Master of Longbourn

by Leenie Brown

  She poked her needle through the fabric and pursed her lips. It would be much better if they were to go find Mr. Collins and bring him to the sitting room with them. She knew that he was intent on learning all he could about Longbourn, but she wished he would be just a little less attentive to his duty. She would not admit it to her sisters, but she wanted him to come sit next to her and read while she stitched. She could not explain it, but there was a comfort that she felt in his presence which she had not ever in all the seventeen years she had lived experienced anywhere else. She drew her needle back up through her fabric, completing the leaf on which she was working, and prepared to continue the stem of her vine.

  The thought of how he got flustered and pressed his lips closed on his words brought a smile to her lips. He had so many thoughts to share when he forgot himself and allowed his words to flow freely. It was not all entertaining or even always something she understood, but she did like the way he would fold his arms and get that far away look in his eyes as if he were in some distant but wonderful place. And then, he would remember he was not wherever that was and would cease speaking, often abruptly. Lydia found it a great source of jokes, but Kitty did not.

  “Miss Kitty, I see you have nearly finished your design.” Captain Saunders took the place next to Kitty where she had hoped Mr. Collins would sit.

  “I have. Do you like it?” She held up her work for his scrutiny. She doubted a captain in the militia was well-versed in the finer points of needlework, but since he had made mention of it, she thought to oblige him. “I shall soon be ready to put the front and back together. Will it not be the loveliest bag for spring?”

  “Indeed, it will,” he replied with a smile. “Nearly as lovely as the lady who carries it.”

  She smiled and ducked her head. He did know how to speak very pretty words even if they did not make her feel as at ease as Mr. Collins less pretty words did.

  “It is a fine day,” he continued. “The sun is warm for this time of year.”

  “Was your walk from town pleasant then?” His cheeks and nose were still rosy, and he rubbed his hands together, so she knew it was not altogether warm outside.

  “Oh, very,” he replied readily. “I had hoped, after we have had a moment to warm ourselves, to perhaps take a turn of the garden?”

  “I had hoped we might have a chance for a more private conversation,” he added upon seeing her look of contemplation.

  “Oh.” Kitty’s heart thumped wildly at such a suggestion. He was not thinking of making some sort of offer, was he? He had been paying her marked attention, but they were merely friends, were they not?

  “Do you not wish to walk with me?”

  “No, that is not it.” She busied herself with putting her stitching away so that she would not have to look at him. “I am just not sure I wish to go outside. I know it is sunny, but I am so comfortable here. The fire is warm, and the company is pleasant. Perhaps we could play cards,” she suggested hopefully.

  She did not like cards as much as Lydia did, but she preferred them to having to consider an offer of some sort from a dashing gentleman who was a delightful conversation partner and who made one look exceptionally good on his arm, but who did not stir her heart in any particularly wonderful fashion. He was not the one she wished to have at her side. He was not the one she wished to seek out when she wanted a quiet discussion. He was not the one who understood her and welcomed her as her. Captain Saunders welcomed her. He even sought her out, but he never made her feel as if she could be just herself. In his presence, she felt as if she needed to be like Lydia, ready with a playful quip or light giggle and a batting of eyelashes. While those things were enjoyable, they were also tiring.

  “Yes, yes, cards would be acceptable. Whatever you wish shall be my command.”

  The words sounded gallant and caused her to smile, but they also felt a trifle flat.

  “Lydia, we must play cards,” she said.

  Lydia, of course, nearly flew from her chair in her haste to see things arranged.

  Just as the tables had been set, and Lydia had given directions as to where each person was to sit, the one gentleman Kitty had wished to join her finally entered the sitting room with Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley. She smiled at him, but he did not return her smile. How odd!

  “Mr. Collins, would you care to play?” she asked, rising from her chair. “You may take my place.”

  “No, no,” he said in a very serious tone. “I would not wish to keep you from your fun.”

