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Jane laughed and bent her head over her reins. She did not bend it low enough to hide her pink cheek. Where the lane opened onto the long meadow, Mr Bingley had turned in his saddle and was holding his hat aloft. He showed no sign of putting it back on.

The gentlemen rode ahead towards the cover where they meant to shoot, while the ladies rode on to Lucas Lodge, where Lady Lucas had a cold luncheon waiting. They would spend the afternoon playing cards until the gentlemen joined them later. Mr Bingley, Mr Darcy, Mr Bennet, Mr Hurst, and Mr Gardiner rode in front with their guns. Sir William Lucas and his sons had also been invited, along with Uncle Phillips and his sons.

Miss Bingley rode a little behind the gentlemen. Her habit was bottle green and far too fine for a Hertfordshire lane. Her place in the procession spared her from talking to anyone she did not choose. Mrs Bennet and the other women had chosen to go ahead to Lucas Lodge by carriage.

“You had better go to him, Jane, before he stands up in his stirrups. Papa would tease him about it for a twelvemonth.”

“You do not mind being left behind?”

“I shall try to bear it.”

Jane protested only a little. Then she touched her mare with the whip and was gone up the lane. Mr Bingley's hat rose higher still.

Elizabeth had been alone barely half a minute when she heard a heavy trot at her left, along with a great deal of puffing. She could not tell whether it came from the horse or the rider. To her dismay, she saw that Mr Collins had turned his horse and rode her way.

“Cousin Elizabeth! Surely it is Providence that leaves you alone at the very moment I most wished to speak with you.”

“I think you must thank Mr Bingley rather than Providence, sir.”

“Mr Bingley is only the instrument, cousin, as indeed we all are.” Mr Collins drew alongside her, closer than the width of the lane required, and pressed his hat lower on his brow. He rode as he did everything in life, with far more effort than the task demanded. “I think you can guess what I wish to speak of.”

She had guessed it the moment he appeared. Her spirits sank. She gathered up her rein, though the mare had given her no cause.

“I can, sir, and I must beg you not to press it this morning. I have not yet made up my mind. I need a little more time.”

“More time.” He pursed his lips. “Very well. I would not wish to seem too eager. I know some hesitation is only natural in a young lady, and it does you credit. I ask only for your answer before I leave Longbourn on Sunday.”

“By Sunday.”

“I gave Lady Catherine my solemn word I would not return to Hunsford without the matter settled. Her ladyship was kind enough to observe that a clergyman without a wife is only half settled in his living. Her judgement in such things is never wrong. It is high time I married, cousin. A parsonage ought to have a nursery, and I have long looked forward to seeing mine well filled.”

Elizabeth looked down at the ground. It was a good way below her, and still soft from the night's rain. It crossed her mind that a fall would hurt far less than this conversation. She kept her seat all the same. She even managed a small nod, which Mr Collins took as encouragement.

“And you were so happy at Hunsford! I have seldom known a young lady so taken with a place. You walked out every morning, whatever the weather.”

“You forget, sir, that we came into Kent because you and my father had business to settle over the entail. It was not a journey of pleasure.”

Nor, had he known it, had she walked out for love of the view. She had walked out to be away from him.

For some months Mr Collins and her father had written to one another about breaking the entail. At last Mr Collins declared that so serious a matter could only be settled in person, and invited the family to Hunsford. Mr Bennet had gone, and taken Elizabeth and Mary with him.

The visit had resulted in no concrete agreement, as Mr Collins’ demand had far exceeded the Bennets’ financial capabilities.

“It was a pity, I grant, that your father and I could not come to terms. But only think how much more happily the matter may be settled now! Longbourn need never leave the family. Your excellent mother and sisters need never fear being turned out, when you yourself would be mistress there. I cannot imagine an arrangement more fitting for a Christian.”

Elizabeth might have told him that her mother had plans of her own for the entail, and meant to use a son-in-law's fortune to carry them out. But the secret had been told to her alone, and she would not betray it. Instead she looked about the fields. Her impatience grew with every sentence. He would have seen it, had he ever been in the habit of seeing anything.

Two fields away, beyond a gap in the hedge, a lone horseman had drawn a little apart from the others. He was tall and dark-coated, and he sat very straight. Elizabeth was sure it was Robert Lucas.

“Mr Collins, forgive me. I have just remembered that I have a message for Mr Robert Lucas, and an important one. There he is now. I could never forgive myself if I let him ride off.”

“But, cousin, you have not yet said whether Sunday —”

She did not stay to hear the rest. The mare had been kept to a walk far longer than she liked. She went through the gap with great eagerness.

At the sound of her approach, the horseman turned his head. It was not Robert Lucas.

Elizabeth pulled up so sharply that the mare tossed her head. For a moment she thought of retreat. But Mr Collins was already labouring towards the hedge. To turn back now was to meet him halfway without a shred of excuse. Of the two gentlemen, Mr Darcy had at least never asked her to marry him.