Elizabeth entered the breakfast room with her usual attentiveness, her hand resting lightly upon the familiar surface of the doorframe before she crossed to the table. The room was arranged as it had been the day before, and the day before that. Chairs remained where they ought to be, the table set with stable order. It was a small thing, perhaps, but one she appreciated more than she would ever express.
Mrs. Bennet was already seated, her expression one of lingering anxiety.
“My dear Lizzy,” she said at once, her voice softening as it always did. “How do you feel this morning?”
Elizabeth inclined her head as she took her seat. “Quite well, Mama.”
Mrs. Bennet’s gaze lingered on her a moment longer than necessary. “The weather has been dreadful. I cannot think it agrees with you.”
Elizabeth reached for her cup. “It is only a passing discomfort.”
Mr. Collins sat at the head of the table, his attention fixed upon his plate. He acknowledged her arrival with a brief inclination of his head before returning to his meal.
Elizabeth took a small portion for herself, though her appetite remained uncertain. The faint ache behind her eye persisted, not worsening, but not entirely retreating either. She kept her gaze lowered, allowing her attention to settle upon what was nearest, rather than attempting to bring the whole of the room into focus at once.
The sound of footsteps in the hall preceded Kitty’s entrance.
She came in with a touch more restraint than Lydia might have managed, though there was still an eagerness in her manner that spoke of news to be shared.
“Well?” Lydia called from her place near the window. “How is he?”
Kitty smiled as she took her seat. “In good spirits.”
Mrs. Bennet leaned forward. “And does he ask for his mama?”
“Yes,” Kitty said gently. “He asked after her when he woke, but he was not distressed. Mrs. Hill told him she would return soon.”
Elizabeth felt a small easing in her chest. Thomas, though young, had borne the absence better than might have beenexpected. Still, there would come a time when patience gave way to uncertainty.
“I hope she returns today,” Lydia said. “It is not right for her to be kept away.”
Elizabeth lifted her gaze slightly, though she did not turn fully toward her. “I am certain she will return as soon as she is able.”
As if summoned by the very thought, the door opened once more. Mrs. Hill entered, a folded note held in her hand. “For Mr. Collins,” she said.
Every head turned. Mrs. Bennet reached out at once, taking the note before passing it along. “Well, read it,” she urged.
Elizabeth listened as the paper was unfolded.
Jane’s voice was not there to read it aloud, but Elizabeth could imagine the tone in which it had been written. Measured. Considerate. Apologetic, perhaps, though no apology ought to be required.
Mrs. Bennet listened patiently, then exclaimed, “She requests the carriage.”
“Of course she does,” Lydia said. “She must come home.”
Mrs. Bennet turned toward Mr. Collins. “It must be ordered at once.”
Elizabeth set down her cup. She felt, rather than saw, the shift in the room as Mr. Collins paused.
“I think not,” he said. The words were spoken without hesitation.
Mrs. Bennet stared at him. “Not?”
“The roads have not had sufficient time to recover from the rain,” he continued. “It would be most imprudent to send the carriage under such conditions.”
Mrs. Bennet’s expression changed at once. “But she must return,” she said. “She has been away all night. Her son…”
Mr. Collins folded his hands before him. “It would be much better for the roads to dry further before Mrs. Collins attempts the journey.”
