The Darcys were talking to the Lucases. Kitty smiled. They could hardly not have been invited, but it did indeed vex her mother to have to invite them and, by way of their invite, to include the Collinses. Mr Collins’ voice could be heard above all others, simpering and boasting as usual. Thankfully, Kitty could not see where he was. She did not want to engage him in conversation at all that evening, if she could in any way help it.
She turned, threaded her way through the room, and happily found an unoccupied seat in the corner from whence she could watch the evening’s proceedings as they unfolded. She knew she was still not in the humour for dancing or making particularly merry, but she did not mind watching those who did. However, keeping a fixed smile on her face would be a problem. She observed that of those in the drawing room, the majority were paired off—either married couples or those who wished to be. Her heart was heavy and she sighed, wishing to disappear into the décor. The melancholy which threatened to overtake her daily loomed large and heavy over her shoulder. She took a deep breath and looked in Mary’s direction, who was playing a jig for a group of younger visitors. Kitty tried to spy who her younger cousins were dancing with. She was glad it drew her mind away from wallowing in her own misery. She did not like to feel unhappy. She did not wish to feel unhappy. Lord knew she wanted to be herself again. Most of all, what Kitty wanted was to be loved, to be married, and to be a mother. She knew that was what her heart wanted above all else now. Seeing it all around her made her heart yearn for it all the more earnestly and desperately.
Chapter Eleven
Mary rose from the pianoforte, thankful for a break in the dancing, with a great desire to slake her thirst. She was hungry too as she watched those around her nibbling on the delights Hill made.
She made her way with great difficulty out of the drawing room, through the hall, and into the dining room. She smiled contentedly as she saw the delights on offer and loaded a plate with cakes, pies, and sweetmeats. Slowly, edging around the walls, she made her way back to the drawing room and stood near the door next to her Aunt Phillips, who, upon spying her plate of goodies, gasped and made her way out to procure some for herself. That left Mary standing alone beside Walter.
“Good evening, Miss Bennet,” he bowed.
“Hmm…” Mary swallowed and bobbed a curtsey. “Good evening, Mr Hodgson. I trust you are enjoying this evening.”
“Very well, thank you.”
Mary smiled at him. They had known each other for many years and, on the rare occasions that Mary visited her uncle’s offices, had used first names when no one else was within earshot. Lately, they had considered each other as friends, and that friendship had grown and blossomed. It seemed so strange to her now that they were in company to be using such formalities once again.
“Your sister Kitty seems out of sorts tonight, Mary,” he sidled closer to her and lowered his voice so no one could hear him.
Mary’s stomach flipped at the sound of him using her own name this time. She felt relieved she could own him as a friend. She swallowed her mouthful of food and nodded. “She is deeply unhappy, Walter,” Mary lamented, placing the sweet tart she was enjoying back on the plate. “She has been out of sorts and in an ill humour ever since Lydia’s bereavement.” She sighed and watched Walter smile sadly at her. She frowned in surprise. He was truly listening to what she was saying. His attentiveness astonished her. She was unused to such attention. “Our sister’s remarriage was sudden, but I have read that grief can be like that. A widow may often find consolation in the arms of another. But it was widely acknowledged that he was to marry Kitty. Everyone thought so.”
“Do you think that is how it was between Mrs Wickham and Sir Percival? Was it consolation?” Walter asked as he furrowed his brow.
“I cannot honestly say.” Mary loved to gossip, although she would never admit to such a vice.
“She is truly in love?”
“I think she is in love as much as Lydia can be.”
“And him? Does he love her too, do you think?” Walter took another half-step closer, and Mary’s pulse began to race.
“I would like to think so. I would not wish any of my sisters to be widowed and unhappy forever.”
“That is true. No one would wish that.” He nodded as he contemplated her words.
Mary watched him observing Kitty, who had just entered the room, her hand holding a plate of food.
“I wonder then,” Walter spoke softly and his eyes caught hers as he turned his attention back to her, “if your sister Kitty ought to be happy for Mrs Wickham—I mean, Lady Etherington.”
Mary could not move her eyes from his. They were locked in place by a force which she did not fully comprehend. “I cannot rightly say. I believe the magnitude of her own disappointment is greater than any sentiment she ought to, or does feel, for Lydia.”
He nodded. “It is a sad business.”
“Indeed it is.” Mary forced herself to look down at the plate in her hand, took a bite of her cake, her mouth suddenly dry, and then glanced back at Kitty. “She believes she will be a spinster all her life.”
“Do you think that might be her fate?”
“I hope not,” Mary frowned. “She is not suited to being alone.”
“I wonder if any of us are,” he sighed.
“True.” Mary realised what she was feeling. She felt the same dread of being alone for the rest of her life while her sisters were happily married. She believed that was to be her fate, and it did not matter a jot how she felt about it. And yet her reaction to the proximity of Walter made her question if she had been wrong to assume her fate was to be alone and unloved.
“Do you ever wonder if we will find love?”
Mary looked up at Walter and saw him gazing off into an unknown horizon. “I do wonder,” she whispered. Her eyes found their way back to Kitty and her understanding of what she felt deepened. “I also do not want to end my days as a spinster.”
