Tea was brought in, the fragrant steam curling in the warm air. Mr Collins, ever eager to please, complimented the selection of biscuits, the particular blend of tea, the quality of the honey, and even the delicate china cups with such fervour that Elizabeth felt a pang of pity for him. She watched him dab at the sweat on his brow with a handkerchief, wondering how a man accustomed to addressing a congregation could find himself so flustered by a simple family gathering.
As Tommy nestled closer to her side, leaning into her warmth, Elizabeth forced herself to remain composed, even as her thoughts spun around the future, the inheritance, and the strangers who might one day dictate the course of their lives. For now, she resolved, she would watch and wait, her eyes keen, her heart guarded, and her spirit determined not to be forcedinto a life she did not choose—no matter how charming, ridiculous, or intriguing the men around her might be.
“Well, what do you think of our guest?” Mr Bennet asked, his voice carrying a note of mock gravity as he surveyed his three eldest daughters from behind the closed door of his study. The comforting scent of wood smoke and old books hung in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of the brandy he had poured himself. Outside the door, the house was quiet, the younger children having been shepherded to bed by Hill, whilst Mr Collins had begged their forgiveness for retiring so early, citing the fatigue of travel and the strain of new surroundings.
Jane had reassured him, her gentle voice warm with kindness. “We are well aware how exhausting travel can be, Mr Collins,” she had said, earning a grateful, if awkward, smile from their guest.
Now, in the hush of the study, Jane answered her father’s question with her usual calm diplomacy. “I find him to be a pleasant sort of man,” she said, clasping her hands lightly in her lap. “It is clear to me that he was nervous, and it would be unfair to judge him too quickly.”
Mary, her expression pensive, adjusted her spectacles before adding, “I saw that too. But once he relaxed, he proved to be an amiable dinner companion, eager to converse and appreciative of the meal.” There was a faint glow in her eyes, the rare spark of excitement that came when she discussed matters of character and morality.
Mr Bennet’s gaze shifted to Elizabeth, his eyebrow rising with a touch of mischief. “Elizabeth? What is your opinion?”
Elizabeth hesitated, smoothing her skirts as she considered her words. “One evening is hardly enough time to form a proper opinion,” she replied, her tone carefully measured, though she felt the heat rise to her cheeks under her father’s keen gaze. Her evasive words felt heavy on her tongue, coloured by the knowledge that she alone carried: Mr Collins was the man her father intended to marry off to one of his daughters, ensuring the family’s security should the worst happen. It was a reality she could not easily set aside, even as she tried to speak with neutrality.
The look Mr Bennet gave her told her that he saw through her polite deflection. His dark eyes glinted with something unreadable, perhaps amusement, perhaps something sharper, before he leaned back in his chair with a sigh.
“Keep your counsel, then,” he said softly, swirling the liquid in his glass. “I expect all of you to treat him with the utmost respect whilst he is under this roof. He may not prove to be a sensible man, but he is family, and we must make him feel welcome.”
Jane and Mary exchanged a glance, the surprise evident on their faces. It was rare for their father to show such deliberate hospitality, rarer still for him to request it. Guests were either amusing diversions or tolerated inconveniences in Mr Bennet’s eyes; the notion that they should accommodate a guest for the sake of duty rather than pleasure was unusual indeed.
“Yes, Papa,” the sisters said in unison, their voices low in the warm quiet of the room.
“Now, go to bed.” Mr Bennet waved his hand dismissively, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “I shall remain here and read.” With that, they were dismissed.
The sisters filed out, the floorboards creaking under their light steps. The hallway was dimly lit, the sconces casting soft shadows on the walls asthey moved silently towards their rooms. Jane offered a tired smile before slipping into her chamber, her door closing with a quiet click behind her.
Mary lingered outside Elizabeth’s door, fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve, her expression troubled. “Lizzy, might we speak?” she asked, her voice small but determined.
“Of course. Come in.” Elizabeth stepped aside, allowing her sister to enter. She closed the door softly behind them, the latch clicking into place, sealing them in the familiar sanctuary of her room. The fire in the grate had burned low, the embers glowing softly, lending the space a gentle warmth.
Mary stood awkwardly for a moment, twisting her hands before her, her gaze dropping to the floor. “It is Mr Collins,” she began, clearing her throat. “I know it is too soon to be thinking of such things, but I wished to know immediately if you intend to seek his good opinion. Do you hold any interest in our cousin—in possibly being his wife?”
Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose, surprise fluttering in her chest. How quickly reality pressed upon them, forcing considerations of marriage and security in place of youthful dreams.
Mary’s cheeks flushed a soft pink as she lifted her gaze, her blue eyes earnest. “Mr Collins spoke much of Rosings Park and his work there. The life appeals to me, Lizzy. I would not attempt to win his favour if you—”
“Stop there.” Elizabeth stepped forwards, taking Mary’s hands gently in her own. “No, I have no interest in the gentleman. None at all. I ask only that you consider your choice carefully, Mary. Marriage is for a lifetime, and it would not do to have the wrong partner.”
Mary nodded, her eyes shimmering with relief as a small, shy smile curved her lips. “Thank you, Lizzy. I needed to know.”
“Best wishes, dear sister,” Elizabeth murmured, pressing a kiss to Mary’s brow before guiding her towards the door.
As the door closed softly behind Mary, Elizabeth let out a breath, leaning back against the wood for a moment. Well, at least I shall not be forced to refuse him, she thought, her mind drifting towards the calm, unreadable expression on her father’s face earlier that evening.Papa would be furious if I made a scene, but it seems I will be spared that necessity.
She moved to the window, pulling the curtain aside to look out over the moonlit fields of Longbourn, the world hushed and waiting under the silvery glow. Her thoughts turned, inevitably, to Mr Darcy and the way his dark eyes had lingered on her, seeing something in her that others did not. Despite everything, she felt the barest hint of a smile curve her lips, a fragile, secret hope she was not yet ready to name. But even that was tainted by the secret she held close to her heart, one she could not ignore, not when there were so many reminders everywhere.
The breakfast dishes had barely been cleared when Mr Bennet invited Mr Collins to join him in the study for a quiet conversation. The morning light slanted through the windows, catching the edges of the decanters on the sideboard and glinting off the brass clock on the mantle. Mr Bennet settled into his chair, waving Mr Collins to the seat across from him.
Mr Collins clasped his hands before speaking. His expression was serious but unassuming, his voice softer than usual. “Mr Bennet, I thank you for your warm welcome. I wish to speak with you on a matter of some importance.”
Mr Bennet raised a brow. “I am listening, cousin.”
The parson cleared his throat, meeting Mr Bennet’s gaze with surprising forthrightness. “As you know, I am well-settled in Kent. I am not a wealthy man, nor am I the cleverest. But I have been given a living that allows me to serve my parish and live comfortably enough. It is a lonely life, and I have found my duties weigh heavily without companionship.” He took a breath. “It has occurred to me that in marrying, I might not only find a partner to assist in those duties but also provide some security for your daughters.”
Mr Bennet regarded him quietly, the words sinking in with a depth he had not anticipated.
His cousin pressed on. “Your son, young Thomas, is still a child. If—if the worst should happen, and God forbid it does—should the entail fall to me, I would see your family cared for. If I were married to one of your daughters, it would ease the disruption, and they would still have a home.”
