Elizabeth rolled her eyes and closed her mouth. It was not worth wasting her air. The regiment’s officers stood near the churchyard gate, their scarlet coats bright in the morning sun. And Lieutenant Wickham at last grew tired of her ignoring him to break away from the group. He approached the Bennet family, his stride confident and his smile a study in suave mastery.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” he said, tipping his hat. “You brighten an already fine morning.”
“Mr. Wickham,” Elizabeth replied. “How good of you to join us.”
“Indeed, I could hardly miss services,” Wickham said. “Though I confess, the company afterward is nearly as inspiring as the sermon itself.”
Mr. Collins, who had overheard, bristled. “Sir, that is hardly the proper spirit for the Sabbath. Lady Catherine would never approve of such frivolity taking precedence over sacred reflection.”
Wickham’s smile flickered with amusement. “Ah, but surely even Lady Catherine values the fellowship of good neighbors after service. Does she not?”
Elizabeth glanced at Wickham, her mouth almost rioting with suppressed laughter. “I am sure she would notdisapprove of the good people of the town showing their patriotism by a bit of friendliness toward the members of the militia. Particularly on a holy morning.”
Collins blinked and gave his lapels a jerk. “Well. Well… just so.”
That was precisely the moment that the Netherfield party arrived. Elizabeth turned to watch the carriage park—for Netherfield was, apparently, too far for a Sabbath day’s walk for Miss Bingley.
Mr. Bingley approached with a warm smile, offering a bow to their mother.
“Good morning, Mrs. Bennet,” he said. “What a fine day for the service. The journey from Netherfield was quite pleasant in such weather.”
Mrs. Bennet beamed. “Indeed, Mr. Bingley! Such a blessing to have fine weather this late in the season.”
Bingley’s gaze lingered on the group before he added, “I trust your family is well?”
“Quite well, thank you,” Mrs. Bennet replied. “As you can see for yourself. Do not my girls look well today?”
Mr. Bingley’s gaze now had permission to trip freely over Jane before he was obliged once again to fix his eyes on Mrs. Bennet. “They do, indeed.”
Mr. Darcy stood slightly apart, acknowledging the group with a brief nod. His eyes caught Elizabeth’s for a moment, but before she could decipher his expression, he turned to address… of all people… hercousin. What the devil?
“Mr. Collins,” Darcy began, “I understand you recently delivered a sermon on the virtues of charity. Was it well received?”
Collins’s face lit up as though Darcy had just elevated him to the status of a bishop. “Oh, most assuredly, sir! Oh, my goodness, Lady Catherine must have been mightily impressed to have written toyouabout it!”
Darcy’s cheek twitched, and if Elizabeth had learned anything about his expressions, it almost looked… smug. As if his venture had been a mere lucky guess. “Indeed, sir.”
“Oh, my. Truly, sir, it was one of my finest orations. The congregation was deeply attentive, and I was fortunate to draw upon the wisdom of Lady Catherine, who has always stressed the vital importance of almsgiving. Her guidance, of course, shaped my every word.”
Darcy gave a slight nod. “I see. Lady Catherine’s influence is, no doubt, considerable. As is her wisdom. I have often turned to her for advice in matters at Pemberley.”
Elizabeth stared in disbelief. Was… wasMr. Darcytruly entertaining this nonsense? Worse, Collins had puffed himself up like a preening bird, casting furtive glances around the churchyard to ensure all present witnessed this distinguished exchange.
“Oh, indeed, sir! You could not have sought wiser counsel. I, too, have often turned to that noble lady for advice, and, I flatter myself, I am proving amostadept student to her ways.”
Darcy offered an approving response, something polite but noncommittal, and Elizabeth bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing—or groaning. For all his faults, she had never expected Mr. Darcy to willingly align himself with a man like Collins.
She turned sharply to Jane, muttering, “It seems Mr. Darcy finds Mr. Collins’s company every bit as stimulating as I do.”
Jane suppressed a smile and gave a slight shake of her head. “Lizzy, do behave.”
Darcy settled into hispew, casting a discreet glance toward the section where Elizabeth sat beside Miss Lucas. From this angle, he could see her profile as she leaned slightly towardher friend, exchanging a quiet word before the service began. There was a grace to her movements, a natural energy that commanded his attention even in stillness.
In the Bennets’ pew, just ahead of Darcy and somewhat to the left, Mr. Collins sat upright, his gaze fixed on Elizabeth with an intensity that bordered on absurd. Darcy felt a flicker of satisfaction; the man was clearly smitten—not with the lady, no. He was not clever enough to truly love someone like Elizabeth Bennet.
But he was certainly in awe of his good fortune to claim a connection to her. Infatuated with the idea of a pretty wife, and silly enough to imagine his affections being returned. It would require little effort to encourage him further in his attentions, ensuring Elizabeth’s focus remained far from more dangerous quarters—namely, himself.
Perhaps he ought to feel guilty over toying with the man so. Had his first reaction upon hearing of Collins’ interest in her not been indignation? Darcy was no fool, had seen it often enough—a brilliant young lady forced to surrender her light to the nearest man with a comfortable home. It was the way of things, and Elizabeth Bennet would likely fare no better than most ladies of similar circumstances. It was not his fault, and it was not his problem.