  “But I do not mind. I can play the next round.”

  He shook his head and lifted the book he held. “I shall just read near the window. The light is very good for reading today.”

  “Very well.” She attempted to keep the disappointment she felt out of her voice.

  “You are very solicitous of your cousin,” Captain Saunders whispered. “It does you credit. Not everyone is so kind to gentlemen such as he.”

  She blinked. “Such as he? I am not certain I understand your meaning.”

  The captain shared a smirk with Captain Denny as he shrugged. “I mean no offense, of course, but he is awkward. Very lacking in charm, you must agree. But, I do understand, he will one day be the one to decide how you live, so your gracious acceptance now will no doubt see you in good stead when the time comes.”

  Kitty attempted to keep her brows from being lost in her hairline, but her surprise and afront at such a comment was such that she could not. “I am certain I never considered such a thing!”

  The captain patted her hand where it lay on the table. “Of course, you did not. You are too kind to think ill of anyone. It is just one of the many things I admire about you.”

  Kitty bit her lip and studied her cards, making sure to hold them with both hands so that he could not touch her as he had. It was a particularly unsettling feeling to have his hand on hers. It tingled at first like a little burst of excitement might, but then that sensation faded as quickly as it appeared and was replaced with a feeling of impropriety.

  “You admire me?” she asked quietly.

  “I do.”

  It was a simple reply that for a moment felt very good. She had never before had someone say he admired her in such a direct fashion.

  “Very much,” he added in a whisper. “That is what I had hoped to speak to you about in the garden.”

  She nodded but turned her attention to her cards as it was her turn to play.

  “I have surprised you.”

  Again, she nodded. “I fear you have.” Shocked, surprised, terrified, thrilled, confused…there were so many words that sprang to mind to describe what his words had done to her.

  “It is not an unpleasant surprise, I hope,” he added. “I had thought my attentions were obvious.”

  She swallowed. Had she been too stupid to see his admiration? His expression held no judgment.

  “I had not…” She shook her head. She would not admit that she had not been thinking. Instead, she would say, “No, it is not unpleasant, just surprising.”

  The afternoon of cards and small talk could not end soon enough. Her mind was in a jumble. Her heart was in no less coherent a state. Her nerves made her feel jumpy, and she struggled not to be cross. It was so very vexing to be admired by – her hand flew to her mouth, and she gasped – the wrong gentleman. The realization did little to help her heart stop its fluttering nor did it cause her nerves to retreat. What it did was cause her eyes to fill with tears when Captain Saunders asked her if she as well.

  “I am well,” she assured him. But she was not. “I was merely woolgathering. I am dreadfully ashamed to have been doing so instead of listening to the tale you were telling.”

  “You need not fret so much.” His voice and the accompanying smile were soothing. “I am not offended. It happens to everyone at some point.”

  “But it should not have happened,” she replied. It should not have, but she also knew she had been entirely powerless to keep such a thing from happening then
and was just as unlikely to be able to keep it from happening again. Her mind wished to ponder nothing other than how Captain Saunders with all his pretty words and handsome features was inferior to an awkward, sometimes bumbling, gentleman who sat quietly by the window reading a book she had asked him to read even though he did not like novels.

  “Truly, you take it too seriously. We all have minds that wander at times.”

  She rubbed the space between her eyebrows.

  “You are not well,” Captain Saunders declared.

  She sighed. “My head is just the smallest bit sore, but I am certain it will not grow worse.” It likely would unless he left, and she could escape to her room to think. However, that was not something one told a gentleman who had just declared his admiration for oneself.

  “I have surprised you and not given you a moment to think.”

  She nodded and smiled sheepishly at him. His expression fell but only slightly.

  “I would rather that my declaration be met with joy than with a headache, but I can also appreciate the need to consider even if I had not expected it.”

  “Thank you,” she said softly. There was a pang of guilt at having caused him any disappointment. She was not the sort of lady to enjoy causing disappointment.

