Page 7 of Cousin Conundrum

“Mrs. Hock? So early?” Mrs. Hill asked.

“She says to settle this week’s accounts.”

“That husband of hers must be gambling again.” Mrs. Hill huffed a sigh, likely in sympathy with Beth Hock, the butcher’s wife. “Show her in.”

In short order, Mrs. Hock’s heavier tread could be heard, and the door to Mrs. Hill’s room, generally kept open when she was at her desk, clicked closed.

“Beth, would you care for tea?”

“No time, Hill, no time. Must make the rounds.”

“Mr. Hock at it again?”

“I tell you, the man’s not worth the effort it takes to feed him.”

“Well, let me get my ledger. Mrs. Bennet has not been entertaining much in this heat, but I am certain we owe something, and I can always pay for next week’s order now.”

“That would be mighty generous of you, Mrs. Hill.”

“Think nothing of it.”

Kitty pressed her back to the rough stone of Longbourn as Mrs. Hill rose within, praying the housekeeper didn’t pause to take in her view. After what seemed an excessive amount of shuffling about, while Kitty held her breath, Mrs. Hill’s chair creaked as she sat.

“Let us see what we have here,” Hill said.

Low muttering followed as Mrs. Hill did her calculations. Finally, there came the sound of a key clicking in a lock, then a drawer sliding open, then another key.

“Here you go, Mrs. Hock. This week’s and next’s.”

“Are you certain? Perhaps Mrs. Bennet wants something finer for next week’s meals?”

“You know Longbourn supplies most of its own meat.” Mrs. Hill’s voice held apology. “And try not to worry overly. Rumor has a gentleman touring Netherfield Park tomorrow. He could take up residence this autumn, they say. Surely, not only Mrs. Bennet but many of the local families will require your services to entertain anyone wealthy enough to lease the place.”

A gentleman might lease Netherfield Park? That wasn’t caricature worthy, but was certainly interesting.

“I’ve heard the same, but I can’t be counting my chickens, Hill.” A long sigh sounded. “I almost wish I had a heart for blackmail, I do.”

“Blackmail?” Mrs. Hill sounded offended.

“Not you, Hill. Not you. The whole village knows you aren’t one to have them sorts of secrets.” Silence hung in the room at Kitty’s back, pregnant with question. “It’s Miss Long, the younger,” Mrs. Hock finally whispered.

“What of her?” Mrs. Hill asked, her voice equally quiet.

Kitty strained her ears.

“Rumor is, she’s to take a trip to Wales soon, to visit an aunt.”

“No,” Mrs. Hill exclaimed. “The younger, you say? Is she not recently turned fifteen?”

“I was married at fifteen, for all the good it’s done me.”

“And she will go to visit an aunt, not Granny Smith?”

“The girl won’t have that. Says it would be a sin.”

Another silence, while Kitty worked the puzzle of what wasn’t being said. She’d known several young ladies to go to visit aunts in Wales, and those visits were always long. A year, even. How would a visit to Granny Smith curtail such a trip, though?

“Well, at least she was raised somewhat right.” Mrs. Hill’s voice held a hard edge. “Who is the father? I will ensure he does not come around here.”