Mr Collins looked on in dismay. “Have a care, Cousin Elizabeth. Miss de Bourgh is of a delicate constitution.”
Miss de Bourgh’s head whipped around, her eyes narrowed, and her cough clean forgot. “Youare Miss Elizabeth?”
“I am.”
“Then who is that?” she demanded, pointing at Jane but never taking her eyes off Elizabeth.
“That is Jane, my eldest,” Mrs Bennet answered.
“I see,” Miss de Bourgh replied. “I had assumed—but never mind that.” She looked Elizabeth up and down, then broke into a small but self-satisfied smile. “I see I was mistaken.”
Elizabeth had time to do no more than frown in bewilderment before the door was opened, and Charlotte Lucas was announced.
“Mr Collins!” cried she upon entering the room. “What are you doing here?”
Mr Collins paled and tripped over a largely incoherent explanation. “Uh, oh, ah, good day, dear. You look lovely.”
Mr Bennet snorted with mirth. Elizabeth took pity on her friend. “Miss de Bourgh expressed a wish to meet us.”
“I see,” Charlotte replied. After a momentary hesitation, she threw a belated and somewhat panicky curtsey at the lady in question.
“And why areyouhere?” asked Mrs Bennet rudely, clarifying for anybody who was unsure that she had not yet forgiven Charlotte for inveigling her way into position as Longbourn’s mistress-in-waiting.
“I came to—” Charlotte glanced awkwardly at Miss de Bourgh. “To offer my?—”
Seeing her friend visibly flounder, Elizabeth asked her, “Have you come to look at the brooch I told you about?” To Mr Collins she added, “For the wedding. Something borrowed.”
Charlotte gave her a look of intense gratitude. “Yes, if it is not too inconvenient. Thank you.”
Miss de Bourgh seemed excessively put out by this. It did not escape Elizabeth’s notice that she gave her a piercing look before turning to her companion to complain that she was cold and wished to leave. Mrs Jenkinson began explaining that her charge suffered terribly in cold weather, and as Elizabeth led Charlotte into the hall, Mr Collins started eulogising over the very great number of fireplaces that were always kept ablaze at Rosings.
“I am sorry,” Charlotte whispered as they hastened away from the parlour.
“It is hardly your fault.”
“No, but what must your mother think? I do not blame her for being angry. I came with the specific purpose of apologising for the slight in Mr Collins’s change of plans. I cannot fathom why Miss de Bourgh should demand that he give them up, only to insist that he bring her here at the very first opportunity.”
Elizabeth was increasingly certainsheknew the reason. Miss de Bourgh had evidently discovered Charlotte was not Mr Collins’s first choice of wife and had come to inspect the woman who had refused him. Her mistaken assumption that it must have been Jane, the undisputed beauty of the family, confirmed it in her mind.
Unable to guess what Charlotte’s feelings on the matter might be, she chose not to mention it, saying instead, “She is a strange woman—frail yet still overbearing. The latter must be a family trait, but her fragility makes for a curious addition.”
“Indeed it does. One moment she, or at least her companion, is complaining that she feels, or looks, or mightbecomeunwell. The next, she is demanding conversation or entertainment or?—”
“Or the use of your father’s gig.”
“Precisely! My mother is exhausting herself attempting to satisfy her every whim—of which she has an astonishing number. Maria is terrified of her. John has taken to teasing Mr Collins for being hobbled to too many women, which is makinghimill-tempered.”
“Oh dear! How long does she plan to stay? Surely, she cannot intend to impose on you for very long. ’Tis Christmas next week.”
“Until Saturday.”
“Well, that is not too bad.”
“It is four days, Eliza.” They reached Elizabeth’s bedchamber, and Charlotte turned to her with an exasperated expression. “What am I to do with her forfourdays?”
“She might improve on closer acquaintance,” Elizabeth replied, laughing as she began searching through the drawers of her dressing table. “You never know, you might become friends.”
Charlotte scoffed. “People of Miss de Bourgh’s sphere do not make friends with women like me. Her uncle is an earl!”
