She knocked on the door. A young girl of maybe eight years answered the door.
"Sara," greeted Mrs. Collins. "Is it a good time to see your mother?"
Sara stepped aside, staring without reserve at the strange man who followed her mother's friend.
"Nettie," the lady called, slowly making her way through the passageway.
"Mrs. C.," came the weak but cheerful response, "come right through to the kitchen. We are comfortably arranged here."
"I have brought a friend with me," Mrs. Collins warned before leading him into sight.
"There is always room in my home for one more weary traveler," came the jolly reply.
Upon turning the corner, Mr. Kelly immediately appreciated the spaciousness of the room. He thought of the hours the lady of the house must spend preparing and preserving food at the expansive table that stood in the middle, and the many happy meals shared around it. The table was simply designed from thick slabs of wood and was sturdy for its responsibilities, but what was most impressive was its size. Mr. Kelly estimated it to be no shorter than twelve feet, but it could have easily been more.
"Mr. Kelly, I should like you to meet my dear friend, Mrs. Saxon. Mrs. Saxon, this is Mr. Kelly, Miss Kelly's father."
The gentleman had to chuckle as he bowed slightly. "It is not often that I am introduced as my daughter's father." He glanced teasingly at Mrs. Collins. "I hoped, perhaps, for some phrasing nearer to your description. 'Mr. Kelly, old and dear friend of ages past'." His following smile was sincere. "But I am very happy to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Saxon."
Mrs. Saxon's quick mind and bright eyes missed nothing. "The pleasure is mine, sir," was her reply. Steps were heard coming from a room beyond, and Mrs. Saxon smiled still more brightly. "Have your seats now, but not just there, if you please, for it is Mother's favored chair because of the abundantly stuffed cushion," she explained in undertones.
She bustled about the room, setting chairs in a cozy arrangement as another daughter, some years older than Sara, carefully led an aging woman to the aforementioned chair. "Mother," she said with slightly more volume, "Mrs. C. has come to call and has brought Mr. Kelly."
"Mrs. Ponsonby," greeted Mrs. Collins, moving to approach the elderly woman, "It is a pleasure to find you looking so well."
The elderly lady lifted her frail fingers to take Mrs. Collins’s hand, squeezing them a bit.
"The mind is willing," she said brusquely, "but the body protests." She focused her wizened countenance towards Mr. Kelly, who found her gaze to be as keen as it was compelling. "You must be sweet Kate's papa."
Unused to hearing that specific epithet attached to his daughter - it was more common to hear descriptions of her beauty - piqued his interest. Mr. Kelly turned to his seat as Charlotte had done.
"I am pleased to hear her described so."
"She spent many an hour reading to me in that crisp, clear voice of hers," Mrs. Ponsonby said, "and she always suffered the children's pawing and prodding with good humor."
As if feeling the need to interject lest the gentleman believe his daughter to have suffered abuse by their hands, Mrs. Saxon explained, "Davey and Jem Junior are just small boys who enjoy their share of attention and tickles," the mother said with a twinkle, "and what young girl could help but to try to emulate such a fine lady as your daughter?"
"My Kate has no brothers or sisters of her own," began Mr. Kelly. "I am surprised she knows what to do with them."
"I imagine she deals with all kinds of temperaments," observed Mrs. Ponsonby, "and there are plenty of grown-up folk who are as intent on getting their own way as children."
"Oh!" breathed the older of the two daughters, "Miss Kelly always knows just what to say to everybody." Her unfocused eyes glistened. "She could talk of lambs to Farmer Jacob just as easily as she could talk of satins and gauze to Mrs. Peabody."
The girl blushed furiously to realize she had spoken her thoughts aloud. "She said to fashion myself after Ma and Mrs. C, and I would be much better than she could ever be," she finished softly.
"Some daughters cannot boast the blessing of an exceptional mother," Mr. Kelly acknowledged.
"You have spoken wisely, Rosie," Mrs. Collins praised gently, "though I cannot speak to the wisdom of following my own example," she added ironically. "Still," she persevered, "I believe there must be something to learn from every experience and person within our sphere, whether it be a lesson on how to present oneself or how not to present oneself."
Mrs. Ponsonby nodded sagely. "Now, my girl," she said, addressing Rosie, "you have tended to me. Run along to your chores and take Sara with you." As the girls reluctantly obeyed, Mrs. Ponsonby continued. "Those boys will be up soon, and they do keep a body busy!"
Mrs. Collins smiled indulgently. "You never lack entertainment here," she acknowledged. "Thank you for a warm welcome, as always, in spite of your full schedule." As she began to stand to her feet, a tiny wail was heard from behind a screen that stood across the room.
"Stay, stay," begged Mrs. Saxon, moving away to the sound. "You have time to spare, since you had a friend to help you."
"You never made the poor gentleman walk all this way, carrying the load for that Ginger," Mrs. Ponsonby spoke rhetorically, for she had no doubt of the truth. Mr. Kelly laughed outright.
"It was his own fault," Mrs. Collins retorted.
Mr. Kelly smirked, turning again to his elderly champion.
"Is acting the part of a nag a just punishment for answering a summons posthaste?"
Mrs. Ponsonby's brows rose as she added this piece of information to her mounting suspicions, but she did not pursue the topic.
"Oh, I doubt Mrs. C. would have enlisted your help if she did not care to have your company along the way," she said kindly. "Also, you may congratulate yourself on saving her multiple trips, for she refuses to drive the buggy Mr. Darcy had repaired for her use." Something like an expression of a motherly scold passed across her features but was just as quickly replaced by her usual affability.
"It was an unnecessary expenditure," Mrs. Collins stated, seemingly not for the first time, but she softened, "yet it was done out of thoughtful consideration."
"We must encourage acts of kindness in the young; unhitching the buggy and leaving it in the drive is not the way to reward his good behavior."
Mr. Kelly, whose attention had been fixed upon a knot in the plank flooring, glanced at Mrs. Collins surreptitiously from beneath his brows. She was not indignant, as he had expected her to be after the gentle rebuke, but she was rather downcast. The corner of his mouth quivered as he fought the urge to smile at the expression he now recalled had frequented little Mouse's face upon being corrected.
"You are right, of course," she said at last. "I shall endeavor to remedy my ungrateful behavior."
Mrs. Ponsonby nodded her approval. "You are like an elder sister to our young clergyman here," she stated, glancing in Mr. Kelly's direction to be sure of his attention. "We all see that. You were in a position to show him our ways here, and he has graciously accepted your role." Her chin jutted out for a moment. "Shows a great deal of character."
"Mr. Miller has been a godsend to the parish of Pemberley," Mrs. Collins acknowledged. "There can be no doubt of that. But what of Sally and the new baby?" she inquired in a conspiratorial whisper, being sure the aging mother could watch her lips speak the words. "They were none too spry when last I called."
"If only I could be more of a help than a burden," Mrs. Ponsonby murmured. "The girls have been a great help to their mother," she said more clearly, "but the boys are needed in the fields and pastures." Her voice trailed off again. "Thirteen children and only two daughters to help the mother. It's only by God's grace that she's survived it."