“Besides,” she added, “it may well be that you will find yourself a landed gentleman quite soon. Mrs. Bennet has died, and it is not unlikely that her husband may follow quickly. I have oft heard of someone succumbing to despair and dying soon after losing their life partner. Not that I would wish it, mind you, but it is a possibility that you will inherit sooner rather than later. After all, did not Mr. Bennet turn fifty-eight just last year?”
But Mr. Collins could only give a wan smile. “It seems too much to hope for. In the meantime, how am I to earn a living?” he asked, mournfully.
“Something will occur for us,” Charlotte replied in what she hoped was a confident tone. “I have written to Eliza, telling her of our troubles.”
“Charlotte! How could you share my humiliation with her—and by association, Mr. Darcy?”
Charlotte calmly patted his hand. “Be at ease, dear heart. I wrote her because she and Mr. Darcy are people of great importance in Derbyshire and have many connections. It may well be they know of an opening and could put your name forward. A letter penned by Mr. Darcy from Pemberley would certainly be taken note of by any recipient. I have great confidence we shall be settled in a new parish quite soon.”
She sat back and turned her attention to the passing landscape, trying to lessen the anxiety in her own chest.
***
“Oh dear.”
“What’s that, Lizzy?” Mr. Darcy asked his wife at lunch.
Darcy’s sister, Georgiana, was dining with friends, so they were alone. Their butler, Barton, had delivered a just-arrived letter that Lizzy saw with delight was from a longtime friend.
“Oh, it is this letter from Charlotte,” she said, perusing it a second time to be certain she had read it accurately.
“Bad news?”
She gave him a wry smile. “That depends on your point of view. It seems Lady Catherine has dismissed Mr. Collins from Hunsford Parsonage.”
“Why on earth would she do that? I cannot imagine she would find a more—how did you put it to me once?—a more ‘grateful object’ of her largess than Mr. Collins.”
“Charlotte does not write the exact reason behind Lady Catherine’s actions, only to say he somehow fell out of favor. They are heading to Meryton.”
“To take on the duties at Longbourn?”
“No—at least, I do not think so. Papa had promised the living to Mr. Yarby just before we learned of Mama’s death. And then Yarby handled everything so well at the service. I cannot imagine Papa would turn him out in favor of Mr. Collins of all people.”
“Well, that is a relief. It was hard enough to hear him drone his sermons whenever I visited Lady Catherine before we married. It would be punishment indeed to have to endure him at your father’s church.”
“Yes, but Charlotte begs us for assistance. She is hoping we may know of another living to which we could recommend Mr. Collins. Having a home of her own is so important to Charlotte. I know she must be worried about their future. Oh! Is not Lord Wellsford’s parish vacant at present?”
“My dear, Lord Wellsford is a longtime family friend. I could not risk losing his affection by saddling him with Mr. Collins!”
“But Charlotte is with child. How will her husband provide for his family if we do not help?”
Mr. Darcy rose. “I shall tell you what I will do, my dear. I shall write a few notes to more distant acquaintances of mine about any openings they may know of. Perhaps we shall be in luck and an opening will appear in the westernmost tip of Cornwall.” He winked, leaned over to kiss his wife’s cheek, and exited the room.
Chapter 7
Mary sat upstairs in her bedchamber, poring over her well-worn Bible. She might have been more comfortable in the family sitting room downstairs, but she wanted complete privacy for her study. If her plan should be discovered—even suspected—by Kitty, all would be lost. Kitty would likely ridicule her, perhaps in front of Mr. Yarby and his sister! She could never bear that sort of humiliation. No—best to keep her strategy to win the rector’s heart a closely held secret.
Mary searched for a passage that Mr. Yarby might reasonably believe confounded her. But there was a problem: she had shamefully displayed her knowledge of the good book during the rector’s visit after the funeral. She had glowed with pride when he praised her after their discussion of Proverbs. Now, she wished she had kept silent and not exhibited so.
She thought about the rector’s most recent sermon; perhaps there was something in that for her to question. But no—it was a simple, well-presented homily and left nothing for her to grasp as confusing or in need of explanation.
She sighed and leafed through the book of John when her eyes fell on verse seven: “If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto you.”
This has possibilities, she mused. Mary carefully put her bookmark in the page and closed the Bible. The more she thought about it, the better it seemed. But when should she go to see Mr. Yarby? The timing must be just right.
A knock at her bedroom door interrupted her thoughts.
“Come in.”
