It was very well that the attention reverted to Mr Bingley, who garnered Mrs Bennet’s notice by relating his own news.
“I am engaged to be married,” he cried. “My dearest Jane has consented to be my wife, and Mr Bennet has kindly given us his blessing.”
Mrs Bennet shrieked, fainted, and was once again carried to her room. The gentlemen took their leave soon thereafter, and silence descended upon the sisters, who remained deep in their own pleasant musings.
“How droll… You are to marry the proud Mr Darcy. I shall henceforth address you as Mrs High-and-mighty.”
Elizabeth stared at Lydia and hoped that her disgust was evident on her face. “Mr Darcy has reason to be proud. He is a distinguished gentleman of excellent connections, but I dare say he is not improperly so. May you be as fortunate as I when it is your time to marry.”
“I would never settle for a mere gentleman. It has to be a dashing officer, or I shall not marry at all. If I cannot be the first Bennet sister to wed, I shall choose the most handsome husband of all my sisters. Then, you can envy me at your leisure…”
Elizabeth raised her head and laughed because such was her happiness. Not even the most ridiculous comment from her silliest sister could lower her spirits.
#
Longbourn, December11th
Is longing fatal?
Mr Darcy’s sojourn to town had lasted much longer than Elizabeth’s patience. Due to business and family obligations, he had remained for two exceedingly long and tedious weeks. It was a blessing and her salvation that he wrote excellent letters—full of longing and assurances that he would indeed return to her much-sought-after company. His long letters contained not only flattery; Elizabeth surmised that she learnt more about her husband through his written words than in all their conversations combined.
Mrs Hill entered breathing like a dog in heat. She must have run and was casting apprehensive glances over her shoulder. The rhythmic taps of a cane hitting the floor notified the residents that a guest was approaching.
“Lady Catherine de Bourgh to see you, ma’am.”
Mrs Hill curtsied and moved to make way for a tall, formidable woman whose straight back and forceful presence did not indicate the walking stick was needed to support her.
“May I offer you some tea?” her mother’s voice squeaked.
The lady neither replied nor requested an introduction. She scrutinised each and every person in the room before her eyes came to rest upon Jane.
“Are you Miss Elizabeth Bennet?” she snapped.
Jane smiled serenely. “No, your ladyship. I am Miss Jane Bennet.”
To end the farce, Elizabeth stepped forward. “I am she.”
The ever-present Mr Collins, who had prolonged his stay due to his swift change of heart and engagement to Miss Lucas, smirked at her before bowing to the floor in front of his patroness. The toad must have written to Lady Catherine and apprised her of Elizabeth’s engagement to Mr Darcy. His objections had been vocal when the happy news had been related to him; he had made all sorts of vile accusations like proclaiming Mr Darcy was already engaged to his cousin, forcing Elizabeth to wait for four tormenting days before Mr Darcy’s reassuring letter arrived. An agony she had yet to forgive him for.
Lady Catherine barely offered Mr Collins a nod before shooing him out of her way.
“You have a pretty sort of wilderness beyond your small garden.”
“It is nothing compared to Rosings, I am sure, but it is larger than Sir William Lucas’s,” Mrs Bennet interrupted, but the lady paid her no mind.
“I should like to take a turn in it, if you will favour me with your company,” Lady Catherine suggested with a steady glare at Elizabeth.
“Go, dear,” her mother cried. “And show her the hermitage as well.”
Elizabeth obeyed for the sake of her family, to end the awkwardness, and to receive the scolding she was certain would follow.
“You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to understand my reason for coming hither.”
“I am not,” Elizabeth agreed.
“Has my nephew made you an offer of marriage?”
“He has.”
