Music Monday: Home (Phillip Phillips)

PUBLISHED TO YOUTUBE BY PHILLIP PHILLIPS ON AUGUST 2, 2012.

This song is one I often listen to as an instrumental cover by The Piano Guys while writing, but I thought that today, I would share the vocal version, which is on my Whatever for Whenever Spotify playlist. (This song on Spotify can be found here.)

The lyrics are what has me pairing this song with Master of Longbourn today. The Mr. Collins in this book is searching for a home. He has demons that fill him with fear. However, he finds himself surrounded by those who are willing to help make Longbourn his home.

Master of Longbourn, Ch. 8

Using the candle he held in his hand, Collins lit a second one that was in the lamp on the table next to where Mr. Bennet had been sitting earlier that day. He looked around the room.

Mr. Bennet had told him he was to make this room his second refuge. His first was his bedchamber, of course. There he could lock himself away without there being much chance of being disturbed, but here, he was more accessible, and here is where Bingley had very firmly insisted he should read each evening.

Truth be told, Bingley had wished for him to sit with the others in the sitting room, but Darcy had pled his case and convinced Bingley that the study would be better for reviewing what needed to be learned.

Collins tipped his head and eyed the book on the desk. He wanted to go over it again. He was positive he could remember nearly everything Mr. Bennet had told him about the tenants listed in it. He glanced at the door. No one was with him; he could peek at it.

He crossed to the desk, placed his hand on the book, and just as he was about to lift the cover, shook his head and retreated to the chair near the lamp without the book. He did not want to have to tell Bingley or Darcy tomorrow afternoon that he had spent another evening studying, for both gentlemen had thought it best if he spent one evening consuming the novel he had promised Kitty he would read.

He sighed as he settled into his chair, and taking up his book, he placed it unopened in his lap while he pondered the lovely Miss Kitty Bennet and watched the shadows chase each other in the flickering dance of the candles’ flames. Perhaps in the new year when Bingley had his ball, he would dance two sets with her. Perhaps by then, she would even be accepting of his addresses, or at least, by then, he would have learned enough from Darcy and Bingley to be able to present them. By spring, he might even find himself in a position to make her his wife. That thought could not be made without a smile finding its way to his lips.

“May I enter?”

Evelina clattered to the floor as Collins started at the sweet voice that called to him from the door.

“Your father is not here,” he responded as he bent and retrieved the book.

“I know. I was just with him,” Kitty said, “and then I saw the light under the door and thought it might be pleasant to sit in here if I am allowed.”

Collins nodded. “If you leave the door open.”

She smiled and pushed the door open just a bit further before crossing the room and pulling a chair from in front of her father’s desk to where Collins was sitting.

“Allow me to help you.” Collins jumped up from his seat.

“I can manage,” she said with a pointed look.

“But it is not right. I should provide the service to you. It is what a gentleman does for a lady.”

Her lovely lips puckered into a contained smile. “You have done as you ought. You offered your assistance, and I refused. It is likely I who has not done as is proper.”

He stood beside his chair, waiting and feeling very useless and awkward as she arranged the chair as she wanted it.

“I am certain you did nothing improper,” he muttered.

Even tugging a chair into place and twisting it this way and that, she moved with grace. How she managed to look so utterly enchanting while doing such a thing was a puzzle he would like to have the opportunity to ponder over and over again as he watched her do whatever it was she chose to do.

“You can be seated,” she said with a laugh as she took her seat. “We are cousins. There is no need to be so formal, is there?”

His brow furrowed. Was there? They were cousins, but to him, she was more than just a relation. However, he could not tell her that. Not yet anyway. He was not ready. He still had lessons to learn. He only knew how to tie his cravat in two different knots, and his hair, according to Bingley, remained in need of attention. He ran his hand through that mop of brown on his head and shrugged.

“I suppose there is not. However, it is what I have always been taught, and it seems strange to do anything else.” He settled into his chair once again. The candles’ flames were still causing the shadows to dance, but he could not be persuaded to watch them when the object of his former imaginings sat so near.

