“By God,” Mr. Kelly said, “I was the last to have it in my possession. ‘Accursed snuff box’ indeed.”
Charlotte gazed forlornly at her old friend, expecting a rejection at last. A heaviness settled in her chest and threatened to choke her, but she willed herself to breathe through it.
Mr. Kelly stood aside and allowed her to precede him through a back entrance of Pemberly, for they had arrived, and the rains threatened once more.
He placed the basket on the floor, knowing a servant would eventually find it, and offered his arm to Charlotte as they continued to walk through the hallway to the main part of the house.
“Do not concern yourself with this affair any longer,” he said in a reassuring manner. “The fault is mine and so must be the remedy.” He paused at the door leading to the stairs. “I believe I know where to start my inquiries.”
“Puff.”
The old sobriquet stilled his body as well as his thoughts. Mrs. Collins walked around him to look into his eyes, her expression such a perfect representation of her very self, that Mr. Kelly could only stare in wonder at the beauty of it.
“We both know it had to be Kate,” she said softly but assuredly.
The hand she rested on his arm threatened to burn like a hot ember through his sleeve, and, as a moth to a flame, he laid his own hand over hers. Immediately, he was struck by the rightness of it. He understood in an instant how God could summarize His creation in three words. It is good. The thought made him chuckle, comparing the present sensation to the repulsion he felt just moments ago upon hearing Milton quoted. How magnificently delightful must have been Eden before the entrance of the Snake!
A scuffle on the stairs to their right was just beginning to weaken the grasp of his reverie when an outburst of, “Papa!” was quickly followed by Kate herself. As the last of his vision cleared, he began to realize a struggle taking place on his arm. Mrs. Collins was surreptitiously attempting to remove her hand, but it was being forcefully detained by his own. Both ladies stared at him expectantly- the one with a look of triumph in her expression, the other showing exasperation, or perhaps even horror. Clearly, Mrs. Collins had not been as mesmerized by the interaction. He released her hand abruptly, attempting to distract his daughter while Mrs. Collins nursed the sore appendage.
“Kate,” he opened casually but with a responding twinkle, “dreadful timing, as usual.” He bent his cheek to receive her perfunctory kiss. “Or, now I come to think of it, your timing, in this case, may be called providential.”
He turned to Mrs. Collins. “Which shall it be? I am but a guest. You must decide.”
Her jaw clamped down, not immediately understanding his lead.
His raised brows showed his disappointment yet again at his Mouse’s unresponsiveness and turned back to Kate. “We were just speaking of you - or, more precisely, of a question we must pose to you,” he began.
“Emphatically, yes!” she cried joyously, leaping into her father’s unsuspecting embrace. “There is nothing I would like better,” she continued, pulling away from an astounded Papa to throw herself just as enthusiastically into Mrs. Collins’s arms, “than to call you ‘Mama’!”
Kate stepped back, holding her intended Mama at arm’s length, desiring to drink in the pleasures of the moment, when she suddenly realized her error.
“Oh,” she said despondently, dropping her hands.
Unable to face the Kelly assault any longer, Mrs. Collins spun on her heel and fled. Mr. and Miss Kelly looked disconsolately at each other as the sound of alternating laughter and tears drifted to their ears in the still air of the corridor.
“We cannot leave her like that,” Kate whispered as her pleading expression met her father’s eyes. He sighed, withdrawing an object from his pocket.
“It’s this cursed box of Salisbury’s,” he explained, presenting the piece to his daughter while watching her closely for recognition and guilt. She blanched.
“What must she think of me?” she wondered aloud, shuddering. She looked into her father’s eyes, expecting to meet with the full force of his contempt and anger. “And I have disappointed you.”
Mr. Kelly swallowed hard, feeling his wrath melt away, for, before his eyes stood not his grown-up daughter of marriageable age but his little girl - a girl of six, struggling to understand abandonment by a careless mother, trusting her father to shield her from the censure of their world, giving faithfully and selflessly to those around her. He took her hand in both of his own, squeezing them reassuringly.
“I have heard too many accounts of your kindness to the tenants here to feel anything less than pride.”
Tears began to spill over, streaming in silent streaks down Kate’s cheeks as she listened to her father’s words. “You have been an exemplary daughter, fulfilling whatever role is given to you with aplomb, being sure to help wherever you are able. You have brought me such joy.” His hands released hers to fetch a handkerchief and press it into her hand. “That said, I wish you would explain to me your intentions with this cursed box,” he continued, attempting to keep his voice even.
Kate wiped her eyes and nodded, sniffing pitifully.
“I overheard a conversation between Lord Salisbury and Lord Darincourt. Darincourt inquired about a rumored engagement, congratulating Salisbury on acquiring the Season’s Belle Nevill. From there, his topic flowed, naturally, to Salisbury’s ‘pretty ladybird,’ and Salisbury replied coldly that she was taking on new customers”
Kate’s temper rose. “His reputation is scandalous! He treats women with disdain. I just wanted to warn Lady Wilfred.” She attempted to calm herself. “I have met her, you know. She has all the accomplishments a lady could require - beauty, riches, and connections. Though we were deemed as staunch rivals, we, neither of us, could enjoy ourselves, suspecting the other was being treated to the slanderous gossip we were supposedly hurling at one another.”
Kate sighed. “And it was true. When we were introduced, we found our suspicions to be correct and formed a secret alliance. So it was, when I succumbed to eavesdropping and learned of her fate, I felt I had to act.”
“Why not just write to the lady yourself?”
Kate nodded. “I considered it, but you know how it is with matters of the heart. If she loved him, it would take more than kind intentions and offhand comments to convince her to put off an engagement. She seemed to be a reasonable sort of person, but,” Kate shrugged, “she was The Belle achieving The Matrimonial Prize that has been sought after for years. I felt the need to be drastic.”
“How did you do it?” the intrigued father inquired, turning to face her.
“The plan made itself, really. I saw you entering the house with Mrs. C, and you had a hand in the pocket of your greatcoat, as if you were retrieving something. Everything had gone awry during your absence, what with Mrs. Darcy collapsing on the stairs and beginning her travails much too soon, so you were immediately distracted. You kept your coat on for an hour or more but eventually went up to your room, so I knew the fate of the trinket, though I hoped it was representative of some engagement with Mrs. C.”
Kate sighed once more. “During that chaotic time, a bundle of letters was delivered to the house, and I happened to be the one to accept them from the carrier. Poor Stevens was appalled to find them on the platter, as you can imagine! All of them save one. My intention was to remove any letters of our own, should there have been any, but what I found was the beginning of the slippery slope - a redirected missive from Lady Eve Milton to Lord Salisbury.” Kate pressed her lips together firmly, whether out of feelings of shame or feelings of wrath, Mr. Kelly was not to know.