Elizabeth’s lips curved slightly. “Yes, I imagine he will make some woman a suitable husband one day.”
Boldly, Mary took Elizabeth’s arm, halting her just inside the threshold of the shop. “It has only been little more than a day, Lizzy, yet I must speak plainly. I like him—but I shall step aside if you wish.”
Surprised, Elizabeth turned to regard her. “I have no wish for him, I assure you.” Her voice dropped further, careful not to be overheard. “Mary, if you admire him, I am glad for you. And if your hopes—what I assume to be your hopes—are fulfilled, then Ellie will have a very fine uncle.”
Mary’s entire frame relaxed, relief and gladness mingling on her features. Together they advanced into the shop, where Mr Collins stood at the counter giving the shopkeeper exacting instructions on which selections to include. To Elizabeth’s eyes, there seemed to be rather too many, and she hoped the gentleman did not intend to give themallto Elinor.
When their business was concluded, they quitted the shop. Elinor emerged triumphant, sucking contentedly on a barley-sugar sweet, a peppermint stick clutched in her other hand. “They are very good, Cousin! Perhaps my new favourite!” Mr Collins patted her head with good-humoured affection whilst he enjoyed his own sweet.
They had nearly reached the lane to Longbourn when a shout caused them to halt.
“Miss Bennet! Mrs Fiennes!” The party turned to see Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy approaching on horseback. Both gentlemen dismounted as they came near. “Good day to you all! Miss Bennet, how delightful to see you.” Mr Bingley’s cheer was irrepressible, his warmth undimmed by the cool air.
“Good day, sir.” Jane spoke for them all, her cheeks already pink from the wind, deepening in colour as she smiled happily at him. “We were just returning to Longbourn after making a few purchases in Meryton.”
“Well met, then! We were just on our way to Longbourn ourselves. May we escort you?” His hopeful glance drew an answering brightness from Jane’s eyes. Elizabeth could not but help a private smile.
“Mrs Fiennes, Miss Bennet,” Mr Darcy began, his tone measured, “will you do us the honour of introducing your friend?”
Elizabeth glanced at his face and saw him watching Mr Collins with a mix of perplexity and…something more she could not define.
“Oh!” Jane clasped her hands. “How rude of me. Mr Darcy, Mr Bingley—this is our cousin, Mr Collins. He arrived yesterday and will remain at Longbourn for a fortnight. Mr Collins, may I present Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley. Mr Bingley has lately leased Netherfield Park, an estate north of Meryton.”
Mr Collins bowed. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Elinor still held his hand and waved her peppermint stick at Mr Darcy in greeting. He returned the gesture, his features softening into something remarkably tender.
At Jane’s prompt, they set out towards Longbourn in easy order—Mary and Mr Collins leading with Elinor between them, Jane and Mr Bingley following, and Mr Darcy beside Elizabeth at the last.
“Mr Collins is your father’s cousin?” He did not appear pleased. Indeed, a frown marred his handsome features. Elizabeth’s heart tightened, and she feared he might think her rude for leaving him so suddenly after their walk at Netherfield.
“Aye. He was Papa’s heir until the entail was dissolved. We are the only family he has left. My cousin was fortunate enough to be granted a living and now visits us from Hunsford, in Kent—”
“Hunsford?” The interruption was swift. “And Rosings Park?” He appeared incredulous.
“Indeed.” Now her curiosity was piqued. “Do you know it?”
“More than most. Rosings Park is my aunt’s estate, though it properly belongs to my cousin, Miss Anne de Bourgh. My aunt, Lady Catherine, governs everything until her daughter comes of age.”
“Mr Collins mentioned the lady. I have the impression he finds himself uncertain in his estimation of her. The appointment is very recent.” She glanced at him, hoping for insight into her cousin’s enigmatic comments regarding his patroness.
“My aunt is officious and controlling. She seeks to order all within her sphere to her liking. For years she has attempted the same with me. ’Tis her wish that I should marry my cousin. I have endeavoured to disabuse her of the notion, but she will not be turned aside. Your cousin will be miserable if he lacks an iron will.”
“I barely know Mr Collins,” Elizabeth admitted. “He seems a steady, kind sort of man. He is very good with Elinor—and Mary seems to like him a great deal.”
She did not know why she added that, but she peeked up at him to note his reaction all the same. His grave expression eased, his features brightening with visible relief.Perhaps he feared I would form an attachment,she thought. The notion was absurd—yet oddly pleasing.
“I hope he will do well as Hunsford’s rector,” she continued. “I am pleased to have made his acquaintance.”
“Will he remain in Hertfordshire long?”
“Only a fortnight.”
“Ah yes.” He looked momentarily abashed. “I am afraid I was not attending during the introductions.” He stopped and turned towards her. “Mrs Fiennes—Elizabeth. Surely my attentions have been too marked to ignore. I admire you most sincerely.”
Her mouth went dry. “I—” She cleared her throat. “Sir, I hardly know what to say. I value your friendship more than I can say.”
“Friendship. Is that all?” He stepped closer, his voice low. “Elizabeth, I wish for more.”
They resumed walking, the silence between them oppressive rather than comforting. His words still hung in the air. Didshewish for more?
