Work Text:
i. Rosings
Henry admits that he doesn’t really quite understand women. He is the eldest of three brothers, did his duty by marrying an agreeable girl from an agreeable family, and though he respects his wife, the domains of feminine friendship eludes him.
Which is why he’s rather confused to see Charlotte Collins, the wife of her aunt’s vicar, and Elizabeth, her cousin’s wife, walking hand in hand on the Rosings grounds, unattended by their husbands. They are laughing at some shared joke, looking as giddy as schoolgirls, not very much like the poised elegant women they’re supposed to be.
Henry has seen his wife Margaret with her girlhood friends before, but they don’t behave like Mrs. Collins and Mrs. Darcy. The way they look at each other is so warm, so loving—
He stops.
ii. London
Margaret is being terribly annoying, complaining about everything and everyone and though he’s told it’s a normal thing for one that is in the family way, it doesn’t mean that he has to endure it. With most of his friends in the country this time of the year the club’s awfully dull, so when he hears that his cousin Darcy is in town, Henry wastes no time to visit him.
Darcy is in the study, not expecting his visit, and he is ushered to the library when he hears raucous laughter from the drawing room. He stops, recognizing the laugh.
“Mrs. Collins is visiting, sir,” the butler tells him.
“Without her husband?”
“Mr. Collins is in Bond Street on an errand for Lady de Bourgh.”
“Ah.” Henry recalls the scene at Rosings. “I should greet them first, don’t you think?”
Without waiting for the butler’s reply, Henry has opened the drawing room door. Mrs. Collins and Mrs. Darcy sitting on a sofa, Mrs. Darcy hands on her friend’s lap. They are so close together that their lips almost—
“Cousin Milton,” Mrs. Darcy exclaims, leaning slightly away from her friend. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“Hallo, cousin, Mrs. Collins.” Henry bows slightly.
“Good morning, Lord Milton. How fares Lady Milton?” Mrs. Collins asks, her friend’s hands still not leaving her lap.
“Margaret is fine, thank you, she is behaving like any woman great with child.”
The butler clears his throat, announcing that Darcy is already in the library waiting for him. Henry takes leave from the ladies with more questions than answers.
iii. Fitzwilliam House
The birth goes exceedingly well; Margaret is hale and hearty and there is a new baby boy to continue the Fitzwilliam line to another generation. Of course, the whole family has gathered in Fitzwilliam House to witness the birth: Margaret’s parents, his brothers, Margaret’s brother and sister, his cousins Darcy, and even his Aunt Catherine and the always-present Collinses. While Margaret and the new baby is being fussed on, Henry is in the drawing room with his brothers and Darcy, drinking copious amount of whiskey to help him deal with the fact that he’s now very much responsible for another human being. But even his relatives’ gentle ribbing gets tiring after a while, so Henry makes an excuse to retreat to the sunroom with a glass of scotch in hand.
The door of the sunroom is wide open, and he can hear voices, feminine voices, coming from the hallway. Mrs. Darcy and Mrs. Collins appear in the doorway, wearing morning coats and carrying baskets.
“ Why hello there, Cousin Milton, I was expecting you to be with Cousin Margaret and little Edward,” Mrs. Darcy says with a friendly smile.
“Cousin Elizabeth.” Henry is a little relieved that it’s only her and not his brothers. “I was just wandering around, searching for fresh air. That woman’s work, you know, it’s quite hard for the man.”
“ Ah.” Mrs. Darcy’s smile is sympathetic. “Well, Charlotte—I mean, Mrs. Collins and I are going outside to pick some flowers for Cousin Margaret.”
“Is it wise to do so in your condition? You shouldn’t exert yourself too much, cousin, let one of the servants do it.”
Mrs. Darcy laughs. “Thank you for your concerns, Cousin Milton, but I’m not in that stage yet. I quite like the exercise and besides, I know Mrs. Collins would take good care of me and make sure nothing awful happens.”
At these words, Mrs. Collins put her hand on her friend’s backs. Mrs. Darcy turns to her and they both a share a smile that’s so sweet and tender that really, is it possible that they are more intimate than they claim?
Henry drinks more of his scotch. No, it’s not possible. He’s imagining things.
iv. Pemberley
And yet.
Every time Henry sees Mrs. Darcy she is always accompanied by Mrs. Collins. In the London streets, a heavily pregnant Mrs. Darcy would waddle along with Mrs. Collins. In Darcy House, having tea together. Sometimes they are joined by Mrs. Darcy’s sister, Mrs. Bingley, but always there is Mrs. Collins. She is like her odious husband who never leaves Aunt Catherine’s side in that respect, although Henry must admit that Mrs. Collins is far better than her husband.
Even now as Mrs. Darcy is in confinement, Mrs. Collins is by her side. Henry learns, from Darcy, that she has commanded that no-one should be in her room except for the doctor, the midwife, her sister, and Mrs. Collins. She refuses to have her own Mama accompanying her in the birth of her first child, but welcomes a non-relative instead?
“Well, it’s not like she’s a stranger,” her brother Richard says when Henry casually points this fact out. “They’ve been friends since they were little, you know, and they were neighbors. I reckon Elizabeth thinks Charlotte like a sister and vice versa. Besides, have you seen Darcy’s mama-in-law? You would not have that woman attending the birth of your child either.”
(After seeing Mrs. Bennett in indignant hysterics three times in one day over her daughter’s refusal to let her in, Henry concedes that Richard is right. But his point still stands).
v. Fitzwilliam House, again
“Margaret?”
“Yes?”
“Do you ever think that our cousin Elizabeth and Mrs. Collins are too intimate?”
Margaret turns to face him. “Whatever do you mean, Henry?”
“I don’t really know myself. Sometimes I think their behaviors are too close for them to be ordinary friends. You know, I once saw them walking hand in hand together. I also once saw them clasping hands, and when cousin Elizabeth is in—“
“Henry, I have to cut you off because you are beginning to ramble. Now, I’m going to ask you a simple question. Are you a woman?”
“Of course not!”
“Then I’m afraid this is out of your expertise, my dear. We women have different sorts of friendship than you men. There is nothing strange with cousin Elizabeth holding hands with Charlotte Collins; it merely shows they are very close to each other. Now let’s drop this silly nonsense and go to sleep.”
“Alright, dear.” Henry smothers the candle, goes to sleep, and tries to forget that he ever thought about this silly nonsense.
+ An epilogue
“I am very happy you can come visit us, Charlotte,” Elizabeth tells her friend. They are walking together in the Pemberley grounds, hand in hand, enjoying the warm spring sunlight.
“Well, Lady de Bourgh is eager to see her great-nephew and I am more than happy to accompany her,” Charlotte replies. “Even if it means enduring her talking about your inability to run a household for the length of the trip.”
Elizabeth laughs. “My poor friend. I am sorry that you have to go through that, though not very sorry since it means you are here right now. But enough; let’s talk about something else.”
“Oh, this reminds me of the walks we used to take in Longbourn,” Charlotte says, a wistful smile on her lips. “We talked about nothing and everything in the world: books, my brothers, your mother, your sister. By God! It seems like a different country, our girlhood.”
“It is, isn’t it? It’s only a while ago that we are girls complaining about our mothers and now we are becoming mother ourselves.”
“Now we are proper society matrons,” Charlotte agrees with a laugh. “But I am happy that we shared this journey together, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth squeezes her friend’s hands. “Me too, my dear. You are one of my dearest friends; I don’t know what I will do without you.”
“Let’s hope you don’t have to find out then,” Charlotte says, dry.
They laugh.