Page 21 of The Cherry Trees of Rosings
Elizabeth nodded at all the appropriate places as Mr. Collins went into a lengthy monologue about chefs and cooks named after kitchen utensils and ingredients, and how the chef at Rosings was a “Monsieur Barbeau” who was known for his smoked salmon and breakfast kippers. Much like “Mrs. Potts” who was known for her pot roasts. Lady Catherine—as it turned out—was quite fond of having servants with names that echoed the position they held.
But she stopped listening after a while. It was the third time Mr. Collins had told them that particular story about his kitchen staff.
Her mind was fixed, instead, on the second disappearance of Mr. Darcy. She was beginning to really worry…
Knock!
Knock!
Knock!
Elizabeth startled out of her reverie as loud sounds of knocking reached them in the dining room from the front of the house.
“Who might it be at this time!?!”
Mr. Collins got out of his chair with a grunt. A sour pucker on his lips. They could hear the door being unlatched downstairs.
“That must be Janet,” Charlotte said, quickly following after her husband as he left the room.
Maria shared a glance with Elizabeth. Eyes wide.
“Do you think it is from Rosings?”
“I do not know,” Elizabeth said, equally stunned.
Both of them hurried out of the room as well.
It was Lady Catherine.
…or rather, an urgent summons to Rosings.
“Her ladyship would like all of us to join her…” Mr. Collins said, reading the missive that had come from the great house. “For dinner!” He looked up, surprised, and handed the note to Charlotte.
“Something must have happened, Charlotte! I must dress at once! Lady Catherine has need of me.”
In what Elizabeth could only describe as an alarming display of dexterity from a man of such plodding proportions, Mr. Collins was out of the corridor—and then the house—in under ten minutes. All while the women were still arranging for their unfinished dinner to be removed.
On his way out, though, Mr. Collins urged them—in what had to be the shrillest voice Elizabeth had ever heard from him—to hurry and not keep her ladyship waiting. She sighed.
“Are you truly well, Eliza?”
Charlotte stopped her with a hand on her arm as she was about to make her way to the stairs.
“You look rather pale. If you wish to stay back, I can tell her ladyship you have a megrim.”
Elizabeth gave her friend a wane smile.
“I am well, Charlotte. Thank you for asking. But I would very much like to know what the urgent news is.”
“As would I!” Maria announced, coming to a stop next to her sister. She had been at the window moments ago, watching Mr. Collins’ departure. “I wonder if it has anything to do with Mr. Darcy.”
Charlotte fixed a piercing look on Elizabeth. “Yes, I wonder the same.”
Elizabeth kept her face as bland as she could.
“I believe we should dress if we do not wish to incur her ladyship’s wrath.”
“Yes,” Maria said, unmindful of the sudden tension. “I hope the carriage is sent back. I do not want to walk that far.”