“If we are patient, love comes to us all in time. Don’t you think?”
Mary’s breath caught in her throat. “I…I would like to think so, yes,” she replied.
Walter reddened, and Mary suspected she knew why, or at least she hoped she did. She had felt the same connection then, something she had felt in his presence before at the attorney’s office. He cleared his throat and quickly changed the subject. “You…” he coughed nervously. “I believe you and your sister will continue to come and assist me with letter-writing and the filing this week.”
Mary’s mind was slow to catch up with the conversation. “Sorry. I missed what you said, Walter.”
“I said,” Walter raised his voice a little. “I said that you and your sister will be coming to assist in the office this coming week.”
“Oh!” Mary felt embarrassed. “Yes, indeed.” She tried not to look too eager despite the fact that she loved their excursions to the office. She cherished helping with the filing and letter-writing. But, most of all, she had to now admit to herself, she loved to be in Walter’s company. “Kitty and I thought to continue to volunteer ourselves while our uncle is unwell and until he returns to the office, recovered and in full health. We can be put to good use, Walter. We already have achieved much to get the office in shipshape once more.”
Walter reddened. “You are entirely right, Mary. Yes, you have made a great improvement in the office, and it is very nice to have you there each day.” He bowed quickly. “I think I will fetch myself something to eat now.”
Mary realised too late what his words meant. She watched his retreat and regretted that he had not stayed to continue their conversation. She knew her meaning was vague but his, she felt, was plain. She wished she had not been so matter-of-fact with him. She ought to have implied that she enjoyed his company as much as the work. She wished she had Kitty’s ease in front of those of the opposite sex. Kitty would have simply conveyed with her eyes or her stance what she felt about a gentleman. Mary would have to be more forward and less reticent with h
im if she wished him to know how she too was beginning to feel about him. She chewed on her bottom lip. Her determination to prove she was more interesting and a better person than others thought she was was not going so well so far.
Chapter Twelve
“Are you not dancing, Miss Bennet?”
Kitty turned at the sound of the man’s voice and smiled to see it belonged to Reverend Summers—a friendly face at last. “Oh,” she shrugged. “I am not in a humour to dance, Reverend.”
“Shame,” he murmured as he took the seat next to her, “because I should have liked to dance a little.” His mouth twitched as he held back a smile.
Kitty glanced sideways at him and giggled. “I apologise, Reverend. I did not know you were fond of dancing.”
He feigned being injured by her words. “Is the thought of me being fond of dancing or dancing with me so ludicrous?”
“No, not at all,” she continued to chuckle. Kitty liked his sense of humour. “It’s only…” She took a deep breath. “My only experience of seeing a clergyman dance is our cousin, Mr Collins.”
“Mr Collins?”
Kitty looked around to make certain they were not being observed and then pointed past Reverend Summers’ left ear and through to the hallway where Mr and Mrs Collins could be seen and Mr Collins could be heard speaking above the music, laughter, and chatter.
Reverend Summers turned and observed the only other clergyman present and his maladroit behaviour for a few moments, and when he shifted back to address Kitty, his face was unreadable and he could only manage to say, “Oh.”
Again, Kitty laughed. She quickly covered her mouth with her gloved hand to stifle the loudness of it. “Perhaps we ought to move from here,” her tone held a note of panic.
“Why?” Reverend Summers shook his head.
“Because when he finds out you are the vicar in Meryton, you will not be able to evade his presence for the remainder of his stay in the town. I assure you, I am sincere. Your Christmastide will be utterly ruined.” Kitty reached out and tugged on his sleeve. “Come along, we will hide away in the summer sitting room. It faces east and is colder in there, but at least Mr Collins won’t be there.”
“Can I take from your tone that you are not fond of your cousin?” Reverend Summers laughed as he followed Kitty out of the room, down the hallway, and towards the summer sitting room she mentioned.
“Lord no! I wouldn’t spend time with Mr Collins voluntarily for anything!”
The couple rounded the corner behind the staircase and came face-to-face with Hill. “What are you up to, Miss Kitty?” she asked almost dropping the plate of jelly she held in her hands.
“Mr Collins is here, and we are staying out of his way.”
That was all the explanation Hill needed. “Right you are. Get yourselves in the summer room. I don’t know how long you’ll be able to stand the cold, mind, but off you go.” She smiled up at the reverend who stood head and shoulders above her. “I’ll bring you something nice to eat and a pot of hot tea to keep you warm. I’ll be back to be close at hand for the mistress—from the kitchen, I can’t hear her hollering with all the noise of merrymaking, so I sit in there ready to answer the mistress’ call when we have guests.” She nodded at him, “Believe Miss Kitty, Reverend, when she says to keep out of Mr Collins’ way as long as possible!” She shook her head and shuffled off towards the dining room. “Ooh, that man,” they heard her say, “he’d try the patience of a saint!”
“Is he really so bad?” Reverend Summers asked her as they burst into the summer room. “I cannot believe it!”