  “If it is as sunny a day tomorrow as it is today, might you be willing to take a walk in the garden with me? Would that allow you enough time to consider?”

  She lifted one shoulder and allowed it to drop. “I think that should be enough time.”

  It was not, but she did not know how else to answer.

  Captain Saunders was not a poor choice. He had land and an acceptable income which would be his as soon as his time with the militia drew to an end. She would not want for anything if she were to become his wife. Her life would be comfortable. And he seemed as if he was a kind man who would show her respect and treat her well. Such an offer must be considered carefully, especially if no other offer seemed forthcoming.

  And that was what she truly needed time to determine. She had one day – only one day — to discover if there was any hope of Mr. Collins ever returning her admiration, and if not, then, she might do just as well to accept Captain Saunders.

  Oh, how she hoped it would rain!

  Chapter 10

  “What were you and Captain Saunders talking about so seriously?” Lydia asked after the officers had left and she and Kitty had gone up to dress for supper.

  “It was nothing,” Kitty prevaricated.

  How could she tell Lydia that there was a handsome officer who seemed intent on pursuing her as more than a conversation partner while his friend flirted with Lydia? Such an admission would surely only result in squeals of delight and the loud declaration that Kitty was to be the happiest girl in all the land. This would likely be followed by a discussion of how if Captain Saunders was thinking of marrying, Captain Denny must be also, for talk of one wedding often led to another.

  Still more difficult would be the task of telling Lydia that Captain Saunders’s offer was not the one for which Kitty wished.

  It was best to keep silent as long as possible.

  Lydia looked at her skeptically. “You were talking in low tones about nothing?”

  Kitty nodded. “He mentioned wishing to take a walk in the garden, but I really could not be moved from the comfort of the sitting room for any inducement.”

  “I could be,” Lydia replied with a giggle.

  “I could not be,” Kitty replied as she sat to inspect her hair. It did not need a full restoration, but it was starting to grow unkept. A bit of attention was required, so she picked up the brush and began her work of smoothing here and repining there.

  “I was quite glad Mr. Collins did not take your place at our table,” Lydia said as she fastened her dress in the front. “I honestly was shocked that you would even offer such a thing! To be forced to entertain him for a full game! It really would have been just the thing to ruin a perfectly good afternoon.”

  “He is not so dreadful as you believe,” Kitty retorted. “If you would but attempt to become acquainted with him, you might find yourself very much surprised at what you find.”

  Lydia huffed and came to stand next to the bench where Kitty sat. “Are you nearly finished?”

  Kitty placed one last pin in her hair and moved to relinquish her place to Lydia but then, pausing, decided that a butterfly would be just the thing to likely capture the attention of Mr. Collins, so she remained in her place long enough to secure the comb in her hair. She only had a day, after all, to draw him out – if it were even possible for him to be drawn out. That thought caused her heart to ache in a most unusual and unwelcome fashion.

  “Captain Saunders nearly held your hand,” Lydia said as she sat down before the mirror on their shared dressing table. “How thrilling was it?”

  Kitty shrugged.

  “Did it send little prickles skittering up your arm?” Lydia pressed. “I have always found a handsome gentleman’s touch to do just that.”

  “It did at first,” Kitty replied as she got down on her knees to look under the bed for her missing slipper. “But then it just felt improper.” She pulled out the wayward shoe and slipped it onto her foot.

  “Improper?” Lydia spun on the bench to look at her sister.

  “Yes,” Kitty replied. “It was very odd, I assure you. Startling even.”

  She picked up the book of sermons she had been attempting to read. There were some interesting parts, but often, they made her eyes weary and her mind hurt as she attempted to decipher what was being said. Why a sermon writer could not just put their thoughts on paper in as entertaining a fashion as a novelist did, she did not know. Perhaps gentlemen who wrote sermons were too serious to have fun. Or perhaps it was because they were all old and stodgy. Whatever the reason, reading sermons was only something she would do to show Mr. Collins that she could be interested in what he liked just as he was demonstrating the same to her by reading Evelina.

