He glanced down at his cup. “Could your visit not be extended? We should like to call upon you if it were.”
He looked to his sister. “You would like to visit with your friend, would you not, Emmy?”
The young man colored. “As for myself, I would visit as often as Mrs. Darcy and you, my dear Miss Catherine, would permit.”
Kitty reached for her friend’s hand. “I shall ask Lizzy if I may remain until she returns to London in November. I will write and tell you.”
Emily returned the pressure. “I shall hope for it.”
“I will as well,” Mr. Allen said earnestly.
The morning calls had gone well, and now it was dinner time, and the family had gathered in the drawing room, waiting to be called in. Mrs. Bennet leaned forward. “Oh, Kitty, I was sure you could not be so handsome for nothing.”
Kitty flushed, and Jane laid a hand upon her mother’s arm.
“Mamma, pray lower your voice. The servants will hear you.”
Mrs. Bennet colored. “Forgive me, my dear. I forgot myself.”
She took Kitty’s arm. “I saw how he looked at you at the ball, and now he has called the very next day. I know how this will end.”
Jane intervened. “Kitty, from what Charles and Mr. Darcy have said, he is a fine man. His family is respectable, and the estate is a good one. But will your portion discourage him?”
Kitty flushed again. “I told him I have only a small portion. He says he has independence through his mother’s family, and even if his father were to disapprove, he could marry as he chooses. Mrs. Allen and Emily are very kind to me. Gilbert has not yet spoken, as he is persuading his father, but his hints have been very pointed.”
At that moment, Walters entered the room. Instead of announcing that dinner was served, he approached Darcy.
“An express, sir.”
Darcy took the letter and stepped aside. He read it twice before returning. He went directly to Elizabeth, whose face had paled.
“Is it my father?” she asked. “Is he well?”
“Your father is well,” Darcy said quietly. “He writes that Mrs. Collins was delivered, and neither she nor the child survived.”
The room fell silent.
Elizabeth sank onto the sofa.
“Not Mary,” Mrs. Bennet whispered. “This cannot be.”
The family traveled to Hertfordshire for the funeral. Though the women were not allowed to attend the service or burial, their husbands did, along with the gentlemen of the neighborhood.
The women remained at Mrs. Talbot’s house and stood with her as the bier passed on its way from Longbourn to the church.When it was gone from sight, they entered the house, and Elizabeth ordered tea.
While they waited, she placed her hand over Mrs. Talbot’s and said quietly, “Mary taught me how to bake small lemon cakes. I first tasted them here, and she knew how much I loved them. I now serve them regularly at Pemberley.”
Mrs. Bennet began, “You know nothing of baking…”
Elizabeth sent her a pointed look, and Jane murmured softly in her mother’s ear.
Elizabeth continued, “Lady Lucas lent us her kitchen, and Mary taught Charlotte, Maria, and me. We baked them together.”
Mrs. Talbot’s smile was faint but sincere. “We baked together often. We always kept a good cook, but Mary loved the work.”
She glanced sharply at Mrs. Bennet. “It was a pleasure to spend time together in that way.”
Others shared memories, but time passed slowly, painfully.
