Mrs. Collins, meanwhile, made her way to the breakfast parlor.
"Charlotte!" Lizzy greeted from the landing. She released Morgan's arm to reach for her friend's, her other hand supporting her girth. Her breath was a little quick and her color a bit heightened, so Charlotte made haste to offer her support.
"Lizzy!" she greeted in return, willing her countenance to retain its serenity. In truth, it was alarming to see such a resilient and active friend stricken breathless from descending a flight of stairs. "You rested well, I hope?"
Mrs. Darcy laughed, taking Charlotte's extended arm. "Not at this stage, dear friend!" Elizabeth made an effort to calm her breathing. "I heard you were again victorious. What is it like to beat the men at their own game?"
Charlotte forced a chuckle, and squeezing Lizzy's arm, turned mirthful eyes to her friend.
"Initially, I was afraid of making my name notorious among the best circles," she whispered conspiratorially, looking briefly around as if expecting a throng of malcontents to emerge from the shadows, "but, I have since had the happy thought that, in lieu of having to confess to their own defeat, they are not likely to mention me at all." She smiled at Lizzy's rolling eyes. "My name shall remain quite safely within the bounds of obscurity."
"Shameful," Lizzy scoffed in defense of her friend, "but, perhaps, it is just as well, as you say," she admitted before repeating harshly, "shameful, nonetheless."
The breakfast parlor was already inhabited by a few of the men who shared a great appreciation for the Pemberley steaks, and, as the ladies took their places, the natural flow of the meal took its course. Guests came and went at their leisure, and none were so foolhardy as to mention the games of the prior evenings.
The only discussion worth noting happened to be a very spirited debate pertaining to the most ideal date for departure. It was Mr. Astley's view that a storm was rapidly approaching which would delay their departure for at least another day, but Lord Darincourt bridled furiously, stating that the rain would be a paltry affair which would in no way discourage his objective for an early departure the following morning.
Mr. Darcy, being a man from the north as was Mr. Astley, at length agreed with his contemporary's prediction, offending Darincourt to the core. His lordship hastened from the room as if to prepare for an immediate evacuation, but the first drops of rain were felt before he could make good his exodus.
"All is ready, Mrs. Collins," Molly greeted upon the widow's entrance into her bedchamber. "Are you sure?"
"Do you enjoy silence, Molly? Do you ever have a moment to yourself?" countered the widow as the maid busied herself with the changes to Charlotte's wardrobe and hair.
Molly had to chuckle at the idea. "With six sisters and three brothers, mum, I have to say that a slice of peace is more often suspicious than it is agreeable, but I do see your meaning."
Molly made quick work of the adjustments and was soon hastening Mrs. Collins on her way down the servants' stairs and through their entrance at the back of the house. After seeing the lady out, the maid hurried to further her preparations for the lady's return, at which point she was likely to be soaked and chilled. Molly shook her head at the foolhardiness but grunted with appreciation at the lady's tenacity.
Mrs. Collins was much more agreeably engaged in crossing the lawn en route to her favored path. The borrowed driving coat swallowed her frame whole and made her appear to be more a dark figure of ghoulish origin than a lady partaking of exercise, but it did a tolerably good job of keeping her dry and her skirts protected from the wet grass. Her thick hair hung down her back in a plait, the abundance of which aided the fit of the hat she wore, and her boots had been borrowed from the Darcy twins who were fortunately close enough to her size to render the shoes amenable. She was prepared to cast aside the man's hat and coat in a designated spot should her attempt at entry back into the house be threatened by discovery, but the boots would have to be exchanged at the door where, with any luck, the redoubtable Molly would be waiting with her own footwear.
Good Molly! thought the widow, formulating a fairly accurate idea of what lengths the maid had gone to and would still be required to do to ensure a few moments of respite for her charge. Charlotte was combing through ideas of ways to show her gratitude when the clouds unleashed the full force of their burden. The winds, not to be outdone, blew furiously, seemingly in all directions, tossing the lady about this way and that. She laughed at them, these old playfellows of hers, and dared them to carry her away, even as she dashed in the direction of her favorite shelter.
Upon reaching the gazebo, Charlotte jubilantly threw off the sodden hat and gazed at her surroundings. It was as if the gazebo existed within a cloud, for she could make not heads nor tails of her surroundings save for the hallowed enclosing of her sanctuary. She shivered, though she felt no cold as yet, being warmed by her sprint. Suddenly, a feeling of sorrow overwhelmed her, and she sank to her knees, wilting as much as her corseting would allow. Sometime later, this was her posture when she was, once more, discovered.
"Ah," the smooth, masculine observed, "a fitting posture for one communing with the gods." Charlotte's eyes jerked open, but her body was too chilled to react.
"Tell me, do you offer a firstborn in exchange for wisdom?" He asked.
Charlotte gritted her teeth as she forced her body to respond to her demands. Though maintaining the kneeling position, for to attempt to rise without aid would be to create a spectacle of herself, she was able to achieve a creditable erect posture, and her voice dripped with disdain.
"As you know, I have no children and have no expectation of ever having them." Her jaw clenched and relaxed. "I have, however, asked God for many things, but He granted some abilities without my showing any interest whatsoever."
"Mr. Kelly would have us believe that you were taught the game as a child and have since enjoyed little to no opportunity of enhancing your skill," Lord Salisbury said, "yet you play as one who had been taught by the masters."
"If you know a master who is willing to waste his time on a mere female, do send him my way, for I would enjoy the challenge," she said spitefully.
Lord Salisbury was far from feeling the insult and rather seemed to be pleased. He squatted beside her, took her hand, and pressed a snuff box into it.
"Your wagers, though creative, fall just short of offensive," he said in way of an explanation. "If you should ever find yourself wanting, sell it." And with such sage counsel, he rose from his haunches and disappeared into the cloud surrounding the gazebo.
Charlotte had little time to consider the interaction before welcoming still another intruder.
"Mrs. Collins!" exclaimed Mr. Kelly, the tenor of his voice infused with concern, "are you unwell?" He made quick work of the distance between them, instantly reaching for her hands to help her to rise.
She took one hand without compunction, but her eyes strayed wonderingly to an object in her other hand which she held opened and extended between them. Mr. Kelly could not focus on the offering until Mrs. Collins had attained her full stature, but upon setting her steadily upon her feet, his eyes drifted again to her treasure. It was a delicate, golden snuff box, boasting a collection of musical instruments and foliage engraved on the top, and it was small enough to hide easily within the lady's hand.
"Take it," assured Mrs. Collins, her teeth just beginning to chatter. "You may return it or not, but I have no use for it and must not be seen with it."
Mr. Kelly released her hand, claiming the object with both of his own, willing his eyes to shift their focus.