Party at Thatchwood Manor

Chapter 1

The arrival of Miss Jane Weston at Thatchwood Manor was the talk of Chawton. This was due to the fact that Linda Evans, resident of Thatchwood, was the mouth of Chawton. For nearly a fortnight before her arrival, Miss Weston's visit was the only thing Miss Evans could talk about, and she would talk about it with anyone willing to lend an ear, as well as a few who weren't so willing.

"Oh, I just can't believe this is finally happening," Miss Evans confided in Howard Collins one evening. They were seated in the drawing room of Brimley Hall. Miss Evans spoke to Howard Collins and his grandfather, who sat by the fireplace, but as the old man was as hard of hearing as they came, talking to both was just the same as talking to one. "I've been meaning to bring Jane here for ages, ever since I came back from London last summer. I met her a few years ago, actually. She had just moved with her mother into a beautiful little house a few blocks away from my aunt. You remember my Aunt Cilla, don't you? You met her last Christmas. She can't stand being addressed by her full name, Priscilla. Be sure never to do it; you'll get an earful from her. But when I saw Jane in that hat shop, she was the sweetest little thing, and I just knew we would be the best of friends. So when her letter arrived last month saying she would like to come up for a visit, I could hardly contain my excitement. I wrote a reply immediately telling her she would be welcome at her earliest convenience. Can you believe the poor creature has only enough time to stay for a month? A month! That's hardly anything, but I suppose we'll have to make the best of it. This will certainly be the greatest month I've ever experienced in all my years in Chawton."

"Perhaps we should have a dinner party for Miss Weston when she arrives. I'd be happy to make the arrangements." Mr. Collins's cup of tea sat forgotten in his hand. The young man was apt to forget anything he was doing when Miss Evans was around.

"Would you really? Oh, Mr. Collins, that would be wonderful. I wonder if you could keep the guest list to a small number, though. Jane is not fond of large gatherings. I imagine that's hard to believe of someone who lives in London, but it's true. Invite your closest friends and neighbors, no one more."

Mr. Collins agreed to keep the party, which was to take place the very night Miss Weston arrived in Chawton, small. Miss Evans thanked Mr. Collins profusely for being so generous, prompting Mr. Collins to blush from head to toe. Miss Evans either didn't notice this, or she pretended not to, in order to prevent him becoming more embarrassed. Soon after arranging the dinner party, Miss Evans took her leave for the evening. Mr. Collins tapped his dozing grandfather on the shoulder so he could bid the young lady goodbye. "Grandfather, Miss Evans is leaving."

The senior Mr. Collins woke with a start. "Who severed the weaving?"

"Miss Evans is leaving!"

"I'm disheveled and grieving? What are you on about, boy?"

"Good evening Mr. Collins," Miss Evans cut in. "It was lovely to see you again."

After a few more unsuccessful attempts, Mr. Collins gave up his efforts to make his grandfather understand him, and accompanied Miss Evans to the front door. Miss Evans thanked him again for a lovely evening, and both parties blushed together. A bow and curtsy were exchanged, and Miss Evans departed for home with the setting sun.

Brimley Hall was accustomed to parties and large gatherings. Mr. Collins's late mother was at her happiest surrounded by friends, neighbors, and the occasional rival. Her idea of a private party included upwards of fifty guests, a sentiment her son also carried. So it was with no little effort that Mr. Collins managed to keep the dinner party to fifteen, but Miss Evans had asked for it, so he happily obliged.

The evening of the party arrived, and Miss Evans and Miss Weston were the last to make an appearance. Chief among the other guests was a Mr. George Mason, a close friend of Mr. Collins and the proprietor of Rushford, just over the hill. Rushford was an expansive property, with many luscious rooms within and many rolling hills without. Although the halls never tired of visitors, there was a certain lack of constant company at Rushford. Mr. Mason lived alone, and had done so since his younger brother sailed away on a naval ship years before. It was a rare occurrence that Mr. Mason would decline an invitation, especially from his closest friend, Mr. Collins.