Page 73

Pemberley

May, 1817

Miss Kitty Bennet carefully painted a pink petal on her paper and sighed miserably. Try as she might, she could not paint roses well. She had tried and tried and tried, but somehow her roses never looked quite right. Miss Georgiana Darcy, on the other hand, could recreate any blossom perfectly on paper. It seemed quite unfair.

Kitty glanced absently over to a nearby building from which strange thumping noises were emanating. Mr. Collins, Mr. Nathaniel Stanton and Lydia were inside the wooden structure working on some obscure experiment related to steam power. Kitty had walked over with Lydia and a servant this morning from Pemberley and met Mr. Collins and Mr. Stanton here. Since she had no interest in steam power, she then settled down with a chair and easel and attempted a successful rendering of the rose bush which was planted pleasingly in front of a curved retaining wall of rocks.

She groaned aloud and closed her eyes to block out the sight of her latest feeble effort. A moment later, tears slipped out of her closed eyes, tears of discouragement and self-loathing.

She was useless.

Jane, her eldest sister, was now married to the rich and generous Mr. Bingley, and they had been blessed with two children. Jane had always been the most handsome Bennet as well as the most kind.

Elizabeth, her second eldest sister, was married to Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, master of Pemberley estate. Mr. Darcy was incredibly wealthy, a good and intelligent man, and Elizabeth made him a wonderful wife. They were also blessed with two children.

Mary, the sister just older than Kitty, was not particularly handsome but had found a husband in the form of the rector, Mr. Edward Martyn, who held a living granted by Mr. Darcy. Mary and her husband lived in Bastow Hall with their young son, and Mary was overjoyed to be serving the parishioners of the area.

And Lydia, Kitty’s younger sister, who had always been flighty, loud and boisterous, had discovered a passion for science and was now helping Mr. Collins and Mr. Stanton with complex experiments.

Which left her, Kitty Bennet, the fourth of five sisters, the frailest, the weakest, the least accomplished.

She was useless.

These painful ruminations were broken in most dramatic form when the door of the experimental workshop suddenly flew open and Mr. Nathaniel Stanton shoved Lydia into the open air.

“Out, out, out!” Mr. Stanton yelled, pushing her farther away from the building.

A moment later, to Kitty’s utter horror, there was a tremendous whoosh and the entire building shook. Seconds later, Mr. Collins staggered out onto the grass and his coat was on fire!

“Jump into the stream!” Lydia shrieked.

Kitty, who had lurched up in terror, stared as the portly clergyman leaped into the stream with a large splash that threw water against her dress.

“Mr. Collins, oh, Mr. Collins!” Lydia wailed, tears in her eyes. “Are you all right?”

Mr. Collins had gone entirely under water briefly but now stood up such that he was only immersed to his waist. It was not a very deep stream.

“I am quite all right, Miss Lydia,” he assured them. “My coat was smoldering but I am not burned. I do wonder what happened.”

“It might be any number of things,” Mr. Stanton responded gloomily as he held out a hand to his mentor. “A valve might have stuck shut, or we might have made a mistake in our calculations. May I help you out, sir?”

“Thank you,” Collins responded, accepting the hand and climbing cautiously out of the stream. He gazed thoughtfully at the building, which now appeared to be leaking water. “Well, thankfully, it appears that the fire has gone out in the building thanks to our rudimentary emergency extinguishing system. Mr. Stanton, would you be willing to fetch someone to assist with our exploded workshop?”

“Are you quite certain you are well?” Lydia demanded, stepping forward to inspect the rector.

“Indeed, I am well enough,” Collins insisted. “Unbloodied, but bowed, Miss Lydia. It appears I made a mistake, as Mr. Stanton said.”

“We can discuss that later,” Lydia declared authoritatively. “Kitty, can you keep Mr. Collins company while Mr. Stanton and I run to Pemberley for assistance?”

“Of course,” Kitty responded, pulling out of her stunned reverie. “Please do sit down on my chair, sir.”

She pulled it away from the painting easel and helped the slightly trembling clergyman into it. When she looked up, Lydia and Mr. Stanton were already one hundred feet away, walking very quickly toward the mansion of Pemberley.

“What is this?” Mr. Collins inquired, gazing at the easel.

Kitty blushed uncomfortably, “I was painting the rose bush, sir. Not very well, I am afraid. I do not have a true gift for painting.”

“Yes, it is a terrible portrayal of the roses,” Mr. Collins agreed, leaning closer to the paper.

Tears sprang into Kitty’s eyes even as she struggled to retain some modicum of calm. Mr. Collins was notorious for being blunt, and she knew he was not trying to be cruel, but it still hurt.

“On the other hand, your depiction of the retaining wall is entirely extraordinary.”

