His chest heaved up and down; his voice carried a tinge of resignation. “Who else is on your list of suspects?”
He did not agree with her, but he consented to help her.Another point in Mr. Darcy’s favor,thought Elizabeth. She said, “As much as I hate to say it, we cannot dismiss your aunt entirely.”
“She did not arrive until after your accident.”
“True. However, could her lateness have been an act?”
“Lady Catherine is many things, but she is not a liar.”
Elizabeth chewed the inside of her cheek. She had been right to worry about his reaction.
He continued, “Speaking practically, I do not believe my aunt strong enough to cut hard wood with a saw.”
Elizabeth had considered that. “What about her daughter?”
“Anne?”
“I do not know much of her character. Might she have assisted her mother?”
Mr. Darcy bunched his lips together and shifted his weight on the couch, away from her, Elizabeth noted. “My cousin is quiet, and when my aunt is present, she is known to fall completely silent for extended lengths of time.”
“Would she do as Lady Catherine bid?”
“She usually does.”
How sad. Elizabeth could not imagine living her entire life always being imposed upon. More out of pity for Miss de Bourgh than lack of suspicion, Elizabeth moved on. “I agree your aunt is too feeble to have cut the axle herself, and I do not know that Miss de Bourgh would be of much assistance either. What about a third party? Is there anyone your aunt might have requested to perform such a service?”
“You are determined to cast the blame on her?”
“Not at all. I merely wish to discuss the possibilities.All of the possibilities. And you must admit, your aunt does not approve of me, which makes her suspect.”
He frowned. “My aunt is opinionated and set in her ways, but she is not truly devious.”
Elizabeth would have to take his word for it … unless the evidence proved otherwise. She possessed a distinct impression of Lady Catherine’s rudeness, but she could not recall her basis for such a belief.
“Very well,” Elizabeth conceded. “Who does that leave, then?”
A tap on the door interrupted their conversation, and the announcement of Mr. Collins’ arrival effectively ended their debate of suspects.
Mr. Darcy grimaced. Elizabeth would have done the same had his reaction not given rise to her humor.
Mr. Collins entered the room with a proprietary air, his bow deepening when he saw Mr. Darcy. “My dear Cousin Elizabeth, I took it upon myself to ensure your health before returning to Hunsford. Mrs. Collins would wish for me to ensure the welfare of her closest friend, as would my esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who condescended to inquire of your health to me only earlier this morning.”
Elizabeth cut through the excessive fluff and pomp to extract the only worthwhile bit. “It is your aim to depart today?” she asked.
He bowed, taking the seat Mama must have recently vacated. “So long as your health has notsuffered from the blow you suffered, I had hoped to return to Hunsford today.”
“I daresay my memories will return soon enough without inconveniencing you, Mr. Collins.”
His eyes widened, and he inhaled sharply through his nose. “You do not recall—” His gaze bounced to Mr. Darcy and back to her. Clearing his throat, he said, “—your betrothed?”
“Not yet, but it is only a matter of time,” she said with a great deal too much cheer.
Mr. Collins extracted a handkerchief to dab at his face. “It is with immense sympathy I hear your bad news, Cousin.”
He did not sound sympathetic. Just uncomfortable.
“Mrs. Collins will be greatly distressed,” he added, returning the square to his pocket.
