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"Thomas was fond of her."

"I do not doubt it. Yet Thomas is gone, and affection cannot be delegated to a household that refuses to give it freely."

They sent for their solicitor that afternoon. Henry Bennet's will, which named Thomas as his daughter's guardian, would need to be located, and advice would be required concerning Elizabeth's legal position following Thomas's death. Lady Matlock proposed that Elizabeth first come as their invited guest with the consent of those presently responsible for her care, while the formal arrangements were completed.

"We must not make her feel that she is being passed from one guardian to another like an inconvenient parcel," Lady Matlock insisted.

"She shall be told she is wanted," the Earl replied. "And she shall believe it, if I have to repeat the assurance every day for a year."

When the Earl's reply to Jane had been dispatched, Lady Matlock went upstairs to the room where Elizabeth had stayed during her first visit. A maid had drawn the curtains and covered the furniture against dust. The countess took the coverings away herself, then discovered that the chair by the window was missing. Someone had sent it to be reupholstered.

"The blue chair, Anne?" the housekeeper asked when summoned.

"Yes, Mrs. Bell. The one Miss Bennet moved into the light to read. I should like it returned, if the work is sufficiently advanced."

There was no practical reason to care about the chair. A dozen others would have served. But Lady Matlock remembered the girl curled in it with her mother's German book and had no wish for her to enter a room arranged as though for a stranger.

The Earl found his wife an hour later comparing a list of books with the contents of a shelf. He saw the open volume in her hand, marked with a pressed leaf Elizabeth had forgotten there.

"You are making plans," he said.

"Someone must."

He set a parcel on the table: writing paper, good pens, and a little bottle of ink. Anne looked at him and raised her eyebrows.

"I remembered the letters," he said. "She uses a great deal of ink."

They stood regarding each other's preparations. Then the countess smiled and tucked the pressed leaf back into the book. Neither of them spoke of how frightened Elizabeth must be. They had made arrangements for the fear before they had found words to name it.

Lord Saye came to the library while his father and mother were considering the solicitor's advice. He had returned to London for business only the day before, and the open letter on the desk might have gone unnoticed had the Earl not asked him to sit down.

"Is something wrong at Hertfordshire?" Saye asked. "You have the same look you wore when Richard informed you he had taken a horse over the orchard wall."

"Worse judgment is being exercised," the Earl replied. "And by people old enough to know better."

With Lady Matlock's agreement he explained the substance of Jane Bennet's appeal. Saye listened without interrupting, though his expression altered at the mention of Elizabeth's age and her aunt's insistence that she owed the household a marriage.

"She is sixteen," Saye said when his father finished. "Does her aunt truly imagine that a girl's gratitude can be measured in vows?"

"I fear Mrs. Bennet imagines it can be measured in a considerable number of things," Lady Matlock replied.

"Elizabeth refused?" Saye asked.

"More than once," the Earl said.

"Then she has already shown more firmness than anyone ought to demand of her. Bring her here, Father. The rest is a question of making certain she understands she is welcome."

He looked at the documents on the table, but his voice softened when he spoke again. He remembered Elizabeth standing beside the chessboard, putting Richard to rout with a smile, and asking about a tenant's troubles as if those troubles deserved her attention. She had been lively throughout her visit, yet there had been moments when she seemed surprised by the smallest kindness.

"I shall be back at my estate by the week's end," Saye continued, "but I can return to London when she arrives. Richard will torment her into smiling, no doubt. I should like someone also to assure her that she need never fear being sent away when the laughter stops."

Lady Matlock reached for her elder son's hand. The Earl, who had been ready to leave at once, found that his household had already made the decision with him.

The following morning Lord Matlock ordered his carriage and set out for Hertfordshire.

At Longbourn, the household was enduring another uncomfortable breakfast. Mr. Collins had departed for the parsonage to visit a neighbouring clergyman, but Mrs. Bennet continued to discuss the consequences of Elizabeth's refusal.

"We shall be obliged to take lodgings in Meryton," she announced, "and I daresay we shall be made to live upon cold meat and poor tea for the remainder of our days."