Page 119 of A Most Unwelcome Acquaintance

“If your ladyship should honor Longbourn with your presence,” he said, almost breathless from significance, “I cannot doubt the family will be sensible of the distinction. It may overwhelm Mrs. Bennet, but in such a case even excess of feeling becomes a tribute.”

“Mrs. Bennet’s feelings do not concern me,” Lady Catherine said. “Her daughters do.”

Collins bowed until his chin came close to his chest. “Then I pity and envy them, your ladyship, in equal measure.”

Lady Catherine did not ask why, and he did not require encouragement to explain. Georgiana listened from the window, the keys pressing cold against her palm.

Anne sat near her. After a time she said, low enough that her mother could not hear, “You were right not to give her the letters.”

Georgiana looked at her.

Anne’s eyes remained on the fire. “It will not stop her.”

“No.”

“But it matters.”

Georgiana closed her hand around the keys. “I hope so.”

Outside, the first lamps were lit along the drive. By the next evening, Lady Catherine intended to be in Hertfordshire. Georgiana had thought her brother’s letters brought the world nearer; she had never imagined they might bring Rosings down upon it.

Chapter 27

THE PATH TO NETHERFIELD held the last damp of the morning beneath the hedges, though the sky was clear and the fields shone under a pale sun. Jane lifted her skirts where the ground sank near the stile, and Elizabeth crossed behind her with Sarah at her heels.

Their mother had objected to the walk on grounds of distance, mud, rank, weather, and the waste of a carriage that stood ready in the yard. Jane had borne the protest with patience. Elizabeth had pointed out that the distance had not grown since Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst called at Longbourn, and Bennet had ended the dispute by asking whether Netherfield had moved during the night.

Sarah ran ahead, stopped at the next gate, and looked back.

“You know the way,” Elizabeth said.

Jane smiled. “She may think we do not.”

“To her, caution is a fault of people who cannot judge for themselves.”

Sarah waited until they came within a few yards before passing through the gate and following the track toward the house.

Jane watched her. “Do you think Miss Bingley will object?”

“To Sarah?”

“To our bringing her.”

“She will remain outside. Miss Bingley may object to the knowledge that a dog crossed her lawn, but I am sure she can survive the trial.”

Jane’s expression asked for restraint and expected none.

Their visit had a simple purpose. Caroline and Louisa had called at Longbourn, and courtesy required a return. Elizabeth refused to reward Caroline’s courtesy with distrust, though the dinner at Longbourn had shown how little warmth stood behind it. Jane wanted to preserve peace, while Elizabeth doubted peace could survive Caroline’s scrutiny.

The front of Netherfield came into view beyond the trees. Sarah left the path and moved toward the stable yard, drawn by the horses and the scent of straw. A groom, who knew her from earlier visits, held out a hand.

“She will give no trouble, miss,” he said. “I will take her to the tack room.”

Sarah looked at Elizabeth for leave.

“Stay,” Elizabeth said.

Sarah sat beside the groom, though her attention remained on the entrance.