, it was rumored, with an unnamed gentleman of their acquaintance. Mrs. Holloway had hinted at the affair but would not identify the man.
    "Can you imagine? An affair amongst those of our acquaintance."
    Charlotte was not very much familiar with Mrs. Holloway, but she found the idea of an affair implausible as well. "'Tis probably nothing but foul wind. Mrs. Holloway is certainly attempting to wound her husband for comparing her unfavorably to a pig."
    "I must admit I quite agree with his comparison," Mrs. Card said. "She prattles on endlessly and indulges in too many confections, if you ask me. At the winter ball, I went to refill my wine glass again, and I observed her eating almost an entire tray of biscuits. Such gluttony."
    Charlotte concealed a smile at Mrs. Card, who was often deep in her cups when in company. However, she could not quarrel with her assessment of Mrs. Holloway's conversation. She had to admit that she often found the company of certain barnyard animals more appealing than the prospect of an evening in the company of Mrs. Holloway--or Mr. Holloway for that matter--but incompetence in social settings did not mean that Mrs. Holloway was engaged in illicit behavior. That sort of thing happened in London, not Westerham.
    Charlotte turned the conversation to safer topics, and she listened as Mrs. Card described her improvements to the gardens and Mr. Card's charity to the tenants on their land. Then Mrs. Card paused, glanced about as if expecting spies to appear from behind the shrubbery. Charlotte began to fear an uncomfortable change of subject, and that fear was not unfounded, for Mrs. Card grabbed her arm, nearly pulling her off balance. "Tell me this, and tell me truly, has Miss Lucas begun to feel tenderly toward my son?"
    Charlotte was quite taken aback that she would broach this subject again and stopped midstride, causing Mrs. Card, who had not relinquished her grip, to be jerked backward. A reprimand leapt to Charlotte's lips, but she refrained and responded as politely as she could. Would this woman never cease meddling in her son's life? Not to mention Maria's. And Charlotte's for that matter. "Maria has not confided as much to me, and that is as it should be. Life is difficult to

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