“'My dear Mr Collins,
I have received your recent account of the state of society in Hertfordshire and must confess myself less surprised than concerned by what you relate. It is not unexpected that a neighbourhood unaccustomed to proper distinctions should entertain conjecture where none is required, yet I cannot approve the conditions under which such conjecture has been allowed to arise.
You will therefore oblige me by attending closely to the manner in which certain matters are spoken of, particularly where my nephew, Mr Darcy, is concerned. His present situation is, in my view, ill-judged, and his continued residence in that quarter serves only to invite confusion, curiosity, and improper expectation. There are places in which one may reside without consequence, and others where presence alone is sufficient to provoke misinterpretation. Hertfordshire is, quite clearly, of the latter kind.'”
Mr Collins read with emphasis rather than fluency, pausing often to savour phrases he clearly considered exemplary. Elizabeth found herself counting breaths—not to soothe herself, but merely to remain seated.
But at the mention of Hertfordshire, something in her stomach turned outright.
She lowered her gaze to the cup, tracing the faint groove in the handle left by years of wear. The sound of Mr Collins’s voice seemed to drive inward, not upon her ears, but somewhere behind them—like standing too near a bell that still trembled long after being struck.
“'It has always been understood that responsibilities of long standing are not subject to personal inclination, nor altered by temporary associations. They persist until acknowledged and addressed in their proper sphere, and it is neither prudent nor becoming to allow them to be discussed as though they were matters of opinion rather than position. I should regret exceedingly any circumstance that permitted idle speculation to obscure what has been settled by inheritance and arrangement alike.
You will recall the arrangements regarding my daughter, Anne, and the necessity of proceeding with due seriousness where her interests are involved. I must insist that nothingbe said or done in Hertfordshire that might encourage false hopes or unseemly conjecture on the subject of my nephew’s marital prospects. Silence, in such cases, is not neutrality. It is invitation.'”
When Anne de Bourgh’s name was spoken, Elizabeth’s vision dimmed at the edges—not darkness, but a soft blur, as though the room had slipped half an inch out of alignment. She took another sip of tea and found it helped less than before.
Papa stiffened, and his gaze found her. A faint narrowing of his eyes as their gazes crossed, then his expression eased, and he seemed to chuckle as he dropped his attention to the floor.
“'I trust you will understand that I rely upon your discretion, judgment, and loyalty in these matters. It is essential that those within your influence are guided toward a proper understanding of what is—and is not—to be expected. Should my nephew require reminding of where his duties properly lie, I do not doubt that he will receive such guidance from the appropriate quarter without delay.
You will keep me informed of any developments that touch upon this subject, and you may assure yourself that I shall not regard neglect lightly where clarity has been so plainly afforded.
Lady C. de Bourgh'“
Mr Collins folded the letter with satisfaction. “I trust,” he said, “that my esteemed patroness’s views will be received in the spirit intended—one of clarity, propriety, and the preservation of established order.”
Silence followed. Mary appeared to be pondering the letter deeply. Kitty coughed, and Lydia snickered.
Papa regarded Mr Collins for a long moment, his head tipped slightly to one side, as though considering a specimen whose function remained uncertain. He made a small sound in his throat—not assent, not dissent. Curiosity.
“And this order,” he said at last, mildly. “You find it so very fragile?”
Mr Collins stiffened. “Not fragile, sir. Merely vulnerable to… distraction.” His gaze flicked, just once, toward Elizabeth. “Society cannot indulge every personal inclination when greater obligations are at stake. One must be vigilant, lest sentiment interfere with duty.”
The words landed like a misjudged step—too close, too deliberate, and a shiver shot down her spine.
“Well,” Papa said at last, “how very generous of Lady Catherine to concern herself so fully with affairs at such a distance. One might almost suppose she feared something might occur without her approval.”
Mr Collins blinked. “I—I assure you, sir, her ladyship’s concern is entirely appropriate—”
“Undoubtedly,” Mr Bennet agreed. “Though I confess I admire her confidence. To know so precisely where a man oughtnotto be, without troubling herself over where he actually is.”
“Sir!” Mr Collins shook his head with a dismissive smile. “You misinterpret her intentions. My reasons for sharing her words are merely to… instructmy fair cousins that certain comportment may be unseemly. Why, I understand that there was some disturbance recently, requiring prolonged intimacy with the party residing at Netherfield. While such an incident certainly must reflect well on the hospitality of our neighbours, toencouragefurther such encounters would be…” He smiled again. “Mostunwise.”
Elizabeth lifted her head.
Papa’s gaze flicked to her—briefly, carefully—then away again.
“I think,” he continued, “we have been thoroughly instructed for one evening. Mr Collins, you must be fatigued after such earnest reading. Pray allow the rest of us the comfort of digestion. And if you will all excuse me, I believe the hearth in my library is currently boasting a fire that no one is enjoying.”
Elizabeth left the drawingroom without waiting for anything else to be said.
She clipped the doorframe with her shoulder and barely registered it. Someone said her name behind her—Mama, she thought—but she did not slow to answer. The passage seemed longer than it ought to have been. Her stomach turned hard and fast, warning her with an urgency she did not question. If she stopped, she would not keep her composure. She set her jaw and kept going.
She was close on Papa’s heels now, as he opened his library door. But before he went inside, he turned. “Lizzy?”
She reached for the door and fled inside with him. The door shut behind her with a force she did not moderate.
