“Yes.”
Lydia leaned forward, her brows lifting. “It looks as though it might rain.”
Mr. Collins inclined his head. “Precisely.”
Elizabeth’s hand tightened slightly around the arm of her chair.
Jane did not move. “Mr. Collins,” she said slowly, “I do not understand your meaning.”
“My meaning is quite straightforward,” he replied. “A carriage is unnecessary. The distance is not great, and a ride would be entirely sufficient.”
“In the rain?” Kitty asked.
“If it rains,” Mr. Collins said, returning his attention to his plate. “Which, as Miss Lydia has observed, is likely.” He resumed his meal as though the matter were concluded.
Elizabeth felt the tension in the room shift—subtle, but unmistakable.
Jane stood very still for another moment. Then she inclined her head once more. “As you wish,” she said. She averted her gaze from him thereafter. Instead, she rose and left the room.
Elizabeth watched her go. A faint line had formed between her brows. She rose at once, reaching for her walking stick.
“Lizzy?” Lydia said.
Elizabeth paused only long enough to answer. “I shall see what she intends.” Then she followed.
Jane had not gone far. Elizabeth heard her voice before she reached the small back hall, low and steady as she spoke with Mrs. Hill. The housekeeper’s tone answered in agreement, the exchange brief but purposeful.
Elizabeth slowed her steps, allowing the sound to guide her.
“Yes, ma’am,” Mrs. Hill said. “At once.” There was a pause. Then Mrs. Hill turned, passing Elizabeth in the hall with a small nod.
Elizabeth inclined her head in return before continuing forward. “Jane?”
Jane turned at the sound of her voice. “Lizzy.” There was something in her expression—composure, certainly, but also a trace of something lighter. Amusement, perhaps.
Elizabeth smiled faintly. “I suspect,” she said, “that you have found a way around the carriage.”
Jane’s lips curved. “You know me too well.”
Elizabeth stepped nearer, angling herself so that she might better see her sister’s face. “And what have you devised?”
Jane lowered her voice slightly, though there was no one near to overhear. “I have asked Mrs. Hill to have Nellie harnessed to the gig.”
Elizabeth blinked. “The gig?”
Jane nodded. “It is still serviceable, though it has not been used in some time.”
Elizabeth felt her smile deepen. “Nellie,” she repeated. “Our most reliable and least admired horse.”
“Precisely.”
“And the gig—”
“Is quite sufficient for my purposes,” Jane said.
Elizabeth let out a soft breath of laughter. “It is an excellent solution.”
Jane’s expression warmed. “I thought so.”