Kitty blinked at this and looked at the paper. She had quickly drawn the rock wall with a pencil as a backdrop for the roses.

“The wall was easy enough,” she pointed out. “I am entirely frustrated that try as I might, I cannot paint pictures of flowers well.”

Mr. Collins shook his head and smiled, “On the contrary, Miss Bennet, being able to draw an accurate image of complex geometrical shapes is a remarkable gift. The wall has many differently shaped rocks, plus it curves. You have managed to depict the wall such that it looks three dimensional on a flat piece of paper. It is incredible.”

Kitty blushed in surprise and pleasure, “Thank you, Mr. Collins. I wish that my ability to draw rocks could be transferred to painting roses. No one cares for a lady who can draw rocks.”

Mr. Collins turned to her with a grave expression, “My dear Miss Bennet, I do urge you not to denigrate this ability given to you by the hand of God. You have incredible spatial awareness and a remarkably skilled hand. Would you be interested in assisting us in our scientific endeavors?”

Kitty cast a wide eyed look at the workshop, which was listing very slightly to the right after the explosion.

“Not where there might be an explosion,” the clergyman explained hastily. “No, I must be more careful as Miss Lydia and Mr. Stanton could have been injured today. No, we desperately need a gifted artist to draw parts for us. We are planning to publish a book on steam power, you see.”

Kitty eyed him doubtfully, “You truly wish me to assist you? You are not flattering me?”

Mr. Collins chuckled, “I am well known for being entirely inept in the matter of flattering people, Miss Bennet. I am notoriously blunt, indeed.”

“Well ... I would be honored, Mr. Collins.”

***

“I knew they would blow something up,” Mr. Darcy averred grumpily. He had been enjoying a peaceful autumn afternoon until Lydia and Mr. Stanton raced into Pemberley to announce that the science building had exploded. This description turned out to be something of an exaggeration. The building itself had not been catastrophically damaged by the accident in the rudimentary steam engine; however, the floors were now covered with soot and water from a fire extinguishing system which had soaked the workshop. It was a mess.

Elizabeth Darcy adjusted her infant son, who was suckling enthusiastically on her breast, and looked up at her beloved husband, “My poor Fitzwilliam. At least no one was hurt.”

“Yes, that is the most important thing,” Darcy agreed, joining her on the couch. He reached out a loving hand to stroke the head of his heir. Baby William shifted his eyes toward his father but continued to focus on the most important task of the moment -- eating.

“I am worried about Lydia continuing her work with Collins,” Darcy continued. “If she were to be injured during an experiment, I could not forgive myself.”

“Mr. Collins was equally distressed at the possibility,” Elizabeth assured him. “We spoke briefly before he left for his parsonage and he assured me that he will work on additional safety measures.”

Darcy let out a long, heaving sigh, “If anyone can do it, it is William Collins. He is a true polymath.”

“Yes, he is. And my darling, I do believe it would break Lydia’s heart to leave off her scientific endeavors. You know how much she has improved in the last years.”

Darcy shuddered slightly as his mind cast back to his early interactions with Miss Lydia Bennet, when she was a foolish girl of fifteen flirting outrageously with random militia officers.

“Indeed, she has.”

***

“Are you quite sure you are all right, William?” Charlotte Collins demanded worriedly.

She had given him his evening cup of tea and the bowl of sugar lumps, and was quite disturbed that her beloved husband had not even inspected the lumps before dropping them into the cup. His indifference to lump asymmetry was the sign of a deeply disturbed mind.

“Miss Lydia and Mr. Stanton might have been hurt today,” Mr. Collins stated gloomily.

“But they were not. Mr. Stanton observed the dangerous rise in pressure and you left the workshop before anyone was injured. We must be thankful for that.”

“I am, my dear, I am. I am most pleased that the fire extinguishing system sensed the increase in heat as intended. But still, I wonder if it is too risky to permit Miss Lydia, anyway, from continuing our work together.”

Charlotte took her seat next to her husband and reached out to pour herself a cup of tea.

“My dear William,” she declared, “I do believe that your science experiments have saved Lydia from herself. She used to be such an aimless young lady and frankly, a poorly behaved one. She loves science; it would be cruel to take her work from her. I think it would be more sensible to focus on improving the safety of your experiments.”

Her husband reached out a hand, and she clasped it fondly.

“You are right, my love, entirely right,” he agreed, his gaze fixed on some otherworldly place. “Perhaps we could place the steam engine itself in a separate room and observe from an adjacent, well-constructed ...”

She let him ramble, her eyes on his rather homely countenance. He was not impressive in form or features, but his intellect was one for the ages, and he had married her, plain Charlotte. She had come to know him as a loving man. She thanked God for him, for their marriage, for their two precious children.