Mary took great pains to avoid Mr Collins after their conversation, hoping it would not be apparent to anyone but herself that she was doing so. She sensed he was doing the same; when they passed on the stairs, he could not meet her eye, but bowed his head and turned away. At the dinner table, he was cordial but distant, confining his conversation to polite enquiries about how Miss Bennet had spent her day. To Mary’s surprise, it was Charlotte who was now most vocal, chatting away about young William’s doings, filling the silences that might otherwise have loomed with embarrassing significance between them. She never referred to the sudden discontinuance of the lessons in the library; indeed, she seemed to have recovered all the affability and warmth with which she had greeted Mary at her arrival. At first, Mary was puzzled – she did not entirely understand the change in Charlotte’s manner – but she decided to follow her lead and respond with equal cheerfulness. Perhaps, she thought, the storm had passed, and things could return to the way they were. She ardently wished this might be so; and sometimes, as she watched the Collinses together, she allowed herself to believe her hopes were justified. Certainly, Charlotte seemed far more engaged with her husband. She smiled at him more often, listened to his conversation with more interest, and even touched his hand occasionally as they sat at the table. From beneath lowered eyelids, Mary watched Mr Collins’s expression change from surprise to gratitude, tentative feelings of pleasure visible on his face whenever Charlotte offered him some mark of affection. Some of the anxiety which had tormented Mary since Mrs Hill’s warning began to disperse, and she allowed herself to hope the worst was over.
One afternoon soon after, she met Charlotte in the hall tying on her apron, a pair of gardening gloves in her basket and a large notebook in her hand.
‘I’m afraid, Mary, you will be left to your own devices until supper. Mr Collins and I will be in the garden for as long as the weather holds. I have been considering the new arbour and am resolved to make it as elegant and inviting as possible. I have even drawn up some plans. What do you think?’
She opened the notebook and passed it to Mary, who turned over the pages gravely.
‘I think it looks charming. It will be a great addition to Longbourn.’
‘Yes, we think so. I have always felt the want of one before. Fortunately, Mr Collins finds my ideas exactly to his taste. He says they have given him a new enthusiasm for the work, which I must say does not surprise me. I never think it is a good idea to leave important matters entirely in the hands of husbands. Even the best of them can be led astray. Sometimes they need guidance to see clearly what is the best solution to any little difficulties they may have encountered.’
She put on her hat and tied it under her chin.
‘But then, which of us can say we haven’t sometimes lost sight of what is required of us? I’m sure I have been as guilty of it as Mr Collins.’
She pulled on the gardening gloves, brisk and workmanlike.
‘The arbour might be considered a standing affront in that respect, a monument to our dilatoriness, if you like. But all that’s behind us now. In future, we shall combine our forces, work together to make it a thing of beauty. The fresh air will do us both good. If you choose, please feel free to spend your time in the library. I think you will have it to yourself from now on.’
With a final bright smile, Charlotte walked into the sunlit garden. Mary stood in the hall, watching her go, before making her way to the library. There, she took up her Aristotle, but could not settle. The silence, which had once seemed a natural accompaniment to study, now made her feel lonely and restless. She missed the easy exchange of opinions, the sound of another voice. With no like-minded companion to encourage her, the Greek alphabet no longer brought her the pleasure it had once done. It gave no satisfaction to pronounce it when there was no one to correct her. She struggled on for an hour or so, and then wandered over to the window. In the distance, she saw Mr and Mrs Collins at work on the arbour. He leaned on his spade, while she marked out on the ground the plans she had drawn up. They seemed happy. Mary sat there for some time, staring at them as the library clock ticked away.