Page 73 of Cousin Conundrum

“I daresay he could have selected a different moment,” Kitty said sourly. “Perhaps one before he became engaged to Cat Archer.”

“Yes.” Elizabeth attempted to muster anger, but only felt sorrow as she pictured Jane’s tear-streaked cheeks when she raced past. The evil of having Mr. Bingley snatched away was too raw for anything but grief. “How is she?”

“She has finally fallen asleep.” Kitty looked down at her fingers, which she twined. “She cried so very much. I did persuade her to drink some water.” She shook her head.

A dreary, oppressive weariness settled over Elizabeth. She wished she could remember her thinking on the day of the picnic. Why had she left Jane when she knew Miss Catherine and Miss Edith both had designs on Mr. Bingley? And for what? To aid Mr. Darcy, a man who clearly did not require anyone’s assistance?

She squeezed her eyes closed, concentrating. They’d been on the terrace. Surrounded by people. Mr. Bingley seemed safe enough, and Miss Archer was dragging Mr. Darcy off into the trees to ensnare him. Taking him away, and when he returned, he might very well be betrothed to an Archer, and Elizabeth had felt so…so…

Jealous?

Her eyes snapped open. That could not be correct. To be jealous over someone, you must first have possessed them, and she did not possess Mr. Darcy. Even if he’d known which Bennet sister he was kissing that night, something he must have guessed by now, a kiss did not make him Elizabeth’s. Were that how kisses worked, there wouldn’t be a single rogue in England.

“Lizzy?”

She returned her focus to Kitty, once more attempting to banish thoughts of Mr. Darcy’s kiss. “Yes?”

“Are you well?”

“I am tired, and quite distraught on Jane’s behalf.”

“It is terrible to see her cry.” Kitty shook her head. “I have thought about making her a part of my plan, but Jane is not a very good actress. She may not even approve, even if the plan could help her and Mr. Bingley.”

Elizabeth blinked, feeling as if she’d missed something important. “Your plan?”

“Oh, yes. Mr. Fletcher and I have been planning all afternoon, with the help of Mr. Hurst and Miss Bingley, and even Mrs. Hurst.” Much of the worry left Kitty’s face. “You should see Mrs. Hurst. When her face is not all pinched, she is actually rather pretty, and not nearly as ancient as I first thought, and it was adorable how Mr. Hurst kept holding her hand and asking for her opinions.” Kitty let out a long sigh. “If I am ever married, I hope my marriage will be like that.”

Now Elizabeth was certain she’d missed not only something, but many things. “Who is Mr. Fletcher?”

“A Bow Street Runner who is an associate of Mr. Hurst’s.”

That cleared up little. “Mr. Hurst called in a Bow Street Runner?”

“Well, he is also the grandson of an earl.” Kitty’s expression brightened. “Quite like Mr. Darcy. Well, the grandson part. Mr. Fletcher is nothing like Mr. Darcy, and they are not related to the same earl. What a coincidence that would be.”

Being hit on the head had obviously made Kitty more confusing than ever. Elizabeth rubbed her forehead, trying to untangle the most salient points of Kitty’s discourse. Obviously, she must know about this plan that might help Jane and Mr. Bingley, but also… “Wait, what do you mean, if you are ever married? Why would you not be married?”

Kitty went still, then flickered back to life with her usual vacant expression. “Did I say if?” She laughed. “I meant when. Obviously I will be married.”

Elizabeth studied her, the pounding in her head receding as she focused on Kitty. “You said if, and I believe you meant if. I also believe it is time you confessed to me what you are doing when you go about each morning, gossiping and eavesdropping.”

“I do not know what you mean.”

“You know precisely what I mean.”

Kitty folded her arms across her chest, her chin jutting out. “I do not.”

“You do t—” Elizabeth broke off. She would not be drawn into a Kitty and Lydia style squabble. She drew in a slow breath. “If you will not tell me, I will tell you. You are working for a caricaturist. I do not know how, or when you began, and I can hardly fathom the idea, but you are.”

Kitty stared at her, arms still crossed and chin thrust out at a belligerent angle, but something bright danced in her eyes.

Elizabeth stared back, trying to ignore the throb in her head, reawakened now that she’d delivered her accusation.

A smile broke across Kitty’s face, her arms falling to her sides. “Oh, very well. I am working for a caricaturist, but you must not tell anyone. If you do, I will say you hit your head.”

“I did hit my head.”

“I know, so everyone will believe me.”