“Believe it!” Kitty’s face was gravely serious. “We are better off here for a few minutes, at least until he has joined a card table or has some other such diversion.” She led the way to two settees that faced each other. “Oh, perfect! I forgot Mary left this here.” She laughed as she reached out for a book that was discarded on the settee.
“What is that?” He squinted at the book she held in her hands.
“The last time Mr Collins came…well, most times Mr Collins comes, Mary helps us out from having to be with him by having Mr Collins sent for.” She waved the book at him.
“Sent for?” His face was a picture of confusion.
Kitty laughed at the memory of it as she caressed the cover of the book in her hand. “She claims there are many passages in Fordyce’s Sermons that she cannot make out and are of such doctrinal importance that if she doesn’t have him explain them immediately, she would lose her faith entirely!”
Reverend Summers let out a guffaw of laughter. “Your family is truly a lot of fun, Kitty.” He coughed and pretended to be affronted. “I mean, that is wrong, Kitty. You ladies ought not deceive him so.”
The twinkle remained in his eyes, and Kitty could not keep a straight face even in the face of his jesting reprimand. She shook her head and placed the book lovingly on the seat beside her. “I had not realised until recently how much fun Mary was and how much we have all relied on her over the years. She truly has been a saint in saving us from Mr Collins in the very least.”
“Tell me more about him,” he grinned and settled back in the seat to listen.
“Do you really want to know?” she replied, unsure if he did, her eyes wide with disbelief.
“Truly. He sounds like such an interesting character.”
Kitty studied his face for a moment. His was an open face; there was no trickery or dissimulation there. His jaw was angled, and his eyes large and open. For the first time she recognised he was a handsome man. She liked how friendly he was and truly relaxed for the first time that evening. “Oh, yes! I remember the first day he came.” Kitty stared off out the window and remembered her father telling them all at breakfast one morning about a letter he had received from Mr Collins himself. “Papa said he was coming to stay with us that very day…”
Chapter Thirteen
Mary resumed her position at the pianoforte and played a few tunes for those who wished to dance. She knew for the most part people loved to dance at any gathering at all. Such music did not give her pleasure to play; it was repetitive and she found it boring. For her, there was not much of a challenge to it. Mary much preferred to play the wonderful pieces her Aunt Gardner brought with her from London when they visited. Since it was Christmas, she indulged them. It pleased her that the tunes she played included many Christmas carols and hymns written by Charles Wesley; those she did not mind in the least. She was grateful that Walter Hodgson had returned to her side to turn the pages. Not many people ever bothered with such a task. Most years, Mary had relied upon Maria Lucas to undertake that particular charge because she was young and often lacked a dancing partner, but she was now lately married herself and not present, having moved away to live with her in-laws. Walter was more diligent in the task than Maria was. She always watched the dancing and did not turn the page when Mary needed it, but Walter’s eyes stayed on the sheet music and on Mary’s hands. She smiled to herself. He clearly understands music.
During the Barley-mow, which was always extremely popular, Mary heard such a commotion that she stopped playing. It seemed all the guests were congregating by the windows. She rose from the piano stool and shuffled her way to the window at her end of the room. She gasped at what she saw. The snow was coming down so heavily that it was hard to make out anything outside in the moonlight at all. Someone muttered that it was near-blizzard conditions outside, and many people were declaring their intentions of going home early. Mary could hear her mother loudly cursing the snow and lamenting the premature ending to her party.
She stood idly by, feeling a little disappointed too, as their guests collected hats, bonnets, coats, gloves, and made their way out into the severe weather. Mary followed the throng with Walter and joined Kitty and their parents at the door, pleased to see her sister had been agreeably occupied talking to the minster. He’s a nice man, she thought. His conversation will be good for Kitty.
“My dear Mrs Bennet!”
&nbs
p; Inwardly, Mary groaned and caught her sister’s eye. Kitty and Reverend Summers were snickering behind their hands.
“I am heartily sorry that your party was not the success you must have hoped it would be.” Mr Collins’ voice rang out in the once-crowded entrance hall.
“Not a success? Mr Collins, one cannot help the weather, you know,” Mrs Bennet snapped back at their cousin.
He was unabashed and changed tack. “Permit me, then, to condole with you, if I may be so bold, about your daughter’s recent hurried marriage. One can only speculate as to the reason for haste in the matter…” He let his words hang in the air, his face contorted and his eyes wide. Clearly he suggested an indiscretion of some kind.
Kitty gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. This time there was no mirth. Mary placed her hand on her sister’s arm to still her. Mrs Bennet’s face grew red with the insult, and Mary was relieved to see Mr Darcy step forward.
“Yes, well, that’ll do, Collins.” He spoke as though to a servant.
“Oh, yes, Mr Darcy. Quite right. One must remain silent on such matters.” He placed one finger over his thin lips to show he was now forever silent on the matter and bowed to his patron.
“I think you and I ought to have a talk, Collins, about my sister-in-law, Lady Etherington. It seems you are labouring under the impression there was some scandal in the matter.” Mr Darcy was clearly enraged. His jaw clenched as he stared at the clergyman.
Mary looked sideways at Kitty, but instead of finding her upset at the subject matter, she saw her open-mouthed staring at Mr Darcy with admiration in her expression.
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