Page 24 of Cousin Conundrum

“There you are.” Lydia presented her back. “Do up my buttons.”

Kitty crossed to comply, taking in the ridiculous peach confection her sister had pulled from the wardrobe. “Is this gown not, well, a bit much for tea?”

“Precisely. Mr. Collins will not fail to notice me.”

As if anyone ever failed to notice Lydia. Taller than the rest of them, even Jane, with rosy skin, bright eyes, yellow curls, and a boisterousness that often crossed from delightful into untoward, Lydia dominated any room.

Which Kitty used to mind, but not since she secured her position as a caricaturist, and built K. B. Hert’s reputation for being one of the best in England. K. B. Hert didn’t care how much people ignored Kitty for Lydia. In fact, K. B. Hert preferred to be ignored, the better to spy out people’s oddities and truths so she might illustrate them for the general amusement of all.

“Come help with my hair.”

Kitty complied, her hands moving by rote as she contemplated a sketch of a group of fashionable ladies holding tea in a hedgerow, while a pompous looking gentleman with a busty, crassly gowned woman on his arm stood nearby, a lovely manor house in the background. Could she convey that the pair were interlopers? Would readers understand, or must she use the word ‘entail’ in the caption? Would her father or Elizabeth be made suspicious by the similarity to their circumstances?

“Ow,” Lydia yelped. She reached up and took the pins from Kitty’s hand. “Honestly, you are not good at anything.”

But she was, and she had the funds to prove so. Kitty smiled as she left Lydia in favor of the wardrobe. Not that anyone knew about her funds except Uncle Phillips. It galled Kitty that she must share her secret with anyone at all, but when the letter had arrived informing her of her first acceptance and asking for details on where to deposit her payment of five pounds, she’d no means by which to open an account. Fortunately, Uncle Phillips proved eminently trustworthy. He’d even negotiated up her fees several times now, and he’d kept her from signing anything that forced her to work with only one paper.

And if anyone ever tried to locate K. B. Hert, their efforts would find only Uncle Phillips.

Kitty changed her gown and arranged her hair, assisting Lydia several more times, and they went down to join their parents and sisters in the little front parlor. Mama wasn’t wrong in her continued complaint about the size of the room. Longbourn had a rather lovely drawing room that could be employed for formal occasions, but the drawing room allowed no view out the front of the house. The front parlor possessed that important advantage, even if more than a few callers rendered the space cramped.

Kitty let their mother’s and Lydia’s voices, occasionally punctuated by comments from her other sisters, wash over her as she refined her sketch in her mind. Perhaps she could send it to the Herald or the Gazette. Papa only read the Chronicle and the Times. She need not submit the piece to one of his preferred papers in order to be paid. Yes, she enjoyed seeing her work, and her father’s and Elizabeth’s reactions, but better to miss those things than to be caught.

The clock on the mantelpiece chimed out the fourth hour, pulling Kitty from her thoughts.

“…and did you know, Lady Lucas overheard the Miss Longs speaking about Brighton, as if the Longs can afford Brighton, but they must be able to, as they left yesterday,” Mrs. Bennet was saying. “But then, I imagine the expense is less with Penelope in Wales.”

Kitty hid a smile, delighted to understand why her mother’s voice dipped to such a dire tone when she said, ‘Wales.’

Lydia swiveled to look at Mr. Bennet. “Why can we not go to Brighton? I want to go to Brighton, and I should. I could go in Penelope’s place if she’s off to dreary old Wales.”

“A carriage,” Mary said suddenly.

Kitty, along with everyone else, turned to look out the front window.

“He is quite punctual,” Elizabeth observed.

“That seems a very fine conveyance for a clergyman.” Mary’s voice held condemnation.

“It is the largest carriage I have ever seen.” Lydia pointed, as if they were not all looking out the window already. “And a team of six. No one has spoken of Mr. Bingley having more than a team of four. Perhaps I will marry Mr. Collins after all.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Kitty saw Elizabeth raise her gaze heavenward.

The carriage halted and one of their footmen hurried down the front steps to open the door. A tall, broad, puffy sort of gentleman stepped out, then turned back to offer his hand. He assisted down an older woman wearing the most exquisite gown Kitty had ever seen. Perfectly cut, rich with warm gray and violet tones, and trimmed in some sort of fur, with a hat to match. Her tall, lean frame did her garments justice, and as she released the gentleman’s hand, she looked Longbourn over with a slight frown.

Chapter Eight

Twisting to peer out the front parlor window, Kitty continued to stare at the tall woman as the heavy-set gentleman turned back to the carriage.

“Who is that?” Mrs. Bennet asked, a sharp edge to the words. “Mr. Bennet, you said your cousin Collins would arrive today, alone.”

“In truth, I did not say he would arrive alone, nor did his letter.” Mr. Bennet leaned forward in his chair to better see out the window, frowning. “Perhaps it is his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh?”

“But why?” Elizabeth asked as the woman moved away from the conveyance.

The gentleman, perhaps Mr. Collins or perhaps not, for Kitty wasn’t certain, reached back inside.

This time he handed out an auburn-haired miss whose beauty rivaled Jane’s. Rivaled and perhaps exceeded, for, as with the older woman, the younger miss’s ensemble was impeccable. As was that of the next auburn-haired miss who alighted, and the next, until no fewer than five young women stood with the tall lady and the man who might be Mr. Collins.