Kitty plopped down on a chair next to her sister.
“Oh, it is utterly stifling in here! Why do they not open any windows?”
“I feel quite comfortable,” Mary replied. “But then, I have not been dancing nearly every set as you have.”
Kitty sat up again, her eyes shining with excitement. “To own it, Mary, I do not think I have ever been more popular at an assembly! Without Jane and Lizzy to steal my thunder with their beauty, some gentlemen are noticing me for the first time, it seems. But you look quite well, Mary—your hairstyle is so becoming and Mama’s necklace goes perfectly with your new dress.”
Mary gave Kitty a sharp look—was she sincere? She appeared so.
“Thank you. Much good it does me though. I have only had the one dance with Mr. Yarby, and I am certain it was only because Amelia asked him to do so.” As she spoke, her eyes followed the rector, still on the dance floor—now with a girl Mary knew only slightly. Agnes was her name, she recalled. Blonde, lithe, and exceedingly pretty, Agnes was sixteen and just come out into society. Did Yarby find the girl attractive? She could not tell. She prayed not.
Kitty frowned. “And yet I believe he thinks highly of you.”
Mary turned her attention from the dance floor to her sister. “How so? Why do you say such a thing?”
“Because he told me so while we were dancing.” Kitty rolled her eyes. “Quite rude to speak of another lady while dancing with me, in my opinion, but as it was only you—my sister—I suppose he did not think it would be impolite.”
“What…did he say about me?”
“Oh, something about your having a fine mind. He admires that you like to read. I think he was trying to encourage me to read more, but there is no one in the family who cares for reading less than I. Except for Lydia, of course. Oh, I am so looking forward to Lydia being here with the twins! Do you think she will bring us both presents? Quite frankly, I don’t expect much this year with Mama gone. How could Papa possibly know what to buy us? I can only hope Jane and Lizzy send nice gifts.”
She prattled on about her eagerness for Christmas, but Mary did not hear a word she said.
He thinks I have a fine mind! My plan to win him with my intelligence is working. Now that I am back, I shall continue to bring my questions of scripture to him. And soon—soon he will no doubt figure out that he could not choose a better wife from among the ladies of Meryton than me.
Chapter 19
Mr. Bennet shifted in his pew, trying to focus his mind on Mr. Collins’s droning sermon. He glanced around, noting he was not the only one who appeared bored with the interpretation of the familiar Bible passage the curate had chosen: the parable of the prodigal son. Mercifully, Mr. Collins was coming to the end of the story wherein the older son confronts his father over the celebration he throws for his newly returned younger brother.
“‘And he answering said to his father, Lo, these many years do I serve thee, neither transgressed I at any time thy commandment: and yet thou never gavest me a kid, that I might make merry with my friends: But as soon as this thy son was come, which hath devoured thy living with harlots…’”
Did Mr. Collins seem to put particular emphasis on that word? It felt that way to Mr. Bennet.
“‘…thou hast killed for him the fatted calf.’”
Mr. Collins paused and let his eyes travel over his congregants before continuing with the father’s response.
Oh, get on with it, Mr. Bennet thought, shifting again in his seat. But Mr. Collins was clearly enjoying having all eyes upon him and making the most of the moment.
“‘And he said unto him, son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine. It was meet that we should make merry, and be glad: for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found.’”
Mr. Collins paused again, tapping the Bible to let the story sink in before raising his head from the lectern.
“And what are we to learn from this story?” he asked the congregation. No one spoke, for they knew the speaker was not truly wanting an opinion. “Only this. That by disobeying your beloved family, you are rewarded. As you just heard, the younger son asks his father for his inheritance early—a scandalous, greedy act in itself—but then after he wastes his money on women of loose morals and unchaste living, he comes crawling home in disgrace. But instead of being punished, the son is given the fatted calf and the best robe! Indeed, it is clear that this is a parable of a lack of brotherly love. For had the younger son truly loved his older brother, he would not have sought to rise above his station. He would have been content laboring in the fields alongside him, and not have his life plunge into ruination. Let us all remember this when tempted by the devil to desire more than what the good Lord has already given us.”
Mr. Collins soundly closed the Bible and with a final nod at the congregation, took his seat next to Mr. Yarby.
Yarby stood and went to the pulpit.
“Thank you. A most…enlightening interpretation, Mr. Collins.” He cleared his throat before continuing, “I do love this parable. My favorite part is when the repentant son returns and his father, seeing him from a distance, runs to him and kisses him, calling him beloved—which was quite out of tradition for those times, as the father should naturally wait for the son to come to him in a show of respect.
“So, how are we to understand that? Well, I believe the true meaning here is that the father in this tale represents our own Heavenly Father. And what Jesus is telling us in this story is that when we take a single step towards God in repentance and ask forgiveness for anything, He will take one hundred steps towards us, embrace us with a loving heart, and assure us we are His own.”
Yarby glanced over at Mr. Collins, who was now openly scowling. Yarby gave a weak laugh. “There you have it! Two interpretations of our time-honored parable this Sunday. I encourage you to think on them both. Let us open our hymnbooks now for the concluding anthem.”
***
“I did not appreciate your contradicting me in church today, Mr. Yarby,” Mr. Collins said testily.
