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CHAPTER 2

Mr. Bennet paced the floor, clutching a letter in his hand. It served as further evidence of his second oldest daughter’s persistence to vex him at every turn. First, she married the late Randall Carlton at seventeen against his advice. Second, she failed to honour her arrangement with him by refusing to marry Geoffrey Collins, their cousin and the next in line to inherit Longbourn owing to its entail to the male line of the family. This latest act is tantamount to a blatant slap in my face.

“I contend it is criminal to extend an invitation to travel to the wilds of Derbyshire with nary a hint of covering the expense.”

“Criminal, Mr. Bennet, whatever do you mean?”

“While days of travel with the associated burden of food and lodging along the way may pose no challenge to a man of Mr. Darcy’s means, it is hardly a trivial pursuit for someone of my circumstances. I reckon years of living at Camberworth as the mother of the precious young heir to Sarah Carlton’s fortune, and now living at Pemberley as the wife of its haughty master has caused Lizzy to forget what she is about.”

Mrs. Bennet, by then, had intimate knowledge of every word in the letter that had been dispatched to Longbourn by private carrier hours earlier.

“The invitation was extended by Miss Darcy as a means of surprising Lizzy and Mr. Darcy. Surely the young lady can know nothing of such matters.”

He peered over his spectacles. “What is your point?”

“You are a gentleman as is her brother. She might never consider you as being of lesser means.” Mrs. Bennet determined to persist; suspecting as she did that her husband would do or say anything that might spare him the trouble of leaving the comforts of his library. As much money as she spent on gowns for her daughters, she doubted the veracity of his claims that he could not afford to travel to Derbyshire. “Perhaps, if I appeal directly to Lizzy and explain the situation, the entire matter might be resolved with no inconvenience to anyone.” She placed her hand over her chest. “Oh, how I long to see Pemberley. Just think how our friends will suffer the news of our being invited there for Christmas.”

The elderly patriarch, who secretly wished to see his daughter’s new home, feigned resignation. “I suppose if you are determined to do this there is little I might do to stop you.”

Mrs. Bennet’s pleasure was just what might be expected of a proud mama who often boasted of her second eldest daughter’s excellent match to a gentleman who was rumoured to own half of Derbyshire. Once she had delighted in her first tumult of joy at her husband’s expense, she set off to tell the rest of her family the glad news.

What a difference a year makes, Jane considered as she lay in bed, her head resting comfortably on her husband’s broad chest. Even with her good fortune in marrying a man she revered, sad thoughts of Charles Bingley’s precipitous departure from Hertfordshire weighed heavily on her mind whenever she allowed herself to consider it. She sighed.

Geoffrey Collins swept his fingers through his wife’s loosened hair. “You are awake?”

“I am afraid so. Forgive me for disturbing your slumber.”

“Think nothing of it.”

Jane lifted her head. “There is a reason for my inability to sleep.”

“No doubt.”

“Do you not wish to know what that reason is?”

“You are determined to tell me. Now that I am wide awake, I am obliged to listen.”

“We received an invitation to spend Christmas at Pemberley this year.”

He spoke not a word.

“Have you nothing to say?”

“What would you have me say?” Collins asked. “I always supposed it was only a matter of time before the Darcys deigned to invite us to their estimable abode, my dear wife. I imagine your sister cannot wait to flaunt her good fortune.”

“My dear, I wish you would not think as harshly of Lizzy as you do.”

He silently considered that he might never truly forgive Elizabeth for choosing Fitzwilliam Darcy, thereby rendering himself a jilted lover. Heaven knows he had tried. Perhaps in time he would excuse her scandalous behaviour. He had observed how Darcy had pursued her with little regard for her standing as his intended. Fitzwilliam Darcy was the villain; Elizabeth was simply the dupe.

“Geoffrey, have you heard one word I have spoken?”

“I am sorry?”

“I am certain no ill intent exists as far as this invitation is concerned. Miss Darcy extends this request. She and my nephew are planning a grand surprise for my sister and brother. Miss Darcy writes to say that she is especially looking forward to making Gillian and Emily’s acquaintance. She says that my nephew speaks fondly of the girls.”

“I rather doubt that. The little devil went out of his way to torment the girls.”

“I believe you are far too harsh on poor Ben. Gillian and Emily speak fondly of their exploits whilst in Hunsford. I assure you, they gave as well as they took.”