“That, and my condition,” Charlotte said simply, resting a hand upon the curve of her belly. “I cannot bear the press of a crowd, and my husband cannot leave me alone to the mercy of a small boy’s enthusiastic mischief. But he insisted you both must attend in his place, especially as he believes you may be—how did he phrase it?—‘uniquely equipped to reflect favourably upon the Bennet line.’”
Elias looked vaguely alarmed. “That sounds rather like a campaign.”
“Oh, it is,” Mrs. Collins said, almost serenely. “Lady Catherine has never hosted a ball or an assembly without an agenda. This one, I believe, is designed to find a husband for Miss Georgiana Darcy. Her ladyship holds the entire guest list in her hand and means to play matchmaker with watchmaker precision. She will observe first impressions, catalogue every bow and courtesy, and assign each gentleman his rank in her private hierarchy before the evening is half over. Do not be surprised if you are cross-examined like a witness on trial.”
James raised a brow. “Surely she cannot be so overt.”
Charlotte’s expression was fond but firm. “But she can. And is. But her ladyship seldom succeeds—not fully. She does not yet understand that Miss Darcy is no longer sixteen, and far more self-possessed than she lets on.”
“Do you know Miss Darcy well?” Elias asked quietly.
“I have met her several times. She is... elegant,” Charlotte said, selecting the word with care. “More reserved than haughty, but that will not spare her from her aunt’s orchestration. I believe she is not yet betrothed because she has refused all who came too easily.”
Elias exchanged a glance with James. “And we are to be offered up next?”
Charlotte smiled. “Invited, not offered. I imagine her brother will be watching closely.”
“Mr. Darcy?” James asked. “What kind of gentleman is he?”
“He married Lady de Bourgh’s daughter some three years ago. His sister’s future is now a matter of family attention. Mr. Darcy is quiet, observant, loyal—and far more protective of Miss Darcy than Lady Catherine comprehends. But do not look so grim, James. You are not being led to the altar. You are merely being introduced.”
Elias leaned back in his chair. “James suspects the worst. He imagines an heiress with too much pride and too little sense—”
“I never said—”
“—who has never danced, never laughed, and never eaten a meal without three courses of flattery.”
Charlotte laughed aloud. “She is not that. Nor, I think, is she what Lady Catherine wishes to shape her into. She will notice quiet dignity more than affected charm. Which is why you must be yourselves.”
James folded his arms. “Ourselves?”
Charlotte’s tone softened. “Gentlemen. Observant. Well-mannered. Intelligent. All the things that neither Lady Catherine nor half the room will value—but Miss Darcy may.”
There was a pause. The ticking of the mantel clock filled the space where argument might have risen.
Elias said at last, “Well, I shall not dance unless I must.”
“And I shall not propose unless I am begged,” James added in banter.
Charlotte smiled once more. “Then you are perfectly prepared.”
It was clear that neither man expected much from Rosings—but both had begun, however faintly, to suspect that expectations were seldom the point at all.
Four
The drawing room at Rosings Park had been prepared long before the guests arrived, for Lady Catherine de Bourgh never trusted to the hour itself what could be controlled in advance, and the arrangement of chairs, tables, screens, and footstools bore the unmistakable stamp of her authority. Nothing stood where comfort might have placed it; everything was positioned according to visibility, precedence, and her own convenience, so that those seated nearest her were most exposed, and those she wished merely to observe were left at a slight remove, neither neglected nor encouraged.
When the Bennet brothers were shown in, preceded by Mr. Collins and announced with unnecessary volume by the footman, Lady Catherine was already installed near the hearth, her back perfectly straight, her expression composed into what she clearly considered benevolence. Mrs. Darcy sat to her left, hands folded in her lap, attentive and quiet, while Georgiana Darcy occupied a chair nearer the window, placed there not by choice but by instruction, the light falling upon her with calculated advantage. Fitzwilliam Darcy remained standing until Lady Catherine herself inclined her head, at which point he seated himself opposite her, where he could observe the entire room without appearing to take command of it.
Mr. Collins advanced first, bowing so deeply that his body seemed almost to fold upon itself. “Good afternoon, your ladyship,” he began, his voice resonant with reverence, “and permit me to express my profound gratitude for the honour of this invitation, which I esteem not merely as a personalprivilege, but as a further proof of your ladyship’s unfailing regard for family, order, and propriety.”
He straightened only enough to turn, with another careful bow, to the lady seated nearest her. “Mrs. Darcy—pray allow me to offer my most respectful compliments. It gives me the greatest satisfaction to see you here, and to observe you in such—if I may be permitted the expression—excellent appearance.”
To Miss Darcy he bowed again, with a solemnity that suggested he considered her presence an ornament to the whole scene. “Miss Darcy.”
And then, with a quick, deferential inclination toward the gentleman opposite, he added, “Mr. Darcy,” as though acknowledging at once rank, consequence, and the fact that this was the only man in the room who might interrupt him.
Lady Catherine inclined her head, neither interrupting nor encouraging him, which Mr. Collins took as permission to continue.
