Lightening lit the sky up as bright as daylight, allowing my fingers to find their way to the door handle. It hadn't been raining when I had rushed outside in my anger but the raindrops had started sprinkling over the land slow at first and then in a torrent. Rain was not my friend as of late, or maybe it was and grieved when I did. Either way I was still soaked to the bone and grateful I did not run into any persons of high standing on my brisk walk around the grounds. I say walk but most of the time was spent on a bench under a large oak tree behind Roslings trying to get myself to stop crying. This behavior did not befit a lady or any grown woman. I am sick of rain, of crying, and of marriage.

Taking in a final breath, I turned the handle and stepped into the house unsure of what might me awaiting me there. All the candles had either been blown out by the storm's wind or had burned down to their wicks. The fireplace was running on embers so I grabbed a piece of fire wood and threw it on the ashes.

How odd that a person can cry all their feelings out and feel so empty inside afterwards. My eyes were swollen and a chill had set into my skin but my mind had thought so long and so hard on the day's events that it could do no else.

Walking into the bedroom I share with Mr. Collins, I lit a candle near the entrance and started at the task of changing clothes. Little rivulets of water slide down my skin from the brown hairs plastered to my neck. I happened to steal a glance at myself in the mirror once I had slipped out of my soaking dress. I was a mess, that was for certain. Hair all tangled and matted, eyes red and puffy- I looked like a corpse. Not that that is anything new. Fingers searched my brown tangles for the pins that somehow still held the locks in some sort of style. Once I had deposited the last pin on my dresser I heard the slam of a door somewhere in the house. With wet hair trailing down my back, I slipped a dressing robe over my shoulders, tying it as I stepped into the hallway. My bare feet found the trail of water droplets I had left on the wood floor on my way into the bedroom, as I made my way down the corridor.

Stepping into the main parlor I found a figure sitting in the chair in front of the fire place. He stood up straight, as any gentleman would. A slow hand removed his hat and laid it down on the side table. I should have announced my presence but I was… scared? I'm not sure but something kept me frozen there, watching the man staring into the fire.

In the light of the flames consuming the fresh piece of wood, the man looked older, the shadows filling the creases in his face and exaggerating the angles of his cheekbones. Dark eyes focused on the flames growing in the hearth and looking nowhere else. He seemed to be in a trance I certainly was not going to be the one to break it. His hands, which had until then been resting stiffly on his knees, fidgeted with his coat for a moment before he pulled out a white handkerchief and held it to his face. He wasn't wiping away rain water or anything, just holding it to his face as if to caress his cheek with it. I would have pegged it odd behavior if he had not moved it just enough for me to see the stitching in it. It wasn't a handkerchief at all but my needlework that I had so carelessly left on the ground. My crooked stitches spelling out his name surrounded by lackluster roses was what he clung to.

"Hear my prayer Father," he whispered to himself and I held my breath not wanting this vision into my husband's private thoughts to be broken. I shouldn't be eavesdropping but after the day's events I was beyond following common courtesies. "I am a fool and I have wasted the gift you have so kindly given me. The wife you have allowed me to keep- I have… I have acted ignorantly. I beg forgiveness for this folly and you may do what you want with me but, Lord, please let her be safe. My foolishness has driven her out in the storm and I could no forgive myself if she…"

His voice trailed off and his head bowed down breaking off his staring contest with the fire. I could not see much besides the gentle rise and fall of his shoulders.

"Lord, I thought I had everything I could need in life but… through her I have become aware of my faults. I pray- no… no I beg of you Father to bring her home safely. I need her. I…" His voice dissolved into thick sobs that he was obviously trying to keep quiet.

It was noteworthy that such a man like Mr. Collins could admit his mistakes especially since he was alone. It is hardest to admit ones faults to oneself.

Unsure of what to do I just stood there, my fingers bunched up in my dressing robe, watching my husband sit in front of the fire, head in hands shaking under the force of emotion. I felt like a ghost walking around in the living world unheard but seeing all that has happened since my death.

A bolt of lightning touched down somewhere beyond our windows and illuminated the house with a bright, stark light. Mr. Collins jerked his head up to look outside at the sight but instead caught my eyes with his own. The room went dark again after the lightning's intrusion, leaving us bathed in red fire light once again. His lips were parted slightly as he stared up at me, amazed to see me there behind him. His body tensed up, fighting the urge to jump up and run over to me. I wondered why he battled the desire when I realized the last we shall each other I was quite cross with him. Boundaries, he has discovered them. The thought made me grin and suddenly my throat was thick again as more tears threatened to flow, not from rage this time from something else. Thunder shook the floorboards beneath my feet and wrapped the land in its roar.

"Charlotte…" he meant to say more, I could tell, but they were stuck. His fingers, still clutching my poor excuse for needlework in them, fidgeted beside him wanting to reach towards me but unsure whether that was the best choice.

I took in a shaky breath before taking the handful steps forward it took to reach the side of his armchair. His fingers clutched at mine, bringing them to his lips where he laid a single hesitant kiss. "My dear, I cannot express how-"

Flipping my hand around, I lifted his chin up so I could see his eyes, and gave him a small smile. "I know."

"Oh Mrs. Collins I have been brainless and I do think I will ever-" his dark eyes bounced around the room like they tended to do when his nerves overcame all else. How odd that I know so much about a man I have hardly known more than a few months. That must be what love is.

"Charlotte," I interrupted, sitting on the arm of his chair, bringing us even closer. His soaking cloak pressed against my dressing gown but I hardly cared in that moment. "You can call me Charlotte."

He stared up at me a few moments, taking in everything about my face. His fingers reaching up to push my wet hair behind my ear. "Charlotte… I am so glad you are safe. You went out and then the storm. I… I was worried."

My fingers traced his jawline, his skin was prickly with incoming whiskers and I thought it fit him quite well. Mr. William Collins- rough around the edges.

"I'm here now." I whispered, pressing my forehead to his. "I'm here now."

His arms snuck around me, hugging me about my waist and pulling me practically into his lap. I would have laughed at the very ungentlemanly action if it were not for how tightly he held me against him.

"I think this is what it must feel like," he said, his head resting at the base of neck.

"What?"

"To… to truly care for another person."

It never occurred to me that Mr. Collins might be going through the same internal struggle as myself. Love is an altogether foreign topic to him as well. Then it is just perfect that we get to learn together, for with anyone else we'd have driven them made by now.

"Yes I… I believe it is."