“Well, it seems of late that the church seeks to make certain… adjustments where witches are concerned.”
I leaned forward, considering. By ‘the church’, it sounded as if he meant Lady Catherine.
“Oh?” Mom replied.
“Yes, yes. As your daughters are half-fae, you can see why they might play an important role in such a critical time.”
A lengthy silence preceded Mom’s words. “I’m sorry? I’m afraid I don’t see.”
“It is the express desire from Lady Catherine de Bourgh that I show the church’s… tolerance by marrying a creature of… lesser magic, and your daughters, being half-fae and half-witch, are the perfect choice.”
He couldn’t be serious. We weren’t objects to be sold off to the highest bidder. I reached into my bag to fiddle with Isabella’s journal, seeking the dry paper in an attempt to calm my heightened anxiety.
“You want to marry one of my daughters?” Utter surprise laced Mom’s voice.
“Rest assured, as my wife, she will receive all the prestige that Lady Catherine bestows upon the church and, by extension, the approval and approbation of the royal family.”
“That is generous. But I wish my daughters to marry for love…”
Mom wouldn’t fall for it. Good. I flicked the pages a final time. Then paused as a loose page moved against my fingers. I ducked my head to look in my bag, worried I’d torn it.
“Of course. I assure you I will shower whichever woman I marry with all the adoration that I can give. I shall endeavor with all the fiber of my being to win her heart.” He cleared his throat. “Now, your younger daughters are much too young. Mary is interning under me, so that would be highly inappropriate. What aboutyour eldest daughter? She is very lovely, and demure, if I recall.”
Oh dear. There was a loose page. I pulled it out.
“I’m afraid that Jane is soon to be engaged to someone.”
That drew my attention back to the conversation, holding the loose page. Mom was considering this?
Silence ensued. Relief washed over me. The discussion was concluded. Although I imagined being a pastor’s wife would be thrilling, the idea of my sister marrying someone like Collins, who despised witches, made me sick to my stomach.
“My second daughter, Lizzy,” Mom said, “has no attachments I’m currently aware of.”
“Really?” Interest peaked in Collins’s voice, making me queasy. Lizzy found Collins ridiculous. The only reason she attended his sermons occasionally was to keep Mom from complaining too much.
“Would you like her phone number?”
I heard the sound of paper rustling.
“Yes, that would be most kind of you.”
“Where do you live, Mr. Collins? I assume it isn’t very far away,” Mom said.
“It is close. I have a home precisely on the edge of Fairwood Forest.”
I inhaled a small breath and moved closer to the door. They’d discovered Isabella’s body in Fairwood Forest.
“Splendid,” Mom replied.
“You understand this situation is delicate, given the recent loss in our town.”
“Oh dear me, I got a paper cut,” Mom exclaimed. “Silly me and my unsteady hands. Of course, I understand, Mr. Collins. And surely, if you’re planning on pursuing Lizzy, that means you’ll stop preaching against witchcraft in your sermons?”
“Mrs. Bennet, I only teach the holy writ. However, because of the latest advice of Lady Catherine, perhaps you are right. I should emphasize other overlooked sacred texts.”
“I believe that would be wise.” I heard the tearing of paper. “Here is Lizzy’s phone number and address. You can contact her anytime.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Bennet.”
