She sniffed as she wiped a solitary tear away that snaked its way down her cheek and returned to the task of embroidering washcloths for Jane’s Christmas gift. She pondered on all that Reverend Summers had told her about his unhappy past and felt more than a little guilty. She was dwelling on her own unhappiness when, in reality, the reverend had suffered the greater hurt; yet he was still able to continue with his life and was, indeed, a contented and amiable man. She realised she ought to follow his example.
She most heartily did not wish Lydia ill. She tried, against the hurt, to wish her well. But she could not shake the feeling that Lydia had not simply stolen Sir Percival from right under her nose, but that there had existed something between the pair of them that Kitty was unaware of the entire time. There was something in Lydia’s tone, she remembered, that forewarned Kitty and to which she had been oblivious at the time.
“Why would she warn me against him? Why would she tell me that men are duplicitous creatures if she did not have prior knowledge of such a thing?” she muttered to herself as she worked the sage green thread through the flannel fabric. “I believe the signs were there for me to see, yet I was blinded by my own feelings and happy circumstances to see it.”
She poked the needle through the fabric to secure it and placed the whole thing back into her needlework bag. “I have been blind and I was fooled. It is better this way.” She stood and smoothed the front of her dress. “I am better off without him. I would much rather be a spinster than married to a man who held affection for my own sister.” The very thought made her balk. “Dear God! From what have I so narrowly escaped?”
Spinning around quickly and barely thinking, Kitty fled from her bedroom, picking up her outdoor winter boots as she went, noting that her ankle felt so much better with a couple of days’ rest. Her intention was to seek out Reverend Summers and Dorcas. She needed somebody wholly unconnected to her family to speak with. The singular thought running around her head was that if she had married Sir Percival, would he and Lydia have engaged in a love affair behind her back throughout the duration of their lives?
Reaching the hallway, Kitty quickly pulled on her boots, snatched up her bonnet and scarf, and rushed headlong out of the door before she had time to even put her arms into her overcoat properly.
Reverend Summers did not live very far away from Longbourn house at all, but that morning the walk seemed endless and for miles. Kitty slipped on the icy snow and almost lost her balance more than once. She was careful to favour her hurt ankle and not to aggravate the sprain, which seemed to have healed. She regained her composure quickly enough and slipping and sliding her way along the lane toward the church, she muttered to herself. “What a fool I have been!” From time to time she would click her tongue against the roof of her mouth and exclaim, “I have had a very narrow escape indeed.”
The fire from her own personal epiphany fuelled her along, and she eventually reached the vicarage, out of breath and red in the face. Her derrière was bruised from actually having fallen more than once on the road, but she did not mind that in the least and was more than thankful that her ankle stood up to such abuse.
As she rang the bell at the front door, all she wanted was to gain entry, to warm her now numb fingers, and to recount to her new friends all that was bubbling over in her mind. She hoped that they would be able to help her make sense of the turmoil she felt and to shed comforting light upon it all.
As the front door to the vicarage opened to reveal a surprised Dorcas, Kitty felt fit to burst with all the emotions she felt. She was hastily ushered in to heartfelt cries from Dorcas that she ought to have stayed at home.
“Oh, I cannot possibly stay there. My mind is so full. I need to talk. I need you and the reverend, Dorcas!”
“Here, let me help you off with your coat and we’ll get you beside the fire.” Dorcas turned to hang Kitty’s coat up. “I’ll fetch the reverend; you go on into the parlour, Miss Bennet.”
Kitty did as she was bid and pulled a chair closer to the fire and held out her hands. They felt like ice. She rubbed them and wriggled her fingers, and slowly she felt the life returning to them when Reverend Summers walked in.
“Miss Bennet, what a surprise!” His face bore a smile that echoed his words.
Kitty rose and curtseyed to his bow. “Thank you for seeing me, Reverend.”
“You are more than welcome. Now, let us wait for some tea, and then you can tell us everything that is on your mind.” He took a seat opposite her in the comfortably arranged parlour and smiled. “I am not surprised to see you, if I am honest. I knew you had a lot to think about since our last conversation.”
Once the tea was poured, partially consumed, and the pot was refilled with hot water, Kitty fully recounted all that was on her mind and in her heart.
Dorcas and Reverend Summers sat quietly through her discourse, and when she was finished, the reverend merely said, “This is precisely the conclusion I would come to, Miss Bennet.”
“You would?”
“Indeed,” he nodded. “I think if you had married Sir Percival, you would likely be living in a fool’s paradise, unaware of his wandering eye. If he held affection for Lydia, it may have been a long time before you learned of it.”
Kitty felt Dorcas’ hand squeeze her own and caught the look of sympathy in her eyes. Dorcas smiled quickly and busied herself topping up teacups with fresh tea. Kitty wondered how often she might see that look on the faces of others if her marriage had taken place and Lydia became Sir Percival’s mistress.
“I believe the Lord has spared you from such a harsh and punishing future, Miss Bennet.” The reverend’s eyes held such compassion as Kitty looked up at him that she felt herself healing and hardening to her disappointment. To her mind, it was no longer such a thing, but a lucky escape.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Mary, meanwhile, was in the garden throwing out seeds and scraps of stale bread for the birds. She was at the furthest point from the house where the drive opened to the road, and she was enjoying a moment of solitude away from the hustle and bustle of life at home.
