The soundtrack to this chapter was Grieg's Holberg Suite, which makes me feel dignified and capable of writing Regency-era dialogue. Excellent accompaniment to any writing. But at any rate, I hope you all enjoy the chapter! I especially want to thank everyone who reviewed Chapter 1: phyloxena, Nellie86, LucilleRicardo, Ebzenka, hongkongphooey63, and all the guests who chimed in, as well. I really appreciate your feedback!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 2:

Charlotte could feel her husband's expectant eyes on her. He was clearly waiting for her to say something; his gaze kept flitting back and forth between his new bride and his beloved parsonage.

"It's charming," she said, quite truthfully.

The Hunsford Parsonage was by any measure pleasant to beyond: appropriately rustic, yet still possessed of a certain dignity. Vines grew along the side of the house, almost looking like an extension of the garden that graced the yard in front. The garden was tidy, but appeared as though no one had yet stepped forward to tend it on a regular basis. Charlotte could perhaps envision herself taking up that role. Her spirits lifted at the prospect.

Looking up, she marveled at the elegant steeple that rose above a small copse of trees. Made of honey-colored limestone, it seemed to have stood long enough that the local nature had successfully incorporated it, to the extent that the surrounding countryside would feel incomplete were the structure to suddenly vanish. Charlotte imagined an interior of dark, warm wood, with a simple pulpit, rich and heavy banners, and old family pews adorned with artfully embroidered cushions.

It was truly a fine prospect.

She turned to William and gave him a small smile, only to find to her great alarm that he was scowling. Oh, bother. Just when she was feeling more optimistic about her situation, her husband had to get inexplicably irritated.


William could not conceal his deep disappointment in Charlotte's lukewarm reaction to her new home. "Charming," indeed. Said without a trace of emotion. He almost thought she sounded sarcastic, like she was secretly mocking him. He had toiled so many hours to fashion a run-down, rotting parsonage into a home fit for a bride, making every improvement that Lady Catherine suggested, down to the shelves in the closet, and apparently the only response he would receive was, "It's charming."

Surely she could not be insensible to the beauty and comfort before her. The only conceivable explanation was that her limited rural upbringing had dulled her tastes. He would have to enlighten her.

"As you can see, the garden has been laid out for maximum convenience," he announced, so suddenly and so loudly that Charlotte jumped a little. "You could perhaps plant tomatoes in this corner, or cucumbers, if that's what you prefer, or a little bed of carrots over here…" He hopped from one side of the garden to the other, striving to draw Charlotte's attention to its felicitous arrangement.

"Yes, I will surely plant many things here," she flatly replied.

Hm. Still very little enthusiasm. "Come, let's go within!" he said, drawing her arm to him and leading her to the black painted door set smack in the middle of the structure's stone exterior.

"Even better inside, is it not?" he prompted her as they crossed the threshold and she beheld the newly washed hallway. Four rooms flanked the hallway, two on each side, and a steep staircase directly in front of the door led upwards to the second floor.

"Quite tidy," Charlotte remarked, driving William to immense internal lamentation.

"Immediately to the right is my study," he said, pulling her along so that she could see inside a small, cluttered room filled to bursting with papers and books and old inkwells, redolent of parchment and perhaps a little sweat (as William often became quite agitated while composing his sermons).

"A fine place for your labors."

Still not sufficiently impressed. Well, there was still the rest of the tour.

"The parlor is directly across the hall, and the dining room right beside it – the kitchen is through the dining, an excellent structure attached the back of the house, more than large enough for anyone's use, I daresay, except perhaps one as elevated at the Lady Catherine de Bourgh…" He trailed off, hoping in vain for a response. "Come, my dear – we ascend!"


Charlotte found herself breathless by the time they reached the top of the staircase. She could not fathom what had come over her husband, whose scowl had seemingly exploded into manic energy. Yes, the house was quite fine, but must he be so eager? When they arrived, she was already exhausted from their journey, and she simply did not have the strength to match William's antics.

"Here is our bedroom," he said, drawing her to the room at the top left corner of the house. Charlotte was not sure she quite liked the look he gave her as they peered within the chamber. It contained two chests, a mirror, two nightstands, and a sturdy four-poster bed, with white draperies and a pale blue coverlet, which seemed rather feminine and which Charlotte guessed had been purchased in anticipation of the impending arrival of a female presence.

Fortunately, the odd look on his face vanished when he whisked her out of the room. "Across from us is the guest bedroom, and, um, next to it another bedroom, as I didn't quite know what else to do with it, and beside the master bedroom we have a very pleasant dressing room, which you may find helpful – you will especially like the shelves in the closet, for they are exceedingly useful, installed by the special recommendation of Lady Catherine herself!"

The flow of words stopped rather suddenly. For a few moments all was silent, as Charlotte was rather stunned by the unrelenting energy that had just swept her away. At last, she found the voice to say, "A truly impressive abode."

Another pause. For heaven's sake, why did he look so crestfallen? She would pepper him with eager questions if she could, but that was not in her nature, and she could not force it without sounding extremely peculiar.

One question did come to mind, and she hastened to say, "There was a room downstairs that we did not enter. Pray tell what is its purpose?"

William seemed to brighten slightly. How excellent. "Yes, I was saving it for last," he said as they descended the staircase, which was rather creaky, "and I think you'll be most pleased."

They turned at the bottom of the stairs, and he ushered Charlotte into a room that seemed infinitely brighter and more airy than any chamber she had yet seen. It seemed that it had one more window than the other rooms. What a difference it made.

"As you can see, the room is somewhat sparsely furnished. I thought you might like to decorate it yourself, as part of your womanly takeover of the household," William was saying, though Charlotte was not quite listening. She was instead smiling out the window, which afforded a capital view of the surrounding fields.

"It is quite lovely," she finally said, turning around. "But what is it for?"

William blinked a few times before replying, "Why, for your personal use! I have been told many times that while a woman must submit to her husband in most realms – even to the running of the household, should their opinions diverge – there should be at least one corner of the home where she holds complete sway and where her word goes completely unchallenged. A kingdom in miniature, you might say."

"How wonderful!" Charlotte exclaimed, immensely pleased at this turn of events and the thoughtfulness behind the gesture. But when she turned to William and saw that he was looking extremely self-satisfied, she felt a surge of annoyance. So this was what he had been waiting for. He wanted her to grovel before him.

A little spitefully, she dropped her voice and said, "I'm sure it will be a great refuge from domestic life."

She felt sorry as soon as her husband's face fell.


William was not entirely sure if Charlotte's words were an insult, but the tone of her speech was unpromising. And she had seemed so enthusiastic over her little parlor! He had thought that at last his efforts to please her had hit their mark. Either he had made a grave miscalculation of the desires of women (but that was not likely, as Lady Catherine had advised him), or the stupid girl's experience was so limited that she would never appreciate her good fortune (much more probable).

At any rate, he simply couldn't allow her to have the last word. Drawing himself up, he slowly said, "When you have lived longer in this country, I trust your tastes will be much improved."

They did not leave that room as friends.

Aaand that's it. Please let me know what you think! I'd love to hear any comments, critiques, or suggestions.