Darcy sighed. Despite himself, he was smiling. “She is staying with my aunt, Lady Matlock, who means to sponsor her for next Season.”
“That is all very well. I am sure my mother would be delighted with such details, but now that I have got you talking again, tell me the important parts.” She leaned forward. “She must depend upon you very much, I think.”
He swallowed. “I… I expect she does.”
“You are an attentive brother, I imagine. It is in all your looks when you speak of her. Tell me, do you write to her often?”
“Every other day, usually.”
“And her replies to you? Are they full of the flummery that young ladies sometimes spout, or do they boast more substance?”
He hammered his thumb against a new throb at his temple but managed some approximation of a smile. “She speaks of our cousins and the people to whom my aunt has introduced her, mostly. Not to flaunt her list of acquaintances but rather to ask my adviceregarding people I might know. Georgiana suffers from…” he winced again, more from the confession than the pain in his head. “A deal of self-doubt.”
“Indeed? Does this stem from a timid personality? Surely not, if she is any sister of yours.”
He grimaced. “She has been… misled, I think. But I suppose…” He scanned her expression as if he could pierce through the veil of her face and peer into her thoughts. “I suppose that is where my duty enters—to guide and advise her for as long as I may.”
Elizabeth Bennet really did have astonishing eyes. They were fixed on him now, with a curious intensity that he had not seen in them before. She puckered her lips and leaned forward, and he almost thought she had a mind to compromise herself with him then and there… but she did nothing of the sort.
“One would think,” she murmured, “that she will forever be your sister, even if she marries. Why would your time be limited?”
He swallowed. “I implied no such thing.”
“Hmm.” Elizabeth leaned back, smiling tightly. “My mistake. Well, if you are quite recovered from whatever was plaguing your head a moment ago, I think it best if we return home. Little as I like it, Mama will be terribly put out if I am rumpled and muddy from walking when Mr Collins arrives.”
Darcy’s mouth twitched. “Then the loss is entirely Mr Collins,’ for I rather thought you made a memorable first impression that way.”
Her laugh… well, it almost made suffering a megrim on a cold, windy hillside worth it.
“Mr Collins! How delightfulto see you!” Mrs Bennet exclaimed, rushing forward to greet him. “What lovely flowers! You are too kind.”
Mr Collins stepped out of the carriage and bowed deeply, handing over the bouquet. “Mrs Bennet, it is my absolute pleasure. These flowers are but a small token of my appreciation for your warm hospitality.”
“Hospitality, nonsense! Now, let me introduce you. This is Jane, my eldest, and Lizzy—I think you will agree that she is nearly as beautiful as Jane, do you not? Next is Mary, then Kitty and finally my dearest Lydia.”
Elizabeth stifled a sigh and stepped forward to do her duty when it was her turn. “Welcome to Longbourn, Mr Collins,” she said, forcing her voice to steady even as her thoughts ran wild. Wonderful. Another sycophant in the house.
“Ah, Miss Elizabeth, the pleasure is mine. I have heard much of your grace and beauty.”
Her grace and beauty? From whom? Certainly not her father’s letters. “You are very kind, Mr Collins,” she replied, biting back the sort of remark she would have preferred to utter.
Mr Bennet, who had been standing back with his usual air of detached amusement, finally stepped forward. “Mr Collins, welcome. We trust your journey was pleasant?”
“Oh, indeed, Mr Bennet. It was most agreeable, and I cannot express how much I owe to the noble Lady Catherine de Bourgh for her generosity and guidance. Why, had she not recommended the proper bell posts and sent hervery owndriver, I daresay, my journey would not have been half so comfortable.”
Elizabeth glanced at her father, whose eyes twinkled with barely suppressed mirth. “Indeed, Mr Collins, Lady Catherine’s influence is unparalleled,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm that Mr Collins seemed blissfully unaware of.
Mrs Bennet, beaming, ushered them all into the sitting room. “Come, come, Mr Collins. You must be tired after your journey. Let us sit and have some tea.”
“Oh, yes, eminently fitting. Lady Catherine herself prefers a fine, stout blend after travelling, particularly in the winter. She always advises the most sensible course of action. I declare, there is no matter so great that she cannot offer her wisdom, nor too small for her notice.”
Mr Bennet leaned back in his chair. “Tell me, Mr Collins, does Lady Catherine have strong opinions on… say, the proper care of house plants?”
Mr Collins perked up, nodding enthusiastically. “Oh, absolutely, Mr Bennet. Lady Catherine insists that ferns must always be placed in shaded areas, watered precisely at dawn, for it signifies both care and devotion to one’s home.”
“Fascinating,” Mr Bennet mused. “And what of the ivy? I have had a devilish time with the one in my study. Does she have a preferred method for ensuring its growth?”
“Of course! Ivy must be trimmed regularly to maintain a dignified appearance, and it must never be allowed to climb too high, lest it appear unruly. Lady Catherine believes that such meticulous care reflects the owner’s disciplined nature.”