From behind her, Mary heard a sharp whistle, which made her jump. “Who’s there?” she cried out.
“I do apologise, Mary,” came the whispered response.
She peered around the corner into the road beyond and spied Walter Hodgson standing hidden behind the tall yew bushes. “Walter, what on earth are you doing?”
“Shh…” he placed a gloved finger upon his lips and bade her come out into the road. “I do not want to be seen or else I would have to pay a formal visit.”
“Oh, Walter,” Mary laughed. “Why would you not want to pay a formal visit? Hill makes the most delicious sponge cakes, you realise?” Inside Mary sniggered at herself; she realised she was allowing her humour to increasingly show itself. She decided she liked it. It greatly reminded her of her father’s humour.
“It’s not the cake, Mary.” He looked down at his black leather boots, the tips of which were caked in snow from his walk. “If I come to visit, without a purpose from your uncle or from an invitation, it will give rise to conjecture.”
“Conjecture?” Mary’s face was a picture of pure puzzlement, then realisation hit like a bolt of lightning. “Oh, I see, Walter.”
He steadily held her gaze, stepped forward, and reached for her hands. “That is…” he swallowed and Mary could see the colour rising in his cheeks. “That is unless you wish… I mean, that you don’t mind in the least…”
His expression was earnest, and Mary was determined that this time she would not mistake his meaning. “Unless… I am happy to give rise to conjecture?”
“Well, not conjecture precisely.” His breath clouded hot and foggy between their faces which were by now only mere inches apart.
“Not conjecture?” Mary’s mouth went dry. She knew to what he alluded. She knew there was a connection between them, something far more than friendship. There was a genuine attraction born of compatibility, n
ot flirtation. She hoped beyond all hope that he meant he returned her fledgling affection for him.
“Mary, you are an astute lady. I have been most impressed with how well read you are.” His blush deepened and spread to his ears. “I believe we could be more than friends, Mary.”
It was Mary’s turn to go a deep crimson. Her heart leapt at his words. “Yes, Walter. I agree.”
“Please…” he stuttered. “Please may I have permission to speak to your father?” This time Walter blanched.
Mary knew the prospect of speaking to one’s intended’s father was never a pleasant one. She also knew her father was a kind man. Walter had nothing to fear in that quarter. The glint in her eye returned, and she surprised herself by asking, “Speak to my father about what, Walter?”
Mary noticed a slight sheen upon his top lip as he spoke again. “Mary, do not trifle with me. I believe you know my intentions. I would like to ask your father for your hand in marriage, if you are willing.”
Mary’s smile spread slowly across her face and Walter returned it. She knew now that she did not even have to speak the words. He knew what her answer was already. “Yes, Walter, I am willing.”
Walter squeezed her hands, walked past her with his eyes firmly locked upon hers, and sped off down the drive to the house. Mary’s heart was in her mouth; he was going to seek an audience with her father.
Mary waited a few minutes while she finished feeding the birds, then scuttled back to the house, bumping into Kitty as she reached the porch.
“Mary, where have you been? You look flustered,” Kitty asked as she beat the snow off the bottoms of her boots.
“Nowhere. I just…” Mary looked up at her sister and frowned. “Where have you been?”
“I’ll tell you, but first let’s get inside.”
Mary felt enormous relief. She knew that once Kitty got on to the subject of whatever it was that she was about, then she would most likely forget to ask the reason for Mary’s flushed appearance. The two of them chattered all the way into the drawing room, past their mother who had her sister, Mrs Phillips, visiting, and straight to the back of the room. Both sisters had intended to give embroidered gifts this Christmas and neither of them had finished. They both set to immediately and talked in hushed tones. Mary was surprised to learn about Kitty’s epiphany and pleased for her at the same time. “I am happy you have come to this conclusion on your own, Kitty.”
“Thank you, Mary. I expect I have been more than a little trying of late.”
Mary smiled down at her embroidery. Yes, Kitty had been trying, but she understood it completely. “That is in the past. Let us look to the future, shall we?”
The girls looked up sharply as Hill burst into the drawing room, curtseyed, and addressed their mother. “Beggin’ your pardon, Mrs Bennet, but the master wishes to see you, straight away.”
“Hill,” Mrs Bennet huffed in exasperation, “can you not see that I am busy here.” She flapped her hand in the direction of her sister.
“The master said to come directly, mistress.” Hill bobbed another curtsey and hastily made her retreat.
“I wonder what that is all about?” Kitty asked as their mother made a raucous fuss about leaving their aunt and going to see what their father wanted.
Mary knew. The knot in her stomach made her feel queasy.
“Well, girls,” Mrs Phillips flapped her way over to where they sat, breathless despite only having moved a few paces, “what a fuss your father makes, hmm?” Her look was disapproving but neither of the sisters commented. “I cannot for the life of me imagine what could be so vitally important that he would need my dear sister to attend him so abruptly.” She pouted, trying to draw them into a conversation.
