Mr. Bennet’s teacup clattered against its saucer. “What game was this?”
“Only a parlor entertainment,” Elizabeth explained, puzzled by her father’s sudden intensity. “Lieutenant Wickham suggested each person reveal something not generally known—a middle name or childhood nickname.”
“And you chose to share your middle name? With a complete stranger?”
Elizabeth frowned, confused by his vehemence. “It hardly seemed a matter requiring secrecy. Is there some special significance to ‘Rose’ that I am unaware of?”
A shadow crossed Mr. Bennet’s face. Instead of explaining, he rose from the table, his breakfast barely touched.
“I will be in my library. I do not wish to be disturbed for any reason,” he announced. “And I reiterate my absolute prohibition against receiving any callers from Netherfield or the militia. Is that understood?”
“But Mr. Bennet!” his wife protested. “Mr. Collins is expected to appear. You cannot refuse to see him—he is your cousin and heir.”
“Mr. Collins may be received,” he conceded with evident distaste. “No one else.”
As Mr. Bennet departed for his sanctuary, Mrs. Bennet dissolved into lamentations about her husband’s unreasonable behavior and its effect on her nerves. “How are my daughters to make suitable matches if he forbids all eligible gentlemen from calling? It is too cruel. And with Longbourn entailed away to that odious cousin, what is to become of us when he is dead?”
Her gaze settled meaningfully on Elizabeth. “Of course, if you, my daughter, would consider Mr. Collins’s suit favorably, our situation would be much improved.”
Elizabeth stared at her mother in horror. “Mr. Collins? Mama, surely you cannot be serious?”
“And why not?” Mrs. Bennet demanded. “He will inherit thisestate upon your father’s death. A marriage would secure the property for the family.”
“But he is ridiculous,” Elizabeth protested. “Pompous, obsequious, with not a shred of sense or genuine feeling.”
“Beggars cannot be choosers,” Mrs. Bennet sniffed. “Jane’s beauty may secure her a wealthy husband, but the rest of you must be practical. Mr. Collins has a good living and the patronage of Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”
Elizabeth noted, not for the first time, how Mrs. Bennet consistently separated Jane from “the rest of you,” as if drawing a distinction between her daughters.
“I would rather work as a governess than marry Mr. Collins,” she said firmly. “No financial security is worth such a sacrifice of happiness and self-respect.”
Mrs. Bennet’s face flushed with anger. “You have always been the most ungrateful, headstrong girl! After all we have done for?—”
She stopped abruptly, as if catching herself about to say too much. The pause hung oddly in the air before she continued, “After all the advantages you have enjoyed, you might show some consideration for the welfare of your sisters.”
The tension in the room had become suffocating when a knock at the front door provided a welcome interruption. Hill appeared moments later with the sort of expression that suggested unusual circumstances.
“Begging your pardon,” she said carefully, “but there’s a messenger here with a letter for Miss Elizabeth. He insists it must be placed directly in her hands, no one else’s.”
All five pairs of eyes turned to Elizabeth.
“For me?” She was as surprised as the rest of them. “Did the messenger say who sent it?”
“No, miss. Only that it was a matter of some importance and must be given to you personally.”
Mrs. Bennet’s expression shifted from irritation to calculatinginterest. “A letter? For Elizabeth specifically? Who could be writing to her?”
“Perhaps it is from Lieutenant Wickham,” Lydia suggested with a giggle. “He seemed quite taken with Lizzy last night.”
“More likely from Charlotte,” Elizabeth said, rising from the table. “We discussed a book she wished to lend me.”
“If it were from Charlotte, she would simply have sent the book,” Kitty pointed out reasonably. “And her messenger would not insist on delivering it to you alone.”
“Perhaps it is from Mr. Darcy,” Lydia suggested with exaggerated horror. “His eyes were fixed on you all evening, you know. Watching, watching, always watching.”
“Mr. Darcy watches me only to catalog my many deficiencies,” Elizabeth replied lightly, though she had indeed noticed his intense scrutiny throughout the evening. “I am a perpetual disappointment to his refined sensibilities. I assure you, any correspondence from Mr. Darcy would consist entirely of lectures about proper behavior and the inferiority of my connections.”
“Still,” Mrs. Bennet said with sharp interest, “a letter delivered by private messenger suggests a matter of some consequence. You must read it aloud, Elizabeth. We are all quite consumed with curiosity.”
