by Leenie Brown
“I am not Jane,” Elizabeth said softly, “but I do know how to listen.”
Kitty pulled her lip between her teeth and glanced at Lydia.
“I understand,” Elizabeth whispered. “After dinner is finished, we can read in the small drawing room next to Papa’s study.”
Kitty nodded her agreement. She would go collect her book of sermons as soon as dinner was over and join Elizabeth and most likely Jane in the small drawing room. If any of her sisters could help her with her problem, they could. Mary had no beau, nor did she seem interested in having one. Lydia was far too nonsensical about beaus to be of any use, and when you added to that her dislike of Mr. Collins, she would be quite the opposite of useful. But Elizabeth and Jane? They were both happily attached. They would surely have some good advice for her.
It was not two minutes after Kitty had swallowed that last morsel of apple when Elizabeth caught her father’s eye, tipped her head toward the door, and her father dismissed them from the room.
“How do you do that?” Kitty asked Elizabeth as they climbed the stairs.
“Do what?”
“Talk to Papa without words?”
Elizabeth put an arm around Kitty’s shoulders. “We know each other well, I suppose. That and Papa is very observant and had been watching you with concern for at least ten minutes before I asked to be allowed to leave.”
“He was watching me?” Did he watch her often? She had never noticed.
Elizabeth nodded. “Now, do you wish to read in that drawing room or would you rather join Jane and me in our room?”
It was not an easy question to answer. If they were in Elizabeth’s room, there was very little chance any other sister might stumble upon their conversation. However, if they went to the drawing room, she would be able to pass the study and perhaps see Mr. Collins.
“Pardon me.” That very gentleman brushed by them.
“How will you be spending your evening?” Elizabeth asked him.
He stopped, turned toward her, and with brows furrowed replied that he intended to spend it in his room. “I have some ledgers to look over, and I am thinking of retiring early.” He turned partially away from them and then back. “I also need to decide if I shall return to Hunsford for a short time to see to my things or not. The Earl and your father both wish to know.”
“You are thinking of leaving?” Kitty asked.
He nodded. “Only for a short time. Not even long enough to be missed.” He gave a small bow and scurried toward his room as if being chased by the devil.
If he were gone even one day, she would miss him. How could he say he would not be gone long enough to be missed?
“He has been acting very oddly today,” Kitty muttered as she followed Elizabeth to her room.
“Do you not need your book?” Elizabeth asked with a teasing smile.
“Oh, yes, I do, though I truly doubt I shall be able to read a word.”
Elizabeth’s brows flicked up quickly, and she leaned toward her sister. “I do not plan to read, but if you have a book, Lydia will ask far fewer questions.”
Kitty’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, yes, yes, I understand.” She hurried to her room, snatched up her book of sermons, and dashed to Elizabeth’s room.
“Sit wherever you would like.” Elizabeth was unpinning her hair. “I intend to make myself excessively comfortable on the bed. You are welcome to join me. I am certain Jane will.”
“What will I do?” Jane asked as she entered the room.
“Join me on the bed for some conversation.”
“With pleasure! And what shall we discuss tonight?” Jane asked eagerly.
“Gentlemen, I suspect,” Elizabeth said with a small knowing smile for Kitty that caused Kitty’s cheeks to flush.
“I do like discussing gentlemen,” Jane said with a laugh.
“You are far too much like Mama at times, dear Sister,” Elizabeth teased.
“Jane is nothing like Mama,” Kitty said.
Elizabeth climbed onto the bed next to Jane and patted the spot next to her in invitation to Kitty. “Jane is very interested in seeing all her sisters well-matched, just as Mama is.”
“You are?” Kitty’s brows furrowed.
“Yes, indeed, I am. I am afraid I was in danger of pushing Elizabeth at Mr. Darcy if Lizzy had not come to her senses when she did.”
“No!” Kitty gasped. Jane pushing anyone in the path of a gentleman seemed very unlike the Jane she knew.
Jane nodded. “I wanted her to be as happy as I was with Mr. Bingley, even if he had not yet offered for me. I knew he would.”
“How did you know that?” Kitty relinquished her book to Elizabeth.
Jane shrugged. “He was so solicitous to me that I just knew.”
“I did not know you read sermons,” Elizabeth interrupted. “I thought it was only Mary who read these.” She flipped open the cover. “William Collins?”
Kitty nodded. “He is reading Evelina because I suggested it, so I thought it only right that I read one of his books.” Her lips puckered, and she sighed. “I do hope he is enjoying Evelina more than I am enjoying those.” She shook her head. “They are dreadfully dull.”
Elizabeth chuckled.
“They are so much better when they are spoken in church rather than read at one’s leisure.”
“Oh, I can imagine they are!” said Jane. “Why do you not ask Mr. Collins to read them to you? That might make them more bearable. He has, after all, taken orders, so he would know how best to deliver them.”
Kitty rolled her eyes upward and shook her head, willing her frustration to not spill down her cheeks, but it would not listen. She swiped at her cheek.
“What is the matter?” Jane had her arms wrapped around Kitty in an instant.
