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    Mrs. Charlotte Collins Has a Florentine Affair
    Mrs. Charlotte Collins Has a Florentine Affair
    Mrs. Charlotte Collins Has a Florentine Affair
    Ebook83 pages1 hour

    Mrs. Charlotte Collins Has a Florentine Affair

    By Miranda Markwell

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    About this ebook

    The widowed Charlotte Collins, bereft widow of Mr. Collins of Pride and Prejudice infamy, is starting to think that being a dowager suits her quite well. Freshly enchanted with Angelo Ossoli, an Italian professor who found friends among the culture-hungry residents of Hertfordshire, Charlotte is starting to weigh the benefits of possibly re-marrying. When she was young and had no prospects (including being told by everyone around her that she was “plain”), she’d married Mr. Collins as a way to escape her parents’ home—and it certainly hadn’t been a marriage built on love. Charlotte’s newfound independence as mistress of Longbourn estate, however, has given her the independence she always craved, but now she wonders if she has room in her newly independent heart for true love. When Angelo offers his home and company for a stay in Florence, Charlotte must consider whether she is willing to completely reshape her life around her Florentine love. And when Angelo begins to reveal some secrets about his family lineage, Charlotte must also consider whether an English country lady could ever find a home in the Italian aristocracy.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBryant Street Shorts
    Release dateNov 17, 2020
    ISBN9781094413914

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    Reviews for Mrs. Charlotte Collins Has a Florentine Affair

    4/5

    16 ratings3 reviews

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    • 5/5
      Excellent read. Very insightful. Highly recommend this novella to all.
    • 5/5
      What a charming story. Loved the clear-sightedness of Charlotte. Wise words for any woman in a hurry. For today is sometimes enough. By the way, this is the second half of a duology.
    • 3/5
      Though this novella has some interesting thoughts, it doesn't have enough time to develop well. The reader is constantly been “told” rather than “seeing” the characters and story arc grow and unfold.

    Book preview

    Mrs. Charlotte Collins Has a Florentine Affair - Miranda Markwell

    Mrs. Charlotte Collins Has a Florentine Affair

    In the quiet, dark hours before the sun rose each day, Mrs. Charlotte Collins often found her imagination fixating on the night of her husband’s death. This meditation was involuntary and unwanted, and yet it came like clockwork nearly every morning. She could picture herself in that horrible moment with incredible precision: her unwashed hair hanging carelessly down her back, the miasma of odorous bodily fluids filling the air, the dank candlelight in the darkness, and the eerie smell of a human body preparing to give up the ghost.

    Before William Collins died, Charlotte was the one who’d stayed alone in the room with her husband, keeping watch over his final moments. The doctor had told Charlotte there was still a possibility Mr. Collins would pull through if he made it through the night. This was Charlotte’s purpose: keeping Mr. Collins alive. She must do everything possible to keep Mr. Collins alive.

    In those dark hours that shocked her to awareness each morning, Charlotte Collins daily confronted the reality that she had failed in that one pursuit. Mr. Collins had died that night, and there was a degree to which Charlotte could not silence the part of her mind that held herself responsible. He had seemed like he was improving—a bad case of pneumonia had transformed into a feverous infection, which had then led to a brief period of lucidity that made everyone who attended him believe the worst was over.

    But they had been very wrong. Charlotte had been left alone with him, and he had died under her care.

    On that winter night, right after the festivities of Christmastide, Charlotte had held a cool rag to William’s face and sat with him in silence. In his weariness, he’d spoken to her:

    Mrs. Collins? he began, struggling to keep his eyes open. You are very good to me.

    He paused to cough and catch his breath. Why are you so good to me?

    Charlotte hadn’t been sure how to respond to this question. The honest answer was that she was good to William because it was good to be kind to him. For her, it was entirely a matter of personal conscience. But these sorts of things are not what one says to one’s husband.

    Be quiet, William, she’d said. She did not want him to tire himself.

    But in a surge of energy, William Collins sat up in his sick bed and grasped her shaky hand.

    Charlotte… he began. Charlotte could tell he was struggling to find the right words, which wasn’t a battle he’d often fought. Reverend William Collins always knew what he wanted to say—and, usually, he had quite a lot to say.

    I wish to speak honestly with you, Charlotte. He cleared his throat and Charlotte wiped the dripping sweat from his brow. He had experienced a rough night, and little did Charlotte know, it was only going to grow more difficult.

    You can always speak freely with me, William, Charlotte had said, in her softest voice.

    My dear, I have a feeling…that these past ten years have not been the easiest for you.

    He was referring to their decade of marriage, a union that had begun when Charlotte was twenty-seven and without any prospects for her future. William Collins had been spurned in his proposal to Elizabeth Bennet, his distant kinswoman and Charlotte’s then-closest friend, and Charlotte had been in the right place at the right time to secure the proposal for herself.

    She and William had never spoken of love. They spoke of their duty to each other and their care for their eight-year-old son Henry. But never of love. Romantic love did not have a home in Hunsford Parsonage. At least, not until now.

    "Charlotte, I know that you have not loved me in the way people do in novels. No—let me finish. But you have loved me through your actions, through your care of me if not for me." He grew weary again and sank back into his mound of pillows.

    You are a prize, Charlotte, he smiled weakly. My greatest prayer is that you will be happy. You have upheld a holy vow to me, and I am grateful to have shared your company these past ten years.

    This was the moment Charlotte perceived that something was dreadfully wrong. William never spoke like this; he must have had some sort of awareness that his body was failing.

    William, how are you feeling? Can you tell me what’s happening? she’d asked frantically.

    But he only smiled and patted her arm. His breathing became wispy and labored, a strange wheezing sound beginning to emerge from his chapped lips. The skin of his face turned pale, his eyes fluttered with a fresh tiredness.

    William? William, speak to me, whispered Charlotte.

    But he did not respond. She’d sat next to him, holding his hand and counting the space between his breaths until there came a point where the only working lungs in the room were hers. When the silence became apparent to Charlotte, she steadied herself and hooked her fingers around his neck to check for a pulse. There was none—only the sweat caked onto his skin from the fever.

    She froze. Charlotte had never stood vigil over a dead body before, especially not a dead body that had been so recently alive…and definitely not the dead body of her husband. She reached over to the bedside table and poured herself a glass of whisky.

    What else could she do? Her husband was dead. What does one do when a husband dies? For the next few hours Charlotte hadn’t been sure what she ought to do. The doctor promised to return in the morning to check on his patient, who was now dead, so Charlotte resolved to keep watch over the body until he arrived. William was dead; there was no use in calling for the doctor

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