Chapter Two
Elizabeth took a deep breath of the frigid November air.
It was early on Monday morning and she was out walking the estate with her younger sisters.
She had been inside all day on Sunday, remaining with Jane instead of venturing out to church with the rest of the family.
While it had provided a respite from Mr. Collins’s unwanted attentions, she was sorely in need of some time outdoors.
Although Jane now seemed fully recovered, the girls had let her sleep, not wishing her to venture into the cold just yet.
They had rousted Lydia from her bed to allow Mrs. Grover an opportunity to sleep a bit later, but Elizabeth was currently questioning that decision.
Lydia had complained nearly the entire hour.
She was not pleased with being forced from her warm bed on a chilly morning and had made certain her grievances were heard.
“Lydia,” Kitty had finally said, exasperated, “kindly cease. Nobody cares that you are cold. We are all cold.”
“We should have left her at home to face Mr. Collins alone over the breakfast table,” Mary groused.
Lydia’s eyes opened wide, her mouth snapped shut, and she shook her head in short, sharp movements.
“Elizabeth is expecting Mr. Darcy this morning, but you do not see her crying about taking a walk instead of picking out a gown and fixing her hair,” Kitty pointed out.
Elizabeth tried not to laugh. It would not have mattered if royalty was coming to visit, she was unlikely to spend her morning in such a way.
Mary gave her a skeptical look and Elizabeth returned it with a mock glare.
Mr. Darcy will have to take me as I am. He does not seem to mind. Her heart warmed at the thought.
“I cannot believe Mama put Mr. Collins in the room across from yours, Lizzy,” Kitty said in her cautious way. “He is so . . .”
“Unctuous?” Mary finished. She shuddered dramatically. “It is difficult to believe he is a man of the cloth.”
“A man of the cloth is still a man,” Lydia retorted, and they all stopped and turned to her. Her face flushed red. “Well, he is! And he is not a gentleman at all. I saw how he brushed your arm at dinner, Lizzy. Twice.”
Elizabeth crinkled her nose. “You saw it? The first time I thought it might have been in error, but then he did it again.”
Mary’s eyes narrowed. “How dare he!” Her face darkened like a storm cloud. “I shall pinch him,” she declared.
“No, let me!” Lydia cried. “All Papa will do is send me upstairs and I have to be there for lessons regardless.” Even Kitty laughed at that. “No, really!” Lydia insisted. “I do not wish to be downstairs when he is a visitor at Longbourn. Besides, I am the best pincher of us all.”
Elizabeth smiled at the three of them. “I appreciate your defense of me,” she said.
“But I am already spoken for. It is better he wastes his time with me than turn his sights to any of you.” She glanced at Mary, whose face grew solemn.
Kitty paled. Lydia’s face screwed up defiantly.
“His visit will soon be over,” Elizabeth continued, “and Lady Catherine de Bourgh will recall him to Kent. From Mr. Collins’ descriptions of his patroness, I suspect that his leave is unlikely to be extended. ”
“No doubt,” Mary scoffed. “Back to Rosings he will go, the palace with a thousand windows, the glazing on which originally cost in excess of fifty pounds apiece,” she said, placing the back of her hand against her forehead and striking a pose.
“Oh, but Mr. Collin does not actually live there. He never has much to say about his own home.”
Kitty placed a thin hand on Elizabeth’s arm. “Lizzy,” she said, “you should tell Mr. Darcy.”
Mr. Collins is just incredibly awkward and a little self-involved. Perhaps more than a little. She shook her head. I do not require help to handle things with Mr. Collins. “No,” Elizabeth said firmly. “We will let things go for now, and none of you shall say anything to Mr. Darcy.”
Mary and Lydia loudly expressed their dissent, but eventually Elizabeth secured the agreement of all her younger sisters. They then decided that they had been out in the cold long enough and returned to the house.
Elizabeth left her sisters at the top of the stairs as they turned one way to their rooms and she went in the opposite direction to her own.
She stopped short in the hall when she saw Mr. Collins lingering outside the door to her chambers.
He ran a finger along the tabletop in the hallway, clearly loitering.
“Mr. Collins!” she snapped, not caring if her voice carried. “What are you about, sir?”
“Cousin Elizabeth!” he cried, one hand flying to his mouth.
“I thought perhaps you were readying yourself for breakfast. I did not know you had already been out.” He smiled at her crookedly and her ire rose.
“Your habits coincide with my own,” he continued.