“I suppose I can understand that,” she said. “I am certain I should feel quite out of place if I were to visit your patroness. Lady Catherine, was it not?”

He nodded. “Yes, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. A wonderful woman. Very gracious and so concerned with seeing that things were done as they ought to be done. She had overseen several improvements at the parsonage before I took up residence because she thought I would enjoy them. And I did.”

“Is the parsonage a large house?” She pulled her feet up and tucked them under her as she turned toward him.

“No, not so very large but not precisely small. There were four bedrooms and two sitting rooms as well as a generous study. The study faced the garden on the side. I had thought to plant some vegetables in it. I understand that is what the former parson did, or I should say, had done for him. However, I had wanted to feel the accomplishment of seeing the work of my hands on the table during the winter. And I admit to finding great pleasure in watching the Lord’s creation renewing itself through the seasons.” He pressed his lips together. He was in danger of rambling on about things which would likely not interest her in the least. That was not the best way to make a good impression. What lady would wish to be tied to a gentleman who babbled on about trivial things as if they were the most important things in the world to one and all?

Kitty’s elbows rested on the padded arm of the chair, and she was using them to prop up her chin as she listened to him. “What of flowers?” she asked when he paused. “Would you have planted flowers? I think there is nothing better than to have fresh flowers on the table in the sitting room, so that one can look upon them as she stitches or draws.”

The corner of his mouth tipped up in a half smile. She seemed eager to hear what he had to say.

“There was a rose bush which Lady Catherine said produced lovely white flowers as well as a couple of climbing plants which had been trained up and over an archway. I confess I had not thought to plant any flowers beyond those, but that might have been an oversight on my part.”

“Mama has some lovely rose bushes. You remember we showed you where they were?”

He nodded. Mrs. Bennet had been excessively proud of those roses.

“There is a garden for vegetables near the kitchen,” Kitty continued, “but Mama has not allowed me to plant anything there. She says it is Cook’s domain, so I must satisfy myself with a few flowers in one bed in the garden.”

There was a true hint of disappointment in her voice at having her desires to plant curtailed that was accompanied by a small pout. She was excessively charming.

“Do all of your sisters plant flowers with you?” he asked, not wanting this discussion to be at an end. He wanted to see her lips curl upward again and to see that enchanting animation in her eyes and features which always accompanied her speaking on a topic of interest. There was no mistaking what she liked or disliked. It was easily read in her expression, even when she attempted to hide it.

“No,” her eyes sparkled in the glow of the candles. “Jane and I are the only ones who enjoy the activity. Lydia has tried to plant a few flowers, but she lacks the patience needed to help them along to maturity. She grows bored and forgets them. I usually tend to them for her, so we can have flowers in our room and because I would hate to see them die from neglect. Mary would rather plant trees, or so she says whenever Mama asks her to join us. And Elizabeth planted a group of peonies one year and has a small lilac bush. She prefers things that tend to themselves, for though she adores their colours and fragrance, she would rather spend her time wandering and gathering wildflowers than spend it in the garden. I do not see how anything can be better than tending to one’s garden, but,” she shrugged, “we are not all alike.”

“Peonies,” Collins muttered, “I do like those.”

“They bloom for only a short time,” Kitty cautioned. “You would need more than one group of peony plants in your garden if you wish to have a summer filled with beauty.”

He allowed it to be true while silently he thought that a summer and a garden could only be truly beautiful if it contained her.

A few moments of silence stretched between them until Kitty lifted her head from where it rested on her hand and picked up the conversation once again. “I am certain Cook would not mind giving you a corner of the garden so you could grow a few things, and I would be happy to share all I know about growing flowers.” She bit her lip as her brows furrowed. “That is if you wish. I am sorry you will have to leave your parsonage.”

He pulled in a breath and let it out in a great sigh. He had been considering his removal from his parish. No one, save her, had even hinted that leaving his position would be anything more than routine.

