“A cousin of Mr. Collins is visiting his wife,” Lady Catherine said. “He was, at first, hesitant to allow the visit, but the two ladies have been good friends for many years. It shows strength of character on his part to allow one who decried his good intentions to stay in his home.”
“Indeed, Lady Catherine. You have counselled me wisely in how to guide and educate my cousin,” Collins declared, his chest swelling. “Since her arrival, she has shown proper humility, and I believe she fully comprehends the errors of her former conduct, particularly that which we discussed upon my return from Hertfordshire.”
“You must put aside your cousin’s regrets and cleave to your wife, Mr. Collins,” Lady Catherine advised, her gaze stern butapproving. “The former Miss Lucas attends to my directions with humility and generosity, and aspires to no greater station than that befitting a rector’s spouse.”
Darcy understood Mr. Collins had married the daughter of Sir William Lucas. If she were Miss Maria, the Bennet sister visiting was likely either Miss Lydia or Miss Kitty, a thought that filled him with dismay. But, if the bride was the former Miss Charlotte Lucas, the chances that Miss Elizabeth Bennet was now situated less than a mile from Rosings Park... Breathless hope fluttered in his chest and sent his heart racing.
“If you will excuse me, Aunt, I would like to inspect the ledgers and make notes on my discussion with Mr. Howard this morning.”
“I trust everything was in order?”
“A few repairs are necessary and some minor business to attend to, but nothing requiring your immediate concern.”
Darcy inclined his head in a courteous half-bow to his aunt and her rector, then withdrew. His elder cousin fell into step behind him, the tread of their footfalls muffled on the thick carpet. Once they were clear of the great hall and inside the oak-panelled study, Darcy sank into a comfortable leather armchair, loosening his coat with a tired gesture. Richard closed the study door with a gentle click and collapsed into a matching chair, studying his cousin with a teasing light in his eyes.
“Care to tell me what had your shoulders hunched up about your neck so tight, you almost wrinkled your cravat?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Richard repeated, casually crossing one leg over his knee.
“Nothing worth noting.”
“Oh, no, no, no, no, no,” Richard tutted. “Rare is the dayyour posture reveals your deeply held emotions. The minute that puddle of inanities announced to our aunt his cousin was visiting, you froze like a statue.”
Darcy shifted in his chair, the leather creaking beneath his weight.
“I met Mr. Collins at the ball Bingley held. He accosted me with the most presumptuous claim that a clergyman ranks on par with the peerage. Poppycock, of course. Unfortunately, he again came to my attention as the evening concluded, and it came to light that his family had departed early, leaving him behind.”
“I cannot say I blame them,” Richard observed.
“Be that as it may, he was their guest, and they abandoned him, for no valid reason that I could ascertain. I asked Miss Bingley to secure him a room and to see him safely returned to his family. That was all I knew, as I left the next day and had no further dealings with him.”
Richard raised an eyebrow. “Yet you have not explained why mention of a visitor at the parsonage unsettles you so.”
Darcy’s gaze dropped to the rug beneath his feet. “If you must know, I had a fraught acquaintance with one of the daughters of that household. Most of it was my fault, I allowed my temper to govern my tongue, and made a series of officious blunders that still prick my conscience.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Richard chuckled softly, the sound warm in the hush of the study. “You do have a regrettable habit of stuffing your mouth with those enormous Hessians when you are in a temper. Which, for you, is not a frequent occurrence. Otherwise, you would have no friends.”
Darcy allowed a faint smile to touch his lips. “True enough. I penned an apology to her father, but have not seen her inperson since the night of Bingley’s ball.”
A spark of mischief lit Richard’s eyes. “Then let us call at the parsonage tomorrow and discover whether this lady is indeed the visitor Mrs. Collins mentioned.”
Darcy hesitated for a heartbeat. If the guest were Miss Elizabeth, could he bear a reunion? Her fine eyes danced across his memory, luminous and intelligent. Before he could change his mind, he found himself nodding. “Very well. Tomorrow, we shall call.”
The next morning, bothElizabeth and Charlotte were quite astonished when Mr. Collins burst from his study, nearly upsetting a small hall table as he ran past the parlour. His black coat, still unbuttoned, flapped behind him like the wings of an agitated crow. Charlotte, drawing back a curtain, pressed her cheek to the cool glass to watch her husband’s hasty exit. Then, with a mischievous twinkle in her cool grey eyes, she slipped to Elizabeth’s side on the settee.
“I must thank you, Eliza,” she said, her voice low and teasing. “Had you not been here, Mr. Darcy might never have arrived so promptly to pay his respects.”
“What? Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth exclaimed, scarcely believing her ears.
Before she could collect her thoughts, Mr. Collins re-entered, flanked by Mr. Darcy and a stranger who was soon introduced as Colonel Fitzwilliam. The colonel’s affable manner and easy conversation quickly put the ladies at their ease, whereas Darcy resumed his usual reticence. Had his written apology been heartfelt, or merely performed as an obligation? When he at lastinclined his head towards Mrs. Collins and offered Elizabeth the briefest of nods, she curtsied in such a measured manner, it could hardly be called effusive.
As is often the case among strangers, the parlour fell into an awkward silence until Colonel Fitzwilliam took charge, addressing everyone in turn. Darcy sat quietly until he at last enquired about Elizabeth’s family.
“They are quite well,” she replied. “My two youngest sisters are now at schools here in Kent.”
“Indeed?” Mr. Darcy murmured, lifting an eyebrow so subtly that Elizabeth, ever watchful, noticed.