“He has ignored me all evening, and if I cannot get him to like me, then I shall have to give him up and marry Captain Saunders.” She covered her face with her hands. “I do not want to marry Captain Saunders.”
Jane squeezed her tight and rubbed her back. “Why would you have to marry Captain Saunders?”
Kitty sniffled and wiped her eyes with the palm of her hand. “Because he is going to ask me tomorrow.”
“You do not have to accept an offer just because it is made,” said Elizabeth.
“But what other offer will I ever receive?”
Jane sighed. “You are young and beautiful. Many gentlemen will call on you.”
“I think the issue is not how many gentlemen will call, but which one, in particular, is currently paying her no attention,” said Elizabeth.
“Oh!” Jane released Kitty somewhat and leaning back, looked at her. “You love Mr. Collins?”
Kitty made an indecisive sound and shrugged.
“If you are crying over him not speaking to you at dinner, you love him,” said Jane, pulling Kitty back into her embrace. “And I do think he admires you.”
“I am not certain he does,” Kitty said between fresh tear that fell at the thought of him not admiring her. If this was what love felt like, she was not positive she wished to be in love. She had hoped love would be a warm, comforting feeling that occasionally caused one’s heart to race. This, this feeling of utter wretchedness, was neither warm nor comforting.
“I suspect,” Elizabeth said, taking Kitty’s hand, “that he does not know how to express such a thing. He seems so nervous so often, does he not?”
Kitty nodded. He was very much like that little tomcat, Shadow, who poked his nose out hopefully when someone would enter the inn, but then would scurry away when any children, especially young boys, came too close.
“If you love him,” Elizabeth continued, “you may have to tell him.”
No. Kitty shook her head. No, she could not do that. She was not brave enough for that!
“Very well,” Elizabeth said softly, “then you must, at least, make your admiration clear.”
Kitty sighed. Had she not been attempting to do just that? She was certain he was not the sort o
f gentleman who would be swayed by coy smiles and fluttering lashes. How could she make him understand her admiration other than how she had attempted to make it known?
“Whatever you do,” Jane said, “do not accept Captain Saunders’s offer of anything. Not even a courtship. If you love Mr. Collins, you will be miserable with anyone else.” She leaned back and looked at Kitty once again. “Promise me.”
“I promise.”
“No matter how disappointed you think your refusal will make Captain Saunders, you must refuse.”
Kitty was uncertain she had ever heard Jane speak so adamantly.
“I do not like disappointing people either,” Jane said in a much gentler, softer tone, as she squeezed Kitty tight once again. “We are the same that way. But tomorrow, you shall have to be Lizzy.”
Kitty could not help but laugh along with Jane at such a thing while Elizabeth scowled and picked up the book of sermons.
“Oh, a page is torn.”
“Lydia,” said Kitty. “She dislikes Mr. Collins so much and for no reason. He is not what she thinks, but she refuses to see him for who he is.”
“Does she know you like Mr. Collins?” Elizabeth asked.
Kitty shook her head. “She asked me before dinner if I did, but I said no.”
“An unhappy Lydia is not pleasant,” Jane muttered.
“Precisely,” Kitty agreed. “If I knew Mr. Collins returned my affections, then I would have told her the truth, but I did not want to make things worse than they are for Mr. Collins.” Kitty sighed. “You know he is determined to win her over. He told me so.”
“Then, I would expect it to happen,” said Elizabeth. “He seems to be very persuasive in his own soft and awkward way.”
“He is quite wonderful, is he not?” Kitty asked quietly.
“Indeed, he is,” Elizabeth replied. “And you should tell him.”
Kitty shook her head. “I cannot.”
“Do you remember Celia?” Elizabeth waited until Kitty nodded. “She and I were the best of friends.” She smiled and looked off into the distance. “The trouble we caused Mama!” She laughed lightly.
“The last bit of trouble we caused was just before I went to Aunt Gardiner’s house and Celia…well…” She drew a breath. “It was just before Celia died. We had been out wandering and come across a large puddle because it had been raining for three days. Celia dared me to jump over it. I told her that I would if she did, so she did. She leapt over it with ease. But when I made my attempt, she startled me by yelling something about a bird in its nest with babies. I landed in the middle of the puddle. My pride was hurt more than my backside, and I assure you, my backside was very sore.
“Mama was furious to have my skirts so soiled and refused to allow me to have dessert with my dinner as a result. I was angry with Celia for a full two days. I did not go to call on her. I did not even write her a note in our friends journal before retiring for the night each night as I always did. I left her one small, half-hearted note on the morning before I was to leave for town. She would keep the journal while I was gone, and I would write to her from town.” Elizabeth paused and sighed. “I never got to write another note to her in that journal. It was destroyed in the accident, and her father burned it. I never apologized for being angry with her.”
She turned to Kitty. “I have been thinking about Celia a great deal lately. In fact, I was just telling Mr. Darcy about her today when he called.” She smiled and took up Kitty’s hand again. “Do not let pride or fear or anything else keep you from telling those you love that you love them. Promise me?”
Kitty nodded.
“Good, now tell Jane when you first suspected you liked Mr. Collins as more than a cousin, for I am certain she is dying to know.”
