“Has Mr. Collins mentioned a specific time for his visit?” she asked, calculating how many hours she had before the trap closed.
“Two o’clock,” Mrs. Bennet replied with triumph. “He was most particular about the timing, saying he wished to speak with your father when the household was settled and peaceful. Such consideration! Such proper feeling!”
“If you’ll excuse me,” Elizabeth said, rising from the table. “I believe I shall take a walk to clear my head. Such important decisions require careful consideration.”
“A walk? Now?” Mrs. Bennet looked horrified. “But your hair, your dress! We must prepare you!”
“There is time enough for that when I return,” Elizabeth insisted. “The fresh air will bring color to my cheeks.”
Jane rose as well. “Shall I accompany you, Lizzy?”
“No!” Elizabeth said too quickly, then softened her tone. “No, thank you, Jane. I wish to be alone with my thoughts.”
“Very well, my dear,” Mrs. Bennet conceded reluctantly. “Though do not tarry too long. You’ll want to look your best when Mr. Collins arrives. And stay on the gravel paths—your hem must remain clean! Oh, and take your bonnet. We cannot have you freckled on your engagement day!”
Elizabeth slipped from the breakfast room and hurried upstairs, her mind racing. She had precisely one chance to escape before Mr.Collins arrived with his unwanted proposal and expectations of acceptance. She moved quickly, gathering only the barest essentials into a small valise. A change of clothes, her warmest pelisse, her meager savings—three pounds, seven shillings—carefully extracted from the small box in her drawer. It was pathetically inadequate for what she intended, but it was all she had.
She tucked the mysterious letter inside her bodice, close to her heart. She thought fleetingly of the locket Mr. Bennet had mentioned during their carriage conversation—the one containing miniatures of her true parents. He had refused her and promised it would be hers only after she was safely wed to Mr. Collins, when the danger had passed and the inheritance deadline expired. She could not waste time searching for it.
Elizabeth glanced out the window. The sky hung heavy with gray clouds—an apt reflection of her mood. Would she ever see Longbourn again? Would she succeed in her quest or merely trade one form of captivity for another?
A light tap at her door startled her.
“Lizzy?” Jane’s voice. “Are you well?”
Elizabeth hastily pushed the valise beneath her bed. “Yes, come in.”
Jane entered, her beautiful face clouded with concern. “You seem troubled. Is it truly Mr. Collins?”
For a moment, Elizabeth longed to confide everything—the letter, her true identity, the murders, the inheritance. Jane would listen without judgment, offer comfort without conditions. But she would also insist on proper channels and prudent measures—all delays that would preclude Elizabeth from claiming her birthright.
“Just contemplating the joys of matrimony,” Elizabeth replied with forced lightness. “How can one not be overwhelmed by the prospect of Mr. Collins’s conversation at breakfast every day for the rest of one’s natural life?”
Jane smiled, though her eyes remained troubled. “You need not accept him if your heart rebels against the match.”
“Need I not?” Elizabeth challenged gently. “With the entailment hanging over our heads? With five daughters dependent upon advantageous marriages? With Mama’s nerves ready to shatter at the slightest provocation?”
“Your happiness matters, Lizzy.”
My very life may be at stake, Elizabeth thought.And with it, the justice denied to my parents for twenty years.
“I shall be fine, Jane,” she assured her sister. “I simply need some air and solitude to order my thoughts.”
Jane embraced her briefly. “Remember that you are not alone.”
But she was alone—more profoundly than Jane could possibly understand. Elizabeth waited until Jane descended the stairs before retrieving her valise. Tucking it beneath her cloak, she slipped down the servants’ staircase and out the side door, avoiding the drawing room where her mother entertained Mary and Kitty with elaborate descriptions of Elizabeth’s future as Mrs. Collins.
Once beyond the garden gate, Elizabeth exhaled sharply. Longbourn grew smaller behind her as she strode purposefully toward Lucas Lodge. The autumn air held a bite that penetrated even her warmest pelisse, and gray clouds gathered overhead, casting a somber light over the landscape.
The three-mile walk to Lucas Lodge took her through fields now stripped bare after harvest, past skeletal trees whose branches rattled in the chill breeze like brittle bones. The path wound alongside a small stream swollen with recent rains, its waters dark and turbulent—much like her thoughts.
Lucas Lodge appeared through the morning mist. If anyone would help her, it would be Charlotte. Charlotte would understand. Charlotte, with her practical mind and loyal heart, would see the justice of Elizabeth’s cause and provide the assistance that her father had denied.
“Lizzy!” Charlotte’s surprise was evident as she welcomed her into the morning room. “How early you are abroad today. Nothing is amiss, I hope?”
Elizabeth’s carefully prepared speech dissolved at the sight of her friend’s kind face. “I need your help, Charlotte. Desperately.”
Charlotte guided Elizabeth to a seat near the fire that crackled cheerfully in the grate. “You look half-frozen. And is that a valise beneath your cloak? What’s happened?”