“How is our uncle?” Mary asked, desperate to steer them all away from what she was convinced was happening in her father’s book room at that very moment.
The question did the trick. Their aunt chattered on for what seemed like an eternity on the subject of Mr Phillips’ gout. Mary paid very little attention to what their aunt said. She had no stomach for the gory details of a gouty leg, neither was she as intently interested in her embroidery as she appeared to be. Instead, Mary’s mind and heart were solely focussed on what was happening in the adjoining room. Mrs Phillips’ conversation was interrupted by the occasional outburst from Mrs Bennet in the book room. All three of them would look up at the interruption, but Mr Bennet’s voice could be heard shushing his wife and Mrs Phillips would return to lecturing the girls on gout and all its offensiveness. Mary wondered why her mother would cry out like that, and then she would wonder why her father quietened her. She began to fear the worst.
Mrs Bennet returned to the drawing room, ignored Mary and Kitty entirely, and Mrs Phillips scuttled off back to her sister dropping the conversation with the girls in midsentence. They were both relieved.
“I do not believe I will ever eat another thing in the whole course of my life after that detailed description of our uncle’s affliction.” Kitty puffed out her cheeks.
Mary noticed she did indeed look pale. “Me neither.”
“Come on. Let’s go for a walk and get some fresh air.” Kitty tossed her embroidery aside and grabbed hold of Mary’s hand. “We’ll feel better if we do.”
Together the pair exited the room unnoticed and bumped straight into their father as they headed for the boots they had recently placed before the entrance hall fire.
“Mary, I would speak with you,” was all he said as he turned on his heel and marched back into his book room.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Kitty had no inkling of what her father looked so stern about but was relieved that his mood was not directed at her. She waited a full thirty minutes in the hallway with her bonnet, scarf, gloves, and boots on. She was playing absent-mindedly with the buttons on her coat when Mary came out of the book room and quietly closed the door behind her. “There you are. I thought you would never return.”
“Sorry,” Mary replied, her face downcast.
“Hurry along and get your boots on. The sun is shining and the snow seems to be thawing rapidly.” Kitty moved towards the doors and opened them. “It’s gloriously bright out there. It will be just the thing for us this afternoon.” She turned and grinned at Mary who did not return the smile. “I tell you what. Let’s walk up the lane in the opposite direction to Meryton and past our farmers’ fields. What say you?”
Mary shrugged. “If you like, Kitty.”
“Oh, cheer up, Mary.” Kitty scuttled across the flagstone floor and took hold of her sister’s hand as she finished placing it in a glove. “Papa can be in such a high dudgeon sometimes. Pay him no mind—whatever it was.” Kitty breathed a sigh of relief as they both exited the house and stepped out into the snow.
Mary pulled the doors closed behind them as Kitty dragged her along and she scurried to keep up.
“Is there anything more boring in life than sitting with Aunt Phillips as she drones on about Uncle Phillips’ gout?” Kitty laughed.
“Mr Collins?” Mary responded. “He is far more of a bore, I am sad to say.”
“True!” Kitty snorted.
The pair of them walked along, with Kitty chattering away about the glorious sunshine and how beautiful the countryside looked all draped in a covering of white. Mary kept silent. “You know, Mary, I am so happy today. This is good, is it not?” She turned to her for a reply.
“Yes. I am glad you are happy again, Kitty. You have been melancholic for so long that I was heartily worried for you.”
“Indeed, I was. It must have been trying for all of you.” She sighed. “I am so glad that I can talk to you about it, Mary. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Kitty. We are sisters.”
Kitty missed the frown on Mary’s face, she was so wrapped up in her own thoughts. “Reverend Summers and Dorcas too have been of immeasurable help.”
“Hmm…”
“I know now that I would never have been happy with Sir
Percival.” She shrugged. “Yes, I could most certainly have been happy and contented with living in London with all its balls and parties, but not with him. I see all this clearly now. He would never be faithful to me. I wonder if he is faithful to Lydia.” Kitty breathed heavily through her nose. “Lydia is so demanding that I suppose he would not have time, opportunity, or the inclination to stray far from her.” She nudged Mary with her elbow. “Anyway, you were right. I will rally again and I shall be happy. Perhaps Aunt and Uncle Gardner will take me on a touring holiday next year, like they did with Lizzy. I should like that very much. I am—”
“Oh, for goodness sake, Kitty! Can you not stop talking about yourself just for a moment or two?” Mary stopped walking and stood glaring at Kitty with her fists balled by her sides. “You are not the only person in the world who has problems, you know. Why does everything have to be about you?”
Kitty stood wide-mouthed, staring at Mary. “What has got into you?”
“What has got into me? You’re interested in me now?”
Mary’s face was furious, and Kitty took a half step backwards. “I am sorry. Please, what is the matter?” She wanted to reach out to her sister, but the sudden fury warned her not to.
Mary burst into tears. Kitty was stunned and stood frozen to the spot, watching as her sister sobbed her heart out. “Walter Hodgson went to Papa to ask for my hand in marriage.”
“Oh!” Kitty clapped her hands to her mouth. “That is wonderful news, Mary. May I congratulate you?”
Christmas at Longbourn Page 10