Jane picked up the pillow next to her and swatted a laughing Elizabeth with it. “As if I am the only one!” she cried.
After a few more minutes of laughter, all three girls calmed.
“I think I noticed something about him from the very first moment I met him, but I did not begin to suspect we could be good friends or possibly more until Papa sent me to help him find a book in the study.”
Chapter 11
Collins straightened his brown jacket and his simply-tied cravat before answering the knock at the door to his room.
“What are you wearing?” Bingley demanded as he entered the room.
Collins looked down at himself. “A brown suit of clothes.” Was that not apparent?
Bingley scowled. “Let me rephrase.” He shook his head and muttered. “You and Darcy. So literal.” His left brow rose imperiously. “Why are you dressed all in brown?”
“I like brown. It suits me.” Dull, unobtrusive, easily ignored.
Bingley folded his arms. “No, it does not. Brown with a touch of red in your waistcoat suits you much better.”
Collins shrugged. “Perhaps tomorrow.”
The statement was met with a sigh of resignation, or was it disappointment, from his tutor. It did not matter. In just a few hours, his failure would be complete. Kitty would be promised to another and would never be his. He had spent the majority of the night resigning himself to that fact. Last night was the only time in his life he wished he could drink as much as his father had.
“I am given to understand,” said Darcy from the chair in which he reclined, “that you spent the full night in your chamber after steadfastly ignoring Miss Kitty during dinner.” He shrugged when Collins turned to him in surprise. “I saw Elizabeth.”
Collins shook his head and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. Of course, that was why Elizabeth had questioned him last night. He should have known.
“I think I will go to Hunsford for a few days,” he said, ignoring any implied question which Darcy’s comments held. “It would be good to bid my farewells to the congregation in person. Has your uncle selected my replacement?”
Darcy nodded. “He has. The man is set to take up his post two days before Christmas.” He unbuttoned his jacket and crossed his ankles. “Ignoring Miss Kitty was not what we discussed. You were to engage her in conversation during dinner and make yourself available in the study after.”
“I am not Captain Saunders,” Collins replied. “Now, shall we proceed to the study?”
“I do not have the pleasure of understanding your meaning,” Darcy said, not moving from his relaxed position.
Collins walked first to the dressing table, then the window. Admitting his failure to himself last evening had been challenging. Admitting it to his friends, whom he admired greatly, was nearly impossible. It was not that he was necessarily a proud creature, but he was a man. And like any man whom he knew, he did not like to be found wanting. He shook his head. How many times had he been told he was wanting? Far too many to recall the exact number. He should find it much easier than he did, given all that practice.
“Saunders applied to Mr. Bennet for permission to present a courtship to Miss Kitty.”
“I still do not see how that means you must forego the waistcoat with red in it,” grumbled Bingley.
“A red coat, not a red waistcoat, would serve me better,” Collins retorted.
“An offer does not mean an acceptance,” Darcy inserted. “Elizabeth did not accept me the first time I presented my request.”
“Precisely!” Bingley said, waving his hand toward Darcy. “Have you told Miss Kitty that you admire her?”
Collins swallowed. “That was not part of my instruction.”
He looked anywhere but at Bingley or Darcy. He had never stood in opposition to any of his instructors — ever — in all of his life. He had never even attempted to oppose his father. He had been as accommodating as possible, even taking responsibility for failures that were not his own.
“It is now.” Bingley stood directly before him with the red waistcoat in his hand. “Tell her you admire her or wear this, and do not go to Hunsford. Fight for her, man!”
Collins stared at the red waistcoat, then shook his head. “
I do not know how to fight.” His words were barely above a whisper.
“Then wear the waistcoat, and allow us to help you,” said Darcy.
Collins paused at the offer. He was not sure that even Darcy could help him win Kitty at present, but his heart would not allow him to give up without one more attempt, so he nodded and shrugged out of his jacket.
Bingley looked exorbitantly pleased as he handed the preferred garment to Collins.
“You look presentable,” Darcy said as Bingley was smoothing the back of Mr. Collins’s jacket at the shoulders. “We are not adjusting the cravat,” he warned his friend, who huffed but said nothing. “Shall we?” He held the door open.
“Where are we going?” Collins asked before moving toward the door. He had no desire to be anywhere near where Captain Saunders might be presenting his offer to Kitty.
“The study,” Darcy replied. “But eventually, we will have to darken the door to the sitting room. There are some very pretty ladies within it who will be expecting us.” He smiled broadly.
Collins felt an unwelcome pang of jealousy at Darcy’s happiness. It was something he would likely never have. “We are not going there first?”
“Not even if that is what Bingley would prefer,” Darcy replied with a chuckle as his friend once again huffed. “For an amiable fellow, he does enjoy pushing his friends beyond their limits. Never, and I do mean never, tell him you dislike dancing, for he will be as adamant about seeing you dance as he is about cravats and waistcoats.”
Bingley shrugged. “I neither understand why anyone would not want to wear a dashing set of clothes nor how someone can dislike dancing.”
“And so, he is determined to educate us unfortunates,” Darcy muttered. “At least your wearing a red waistcoat does not require you to stand up for a set of dances with his sister.”