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    The Second Life of Mrs. Charlotte Collins
    The Second Life of Mrs. Charlotte Collins
    The Second Life of Mrs. Charlotte Collins
    Ebook89 pages1 hour

    The Second Life of Mrs. Charlotte Collins

    By Miranda Markwell

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    About this ebook

    From the world of Pride and Prejudice comes an exhilarating story of a woman finding her own voice and happiness and pursuing love on her own terms.

    When her awkward but serviceable husband dies ten years into their marriage, Charlotte Collins — née Charlotte Lucas, Elizabeth Bennet’s close friend in Pride and Prejudice — is suddenly granted a level of independence and freedom that few of her peers have. She moves into Longbourn Estate with her son, Henry, and for the first time considers how she might serve her own happiness. The frank interest of Hertfordshire’s young minister stirs exciting feelings of attraction in Charlotte, but she is not eager to remarry.

    Meanwhile, an Italian friend of her neighbors the Bingleys, Mr. Ossoli, tutors eight-year-old Henry in drawing and encourages Charlotte to find her own calling. Charlotte’s desire to write a book for young women about the reality of marriage scandalizes her friends but brings her closer to Mr. Ossoli. Can Charlotte find love without the associated confines of marriage? She is determined to find out.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBryant Street Shorts
    Release dateOct 17, 2020
    ISBN9781094414317

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    Reviews for The Second Life of Mrs. Charlotte Collins

    4/5

    22 ratings3 reviews

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    • 3/5
      I love the new Charlotte but dislike how the Bennett girls were portrayed.
    • 5/5
      I love the independence, the intelligence and the heart of Charlotte.
    • 2/5
      Not at all in the style of Jane Austen. It is a modern romance in regency costumes: people are on first name basis after two conversations, Charlotte says « honestly » more often than a shallow reality show contestant pretending to have deep thoughts... Other than Charlotte, the characters from Pride and Prejudice have a completely different personality, and not for the better. It also manages to be repetitive in how often Charlotte justifies her marriage to Mr. Collins and tells herself that she doesn’t want to remarry. Fans of modern romances in historical settings who don’t care for Pride and Prejudice may (will) like this book more than I did.

      1 person found this helpful

    Book preview

    The Second Life of Mrs. Charlotte Collins - Miranda Markwell

    Chapter One

    Charlotte stared at the black dresses in her wardrobe, of which there were three. For the past nearly six months, she had alternated between these three gowns regardless of the weather or her mood. They were not particularly flashy, with only the slightest ornaments of black lace in a few discreet locations. All in all, they were appropriate mourning clothes for a clergyman’s wife. These three dresses had been her constant companions during the accepted period of mourning, and she had come to regard them as friends. She had been grateful for their company these past several months, a time that had left her feeling a strange mixture of loneliness and excitement. Not that she told anyone about the latter.

    One of the unexpected surprises of being in mourning was that the other villagers, her dead husband’s former parishioners, supported her with plenty of gifts and food but still endeavored to give her as much space as possible. After all, it is not every day that a woman loses a husband. The villagers revered Charlotte, in part because her late husband had been a bit of a bumbler and Charlotte never seemed to let it bother her. Charlotte absolutely epitomized the conventional expectations of the long-suffering spouse. She was industrious, did not nag, always showed up, and met all people she encountered with a great deal of compassion. The fact that she had been somehow able to meet her husband with the same degree of compassion was a mystery no one dared try to solve.

    As was custom, the fact that Charlotte had a son — her only child, called Henry — secured her a position of independence that was about as good as it could get for a young woman of modest means. Her financial solvency was secured by way of a male heir, and since he was not yet of age, Charlotte was allotted an amount of legal rights not often possessed by women who had lost their husbands. Her late husband, too, had thought it prudent to make sure that, if he were (God forbid!) to die, she would be ensured a yearly income that would allow her to maintain the level of social status that best befit a gentleman’s wife: not quite an aristocrat, but no peasant either. Charlotte preferred it this way.

    She examined the dresses, all three of which were beginning to look a little tattered from constant use. The spring weather was in full force, and the garden outside of their parsonage was exploding with color and fertility. Even Henry, at eight years old, was enjoying the beautiful day in the garden. Charlotte had allowed Henry to stop wearing his black mourning armband last week — the weather had begun to grow a bit hot, and Henry had started to complain that it itched. Charlotte watched from the window as Henry examined a moth perched atop a yellow tulip. The sight was so lovely that she couldn’t bear to put on a black dress again. She was only a few days short of the six-month mark. What difference did a few days make? He was still dead, after all. That fact had not changed.

    Charlotte called for Joan, the family’s housekeeper, who also sometimes doubled as lady’s maid to Charlotte when the occasion called for it. Joan, a sturdy and wise woman of sixty, came promptly to the bedroom door.

    Yes, Mrs. Collins? Joan asked in the doorway. She was also still dutifully wearing her black armband.

    I think it’s time, replied Charlotte, gesturing to the somber dresses in her wardrobe. Would you mind helping me sort through the gowns that are in storage?

    Joan nodded and reached into the wardrobe, gathering the black gowns up in her arms.

    I’ll first take these to the washroom so we can get them ready to be stored away. Hopefully we won’t be needing them again any time soon, Mrs. Collins.

    Joan left the bedroom briskly, leaving Charlotte alone to stare at herself in the mirror. She was still wearing her dressing gown, a modest cotton nightdress that she had worn nearly every night for the entirety of her marriage. Charlotte prided herself on her frugality, and this well-worn nightdress showed its ten years. The lace that had once lined the neck and sleeves was tattered to the point of looking like frays, not lace. The fabric had stretched with so many years of wear, but that only made it more comfortable. Charlotte liked the way she looked in the gown. It hung easily over her curves, even the ones that had changed with age and the birth of Henry. There was something about wearing this gown, too, that reminded her of the young woman she was when she had first married Mr. Collins ten years ago. Even though she felt she was a new version of herself now that she was in her late thirties, she realized that she still held that old self inside of her. Charlotte Lucas, as she had been before she married, had never really gone away; she had simply taken on new layers of experience, suffering, and joy that resulted in the Mrs. Charlotte Collins who stood before the mirror today.

    As she surveyed herself, she did not feel that she looked all that different from the young woman who had accepted Mr. Collins’ proposal all those years ago. Her skin was still soft and largely untouched by signs of aging. Her girlish freckles had faded long ago and her brown hair had grown long and gloriously textured — one of the unusual, but welcome, side effects of her pregnancy with Henry. She still looked like herself, but maturity had brought Charlotte a degree of objective beauty that probably would have surprised the Hertfordshire residents she had long left behind.

    Charlotte sorted through the trunk in her bedroom — it was her bedroom now, wasn’t it? — and selected a light yellow gown she thought would be well suited to her first day out of mourning clothes. When Joan re-entered, she nodded in approval of Charlotte’s choice and immediately began the process of helping Charlotte dress. Charlotte was not one to adorn her outfits, but today she elected to wear a maroon lace shawl draped over her shoulders. With her heavy hair loosely — but neatly — pulled back, she smiled at her reflection in the mirror.

    Very nice, Mrs. Collins, said the approving Joan. And then she fiddled with her own armband, unclasped

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