“It is a bittersweet thing, leaving Hunsford. There is a portion of me who wishes to know if I would have made a good parson, if I would have been an instrument of blessing in the community and to Lady Catherine. I feel I would have been. I was heartily welcomed when I arrived, and my lady was always pleased with my sermons.” He had hoped to finally have found in Hunsford a home and a place where he could grow and bloom just as the plants in a garden did when well-tended. However, “I dare say, the good Lord was not surprised by my change of residence and can use me for the same here, albeit not with sermons.” He brows furrowed. How? He did not know.

“You have already been a blessing to my father,” Kitty said as if she knew he was wondering how he could possibly be what he wished as the master of an estate when he had not studied to be one. “He said you are improving each day, and he does not give praise where praise is not due.”

“Thank you,” he said softly. “My welcome here has been most unexpected.” His eyes grew wide. “Not that I did not expect a welcome, but to be thrust into a position of standing in the stead of your father while being little more than a stranger – no not thrust so much as gifted. Not that your father’s illness was a gift, but his generosity and graciousness in teaching me…” He sighed and shook his head. He was a bumbling idiot at times.

“Does Longbourn feel like it could be your home?”

He searched her face. There was no sign of condemnation for his rambling incoherence. He nodded his head. “More than anywhere I have ever been.”

A soft smile curled her lips and reached to her eyes. “I am glad of it. Everyone should feel at home somewhere in the world.” She paused. “You feel at home even with Lydia and Mary being less than agreeable?”

He lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “It is not so very bad, and it is understandable. I shall just have to prove to them that I neither wish to toss anyone out into the hedgerows nor force anyone into a marriage she does not want.”

“You are driving Lydia to distraction by not allowing her to argue with you. I think that is wise.” A small giggle escaped her as she shifted in her chair and unfolded her legs.

“A soft answer turneth away wrath: but grievous words stir up anger.”

Her brows furrowed in question.

“Proverbs fifteen verse one,” he replied. “Solomon was the wisest man to ever have lived. The Lord gifted him with a special amount of wisdom, you know.” He looked at her and received a small nod in reply. “He wrote that.”

Silence filled the room.

“It’s a book of poetry,” he said. “Proverbs,” he added when she gave him a quizzical look.

“Then perhaps I will read it.”

“You should.”

Again, the room fell into silence.

“I am keeping you from your reading,” she said, picking up her book of verses.

“I do not mind. I have found our discussion to be quite delightful.” And he wished it to continue. If only he could think of a topic to discuss. But he could not, so he opened his book to where he had marked his place with a small bit of the pink ribbon he had purchased with her in mind when he was in Meryton.

“How far are you?” she asked, looking up from her book.

“Letter thirteen.”

“Which is that?” She closed her book and put it back on the table while leaning towards him to try to spy the words in his book.

“Evelina left off the last letter saying they were to go somewhere.” He scanned the page. “A ridotto, and then they were to return to Howard Grove on Wednesday.”

“Oh,” she gasped. “The trouble she has at the ridotto!”

“Indeed? More than she has already had?”

Kitty nodded. “She falls into so many troublesome circumstances. I truly do not know how she bears it as she does!” She held out her hand. “Might I read it to you? I would ask you to read it to me, but do you not think it would be better to hear a young lady’s letter read by a lady?”

There was no way he could argue such a thing. Perhaps he could have assured her that he would have read it in a higher tone, but to be perfectly honest, he would prefer to hear her read. He did so love to listen to her voice. Therefore, he took the ribbon from between the pages and passed her the book.

She shifted in her seat, gave her lips a quick moistening, and began.

EVELINA IN CONTINUATION Tuesday, April 12. My dear Sir,

We came home from the ridotto so late, or rather so early that it was not possible for me to write. Indeed, we did not go -you will be frightened to hear it-till past eleven o’clock: but nobody does. A terrible reverse of the order of nature! We sleep with the sun, and wake with the moon.

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Master of Longbourn is FREE in the Kindle Store from now until tomorrow, April 28, 2020, at 11:59 PM PST. Since Master of Longbourn is a sequel to another book, that other book, Mr. Darcy’s Comfort, is on sale in the Kindle Store for $0.99 until tomorrow as well. These two books really are best read in order for maximum enjoyment.