“You do not usually join me here during the day,” Mrs. Bennet observed. “Shall I request tea?”
“If you please.”
He waited until the tea had been brought and poured. Only after Mrs. Bennet had served him did he speak again. “Lizzy informed you that my cousin arrives tomorrow?”
Mrs. Bennet stiffened. “It is very hard that the man who is to take my home should visit it so comfortably.”
“Your sentiments on that subject are already well established.” Mr. Bennet replied mildly. “You need not fear for your comfort. You will be properly provided for.”
Mrs. Bennet gave a small huff. “Lizzy says he intends to marry one of the girls, and she has made it plain that she will not havehim. If she refuses, who is to secure us? No one will marry a girl who conducts the estate as though she were its steward.”
“Do you wish her to marry him?”
Mrs. Bennet hesitated. “If she did, I should no longer be mistress here.”
Mr. Bennet regarded her for a moment. “Mr. Collins will be received civilly. Nothing more.”
She bristled. “Naturally he shall be received civilly. But he may suit Jane, though Mr. Bingley might suit Jane better. Mary could answer, perhaps, unless he prefers Jane.”
“None of the girls will be pressed,” Mr. Bennet said, his tone still mild. “If one of them should form an attachment of her own accord, we shall consider it. But they are not to be urged, particularly not Lizzy.”
Mrs. Bennet frowned. “It is easy for some to refuse when they do not consider the rest of us.”
Mr. Bennet’s expression altered slightly. “She considers us more than you know.”
There was a pause.
Mrs. Bennet lifted her cup again. "Very well. He will be received civilly, if he must.”
***
Elizabeth glanced up at the sun, still high above the hedgerows. There was ample time to call on Mrs. Smith before returning home. Harris followed at a short distance, the leather satchel tied securely to his saddle. The September breeze was warm, and after a morning spent at her desk, the open air was a relief.
Before long, they reached the Smith cottage.
Emma opened the door almost at once, her doll clutched firmly in her arms. A bright smile spread across her face. “Miz Lizzy is here!” she called over her shoulder.
Mrs. Smith appeared from within, Samuel swaddled tightly and cradled in her arms, one careful hand supporting his small head where it rested against her shoulder. She looked well, though still a little pale from her confinement. “Please come in, Miss Elizabeth.”
Inside, the cottage was warm. Sarah stood at the stove, stirring a pot of stew that filled the room with a comforting aroma.
“How are you feeling?” Elizabeth asked gently. “And how does this little gentleman fare?”
“I am improving each day,” Mrs. Smith replied with a soft smile, “though I tire sooner than I once did. That is only to be expected. Pray, sit.”
“May I hold him?”
“With pleasure,” Mrs. Smith said, easing carefully into a chair before transferring the infant. “He would be carried from morning until night if we allowed it.”
Elizabeth slid one arm beneath him and supported his head and neck with the other before settling at the table. Samuel stirred faintly, his tiny fist opening and closing against the folds of his blanket before he gave a small, contented sigh.
“And you, Emma?” Elizabeth asked. “Are you a diligent elder sister?”
Emma nodded gravely. “I am a good big sister. When I am bigger, I shall hold him.”
“I have no doubt you shall,” Elizabeth said warmly.
She inclined her head toward the satchel Harris had brought inside. “I have brought additional supplies. The thread is finer than before. My aunt believes there is demand in Cheapside for floral edging.”
