A rustle of movement drew Elizabeth’s attention back to the house, where Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy had emerged to see them off. Mr. Bingley’s cheerful demeanor was as steady as ever, and Elizabeth could not help but note how his gaze lingered on Jane, his concern evident in the way he hovered near the carriage door.
“Miss Bennet,” Bingley said warmly, offering Jane his hand through the door of the carriage. “I trust the journey will not tire you too much. Please do not hesitate to send word if there is anything you require.”
“You are very kind, Mr. Bingley,” Jane replied. “I cannot thank you enough for your hospitality and care during my illness.”
“Think nothing of it,” he said, his expression brightening. “It has been a pleasure to have you both here.”
Elizabeth inclined her head to their host, but could not help the way her eyes drifted to the man standing behind him. Ah, yes… The Poet.
Darcy, standing a few steps behind Bingley, said nothing, his expression as inscrutable as ever. His dark eyes flicked toward Elizabeth briefly, a momentary glance that conveyed neither warmth nor irritation. If he harbored any relief at their departure, he hid it well, though Elizabeth imagined he must be as eager as she to put their curious and contentious interactions behind them.
“Mr. Darcy,” she said, nodding to him before the footman closed the door. “I trust you will find Netherfield more peaceful without us.”
His brow furrowed slightly, as though weighing her words for hidden meaning. “I would not presume to call your presence disruptive, Miss Bennet. Your sister’s health was a matter of genuine concern.”
Elizabeth inclined her head, unwilling to engage further. She leaned back and permitted the footman to close the door, pulling the blanket more snugly around her sister’s lap.
Bingley stepped away, his cheerful farewells ringing in the air as the driver prepared the horses. Darcy remained silent, his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the mist-shrouded hedges. Elizabeth found herself watching him for a moment longer than she intended. And then she blinked, snapping herself back to sanity. Whatever had possessed her to regard the man with anything more than strategic curiosity?
The carriage lurched forward, breaking her train of thought. As Netherfield’s shadow receded into the distance, Elizabeth exhaled. Finally, she could have a few moments of peace.
Jane’s voice drew her attention back. “Lizzy, do you think… do you think Mr. Bingley regards me too highly?”
Elizabeth blinked, surprised by the question. “Why should that trouble you?”
Jane hesitated, her hands twisting the edge of her shawl. “He is so amiable, so generous. I cannot help but wonder if he perceives more in me than there truly is to admire.”
“Jane,” Elizabeth said firmly, taking her sister’s hand, “if Mr. Bingley admires you—and I believe he does—it is because he sees what I see. Your kindness, your grace. Do not diminish yourself in his eyes or your own.”
Jane’s cheeks flushed, but she said nothing more. Elizabeth sat back, her thoughts turning inward as the familiar landscape of Hertfordshire rolled past.
Elizabeth had barely steppedout of the carriage before the sound of Mrs. Bennet’s exclamations filled the air. “Oh, my dearest Jane! My poor, sweet girl—how pale you still look! But we shall have you feeling better in no time. Lizzy, where is her shawl? Does she not need another shawl? And Mr. Bingley, I suppose, sent you off with nothing but kind words and no further assurances?”
Elizabeth sighed inwardly as she helped Jane down. Before they could even cross the threshold, Mr. Bennet appeared at the door, his expression wry as he greeted them.
“Welcome home, girls,” he said. “I trust you survived Netherfield unscathed. We have missed you sorely, but you will be delighted to hear that we have been well compensated for your absence with an extended visit from Mr. Collins.”
Elizabeth blinked. “Mr. Collins? Your cousin, Mr. Collins? I did not even know we were to expect him!”
“Oh yes, did I not tell you? I suppose I did not. Yes, indeed, he arrived at two o’clock, the day before yesterday. And he has made quite the impression. Why do you think your mother was kept away from visiting her dearest Jane at Netherfield during her illness?”
Elizabeth’s heart sank. “Probably because she was busy trying to ‘secure the future’ of another of my sisters.”
“Aye, I would imagine some coins have changed hands over the matter already. Oh, do not scowl so, Lizzy. I daresay you will find him diverting.”
The word “diverting” held enough irony to make Elizabeth wary. Her suspicions were confirmed the moment they enteredthe drawing room. A man of rather expansive height and girth rose from a chair, his face lit with an eager smile that showed more teeth than necessary. He was dressed impeccably, though with a stiffness that suggested he cared more for appearances than comfort.
“Ah, my fair cousins!” he exclaimed, bowing deeply. “How delightful to at last make your acquaintance. I am your most humble servant, William Collins, rector of Hunsford Parish and honored clergyman under the patronage of the esteemed Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”
Elizabeth exchanged a glance with Jane, whose faint smile betrayed her amusement.
“We are pleased to meet you, Mr. Collins,” Jane said.
“And I, dear cousin, am overjoyed to find you safely returned,” Mr. Collins continued, his gaze shifting to Elizabeth with an expression that made her distinctly uncomfortable. “And you must be Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Your reputation for wit and beauty precedes you.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, unsure whether to thank him or recoil. “You are very kind, sir.”
He beamed, clearly taking her mild response as encouragement. “I hope to spend much time in your company, Cousin Elizabeth. I consider it my duty to foster familial ties during my stay, and you, I am certain, will be an engaging conversational partner.”
