“I am afraid,” Mary said, “we received distressing news. Lady Catherine usually invites us to dine on Saturdays so that she may discuss Mr. Collins’s plans for the sermon the following day, but as Mr. Darcy is to arrive tomorrow, a few days earlier than he had initially planned, she will not see us.”
“Most distressing,” Elizabeth agreed, though she did not think that she managed to say the words with such grief in her tone as was warranted.
Mary smiled at her with a knowing smile that suggested that she was not fooled. “I look forward to introducing you to her Ladyship. And I do think you shall enjoy the experience.”
“I depend upon that.”
“Of course Elizabeth will be delighted beyond measure when she meets her Ladyship,” Mr. Collins said, “And Miss de Bourgh had been specifically charged by her mother to tell me that I am to send the text of the sermon to her early on Saturday morning, and she has promised to find the leisure to read it and send commentary and corrections during the course of the day.”
“Such condescension,” Elizabeth replied, “is not to be found often. And it shows a seemly concern for the spiritual health of the parish.”
And an unseemly distrust in the capabilities of her chosen parson.
The next day Mr. Collins spent the whole morning walking within the view of the opening into Hunsford Lane so that he could have the earliest intelligence of the arrival of Lady Catherine’s nephews. After he had made a bow to the carriage as it passed, he hurried home with that most important of information. Mr. Darcy had arrived in a carriage carrying his cousin and an additional gentleman whose identity Mr. Collins could not ascertain.
Additional guests did not please Elizabeth, as they would suggest even less reason for Mr. Darcy to often seekhercompany. But that was a thought she pretended she did not have.
It did amuse her a little that she and Mr. Collins both had a similar interest in gaining early intelligence about the arrival of that gentleman, though from wholly different causes.
Mr. Darcy was here. Less than ten minutes’ walk away. They would see each other, and she would greet him with the same friendship that they had parted with, and nothing else. Full of his own concerns and business, he had no doubt barely thought of her in the past months, but she knew he would be happy to see her when they met.
Elizabeth paced back and forth around the room, but perceiving herself to be observed by Mary, and not wishing either discussion of her sentiments, or discovery of them if Mary was not aware, Elizabeth forced herself to settle on the sofa and pick up some sewing—this time working on modifying one of her bonnets by adding a new ribbon in a way that she thought would look most fetching with the color of her hair.
For the first minutes her mind was still full of Darcy, but when the ribbon was properly fastened, Elizabeth went to look at herself in the mirror.
She could almost not recognize herself.
Curls falling to each side of her cheek, a looser bun than before that didn’t pull at the skin, the lovely blue of the bonnet’s ribbon. It only needed a little fringing of some durable type of lace—she would happily use a cheaper lace to make the effect. She was no Mrs. Bennet who felt a need to be seen wearing the best.
Elizabeth smiled at her own reflection.
I do not wish to ever go back.
That thought gave her an unpleasant jolt.
Of course she did. She loved Mr. Bennet too much. And she should still be grateful. And she was a bastard, and Mary might not like her to be here if she knew. And…
That shining reflection.
She was beautiful.
Elizabeth smiled at herself.
“You look so perfectly fetching,” Mary said with her own smile. “Oh, Lizzy, I am glad that you are here, and you must be in no hurry to leave.”
“I will not be.”
They were then startled by the doorbell.
“Who could that be?” Mary asked with some surprise. “This is not the usual hour for callers. It is part of being a parson’s wife—odd people call at all—Mr. Darcy, it is very good to see you.”
For it was Mr. Darcy come, and Elizabeth had not had any time to prepare herself to see him.
Chapter Thirteen
Elizabeth froze as he stepped into the room. Mr. Darcy appeared as he always had. Nothing had changed in that. Elizabeth felt changed, but Mr. Darcy was the same: Head scraping the door frame, wide shouldered, intense eyes, well cut hair, clothes made with the finest fabrics. Tall boots and green coat.
Darcy’s eyes hunted around the room until they found hers. Her stomach jumped. His eyes widened as he looked at her, and he remained still and mute.
