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Maybe that was its own kind of wisdom. Even if it came from someone who'd just agreed to marry a man who counted his reasons for marriage on his fingers.

Kent would bring Lady Catherine, parsonage accounts, and rain. Elizabeth contemplated all three with tolerable composure.

Darcy would be there.

CHAPTER 11

Three weeks after Charlotte's wedding, Elizabeth stepped down from the carriage, her father's manservant at her elbow, and immediately regretted it. Mr. Collins was bearing down on her like an enthusiastic spaniel, his arms spread wide in welcome.

"Cousin Elizabeth! Welcome, welcome to our humble abode!" He executed a bow so deep Elizabeth worried he might tip over. "I trust the journey was not too arduous? Though of course, any journey to Kent is ameliorated by the knowledge that one approaches the sphere of influence of Lady Catherine de Bourgh! The very air is superior! The roads are maintained to the highest standard! Even the hedgerows are more refined!"

The hedgerows are more refined, Elizabeth thought. He's complimenting shrubbery. This man married Charlotte.

"The journey was perfectly pleasant, Mr. Collins." He was welcoming her as though she had never refused him. Elizabeth wondered whether he had forgotten, or merely found a more congenial speech.

Convenient, she noted.

Charlotte appeared behind her husband, physically steering him aside with the efficiency of someone managing an overexcited puppy.

"Lizzy! How wonderful to see you!" She embraced Elizabeth warmly, her eyes communicating I know, I know, but I'm committed now.

"You look well," Elizabeth said, meaning it. Charlotte did look content, or at least resigned in a peaceful way.

"Come inside. You must be exhausted. Mr. Collins, my dear, have you shown our visitor the garden? She will wish to know what you recommend when she has rested."

"Of course! I shall inspect the garden! Lady Catherine expressed particular interest in the state of our cabbages!"

He bustled off, and Charlotte steered Elizabeth into the house.

"Cabbages?" Elizabeth whispered.

"He reports to her on the cabbages. Weekly." Charlotte's expression was perfectly neutral. "This is my life now."

"Charlotte—"

"It's fine. Truly. I have my own sitting room, he leaves me alone most of the day, and I'm managing the household accounts. It's everything I wanted." Charlotte paused. "Except the cabbage reports. Those I did not anticipate."

"You're happy?"

"I'm content. There's a difference." Charlotte smiled. "Now, let me show you to your room. Tomorrow we visit Rosings, and you'll need your rest."

"Tomorrow?"

"She likes to inspect anyone new to the parish before they have had time to become comfortable." Charlotte's smile changed. "Mr. Darcy is visiting his aunt. I believe you are acquainted?"

Elizabeth felt her cheeks warm. "I... We've corresponded. Philosophically."

"About rainstorms. Yes. You mentioned. I'm sure you'll find his company very... philosophical."

Elizabeth looked away, smiling despite herself. Charlotte had been teasing her long before either of them had heard of narrative theory.

* * *

The next morning, Elizabeth found herself being marched toward Rosings Park like a prisoner approaching sentencing.

"Remember," Charlotte coached, "agree with everything she says. Do not express original opinions. And for heaven's sake, compliment the chimney-pieces. She's very proud of her chimney-pieces."

"I'm to... compliment architectural features?"