Mr Bennet peered over the top of his spectacles, one brow raised. “Yes, cousin?”
Clearing his throat, Mr Collins gave a nervous smile. “I hope you will pardon the interruption. I… I have a matter of some personal significance to discuss.”
Jane looked at Elizabeth. Elizabeth looked at Mary. Mary sat taller, her cheeks tinged with colour.
Mr Collins turned to Mr Bennet and gave a short bow. “Sir, you know that during my time here in Hertfordshire, I have developed a growing admiration for your daughter, Miss Mary. Her piety, sensibility, and musical talents have moved me greatly. Though I must soon return to my duties at Hunsford, I would be most honoured if I might enter into a formal courtship with her—with the goal of better acquaintance, correspondence, and, if God should bless our connection, a union in due time.”
Mary’s face was now quite red, but she met Mr Collins’s gaze steadily. “I…would not object,” she said quietly, not waiting for her father to answer. “Your conversation has been agreeable, and I admire your dedication to your vocation.”
Elizabeth, watching her sister with quiet wonder, felt an unexpected surge of pride.
Mr Bennet blinked, then leaned back in his chair with a grin. “Well, well. First Jane is engaged, and now Mary is entering into a courtship. Your dear mother would be in such raptures, I fear we would never hear the end of it.”
He looked towards Kitty, who had abandoned her embroidery entirely. “At this rate, Kitty, it shall soon be your turn. Prepare yourself—you may come out by next spring if you promise to behave as decorously as your elder sisters.”
Kitty gave a delighted squeal. “Oh! Truly, Papa?”
Lydia, seated beside her, tossed her curls. “If Kitty may come out, then so may I! I am only just younger.”
Mr Bennet fixed her with a firm stare. “You, my dear Lydia, are not yet sixteen. Even that is a bit young for a proper debut, especially for one with your penchant for mischief.”
Lydia pouted. “But Jane wassixteen—”
“Jane,” Mr Bennet said dryly, “was already wiser than I at that age. I fear your sense has yet to bloom. You may pout, but you shall remain under our roof a while longer.”
Elizabeth stifled a laugh behind her hand. Lydia slumped dramatically in her seat but made no further protest.
Mr Bennet stood and approached Mr Collins. “Sir, I am gratified by your intentions. If Mary is willing, then you have my full permission to court her. Do write to us from Hunsford—I shall look forward to your sermons in ink.”
Mr Collins beamed. “Thank you, cousin. Thank you, Miss Mary. I shall begin a letter at once. Lady Catherine always approves of respectable, sensible matches, and I daresay she will see the merit in such a connection.”
“I do not require Lady Catherine’s approval,” Mary said softly, “though I appreciate your concern.”
Elizabeth’s brows lifted in amusement, and Jane smiled gently at her sister.
“Well said,” Mr Bennet murmured to Elizabeth as he returned to his chair. “There’s steel in her spine after all. She will keep him well enough in check.”
As Mr Collins bowed to each of them again and took his leave to begin his letter, Jane leaned towards Elizabeth and whispered, “Do you think they will suit?”
Elizabeth considered it. “Oddly enough… yes. Mary has long needed someone who appreciates her seriousness, and I suspect Mr Collins has always longed to be appreciated.”
“An excellent match,” Mr Bennet agreed, sipping his tea. “I shall be very curious to read their letters. I imagine they will quote sermons at each other and debate the finer points of morality until their hands ache from writing.”
Mary gave her father a sidelong look. “I hope our correspondence will not be a subject of amusement, sir.”
“Not at all, my dear,” he replied, softening. “I am delighted. Genuinely. You are a thoughtful, devoted young woman, and Mr Collins… well, he is quite earnest. You will balance one another.”
Elizabeth looked around the room. Jane, glowing with joy, Mary pleased and composed, Kitty full of good cheer as she assisted Tommy, her embroidery forgotten, Lydia sulking but content to be noticed, and her father—well, her father was basking in the pride of seeing his daughters begin to secure futures of their own. Her heart warmed.
She thought of Mr Darcy—his steady hand at her back last night, the press of his lips to her fingers, and the promise to meet her this morning. A soft thrill curled through her chest.
Yes, she thought. All was changing, and for once, the changes were good.
The morning air was crisp and clean after the recent rains, each breath Elizabeth took cool and bracing. Oakham Mount stood before her like a familiar friend, its winding path kissed by sunlight that danced through the thinning branches of the trees. The damp earth beneath her feet gave slightly with each step, no mud today would hinder her.
She reached the summit just before the hour and turned to look out over the rolling Hertfordshire fields. The sky stretched wide and endless above, a pale wash of blue streaked with soft clouds. In the quiet, the world felt suspended—held still by the promise of something meaningful.
A faint sound of hoofbeats caught her attention. She turned, heart fluttering, and there he was.Mr Darcy.
