“I’m here!” Mom burst into the room. “Lydia, Mary, turn on the lights, for heaven’s sake.” She flipped the switch as she walked in. “Pastor Collins, welcome.”
“Mrs.Bennet, it is so good to see you. I was admiring your lovely shop. My bakery, were I to open one, would resemble this. I can’t imagine another way to enhance such a comfortable atmosphere. Although I might omit the witch potions.”
“I’m so glad you’re pleased with it. We try so hard to ensure everyone feels welcome here,” Mom answered, ignoring the witch comment. “Are you here to see my husband?”
“Your husband?” Collins straightened. Clearly, Dad’s condition hadn’t even crossed his mind. “Ah… yes. How is he?”
“He’s holding in there the best he can, poor soul. Should I show you to his room?”
His pale white skin grew paler. “Oh, um well…”
“Come, he’s this way.” Mom motioned for him to follow and led Collins toward the rear of the house.
Lydia sighed, grabbed a $2.99 muffin with a skull head frosted on it off the counter, and headed for the store’s exit. “Lock the door after me,” she said over her shoulder.
The doorbell jingled its cheerful tune as it shut, and I hastened to throw the lock, then rushed after Mom, wondering why the pastor was truly there.
Collins stood at the entrance to Dad’s sickroom, his sleeve over his nose and mouth. “Happy to see you, Mr. Bennet. I hope you make a swift recovery.” His raised hand revealed a white bandage wrapped around his arm. A bit of red, irritated skin peeked out from the wrapping. I edged closer for a better view.
“Pastor Collins, I can assure you, whatever curse afflicts my husband, it doesn’t spread through the air,” Mom said.
“Yes, I’m sure it doesn’t,” he replied, though he didn’t lower his arm. “Mrs. Bennet, is there a place where we may discuss things… in private?” He threw me a glance, as if I were an annoyance he wished would go away.
Mom stood with him, looking a bit perplexed. If he hadn’t shown up to see Dad, why had Pastor Collins deemed to come down from his pulpit and grace us with his presence? I stared at his wound. Where could a pastor have gotten such an injury?
“Follow me. The living room’s here,” Mom said.
While they entered the living room, I hurried into the kitchen and parked myself behind the slightly ajar door between the two rooms. Duchess climbed up on a shelf and was batting at a bag of flour, like she wanted to tip it over. Luckily she was a ghost cat, so her paw went straight through it.
I wished mom would ask Collins about his wound, but she didn’t seem to notice or care.
“Ah, how these curtains, with their gentle, undulating folds, bring an air of elegance to the room! They are, without a doubt, the most exquisite example of drapery I have ever had the pleasure of laying eyes upon.”
“That is kind of you, Pastor Collins!” Mom exclaimed.
“And good heavens! This couch, I must say, is a triumph of comfort and refinement. The piece’s gentle support speaks volumes of the upholsterer’s skill.”
Collins had never been so complimentary to my family. Usually, he tolerated our presence at best. I couldn’t help but wonder what had brought his notice. I prayed it had nothing to do with my internship, as he’d never deigned to visit us before over me.
“It is a comfy couch, isn’t it?” Mom said. A soft patting of the cushions reached my ears. “You’re very different from when you give your sermons.”
“Yes well, I try to give every situation the appropriate attitude that it deserves. For preaching, I must make sure those in my congregation understand the seriousness of their salvation.”
“I see.”
“But here, visiting you, I find it better to be more complimentary. That is how religious folk like their pastors these days. More approachable.”
Oh dear. I hoped Pastor Collins wasn’t about to go off on one of his tangents. Outside of sermons, he tended to digress into side thoughts that lasted up to an hour at a time. Brexton and I had learned how to redirect him so we didn’t have to listen to his long rants.
“That seems likely to me.” She paused for a moment. “Is there a reason for your visit, Pastor Collins?” Apparently Mom wanted to get down to business as well.
“Absolutely. I’m certain you are aware of the esteemed and venerable Lady Catherine De Bourgh. She makesquite the donation every year. In fact, we wouldn’t have our congregation without her.”
“Lady Catherine? Yes, she is a great fae lady.”
“Then you know she is not only a generous woman, but she is the maternal aunt of the distinguished crown prince, Fitzwilliam Valemont.”
“Yes, I was aware of that.”
