Page 115 of A Most Unwelcome Acquaintance

“He mentioned several things from Hertfordshire.”

Lady Catherine’s gaze sharpened. “Did he mention the girl?”

Georgiana drew herself straighter in her chair. “He wrote of persons he has met.”

“That is not an answer.”

“It is the answer I can give.”

Collins looked from one lady to the other with the startled delight of a man who found himself present at a family matter and feared being dismissed before it ripened.

Lady Catherine did not pursue the subject at breakfast. She questioned Mr. Collins, drawing from him every scrap of Hertfordshire rumor he possessed, and he was eager to oblige. Mr. Bingley’s sisters were elegant, Miss Bennet was called beautiful, and Mrs. Bennet was considered foolish.

The younger daughters were much in the society of officers, while the second daughter had a sharp tongue that some excused as wit. Mr. Bennet was negligent, indolent, and clever enough to make correction difficult, and the dog, from all accounts, enjoyed unusual liberty.

“Liberty,” Lady Catherine repeated. “That word explains much.”

Collins nodded. “Young women are often better with proper guidance than too much freedom.”

“And for dogs, I dare say,” Anne said from her end of the table.

Georgiana looked at her cousin in surprise. Anne’s expression was calm, but Mrs. Jenkinson bent over the tea urn to hide a smile.

Lady Catherine accepted every report as confirmation. “I shall hear no defense of such disorder. If Darcy has entered this circle, someone must intervene.”

Mr. Collins blinked. “Intervene, your ladyship?”

“There are matters young men of fortune choose not to see. I must act before folly becomes public.”

Georgiana’s appetite left her.

The rest of the meal passed under Lady Catherine’s questions. Collins, encouraged by the attention, described Longbourn, though he had never seen it. He spoke of his future obligation to improve the estate when Providence placed it in his hands, his compassion for the daughters who would one day leave it, and Charlotte’s good fortune in having married a man prepared for such responsibilities.

Lady Catherine dismissed him after breakfast with advice on his sermon, his poultry yard, and Charlotte’s management of the linen. Collins withdrew in a glow of obligation.

When he had gone, Georgiana rose. “May I be excused, Aunt?”

“In a moment. Sit down.”

Georgiana sat.

Lady Catherine turned to Mrs. Jenkinson. “Take Anne to the morning room.”

“I prefer to remain,” Anne said.

“Nonsense. You are fatigued.”

“I am always fatigued. It cannot be an argument for every removal.”

Anne held her shawl around her shoulders and did not move. After a pause, Lady Catherine dismissed Mrs. Jenkinson.

The door closed.

“Georgiana,” Lady Catherine said, “you will give me your brother’s letters.”

“No, ma’am.”

The answer came before Georgiana had time to fear it. Once spoken, it steadied her.