Page 16 of Pride, Prejudice, & Pretense

He frowned. "That's a problem, but I didn't want to discourage her yet. We don't know how things may go, and we may need to wheedle information from her."

"Wheedle? Is that what they're calling it now?" She poked him in the ribs with her elbow.

He shook his head. "Funny." He didn't laugh. "Your boss said you were funny. I was warned." He looked around, blew out a long breath, and went on, softly, “I don't want to discourage heryet, but believe me, beyond what just happened, I won't be encouraging her. We’re not prepared for her to be the mark. My backstory's not crafted for me to be much exposed to either of them. Ned was created to be absent, not present. This isyourshow, Fanny."

"I get it," Lizzy said, affected by Darcy's glum, angry tone. She noticed that the servants had taken their plates. "Let's separate, move around, and see what happens. I have a feeling that Wickham's going to find a way to talk to me if he can find me alone."

He nodded once and stalked away from her.

She stood, puzzled by his simmering discontent. That had gone about as well as such meetings could go.All the boxes checked and then some.She had tempted George Wickham. Of that she was sure. And she had humbled herself before Lady Catherine. Each had been difficult. She wanted to be proud of herself, to feel vindicated, to triumph over Darcy's misjudgment. The sullen reaction he displayed left her feeling empty, ashamed of herself. His acknowledgment of how well she had done had been real but hollow. Not a sore loser but just…sore.

God, I hate honeypot missions!

Just as she turned to march in the opposite direction from him, a short man blocked her path. "Excuse me, please!" He looked up into her face with a gargoyle grin, ingenuously ingratiating.

"No problem," Lizzy said with a quick smile. The man was a priest. He wore a gray jacket, gray slacks, and a black shirt with a clerical collar. He might have stood out among all the tuxedos if he weren't so close to the ground.

As she altered her course to pass him, he mirrored her movement, and they ended up in each other's way again. They tried again on the opposite side with the same result. The man giggled. He had straight black hair that he had parted and combed over, but it had fallen onto his forehead. He looked vaguely like Moe of the Three Stooges but with a softer, rounder face and smaller features.

"I'm so sorry. We seem to be dancing, but there is no music."

She laughed and gave a shallow, ironic bow. "Pardon me, I make a poor partner."

"That's untrue." He did not move to let her pass. Instead, he bowed to her, the bow deep, slow, and awkward. "I am Robyn Collingwood. 'Robyn' with a 'y.' And you?"

"Fanny Prince. Nice to meet you."

"I don't believe I have seen you at one of these soirees before. I would remember you." No leer laced his tone. "That is the best dress."

Lizzy looked down at herself as if she had forgotten what she was wearing. "This old thing?" He smiled, showing his enjoyment of her humor. She went on, “I'm a librarian, CPL, here at the invitation of Lady Catherine."

Collingwood nodded knowingly. "Ah, yes. Lady Catherine and her largesse. Well, this time the bestowal of good favor ran backward. I believe you are more a blessing to the party than theother way around." He spoke and then seemed to listen to his own words, smiling at himself when he heard them.

She gave him a friendly smirk. "That's kind of you, but I'm excited to be here. Do you know Lady Catherine well?"

"I suppose I do. She is a member of my church. I'm an Episcopal priest at St. James, a small parish nearby." He searched the room and then leaned toward her. "She is a member. But she doesn't attend. I attendher."He nodded at her as if to underline the distinction. "That's no hardship, though. I spend time in this lovely mansion, enjoy these lavish parties, and meet beautiful people."

"She has you here often?" Lizzy asked, somewhat puzzled.

He inhaled. "Yes, for various reasons. But mostly for confession. I'm here for that…often." He raised an eyebrow, but discreetly.

Unsure what to make of that, she decided to treat it as a joke. "Right. How long have you known her?"

"Several years," he shrugged as if counting would be a wearisome burden. "She's a demanding woman, but her membership in the church, her giving…Well, we couldn't do what we do without it." He shrugged again but in a different way. "As one of my seminary professors used to say, some serve God in the pew, some serve God by providing pews."

Lizzy tried to decide how Fanny should respond. There'd been nothing in Darcy's backstory about Fanny's religion or religious upbringing. She decided to treat the omission as if it were the story. "Huh. I don't know anything about that. My parents were not religious, and I had no religious upbringing as a child. A blank, really. I've been to church services, I guess a few on Christmas and Easter, but those were times I went with friends."

He was watching the other guests but listening. "Yes, religion no longer has the place in lives that it should. We've lostour sense ofsubmission,our sense that there is anything greater than us."

"Does Lady Catherine have a sense of submission?"

He glanced at Lizzy, chuckling. "The submission of others—a lively sense ofthat.And of submission to her own caprice, a lively sense of that, too. But I didn’t mean submission of others or submission to self. Although I suppose the latter is as close to God as most modern people manage, treating their own choices and preferences as if choice or preference were divine."

Lizzy noticed that Lady Catherine was again talking to Darcy on the far side of the room near the door Wickham had used for his exit.

"I suppose so," she said, trying to sound engaged but non-committal.

Collingwood looked at her directly. "I'm not speaking from age or infirmity. You and I are not that far apart in years."

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