Page 53 of Cousin Conundrum

“Thank you,” Kitty said sweetly. “I best get back. It is already odd for me to be reading, let alone to spend ages doing so.”

“Thank you for your assistance, Miss Kitty.”

“You should come help us. We are attempting to keep Archers away from Mr. Bingley. They said they would convince Miss Bingley to hold a picnic expressly for the purpose of entrapping him.”

“The express purpose?” Worry filled Hurst’s voice. “That is troubling indeed. You depart and, in a moment, I will join you.”

“Elizabeth is there. She will keep him safe.” Kitty folded the paper and stood. Leaving it on the lounge chair, she started back across the lawn. Her gaze sought the terrace.

Only Jane stood with Miss Cat and Miss Laura. Startled, Kitty quickened her pace and scanned for Elizabeth. Her older sister was nowhere to be seen. Nor were Mr. Darcy and Miss Archer about. Miss Bingley and Miss Edith played alone, shuttlecock sailing back and forth over the net. Did Elizabeth attempt to save Mr. Darcy from his fate? Had they not agreed he deserved to marry an Archer?

Kitty returned her attention to the terrace to see Cat tugging Mr. Bingley in the direction of the pianoforte, where Miss Mabel still hammered away, Mr. Collins beside her. Mary stood behind the two, likely waiting her turn to delight them all with at least slightly more skill than Miss Mabel displayed. Jane turned to follow Mr. Bingley, but Miss Laura grabbed Jane’s hands, speaking with great animation.

Kitty caught up her skirt, forcing her stride longer as she followed Mr. Bingley and Cat’s progress. They halted before the pianoforte and Cat handed Mr. Bingley what appeared to be an open letter. He studied it, then looked up. She moved to his side, pointing to something on the page. He spoke, his words unheard over the din of Miss Mabel’s playing, but his lips seeming to form the words, ‘Marry me.’

Kitty’s heart pounded. She struggled to walk faster. She willed Jane to turn from Miss Laura’s onslaught of words and go to Mr. Bingley before it was too late. Kitty was almost running by the time she neared the terrace steps.

Cat cocked her head, as if she couldn’t hear, and spoke again. Mr. Bingley reiterated those three syllables. Cat asked another time.

Kitty charged up the steps.

The pianoforte went quiet just as Mr. Bingley said, at considerable volume, “Marry me.”

Silence slammed down in the wake of those two words. Jane whirled to face them, yanking her hands free of Miss Laura’s clutching fingers.

“Oh, yes!” Cat cried. “Yes, I will marry you, Mr. Bingley.”

Cat charged at him and flung her arms about his neck. Mr. Bingley’s stupefied expression was covered by the back of Cat’s curls as she kissed him. His arms stuck out to the sides, the letter she’d handed him dropped, only to drift to the terrace to slide under the pianoforte.

Cat released him, but caught his hand. She yanked him to her side and beamed at the startled faces surrounding them. “This is the most wonderful day of my life.”

Her gaze met Kitty’s. The triumph in Cat’s eyes doubled.

Kitty had no time to engage in a contest of glares with Miss Cat Archer. Pivoting, she rushed to Jane who, white as chalk, swayed on her feet. Kitty shouldered Miss Laura out of the way, eliciting a yelp, and wrapped an arm about Jane.

“I do not understand.” Jane’s quiet voice came out in an almost inhuman whimper, like a dying animal.

Kitty glanced over her shoulder to take in Mr. Bingley’s stunned visage.

“I do not believe he does, either.”

“Kitty…” Jane trailed off. Tears built in her eyes, walling off blue irises.

“Come with me,” Kitty urged. “Quickly.”

She led Jane across the terrace and through the first door she saw.

Where was Elizabeth?

Chapter Fifteen

Kitty ushered Jane into what turned out to be a small, dark room done in sunny yellow accented with bits of spring green and pink. An unlit fire waited in the grate. Several plush chairs and small settees dotted the space, all clustered with little tables of the sort on which one might rest a basket of mending or a book. Gauzy curtains covered the windows, and Kitty imagined early light would shine through them with a diffused glow. A morning room.

She led Jane to a settee and sat her down just as a sob escaped her. Jane squeezed her eyes closed, releasing a salty torrent down her cheeks. Kitty pulled out her handkerchief and pressed it into Jane’s hand.

“I do not understand,” Jane reiterated, her voice cracking. “He has called every day since inviting us to the picnic. We have walked together. Spoken of so many things. Of—of important things. How many children might be the ideal number. What sort of homes a person may wish to have. How often one’s relations should v-v-visit.”

With a sob, Jane covered her face.