Elizabeth slipped inside, closing the door firmly behind her. Her father looked up from his correspondence, his brows drawing together at her pallor and obvious distress.
“Lizzy? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost. What has happened?”
“Papa,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I need to speak with you privately. Away from the house. Away from curious ears.”
She glanced meaningfully toward the door, where the shadow of feet could be seen in the gap beneath.
Mr. Bennet’s expression changed, a flash of fear crossing his features so quickly she might have imagined it. “What sort of private conversation?”
Elizabeth’s mind scrambled for an excuse that would get them alone without arousing suspicion. Heat crept up her neck as she grasped for the one topic guaranteed to distract her mother from further questions.
“About Mr. Collins,” she said, hating how the words tasted. “About his… expectations regarding my future.”
Mr. Bennet’s eyebrows rose toward his hairline. “This is rather sudden, Lizzy. Yesterday, you declared you would rather starve than marry our cousin.”
“Circumstances have… provided a new perspective,” she replied carefully. “I find myself in need of guidance. Away from the house.”
Understanding flickered in his eyes. “Very well. Though I suspect this conversation will prove more complex than typical paternal advice. Shall we take the carriage?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said, relief flooding through her. “That would be perfect.”
They returned to the morning room together, where the family’s attention immediately focused on them with renewed intensity.
“Mr. Bennet!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, rising from her chair. “Lizzy says she wishes to discuss Mr. Collins with you privately. At last, she shows some sense about her situation.”
Elizabeth forced herself not to wince at her mother’s obvious delight gained, no doubt, from eavesdropping.
“Indeed,” Mr. Bennet replied dryly. “Such delicate matters require careful handling. We shall take the carriage to Meryton for privacy.”
“Oh, how wonderful!” Mrs. Bennet clasped her hands together. “I am so pleased you are finally showing proper consideration for your future, my dear girl. Mr. Collins will make you an excellent husband, and the security of remaining at Longbourn after your father’s death cannot be overstated.”
Elizabeth submitted to her mother’s sudden embrace, wondering whether the gesture was from love or relief.
The preparation seemed to take an eternity. Elizabeth changed her pelisse twice, her hands shaking too badly to manage the buttons properly. Her reflection in the looking glass showed a pale young woman with unusually bright eyes and a pinched expression around the mouth. She searched her features for some resemblance to the Darcy family, but saw only the face she had always known—darker than her sisters’, more angular, with eyes that held secrets she was only beginning to understand.
The carriage arrived with the familiar clatter of wheels on gravel and the snorting of horses. Elizabeth settled herself on the worn velvet seat.
“Well?” Mr. Bennet asked, settling back in the squabs. “What pressing matters require such privacy?”
Elizabeth reached into her pocket and withdrew the letter, noting how her fingers trembled as she extended it toward him. “This was delivered by private messenger.”
Mr. Bennet’s eyes flickered to the paper, then to her face. His fingers shook as he opened the letter, and the color drained entirely from his face.
“Dear God,” he breathed, the words so quiet she almost missed them over the carriage noise. “Dear God, no.”
He looked up at her with eyes that held a grief so profound it made her chest ache. “How much have you read?”
“All of it.” Her voice cracked on the admission. “Every word.”
Mr. Bennet closed his eyes, his head falling back against the seat. “Simmons!” he called to the coachman. “Drive in a wide circle through the countryside. Keep moving until I instruct otherwise.”
The carriage turned onto a lane that would take them through farmland and wooded areas. Elizabeth watched the familiar landscape roll past—fields she had walked through countless times. All of it looked different this morning.
“Papa?” Elizabeth’s voice emerged smaller than she had intended.
“We cannot risk being overheard,” he said heavily. “Not about this. Never about this.”
“So it is true? All of it?”