“I always rise early to tend to my duties.” He clasped his hands behind his back and rocked back on his heels.
“My sisters wished to walk, sir,” she replied. My habits have naught to do with you.
“You are uniformly charming,” he told her abruptly.
He is thick, Elizabeth thought. She took a moment to consider. He was a sensible distance away and was not moving towards her. He is just awkward and not terribly sensible. That is all. She hoped that was all.
No sooner had she decided this than Mr. Collins scuttled forward and beamed down at her. He was neither as tall nor were his shoulders as broad as Mr. Darcy’s, but he was still physically imposing. “May I escort you to breakfast?” He suddenly remembered to hold out his arm.
Elizabeth was nearly overpowered by a floral scent mixed with stale sweat and something that smelled like a tallow candle. Animal fat? Was he styling his hair with it? She swallowed hard.
“No, sir,” she replied, brushing past him to open her door and enter her room. “I am not hungry.”
Mr. Collins shook his head at her as though she were a misbehaving child, but thankfully did not attempt to follow her. “Your mother… ” he began.
Any sympathy she held for him evaporated entirely. “Mr. Collins, surely you must understand by now,” she said. “My mother does not speak for my father, sir. Or for me. I am being courted by Mr. Darcy.”
His forehead furrowed, and Elizabeth shut the door.
Safely behind it, she located the key, turned the lock, and dropped the key into her pocket.
He will soon be gone. She stood still until she heard his heavy footsteps leading away.
Only then did she lay on her bed and close her eyes.
His odor had turned her stomach, but now that he was gone, her appetite had returned.
It mattered not. She could not go down to breakfast now—she would simply change her clothes and begin her day.
Darcy ate a hearty breakfast, relaxed in the absence of Bingley’s sisters.
When he was nearly finished, Richard appeared, setting down a plate and flinging himself into the chair opposite, stuffing his mouth with eggs and ham.
He completed his meal with several rolls smothered in butter and preserves.
He waved at a footman who came over to serve him a cup of steaming coffee.
When he finished, he wiped his mouth with the napkin.
“What are your plans for today, Darcy?” he asked. He tossed the napkin on the table. “Off to Longbourn to court my wife?”
Bingley chose that moment to enter. He headed directly for the coffee. “You have a wife, Fitzwilliam?” he inquired. “I could have sworn you were a confirmed bachelor.”
“I might have had a wife,” Richard replied, “if Darcy had not stolen her from me.” He raised an eyebrow. “Had I not played the loyal fool and withdrawn from the field, I am certain I would have won the lovely Miss Russell.” His eyes were alight with challenge.
He will not goad me, Darcy thought. Not today. “I suppose we shall never know, cousin.” He offered his cousin a smug smile. “For she has accepted me.”
“A courtship,” Richard said, waving a hand. “A courtship is not a betrothal.”
Bingley sat at the table. He placed the napkin on his lap and picked up his fork. “It matters little, Fitzwilliam,” he said. “Anyone can see how besotted she is with the man, little though he deserves her.”
Darcy’s head swung to Bingley. “Truly?”
Richard snorted. “Insecure lovers. Makes me so ill I can barely eat.”
“You just ate half a pig, Richard,” Darcy observed with a grin. She is besotted.
“You see?” his cousin fired back. “I am used to eating an entire pig at breakfast.” He patted his stomach and eyed his cousin. “I am quite wasting away.”
Bingley shook his head. “We shall head to Longbourn after breakfast, Darcy.”
“I have a letter from Mrs. White in town,” Darcy said. “I must answer, but I shall be quick about it.” He stood, but before turning from the table, plucked a flower from the centerpiece and stared at it. He looked at Bingley inquiringly. “Bingley, might I impose…”
This time Bingley laughed. “I should make you grovel, but I am too happy myself to require it. Go ahead to the conservatory. I already have a bouquet for Jane.”
“Thank you, my friend,” Darcy responded.
The letter from his London housekeeper Mrs. White mentioned that she had set a servant to polishing the silver, and when she counted everything before beginning, two silver spoons were missing from the set.
She had counted the spoons several times to be certain.
He sent back a letter suggesting she have the house searched thoroughly.
If that did not resolve the problem, she should gather the staff and question them.
He sealed his reply and set it on the salver for outgoing post before heading to the conservatory.
Later, as he waited for his coat, he heard Bingley, still in the breakfast room, inviting Richard to join them.
“You had best believe I am coming along,” Richard replied, still put out. “You two are never leaving me alone again.”