She stepped back, tilting her chin from one side to the other to see her work from different perspectives, her shoulders lighter by the second. Elizabeth had not made all the sacrifices and taken all the risks she hadfor a house and piece of land. She had done it for the people in the portrait.
Mr. Collins could have the property. She had a family she cherished.
Family first.
CHAPTER 30
Abird chirped outside the attic window, and Elizabeth set down her paintbrush to appreciate her new surroundings more fully. The roof was sound, the windows faced east, providing the best light she could hope for, and she had not had to trudge down a muddy path in the cold but had only to slip from her bedchamber and up the stairs. The hunting lodge was empty; Elizabeth did not need it anymore.
She had not ventured inside the attic since she stopped playing dress-up in her grandmother’s old gowns, but she had been pleasantly surprised at the space available to her once she moved the trunks and unused furniture away from the windows. She had even found her father’s easels and canvases, which had been covered by a dusty sheet. It had taken her four days to clean and arrange the room, slipping her own art supplies inside little by little as she worked. It hadbeen a happy occupation... and a worthy excuse to avoid Mr. Collins.
Elizabeth shivered. Mr. Collins had arrived two days before. Already, he had worn out his welcome. He did not care to hear anyone’s opinion other than his own, and even that was lacking; he only repeated the opinions of a lady none of them knew, his esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. To Mr. Collins, her opinions were sacred and the standard by which he measured all things.
Lady Catherine had apparently tasked him with the charge of finding a wife, and so he must do lest he displease Her Ladyship and lose the favor he lived to maintain. He had told them this with the obvious expectation that they would swoon at his feet. For a gentleman with no opinions or ambitions of his own to be proud of, he certainly exhibited a great deal of pride.
Shoving all thoughts of that unpleasant man from her mind, Elizabeth grabbed her brush and added more color to the canvas. Jane’s hair shimmered like golden wheat beside Mary’s thick, chestnut-colored hair. Elizabeth’s heart swelled, filling her chest.
“Lizzy!” called her mother. “We are going into Meryton!”
Jolted out of her contemplation, Elizabeth began untying her apron. She could not hide in the attic all day, no matter how badly she wished to.
“Mr. Collins is waiting!”
Elizabeth’s fingers tangled in the apron strings. Why her mother believed that Mr. Collins could makeany of her daughters happy was beyond Elizabeth’s comprehension. Rather than hasten to join the departing group, Elizabeth slowed down. She did notneeda new gown so badly, did she? Her slippers did not need shoe roses, and the gloves she reserved for Sundays were suitable enough for Mr. Bingley’s ball...
But Mr. Darcy would be at the ball. As Mr. Bingley’s guest, he had to be. While Elizabeth held no hope or expectation toward him, she was vain enough to wish him to see her at her best, certainly not in the drab, faded gowns he had seen her wear.
So long as Mr. Collins did not mistake her care in her appearance as encouragement toward him!
“Lizzy! We are leaving!” called Mama.
Checking her hands, Elizabeth descended the stairs. She did not change her clothes but passed her bedchamber quickly to join her mother and sisters downstairs. A walk into the village would be just the thing to keep her mind and body occupied.
As she should have suspected, she was ready before her mother and sisters had put on their hats, coats, and gloves. Elizabeth walked down the hall to her father’s study to ask if he wished her to get him anything. She slowed when she heard Mr. Collins’s voice. “Lady Catherine is an expert in all things related to the arts. Had she ever learned to paint, she would have been quite the proficient. The paintings lining her staircase walls alone are valued at twenty thousand pounds.” This he said with awe.
Papa said dryly, “Beauty is better appreciated once its value can be priced.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Beauty was priceless and measured by the eye of the beholder, much like art. A painting or sculpture was only as valuable as the sensations it provoked in its viewers... and the price they were willing to pay to capture and re-create those emotions.
Mr. Collins continued, “That painting is fine enough, and I daresay it does Longbourn credit.”Fine enough? Was he so ignorant he would insult a Rembrandt?“However, I assure you that you will find much finer works gracing the smallest chamber at Rosings Park. Her Ladyship insists on the best.”Apparently, hewasthat ignorant.
Father’s voice had an edge. “How fortunate for you that this painting is my personal property, and as such, will not be passed on to you with the estate. Perhaps your patroness will condescend to recommend a painting more to her liking to replace it for you.”
Impervious to the sarcasm in her father’s tone, Mr. Collins replied, “I can only hope she would be so kind.”
To spare her father from any further insult, Elizabeth opened the door fully and addressed him, ignoring Mr. Collins. “Is there anything you would like me to bring to you from the village?”
“I thank you for asking, my dear, but there is nothing I require. Only things I wish to be rid of.”
Mr. Collins jolted out of his chair, upsetting the furniture and tipping over the pile of books and papersstacked on the corner of her father’s desk. He held out his arm.
Before he could speak and make his intentions unignorable, Elizabeth turned to him innocently. “Is there anything we might fetch foryouin the village, sir?”
He did not know how to reply to this but sputtered and shuffled his feet. “No, indeed, but I had thought I ought to accompany you.”
It had been worth the attempt.“Very well. We are leaving now.” She quit the room before he could offer his arm again. Of course, once they were out of doors and under the watchful, encouraging eye of her mother, she would no longer be able to avoid him.
Elizabeth sighed and braced herself for a sermon on all the ways Longbourn paled in comparison to the glorious grandeur of Rosings Park. She determined she would return to her hiding place in the attic as soon as their shopping expedition ended.
