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Collins returned to the Parsonage with such happy news, he could scarcely contain himself. Lady Catherine had invited them to dinner on the following day. His ranting had been profuse—his praise unfettered, for never had he expected such an honour for his fair cousin.

On the day of the auspicious occasion and at the appointed hour, they were shown into the drawing room where the Rosings party awaited them.

Elizabeth observed her surroundings with wonder. Despite its grand staircases and its rich antebellum and massive paintings, Rosings felt more like a mausoleum than a home. So, this is the manner in which Mr. Darcy’s esteemed aunt and his cousin, his presumed intended, live. I can only imagine the excitement in store for us this evening. Of course, the colonel will be here. That alone is cause for joy.

Before they enter the grand parlour, Mr. Collins seized hold of Elizabeth’s arm, thereby halting her progress. “I do not need to tell you to mind your manners and hold your tongue, dear cousin. As I told you before, her ladyship does not countenance insubordination.”

When they were shown into the room, Mr. Collins commandeered his wife and cousin to stand beside him before his noble patroness. The gentleman bowed deeply. The ladies curtsied.

Lady Catherine regarded her youngest guest from head to toe. “So, you are Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

“Yes, your ladyship, thank you for inviting me to your home.”

Introductions were made to Miss Anne de Bourgh and her companion, Mrs. Jenkinson, and the Hunsford party took their seats.

“My nephews shall join us momentarily. Until such time, I should like to know more about you, Miss Bennet. I understand you made my niece’s acquaintance when you visited Pemberley last summer with your aunt and uncle from Cheapside.”

“Yes, your ladyship, My Aunt and Uncle Gardiner.”

“And you wandered off on your own and happened upon my niece, Georgiana.”

“I suppose you might say that, your ladyship.”

“Well, how else would one describe the circumstances of your meeting my niece? I understand the two of you began corresponding regularly, and that is the basis for your friendship.”

“Our regular correspondence formed the basis for our amity; however, our intimacy has increased, owing to the time we spent together in town over the past weeks.”

The silver-haired aristocrat, who ought to have abandoned any notions of beauty decades ago, regarded Elizabeth with what looked like contempt. “How very convenient your alliance with my niece is for you.”

This inquisition is eerily similar to the one I suffered under your haughty nephew’s disapproving eyes. Elizabeth stiffened her back. What can any of this have to do with your ladyship?

“I hear you are quite delighted with George Wickham! Are you aware he was the son of old Wickham, the late Mr. Darcy’s steward? Let me recommend you, for your own good, not to give confidence to any of his assertions of my nephew’s using him ill, for all such allegations are perfectly false. On the contrary, he has always been remarkably kind to him, though George Wickham has treated my nephew in a most infamous manner. I do not know the particulars, but I know very well that Darcy is not in the least to blame, and he cannot bear to hear George Wickham mentioned.”

Does her ladyship expect to influence me against the gentleman with such an unsubstantiated attack as this? I see nothing in it other than her own wilful ignorance!

Lady Catherine was by no means finished with the detailing of her account of Elizabeth’s affairs. Growing increasingly uncomfortable under her ladyship’s microscope, Elizabeth supposed there was only one person to thank for her current uneasiness. Charlotte is incapable of being such a nuisance. My cousin is not only ridiculous; he is also a busy little bee. He goes about spreading the word of the goings-on in Hertfordshire to someone as wholly connected to it as her ladyship.

Lady Catherine’s discourse was momentarily halted when Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam entered the room. Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief for the reprieve. Surely her ladyship must relish the prospect of lavishing her attentions upon her favourite nephew, Mr. Darcy. It is not often she has the opportunity to see him.

“Good you have joined us, nephews, although I cannot imagine what kept you. I have been getting better acquainted with Miss Bennet.” She turned to Elizabeth. “After dinner, I must insist that you play something for us, Miss Bennet, for music is my delight. There are few people in England, I suppose, who have more true enjoyment of music than myself, or a better natural taste. If I had ever learnt, I should have been a great proficient. And so would Anne, if her health had allowed her to apply. I am confident she would have performed delightfully.”

Elizabeth cast a glance in Miss de Bourgh’s direction to see how she bore her mother’s commendations. She saw for herself that Mr. Collins had given a fair assessment of the young heiress when describing her as sickly. Elizabeth also looked at Mr. Darcy to see how cordially he assented to his cousin’s praise only to discern no symptom of love. I suppose he might have been just as likely to marry Miss Caroline Bingley, were she a wealthy relation.

“I understand you do not play very well, Miss Bennet, but one can hardly expect a great deal of competence from a young woman raised in a household of five daughters with no governess. I understand you did not have the benefit of the London masters either. What a shame it is to be reared under such disadvantageous circumstances.”

Benevolence mixed with omnipotence lit her ladyship’s expression. “You shall come to Rosings every day during your stay and play on the pianoforte in Mrs. Jenkinson’s room. You would be in nobody’s way in that part of the house.”

Elizabeth felt her temper rising. Fighting to maintain her composure, she looked across the room and feigned admiration of her ladyship’s garish mantel clock. How much more of this must I endure before dinner?

Later that evening, when Lady Catherine, Elizabeth, Charlotte, Miss de Bourgh, and Mrs. Jenkinson were waiting for the gentleman to join them after dinner, her ladyship said to Elizabeth, “I am well aware that you rejected Mr. Collins’s hand in marriage. I assure you he would have been a fine husband, but in such cases as this, your imprudence has been the means of Mrs. Collins’s good fortune.” She curled her lips. “I believe people should not venture beyond their sphere. Do not suppose for one instant I have not seen the manner in which my nephews look at you. Although you are a very pretty young woman, you would be well advised to accept the offer of marriage from the young man your father has chosen for you when the time comes.”

Just as she was finishing her speech, the gentlemen walked into the room. “There the two of you are. I was just counselling Miss Bennet of the advantages of staying in one’s own sphere when seeking to make a good match. But I do not have to remind either of you of that, for I am certain both of you know what is expected of you.”

Elizabeth leisurely ambled along, agreeably engaged as she perused Jane’s last letter and dwelt on those passages that proved Jane and Bingley’s engagement was fulfilling her sister’s every notion of blissfulness. She could not have been happier, for if anyone deserved such contentment it was her eldest sister. Jane, who was all that was good and who possessed the temperament of an angel, was a great source of pride for Elizabeth. She counted upon Jane’s righteousness as devoutly as she depended upon the sun rising each day.

Nearly every morning since they arrived in Kent, Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth had the uncanny knack of meeting in her favourite lane. That particular day, instead of being again surprised by Mr. Darcy, she saw on looking up that Colonel Fitzwilliam was meeting her. Immediately putting her letter away and bestowing a warm smile, she said, “I did not know before that you ever walked this way.”

“I have been making the tour of the park. I intend to close it with a call at the Parsonage. Are you going much farther?”