Mr. Bingley’s sight settled upon me. “You are most welcome to come.” Seated to the right of him, Miss Bingley’s features puckered.
Although my husband’s genial friend revealed not a trace of displeasure for the suggestion, he may have anticipated the opportunity to speak with Fitzwilliam in private. “I should like to go, but not for the whole of the morning.” I beheld Mr. Bingley. “Perhaps we might circle back to the stables after an hour or so, and you two could continue on without me.”
“By all means, we shall do that.” With a grin, Mr. Bingley reclined against his chair.
Miss Bingley’s mouth wrested downwards, as though from a bitter taste. “Yesterday, I received a most peculiar and impudent note from our neighbour Mrs. Collins.” Her expression softened when she fixed upon Fitzwilliam. “She has learnt of your impending visit and entreated me to impart a request. She asked that you and Mrs. Darcy call upon her at your earliest convenience.”
How very odd. Why would Mrs. Collins request an audience with us? “Is that the entirety of the message?”
Miss Bingley shot me a quick look. “Yes. I found it shocking that she would impose on the two of you this way.” She gestured to my husband. “After all, Mrs. Collins’s acquaintance with you is flimsy, and she has never even met Mrs. Darcy. I had half a mind to destroy the note without any mention, but I thought you both ought to be forewarned that she may have some sort of contrivance in mind.”
Tensing my facial muscles, I resisted the impulse to gape at her. I should much sooner suspectherof a nefarious plan before I should that poor widow.
“Contrivance?” Mr. Bingley directed a rare frown at his sister. “I cannot imagine why you would suspect Mrs. Collins of any sort of misdeed. She is a kind and honourable lady.”
She raised a forefinger to Mr. Bingley. “I know you have a favourable opinion of her, but you are far too indiscriminate with your approval. And you must allow that she breached decorum by begging the Master and Mistress of Pemberley to honour her with their company—especially now, when the woman is in full mourning.”
“As it happens”—my husband gave Miss Bingley a severe look—“Mrs. Darcy and I had already intended to pay our respects to Mrs. Collins.” He met my gaze. “Shall we go to Longbourn tomorrow at three?”
“Yes, that would be convenient.”
“That is exceedingly magnanimous of you.” Miss Bingley adjusted her ruby necklace, ensuring her fichu did not obscure the stone. “For you to show Mrs. Collins such condescension is beyond what anyone would expect. I ought to accompany you to ensure she does not overstep her bounds.”
Heavens above.I pressed my lips flat lest I blurt out an immoderate protest. If Mrs. Collins had personal business to discuss, she would not want to disclose the information before Miss Bingley.
“I appreciate the offer.” My husband displayed a wan smile. “But since this is such a distressing time for Mrs. Collins, my wife and I shall call alone. I should not want to tax her with the need to entertain more than two guests at once.”
“As you wish. Be prepared, though, for a rather paltry manor. They lack a drawing-room and entertain guests in a smallish parlour with shabby furnishings.”
I gnashed my teeth. How dare she denigrate my late father’s estate?
It seemed Miss Bingley realised her faux pas, for she blanched, and her head swung towards me. “Rest assured, I mean no insult whatsoever toyou. Your parents have not presided over the property for many, many years. I do not doubt the residence appeared more elegant in those days. And it is no wonder the place looks so plebeian now, for Mrs. Collins’s father used to be atradesman.”
What audacity!Based upon Miss Bingley’s affectation of superiority, an uninformed observer would be surprised to learn her fortune had come from her deceased father’s business.
Mr. Bingley, perhaps sensing my husband’s displeasure in the conversation, changed the subject. He regaled us with an enthusiastic description of his latest litter of seven springer spaniels, sired by his best hunting dog. At my request, he agreed with alacrity to show us the puppies before our ride in the morning.
Saturday, 12 September
Longbourn
Elizabeth
I leaned near the coach window to savour the view of the stone Tudor-style home. Although it paled in size to Pemberley House, and yes, Netherfield House as well, I should not have called the residence ‘paltry’.
“What do you think of the place?”
With a glance at my husband, I set back in my seat. “It is charming. No matter what Miss Bingley may say, I fancy many people prefer a home that is cosy rather than grand.”
“I agree.” He angled his head towards me. “Although I hope you are not displeased with the magnitude of Pemberley House.”
“Not at all. I love every room and passage of our home—in particular on days with inclement weather, since I can obtain the exercise I crave by walking through them in comfort.”
The butler led us to the parlour, and I gave the area a quick survey. Although modest in size, the room boasted two large windows overlooking a lovely garden. And while the fabric on the sofa and chairs revealed subtle signs of wear, these pieces appeared to be of fine quality.
Mrs. Collins stood upon our entry. She made for a dowdy figure: a lady nearing thirty years of age with unremarkable features and deep folds darkening her forehead. Her black gown did not flatter her pale skin; instead, the bleak tint lent an added emphasis to her weary appearance. But most of her facial lines dissipated when she gave my husband a weak smile. “It is good to see you again, Mr. Darcy.” She moved to include me in her gaze. “And I am honoured to welcome you here.”
“The pleasure is ours.” Fitzwilliam patted my arm. “Mrs. Darcy, I should like you to meet Mrs. Collins.”
