Elizabeth could not dismiss the impression that some understanding had shifted between them, though nothing hadbeen spoken, and she found the thought at once disquieting and not entirely unwelcome.
***
Elizabeth sat at the small escritoire in her writing room, finishing a letter to her uncle, Mr. Gardiner. The room was modest but possessed a window overlooking the garden, burst into riotous colour in the summer months. At present, the beds lay dormant beneath the season’s chill, yet she loved the view. It was her refuge.
Without warning, the door was thrown open.
“Miss Elizabeth. There you are. I have been in search of you.”
Elizabeth set down her pen, folded her letter with care, and placed it aside before looking up.
“It appears you have succeeded, Mr. Collins. How may I assist you?”
“I have long wished for a private conversation.”
“Indeed?” She rose and moved toward the doorway. “Millie, if you please, remain just here.”
She opened the door fully. Elizabeth returned to her desk and indicated the chair opposite. “Pray be seated.”
Mr. Collins complied, though not without solemn gravity.
After a moment’s pause, Elizabeth regarded him steadily. “You wished to speak with me.”
“Yes. It is necessary that I address certain expectations of conduct proper to my future wife.”
Elizabeth inclined her head slightly. “And in what manner does that concern me, sir?”
Mr. Collins blinked, then proceeded with renewed assurance. “Surely you must have observed the particular attention I have shown you.”
“Attention?” she repeated calmly. “You refer to the attentions of the last day?”
“I determined almost immediately upon my arrival,” he said, drawing himself up, “that you were the young lady best suited to unite with me in marriage. I am confident my esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, would fully approve.”
Elizabeth regarded him for a measured moment. “I am sensible of the compliment you intend, Mr. Collins. Yet we are but newly acquainted. I should consider it imprudent to form a resolution of such consequence with such haste. I do not yet know you well, sir, and I believe you cannot claim to know me.”
Mr. Collins shifted in his seat but did not retreat. “Lady Catherine is a lady of uncommon discernment,” he insisted. “Her judgement in such matters is rarely mistaken.”
“Her judgement is no doubt of great value to you,” Elizabeth replied evenly. “In matters so personal to myself, however, I must be guided by my own understanding.” She rose. “I thank you for the confidence you place in me. At present, I cannot engage further upon the subject. We are expecting company this evening.”
Mr. Collins stood as well, still composed, though faintly unsettled. “I trust, then, that with proper consideration…”
“I am sure all proper consideration will be given,” she returned calmly. “You will excuse me, sir.” Elizabeth moved toward the open door. “I shall see you at dinner.”
With no further encouragement forthcoming, Mr. Collins inclined his head stiffly and withdrew, clearly persuaded that modest reserve, not opposition, had delayed his success. The door closed gently behind him and Elizabeth returned to her desk.
***
Elizabeth descended the stairs and entered the drawing room. The Netherfield party had not yet arrived, and she slipped into the dining room to survey the table. With some relief, she observed that her mother had not placed her beside Mr. Collins. That distinction belonged to Miss Bingley, with Mary stationed on his other side.
Elizabeth could not suppress a smile. It was precisely her mother’s way. If she could not secure Elizabeth for Mr. Collins, then Mary must answer the purpose. Perhaps, she reflected, Mary would not object to the arrangement.
Returning to the drawing room, she seated herself beside Jane. “Do you anticipate the evening with pleasure?” Elizabeth asked lightly.
“Indeed,” Jane replied. “It will be agreeable to see our neighbours.”
“Our neighbours,” Elizabeth repeated, amused. “Or one particular? Mr. Bingley, perhaps?”
Jane laughed softly. “You are very fond of teasing. But tell me, Lizzy, what of Mr. Darcy?”