  “I wonder if Captain Saunders likes novels,” she said from her perch on the bed where she waited for her sister.

  “How could he not?” Lydia cried. “Any gentleman of sense would! I declare that if a gentleman does not find pleasure in a novel, he must be either intolerably stupid or dreadfully dull!”

  “Mr. Bingley does not like to read,” Kitty replied.

  “Mr. Bingley is too pleasant to need to read.”

  Kitty’s brow furrowed. Lydia did not always make sense.

  “Are you still reading that dreadful book?” Lydia stood and approached Kitty.

  “I am. Mr. Collins is reading a novel, so I am reading sermons.”

  Lydia snatched the book from Kitty.

  “Lydia!” Kitty cried. “Look what you have done!” In her hand, she held one page of the book – and not even the whole page but only three-quarters of it.

  “It is just a silly book of sermons.” Lydia lifted her chin and tossed the book on the table next to the bed. “It is not as if it is a good book that many will wish to read.”

  Kitty scrambled off the bed and retrieved the book, smoothing out the pages that had been bent when Lydia tossed it. “Papa would be ashamed to see you treat any book as you have this one.”

  “It is not Papa’s book.”

  Kitty clenched her jaw and drew a breath through her nose. “That is not the point. The point is that you have treated a book with disrespect and by extension its owner.”

  Lydia’s mouth curled into a sly smile. “You are not going to tell Papa that I damaged Mr. Collins’s book, are you?”

  Kitty flipped through the pages as she considered if she would indeed tell Papa about Lydia’s behavior. It was likely the right and proper thing to do, but she did not like it when Lydia was mad.

  “Are you?” Lydia demanded.

  Kitty squared her shoulders. “I am undecided.”

  Lydia’s eyes grew wide.

  “If you can be civil to Mr. Collins for the whole evening and all of tomorr
ow, I will not tell Papa.”

  Lydia huffed and crossed her arms. “It seems as if Mr. Collins is rather special to you,” she said only turning toward the door as her sister opened it rather than moving to follow her. “You do not actually like Mr. Collins, do you? Is that why you have been sneaking into Papa’s study? So you can be with him?”

  Kitty drew a slow breath. That was it precisely, but it was also not something she felt she could or should tell Lydia. Lydia did not know how to keep to herself secrets that did not please her. Therefore, Kitty shook her head and said, “Of course not. I am just trying to make him feel welcome.”

  “He is no Captain Saunders.” Lydia, who was smiling once more, crossed to the door.

  “No, he is not,” Kitty admitted. He was so much more.

  ~*~*~

  Kitty peeked at Mr. Collins for the fourth time during dinner. He had spoken to her father for nearly the entire meal about some wall that needed repair and Mr. Doney, who was to be hired for the job, and what the expected expense would be as well as when it would be best to begin such a project in the spring. He had passed her several dishes of food and had replied in one or two words to any question she asked, but beyond that, he had completely ignored her.

  She scowled at the last remaining piece of baked apple on her plate. Baked apples were a particular favorite of hers on most occasions, except when a gentleman was being so vexing! It really was beyond enough!

  Elizabeth leaned close to Kitty. “Are you well?”

  Kitty forced her lips into a smile and nodded.

  “You were getting a headache earlier. Has it returned?” Elizabeth was studying her face very carefully and not looking at all convinced that Kitty was indeed well.

  “I fear it never left,” Kitty admitted, blinking at the unwelcome tears which gathered in her eyes. How could she be rid of a headache which was caused by a gentleman who wished to make an offer but from whom she had no desire to receive an offer when the one gentleman who could save her from having to consider the first gentleman would not pay her a bit of attention? Oh, even thinking about it made her head spin and ache nearly as much as her heart.