Chapter Three #2
A servant brought in the tea tray, and Mr Collins rose halfway from his chair at the sight of it. "The violet service," he said in a breathy voice. "I confess, your ladyship, that no matter how often I am privileged to see it, I am struck afresh by the delicacy of the design."
Lady Catherine glanced at him. "Yes, Mr Collins, you have waxed lyrical about it many times before, though I suppose a man in your position will always be impressed by the finer things in life."
Tea was poured. Lady Catherine began a lengthy account of the errors made by one of her tenants in the management of his poultry.
Elizabeth’s confidence grew with every passing minute.
Mr Darcy did not appear. No footsteps sounded in the passage and no dark figure materialised in the doorway to look at her sternly.
Lady Catherine had just begun explaining the correct dimensions for a henhouse when voices sounded beyond the door.
Elizabeth’s hand paused halfway to her mouth as she recognised Colonel Fitzwilliam’s lighter, amused tones, followed by the lower voice of his cousin.
She knew it at once, even before she could make out the words, and all the relief she had so carefully gathered around her over the past quarter of an hour disappeared.
A moment later, the door opened and Colonel Fitzwilliam entered first, still speaking over his shoulder.
"You cannot blame the horse, Darcy. The poor creature had grown tired of being glared at. "
Mr Darcy followed him into the room. He had removed his hat and held it beneath one arm, while his other hand worked at the fingers of his riding glove. He was looking at his cousin rather than the company and appeared more weary than severe.
Then he saw Elizabeth and it felt as if the world around them vanished.
Mr Darcy stood in the doorway and stared at her.
His face went blank with shock before colour rose sharply beneath his skin, and the glove remained caught halfway over his fingers.
He was neither cold nor stern, he looked as if the sight of her had struck him breathless.
She knew she should look away, but found she could not tear her gaze from his face.
Colonel Fitzwilliam followed his cousin’s stare and looked from Darcy to Elizabeth.
Understanding dawned quickly, followed by amusement, but he recovered himself before either of them did and stepped farther into the room.
"Mrs Collins, Miss Bennet, Mr Collins. What a pleasure to find you all here," he said with the easy warmth that Elizabeth had come to associate with him over the past weeks.
"We had no notion we should be so fortunate this afternoon. "
His cheerful greeting seemed to break the spell. Elizabeth lowered her eyes, while Mr Darcy finally pulled the glove free with more force than was necessary. Though he did not move from his spot in the doorway.
Lady Catherine glared at him. "Darcy, why are you standing in the doorway in such a stupid manner?"
His head turned to her mechanically but he did not say a word.
"You will let in a draft," she continued. "Come in at once."
Mr Darcy stepped forwards and closed the door behind him. "Mrs Collins. Mr Collins." He accompanied the names with a small bow. His gaze came to rest on Elizabeth once more. "Miss Bennet." He said her name softly, more like a prayer than a greeting.
"Mr Darcy." Her voice came out thin and reedy, but she was pleased that she managed to keep her features even and that the slight shaking of her hands was hidden beneath the folds of her skirt.
His eyes met hers, and the pained expression she had remembered from the previous afternoon returned so clearly that she wished he would look away.
Lady Catherine frowned between them. "You behave as though our visitor’s presence is some great surprise."
Darcy dragged his attention towards his aunt. "I was not aware the Collinses were expected."
"I did not mention it? Well, I cannot be expected to share every minute detail of my household arrangements. I am certain I told Fitzwilliam."
Colonel Fitzwilliam bent to remove an invisible speck from his sleeve, but not before Elizabeth saw his grin. Good Lord, he knew. Not only did he know, but he was enjoying their discomfort.
"We had only come in to wish you good morning, Aunt," Mr Darcy said, sounding almost composed. "We ought to change before joining you. We have been riding for some time."
Lady Catherine looked over his coat and boots with a dismissive sweep of her eyes.
"Nonsense. You are perfectly fit to take tea with the Collinses.
There is no need to stand upon ceremony with intimate neighbours of their rank, and I will not have you disappearing the moment you enter the room. Sit down, both of you."
