Page 28 of The Cherry Trees of Rosings
Criticisms that included the state of dress of the congregation, their lack of volubility, and the church needing a thorough cleaning of the stained glass windows.How else were their prayers supposed to reach the Almighty?
“Yes, well, I thank you for your efforts,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, and then he glanced at Elizabeth.
He had been eyeing her discreetly ever since they had been introduced.Elizabeth could not fault it. She had, after all, sent him a rather outlandish letter… when they were not even acquainted with each other.
“Would you like some more tea, sir?” Charlotte asked the Colonel.
The conversation soon drifted to more pleasant subjects.
Elizabeth tried to participate. But the burning desire to find out what had happened to Mr. Darcy reduced her contributions to inanities and monosyllables.
She wondered if Colonel Fitzwilliam would ask her about her letter in present company. Or allude to it. She hoped he would not.
The possibility of facing a ruinous reputation had not been so stark to her while she was helping Mr. Darcy. But it had, suddenly, become more apparent with the cousin of the man sitting in the parsonage’s parlour and enjoying Charlotte’s hospitality.
It unsettled Elizabeth the longer the pleasantries and conversations went on.
…and then the Colonel proposed a walk outside.
Chapter 19:
Affronted Sensibilities
“Ishall be but a moment!”
Mr. Collins was some paces behind them, huffing and puffing most alarmingly, as he tried to catch his breath.
“Brisk exercising—as Lady Catherine says—is essential for keeping the spirits well!”
Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder as a significant yowl of distress emerged from Mr. Collins. He was hunched over slightly as Charlotte patted him on the back.
“Is everything well?” she called out.
“I am well!” Mr. Collins wheezed, even as Maria shrugged at her helplessly from Charlotte’s other side.
“Mrs. Collins, if you do not mind, I shall walk ahead with Miss Bennet,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “I have been astride my mount for too long.”
Elizabeth glanced at him surreptitiously.
Colonel Fitzwilliam—in a bid to separate her from the rest of the party—had steadily increased their walking pace from a gentle amble to a decided saunter, and then a brisk stride.
She had kept pace with him. After all, she was used to walking long distances. But it was not as if she could have fallen behind. The Colonel had offered his arm to her at the gate of the parsonage, right as they were setting off on their “short ramble along the greens”, and she had been holding onto it ever since.
What Colonel Fitzwilliam hadnotanticipated was Mr. Collins’ determination to remain in conversant distance with him…
Another wheeze and yowl reached them.
…that was, until the task of talking and walking had folded Mr. Collins over.
“Yes, do go on!” Charlotte said, waving them on. “We shall follow once Mr. Collins has had a moment to himself.”
So they did. Even as Mr. Collins’ breathless complaint “... but I am… well..” wafted in the wind behind them.
There was only silence for a while as Elizabeth and Colonel Fitzwilliam walked.
Their pace was brisk still. Small rocks and dirt crunched under their feet, and the sounds of Kentish countryside surrounded them. Elizabeth glanced at her companion.
“Shall we adopt a more leisurely pace, sir?”
