“I am honoured,” he said after a moment.
Mr Collins nodded, as though this reply had confirmed something long anticipated. “Her ladyship takes a most active interest in the preservation of proper order,” he continued. “Indeed, she has often remarked upon the uncommon responsibility borneby certain families—those whose inheritance is not merely a matter of property, but of continuity.”
Darcy’s expression remained unchanged.
“It is a rare privilege,” Mr Collins pressed on, “to observe such a convergence of stewardship and descent. There are names, after all, which carry obligations beyond the ordinary—threads laid down long before our present arrangements, yet still… still discernible, if one knows how to look.”
Threads?What in the world could that mean? Elizabeth glanced at Jane, but her sister’s expression remained politely blank.
“One does not often see them align so clearly,” Mr Collins concluded, with utter satisfaction, “as they do in your family, sir. I am, you see, something of an authority on the matter, having done extensive studies on the family histories. Sir, I would count it thehighesthonour if you should desire for me to lay out the lineage and—”
“That will hardly be necessary,” Darcy cut in. “I am quite familiar with my own circumstances.”
Mr Collins faltered—only for a moment—before recovering with a deferential smile. “Of course. Of course. I merely meant—”
“I understand what you meant,” Darcy said. “I do not care to have my family or my affairs discussed.” His gaze shifted away, signalling the end of the matter.
Elizabeth glanced at Jane, who met her look with a faint crease of confusion. Lydia, for her part, had already turned her attention back to Lieutenant Denny, who appeared deeply engaged in recounting some small adventure of the previous evening.
Wickham stood a little apart, hands loosely clasped behind his back, observing the exchange with mild amusement. “Darcy is rarely tempted by ceremony,” he remarked pleasantly. “Even when it is offered with the very best intentions. Pray, do not be put out, Mr Collins.”
Darcy shot him a brief look—more acknowledgment than reproach—and Wickham’s smile deepened just slightly, as though pleased to have smoothed the exchange without drawing attention to the act.
Nothing more followed. The space between the two men felt oddly taut, as though something unspoken had been set down between them and neither wished to be the first to move it. But Mr Bingley, at least, could be relied upon for genial conversation, and Mr Denny held hisend admirably well.
She lost the thread of what was being said because, all at once, her ears no longer hurt. The change struck her so sharply that she nearly looked about her, as though something in the air had shifted without warning. She listened again, cautiously, half-expecting the pressure to return, but the voices reached her plainly enough now, no longer forcing themselves upon her attention.
She drew a slow breath, irritation flickering at herself for having noticed at all. She must have been dwelling on it—worrying at a discomfort until it grew teeth. It would ease, naturally, the moment she stopped attending to it. There was no mystery in that.
Mr Collins brought his hands together with brisk satisfaction. “Well! This has been an encounter of the greatest interest. I shall certainly write to her ladyship at once. She will be exceedingly gratified to learn of it.”
Elizabeth let out a short, incredulous breath before she could stop herself. “I am sure Lady Catherine receives a great many letters.”
“Ah, but not of this nature,” Mr Collins replied, undeterred. “Such meetings are not mere coincidence. They signify—”
“Mr Collins,” Jane said, stepping in without raising her voice, “we were just about to continue on to Meryton.”
“Yes, yes—of course,” he agreed at once, turning on the word as though it had been his idea all along. “I would not think of detaining these gentlemen further. Duties call us all in different directions.” He inclined his head toward Darcy and Bingley with formal approval, already gathering himself for departure.
Bingley swung back into the saddle with a cheerful wave. “We shall see you all again soon, I hope.”
Darcy lingered a moment longer. His gaze passed over Elizabeth without pause, then returned to Wickham. “If you will excuse us,” he said. He mounted his horse without further comment. Bingley followed at once, already speaking as they turned their horses back toward Netherfield.
Lieutenant Denny laughed. “Come along, Wickham. If we do not return by dinner, the colonel will have us scrubbing boots for a fortnight.”
Wickham cast one last, polite glance toward the ladies. “My apologies. Duty insists.” The two officers turned off down the road toward the barracks, their conversation already rising into laughter as they went.
Elizabeth watched them go, her attention lingering longer than she meant it to, until the curve of the street carried them out of sight.
“Well,” Lydia declared at once, “that was diverting! Officers, estates, titled ladies—what a very excellent morning.”
The little party gathered itself again without ceremony, and Mr Collins resumed his place at Elizabeth’s side as though nothing at all had intervened.
She did not register the change immediately, but when she did, it was hard to think of anything else.
They had gone no more than a dozen steps when the faint compression returned, just behind her ear. Whatever it was had returned, just as sharply as before.
Chapter Nineteen