Mr Collins received this lowering of ceremony as a great compliment and bowed deeply from his chair, giving him the strange appearance of having folded completely in half.
"Your ladyship is most gracious. To be regarded with such easy familiarity by a family of your distinction is an honour beyond anything I could have hoped to merit. "
"Yes, yes," Lady Catherine said, already turning away from him.
Mr Darcy’s gaze moved around the room. The chair beside Anne was the farthest from Elizabeth and he moved towards it with purpose.
He had taken no more than a step towards it when Colonel Fitzwilliam crossed the room in long strides and dropped into the seat with careless ease.
"Anne," he said, accepting the cup she handed him, "you are looking remarkably well this morning. " She smiled warmly at him.
Mr Darcy stopped in front of him sharply.
The colonel glanced up with an expression of bland innocence that did not deceive Elizabeth for a moment.
There remained only one unoccupied chair, a low-backed seat positioned close enough to Elizabeth’s that their sleeves would brush if either of them moved carelessly.
For a heartbeat, Mr Darcy remained completely still, glaring at his cousin and apparently deciding whether leaving the room and causing a ruckus with his aunt was preferable to sitting so near to Elizabeth.
Lady Catherine noticed his hesitation and struck the carpet once with the end of her cane.
"Darcy, do sit down. You are looming over everyone. "
He crossed to the chair and lowered himself into it, keeping his back rigid and his knees carefully angled away from Elizabeth.
The effort only made their nearness more apparent.
She could feel the warmth of him beside her and caught the faint scent of horse and leather clinging to his riding coat.
Her pulse gave an unhelpful flutter, which she blamed on the heat of the room.
Lady Catherine resumed her account of the tenant who had failed to construct a henhouse according to her instructions, while Colonel Fitzwilliam engaged Charlotte in light conversation about her family’s journey back to Hertfordshire.
Mr Darcy said nothing. He sat with one hand curled around the gloves in his lap and looked straight ahead with determination as though the opposite wall held within it the answer to all the mysteries of the universe.
Elizabeth attempted to maintain the same composed stillness, but every small movement beside her drew her awareness.
The shift of his shoulder when a servant offered him tea, the quiet murmur of thanks when he accepted it and the way his fingers tightened around the saucer when Lady Catherine remarked that some people possessed no judgement at all in the management of their affairs.
She wondered whether he was thinking of her refusal.
Then she became annoyed with herself for wondering anything about him.
The discussion of poultry came to an end only because Lady Catherine had remembered a matter she considered far more important. She set down her cup and looked around the room before giving a regal inclination of her head and saying, "I have decided to hold a ball at Rosings."
Mr Collins gave a small yelp of delight and half rose from his chair. Charlotte gave him a stern look that cowed him enough to resume his seat, though not enough to contain his enthusiasm.
"A ball, your ladyship? Here at Rosings? What an extraordinary honour for the neighbourhood. I have no doubt it will be spoken of for many years to come, and that every person fortunate enough to attend will remember the evening as one of the great occasions of their lives."
Anne’s face went tight and Colonel Fitzwilliam looked towards her, his expression soft. Lady Catherine continued before anyone could comment further.
"It shall take place on Friday next. The principal families in the county have been invited, along with those neighbours whose attendance may be tolerated.
Naturally, you and Mrs Collins will attend, and Miss Bennet may come also, provided she has entirely recovered from whatever has caused her to look so pale this afternoon. "
Mr Darcy’s head snapped towards her, his face lined by concern. "You are unwell?" he asked in a low voice, leaning closer so that the question would not carry beyond them.
"I am only tired," she replied, though the softness of his tone made the answer feel strangely intimate.
He studied her for a moment, his eyes moving over her face as though he did not trust her words.
"You are certain?" There was no stiffness in him now and none of the wounded pride she had expected.
He looked genuinely troubled by the possibility that she might be ill, and the sincerity of it unsettled her.
"Quite certain, Mr Darcy," she said gently, returning her eyes to the contents of her teacup as emotion that she could not put a name to swelled inside her.