“You will need to hire a man of all work for chopping wood or the like, and perhaps a girl to help out. There are a few good families in the area I will speak with when the time comes. Elizabeth, are you sure of this? There is no hurry for you to remove from Matlock, particularly as you are in mourning all over again. Do you not wish to wait?”
She cast an eye around the cottage again. “No. I do not wish to wait. You have been very welcoming, my lord—far more so than I could ever have wished—but I feel less of an imposition this way. Jane and I will be very comfortable here.”
Matlock held her horse, then mounted his own, and they turned back to the lane. “Will your sister be joining you? I had the impression she might be moving elsewhere.”
Elizabeth cleared her throat and adjusted her reins. “Nothing is decided yet.”
“Oh, did you not know? I had a letter from Bingley yesterday. He said he is coming from London and desired to have a word with me when he arrives. I assumed you would already know the cause for that.”
“He did?” A shiver—perhaps it was the cold—suddenly stole her breath.
“I told him he would do better to speak with you, or perhaps Darcy, because I hardly feel I am Miss Bennet’s protector. I know no harm of Bingley, but perhaps you could tell me if I ought to have any reservations regarding his suit. As far as I know, it is desirable to all parties, is that correct?”
Elizabeth nodded, her eyes fixed on the horizon.
“All the same, I must think of some way to give him a bit of trouble. It is tradition, of course! A man ought to have to fight for his lady, at least a little. Perhaps Darcy can tell me how best to terrorise his friend—all in good fun, of course. I shall have to draw him aside for a private word before Bingley catches me.”
Elizabeth looked up in confusion. “Pull Mr Darcy aside? In London?”
“No, he is travelling with Bingley. Bingley said Darcy had reasons of his own to come back north. I assume he is eager to see Anne again.”
Elizabeth shivered again. “My lord, would you object to hurrying back? I think the cold has caught up with me, after all.”
“Jane?”Elizabethputherhead into their sitting room, after changing into a clean dress and restyling her hair. Finding the sitting room empty, she passed through and knocked on Jane’s bedroom. “Jane?”
There was no answer, so she went back downstairs. Jane was not in the habit of loitering in the music room or the library, but she was fond of the sunny morning room. One by one, each room Elizabeth passed was empty. “Mildred?” she asked of one of the maids, “have you seen my sister?”
“No, ma’am, but she may be in the nursery. The young miss had requested Miss Bennet’s company on her afternoon airing. I believe the child went up for her tea a few moments ago.”
“Ah, yes. Jane does enjoy the children. Thank you, Mildred.”
Elizabeth went back up the stairs, taking the flight to the eastern wing, where the family had their rooms. She was not so familiar with this part of the house, though Billy claimed to know it intimately. The children’s rooms were all farther down, on the left side of the hall, but if she went too far, she risked accidentally knocking on the countess’s private sewing room.
She rapped cautiously at the first room to appear promising, but nothing came of it. The following door accidentally swung open to reveal an empty bedroom.It must be the next,she decided. Or perhaps the schoolroom came before the nursery—she could never remember. She came to it and knocked gently.
This time, she did hear an answer, but not a proper one. A muffled sort of noise, a gasp, and a stifled cry—perhaps the child was in the very act of sipping her tea and tried to blurt out a response.Perfect.A child’s merriment would be just the thing for Jane now. Elizabeth pushed the door open, fully expecting to find Jane seated opposite a four-year-old girl, each lifting a dainty cup.
What she found was something… else.
Elizabeth jerked backward, yanking the door closed behind herself and putting a hand to her mouth. It was all she could do not to shriek in amazement and alarm—to sob or, more scandalously, to laugh uproariously. Her next impulse was to storm the room again, to yank the mischief-maker out into the hall by a collar or a sleeve… but which of the two persons in the roomwasthat?
Seeing no other option, she backed slowly away, spreading her hands out and tiptoeing down the hall whence she came.
“Elizabeth!” The door banged open again, and Billy’s voice panted behind her. “Lizzy!”
He raced in front of her to block her way, his body quivering and his face smeared with red. His tie was entirely undone, and the top four buttons of his shirt were loosed. Elizabeth covered her eyes before she took in the rest of his dishevelment.
“Lizzy, please! I didn’t mean anything by it, I just… but then when she—”
“Mr Collins?”
Elizabeth froze, then cringed before she turned round to the woman behind her.
Anne de Bourgh—her hair ruffled, the neckline of her dress rakishly askew and her cosmetics a hopeless loss—poised herself in the hall as if she were a regent addressing a subject. It was a role Billy apparently coveted, for he nearly fell at the woman’s feet, his hands clasped in supplication and his voice reverent.
“Yes, my goddess?”
Anne spared Elizabeth a glance, then a flicker of humour touched her lips. “It seems you have compromised my reputation. Will you do me the honour of requesting my hand in marriage?”
