“My dear Miss Bennet,” he said, gesturing lightly toward the house as it came fully into view, “you will perceive at once how very comfortably my daughter is situated. It is a most eligible residence. My daughter is well placed indeed.”
Elizabeth followed his glance. The parsonage stood tidily within a small yard, its situation neither lovely nor unpleasant, but possessing that air of order which suggests careful management rather than natural advantage. There was nothing in it to excite admiration, yet neither was there anything to provoke discontent. It was a neat, comfortable establishment, in which Charlotte would likely be perfectly satisfied.
“It appears very comfortable,” she said.
“Very comfortable indeed,” Sir William repeated, settling back with satisfaction. “I havealways said that my daughter would know how to make the best of any situation. She has a mind for such things.”
Maria, who had been leaning forward to catch the first glimpse of the house, turned eagerly toward Elizabeth. “Charlotte writes that she is quite happy,” she said. “She says the house suits her perfectly.”
Elizabeth smiled. “I have no doubt it does.”
She spoke without hesitation, and yet even as she did so, she felt the distinction between what Charlotte had written and what Charlotte must feel. With Charlotte, happiness had never been a matter of romance or expectations, but of arrangement, of comfort, of securing for herself the best that could be had. That she had succeeded in doing so was not to be questioned. That it was worth the price she had paid for it, Elizabeth could not determine so easily.
The carriage came to a stop before the house. Almost at once, the door opened and Mr Collins appeared on the threshold. His expression, already animated, turned to one of self-importance at the sight of their party, and he advanced with a degree of ceremony which suggested that the moment had long been anticipated.
“My dear Cousin Elizabeth!” he exclaimed, bowing deeply as she descended. “What a most distinguished pleasure this is. I cannot express the gratification I feel in welcoming you to Hunsford.Such an honour that you have come to accept the humble offerings of my house.”
Elizabeth, who had prepared herself for something of this kind, received his address with as much composure as she could command. “You are very kind, sir.”
“And Sir William, Miss Maria, how happy I am to see you all,” he continued, extending his attentions in turn, though never for long enough to diminish his focus on Elizabeth. “My dear Charlotte has been in the greatest expectation of your arrival. Indeed, we have spoken of little else for several days.”
At this moment, Charlotte herself appeared behind him. Though her manner was calm, her smile was warm. “My dear Lizzy,” she said, stepping forward with unaffected pleasure. “I am very glad to see you.”
Elizabeth smiled and held out her hand, relieved at a greeting she need not pretend anything she did not feel. “My dear Charlotte.”
For a moment, all else receded. Charlotte’s manner had not changed. There was the same steadiness, the same quiet self-possession, the same absence of display which had always distinguished her from those around her. If there was any difference, it lay not in her, but in the situation she now occupied.
“I hope you are not fatigued,” Charlotte said as she led them inside. “The journey is not a short one.”
“Not at all,” Elizabeth replied.
Mr Collins, however, was not inclined to allow any interval of quiet reflection.
“You will find the house, I trust, in a state worthy of your inspection,” he said, following closely behind. “Though it can make no pretensions to grandeur, it possesses advantages which, I believe, are not always to be met with in residences of this description. The situation, in particular, is much to be admired, in being so very near to Rosings Park, the seat of my noble patroness.”
Charlotte cast Elizabeth a brief look, in which there was the smallest hint of amusement, before turning again to her husband with composed attention. “We are very fortunate in our situation,” she agreed.
“Extremely so,” Mr Collins agreed, with renewed enthusiasm. “And you will have the advantage, my dear Miss Elizabeth, of observing for yourself the condescension and affability of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, whose attentions to your humble cousin are such as cannot be too highly valued.”
Elizabeth inclined her head, fearing that she could not answer aloud without laughing and insulting her cousin’s dignity. Perhaps seeing her difficulty, Charlotte intervened and persuaded herhusband to allow their guests fully into the house. But they had scarcely been shown into the sitting room when the sound of wheels on the gravel reached them.
Mr Collins started visibly. “A carriage!” he exclaimed, and hurried to the window to peer out. “Why, yes! I had thought it must be. Indeed, it could be no other. Such an honour we are to receive!”
“Who is it, my dear?” Charlotte inquired mildly.
“Why, my dearest wife! It is none other than Lady Catherine herself. Make haste, make haste!”
As Elizabeth wondered what Mr Collins wished them to do in haste, Charlotte looked toward the window without alarm. “Lady Catherine did mention that she might call,” she remarked.
“And now we must not lose a moment,” Mr Collins urged. “It is proper, indeed it is necessary, that we receive her ladyship at the door.”
Elizabeth looked at her cousin in astonishment. Surely he could not really mean them to all go to the door and meet her ladyship there. Despite his obvious desire to prostrate himself before his patroness, it would have been far better manners and likely more comfortable for Lady Catherine too for her to be shown into the drawing room and received there. But Charlotte, from her better knowledge of Mr Collins, was already guiding her father and sistertowards the door after her husband, and Elizabeth therefore followed likewise.
When the door was opened, it revealed a considerable party. There was an older and officious-looking woman who must be Lady Catherine herself, a woman elegantly dressed but with a pale, strained face, a girl of around Lydia’s age, a tall, strongly built man in the uniform of the regulars — and Mr Darcy!
It took all Elizabeth’s self-control not to betray her surprise at seeing him. Stranger still, she found herself not only surprised to see him, but deeply, unreasonably pleased.
She chided herself for the reaction. Yes, this meeting would likely allow her a chance to discretely thank him for coming to her aid, but why should that leave her heart beating fast and her cheeks feeling heated? Mr Darcy ought to be nothing more to her than the gentleman she had once misjudged. She could and must respect his intelligence, his character, and his willingness to act for the public good, but that was all. It would be the height of folly to feel anything more.
