Dusk is my favorite part of the day. Just as the sun is setting and the sky is painted with all shades of colors as if the sun is giving the world a final goodnight before the stars take over. Usually, I can't wait for when the sky changes coats and the world is blanketed with night, but tonight is different in a lot of ways.
For one, it will be the first night spent in my new home with me new… with Mr. Collins that is. If you're wondering, the wedding went just fine. Mr. Collins didn't plague the ceremony with a sermon or anything like that, he declared the vows just as I did without any extra unneeded phrases- thank god. In fact the whole ordeal went by rather quickly. One moment I'm on my father's arm the next I'm sitting in a carriage one my way to my new house. I wasn't nervous about the ceremony, there really isn't anything to be jittery about when you're merely standing in front of your family in a nice dress. However, there is a bigger cause for nerves for what comes after such dedications. Perhaps this is when love comes in handy during marriage.
My fingers twist at my handkerchief and I keep my eyes on the scenery we pass instead of the man by my side. I can feel his shoulder against mine and I can't help wonder what he must be thinking. Probably outlining a speech to give me later tonight, practicing phrases to say or planning out the whole evening. That's one thing about Mr. Collins, you can never be surprised by him.
It's a short ride to Mr. Collins' residence and I feel like the entire day has gone by in a blur. Standing in the kitchen, I look through the window and watch as the sky has started its vibrant dance. The clouds all colored pink, with splashes of orange and red. For some reason I expected it to look special tonight but it looks as it always does. Still enthralling in its own right, but just as it was the night before.
Dinner was conducted in a strange silence. I tried to make conversation but the words became lodged in my throat. Awkward quiet it is then. I think Mr. Collins said something about the peas but I was too busy listening to the frantic beating of my heart to hear, or eat for that matter.
Before I know it, the bright colors outside have vanished into a blank sky covered with clouds so that not even the stars are witness to the events on earth below. Mr. Collins is offering me his hand and helping me from the table. The hallway seems to last forever, and I regret leaving my white gloves on for they are only aiding the sweating on my palms. Head up, Charlotte. Every woman has to go through this, love or not.
The door clicks behind me and for the first time since the proposal, I'm alone in a room with a man. I think what scares me the most is that social customs cannot be used as a barrier here. Having married I have lost my armor against my husband; according to the law I am helpless. Of course a wedding night shouldn't be something a girl needs armor against, now should it?
I let my eyes fall over my husband and really take him in. Since the proposal I've avoided eye contact at all costs but I can't do that for the rest of my life and tonight is as good as any to start. He's shorter than the man of my dreams, his nose is too large his face always stuck in a stern expression and his eyes darting this way and that. Now they're pointed at the floor while pale fingers fiddle with his black hat. The only thing my real husband and my dream husband have in common is dark hair. Better than nothing, I guess. Upon examining him I feel my own nerves ease a little. We are both fools when it comes to such matters as this one and no doubt he's expecting the absolute worse just as I am. In this case, I shall take the lead.
Taking a step towards him, Mr. Collins eyes directly jump to my own. I gave a small, nervous smile before gently easing his hat from his fingers. Turning, I place it on a small table by the window when I feel his hand catch my own. I watch as he slowly pulls my glove from my hand and holding my fingers once they are freed from the white prison. My eyes jump to his face and study his expression as he examines my hand. He really isn't all that ugly. With his features relaxed instead of trying to so hard to fit in with high society he is rather comely. My other hand reaches out and touches his cheek, and he moves to take it, pulling the fabric off this one too.
"I understand that you maybe nervous for the upcoming events of the evening," his voice is shaky and practiced. So this was what he was mulling over in the carriage and during dinner. I know he cannot give me love or any sort of pleasure beyond a stable home and future. Try as we might, neither of us married for love. We married for convenience and nothing more. I do not expect him to woo me or anything childish like that. Pulling my hand free, I place a single finger against his lips to silence him. An action I trust many have wanted to do, but I am the first. I grin a little at the thought- I am the only person to have silence Mr. Collins, what a novel idea.
"You do not have to comfort me, Mr. Collins," I say and I see his shoulders relax beneath his jacket. "Merely do your duty as a husband."
It didn't hurt all that much. I mean the whole thing gives you a very different kind of feeling. Not one you can experience anywhere else. Afterwards, we laid next to each other for a long while, not speaking, not moving- just listening to our breathing. Eventually, Mr. Collins' morphed into snores and I found myself feeling strangely lonely in a bed right next to a man I was tied with til death.
I now know all the secrets of marriage, yet none of them were nearly as exciting as one would hope. After dusk, everything becomes crystal clear and sometimes clarity can be painful.