Page 51 of Cousin Conundrum

Kitty blinked. They’d brought out the pianoforte? For a picnic?

Even now Miss Mabel settled on the bench, Mr. Collins beside her to turn pages. Had the Archers convinced Miss Bingley to put the instrument out so that Mabel had an excuse to keep Mr. Collins by her side? Kitty wrinkled her nose. Miss Mabel could have him.

She began to hammer on the keys and Kitty couldn’t help but wonder if the occupants of Netherfield Park had heard her play before. The racket she made was undoubtedly why Mr. Hurst sat so far removed. Well, that and so he could have a fine view of the entire party, for she didn’t believe his charade of sleep for a moment.

“Come, let us try the ices.”

“I will join you shortly.”

Lydia stared at her in surprise. “Join me shortly? Where are you going?”

“There was something I wanted to see in the paper this morning but Papa never let me.” Kitty gestured vaguely. “Mr. Hurst has a paper over there.”

“What could possibly be worth the risk of speaking to that dullard?”

Knowing precisely what would encourage Lydia to permit her to leave, Kitty lowered her voice to whisper, “I thought I saw the name Archer in the Fashionable Intelligence section while Papa was reading something else.”

“Ohhh.” Lydia looked from the terrace to Mr. Hurst and back.

Kitty held her breath, worried she’d made her reason too compelling.

“If you find anything about them, bring the paper to me. I will not risk boring Mr. Hurst keeping me from ices.”

Kitty nodded and set out across the lawn. She angled her gaze upward as if contemplating the few white, puffy clouds that graced an otherwise blue sky, and adopted a dreamy expression she hoped excused ignoring calls of greeting. She had to dodge the Lucases, with whom her parents spoke, and Miss King, but soon enough she stood before Mr. Hurst, a wide swath of grass between them and the rest of the gathering.

He gave no acknowledgement of her presence. Might he truly be asleep? Should she simply begin speaking and assume he listened?

No, she should take up the paper. Not simply because Lydia might look over, but so she could hold it up and talk behind it. That way, no one would know she spoke aloud.

“Miss Catherine, whatever are you doing?”

With a squeak, Kitty whirled. She mustered a relieved smile at the sight of Mrs. Hurst. “Mrs. Hurst! Precisely who I need. May I borrow Mr. Hurst’s paper, do you think? I was halfway through an article in the Fashionable Intelligence before we came here.”

Mrs. Hurst frowned. “It cannot have been that important.”

“Oh, no, but I am so forgetful. If I do not read the remainder now, before speaking with so many people, I will forget what I have read and need to begin from the start, and Papa is so jealous with his papers.” Kitty made her eyes wide in a way she knew caused others to dismiss her as dim. “Is Mr. Hurst jealous with his paper? I would not care to anger him.”

“Mr. Hurst mostly employs the paper as a blanket,” Mrs. Hurst muttered. She moved past Kitty and scooped the pages up. Mr. Hurst snorted and muttered in his sleep, tugging his hat down to shade his face without opening his eyes. “Here. Leave it on the other lounge when you are finished.”

Mrs. Hurst thrust the paper at Kitty, then stalked away in the direction of the terrace. Following her progress, Kitty saw, to her relief, that Jane and Elizabeth stood speaking with Mr. Bingley. Cat was with them as well, but Elizabeth would know how to thwart her.

As she watched, Miss Laura approached, evening the odds. A quick glance showed Miss Archer and Miss Edith all but dragging Mr. Darcy in the direction of the Battledore net, Miss Bingley following, which suited Kitty well enough. If the eldest two Miss Archers were occupied with Mr. Darcy, they wouldn’t be able to help Cat trap Mr. Bingley.

“May I assume you have something to report?” Mr. Hurst’s voice said, low and mumbled.

Pleased to have her suspicion that he didn’t truly sleep confirmed, Kitty sat on the other lounge and opened the paper. “I certainly do.”

Chapter Fourteen

Kitty took a moment with the paper, turning to the Fashionable Intelligence, though she doubted anyone watched her. Especially not closely enough to note what she pretended to read.

“What have you found out?” Mr. Hurst sounded a touch impatient. “Are their gowns Madame Dentelle’s work? Caroline says that is impossible.”

“I have no idea.” Kitty tipped her head, pretending to scan the pages she held up before her. From the corner of her eye, she watched Mr. Hurst, impressed by how little his lips moved when he spoke. “We have not called on them. My mother is not fond of them.”

“Then—”

“But I did sneak up to their house and listen at a window,” Kitty continued smugly over his retort.