Elizabethfoughtagainstthefirst pinpricks of wakefulness niggling their way through her veil of sleep. She rolled over, noting even through her closed eyes that it must be well past dawn. She flipped the covers over her head and buried herself within their soft cocoon, if only for a few moments more.
Her traitorous body was warming up and tingling, as it always did when alertness finally jolted her out of bed. She knew she would soon become restless and unwillingly disturb Jane, who still slumbered peacefully beside her. After her wondrous but exhausting evening, Jane deserved her sleep. They had only been abed a few hours.
With a sigh, Elizabeth threw back the covers on her own side and slipped out of bed. She cringed at the first touch of the cold floor on her bare toes and hurriedly pulled on her clothing. She chose a simple day dress, thinking it would not yet be too late for a short morning walk. Pinning her hair into a plain knot, she closed the door behind herself as quietly as possible.
Elizabeth tiptoed down the hall, taking special care to make no noise that could possibly wake the odious Mr Collins. He had so far shown no inclination toward being an early riser, but he had taken to hounding her every move of late.An hour’s peace, that is all I ask! she thought to herself.
She crept down the stairs, glancing toward her father’s study. She would have expected to see the door closed with light pouring beneath already this morning, but it stood ajar. What she could see of the room beyond looked cold and empty. After so late an evening, perhaps even her father found his bed’s appeal outweighed the delights of his library.
Elizabeth hugged herself and rubbed her hands vigorously on her upper arms. The drawing-room fire had not yet been lit, which she found odd, but she knew that Hill’s kitchen would already be toasty and comfortable. She pushed the door open and began to help herself to a fresh pastry when the housekeeper herself bustled through the back door of the house, her face red and lined.
“Good morning, Mrs Hill…. what is it?” Elizabeth interrupted her greeting when she saw the look of concern written on the woman’s face. Just behind Mrs Hill came her husband, and he was bending to speak words to her in a low voice when he noticed his young mistress. His face froze, and he straightened.
Elizabeth’s eyes darted between the two in growing alarm. It was not like the Hills to be secretive or anxious, and their hesitation fuelled the nervous fist balling in her stomach. “Has something happened?” she demanded, her voice wavering slightly.
“Oh, well, it’s probably nothing, Miss,” Mr Hill stammered. “Only that the master went out for a ride this morning, and the horse has lately returned without a rider.”
Elizabeth sucked in her breath, and her face turned pure white. “What?Probably nothing, how can you think so?” Her voice rose perilously in pitch. “Father never rides in the morning! Has there been some emergency in the village?”
“No, Miss, it was nothing like that,” Hill assured her. “He said he wanted some exercise, that was all. I’m sure he’ll be back soon; you know he could easily have dismounted to read a book for a bit, and the horse wandered off. Young Jim Hayes from the stable has gone to look for him.”
“Do you know which way he went?” she trembled, irrational fear for her father’s safety beginning to take hold.
“No, Miss, I did not see. But Jim….” He did not get a chance to finish, as Miss Elizabeth had flown out the door without even bothering to find a coat or hat. Shaking his head, he resolutely kissed his wife on the cheek and followed after his young mistress.
Elizabeth powered down the path toward Oakham mount, her instincts telling her that in the absence of some emergency, her father may have bent his steps in that direction. Mr Hill had to jog to keep up with her. Shortly, they spotted a muddy patch of trail that clearly showed fresh hoof prints. A horse had come that way only this morning. With a strangled cry, Elizabeth hurried on even more quickly.
Hill panted behind her, trying to talk some reason into the young lady. Then, as they turned a subtle fork in the path, they saw Mr Bennet’s crumpled form lying among the browned grass by the side of the road. Elizabeth sobbed and ran to him. Together they turned him face up, and she pressed her ear to his chest. She gasped in infinite relief when she heard his steady heartbeat, but he did not open his eyes. Without a word, Hill stood and, old as he was, ran back toward the house as quickly as his stubby legs could carry him to alert his wife. Elizabeth was left to cradle her father’s muddied face, praying for him to wake up.
TheshrieksfromMrsBennet’s room could have awakened the dead. Unfortunately, they only woke Mr Collins. The round-faced parson emerged from his room, shoddily dressed and with a countenance of stern disapproval. Jane happened to quit her mother’s room just in time to pass by him, and he readied himself for a firm reproof against the matron’s behaviour. “Ah, Miss Bennet, I….” He was cut off quickly when Jane simply brushed past him without even a backward glance. She hurried down the stairs and burst through the door of the family’s kitchen, leaving his gaping mouth in her wake. “Well!” he huffed to himself. He would chastise his young cousin for her rudeness later, but first, he would get to the bottom of the unruly disturbance in the household.
With great dignity, he squared his shoulders and descended the stairs in as stately a manner as he could muster. He would require Mr Bennet to answer for his family’s uproarious behaviour! After all, as a future son-in-law, it was within his rights to insist the family of his dearest Cousin Elizabeth behave in a manner befitting the relatives of a clergyman. Of course, he had not yet tendered his proposal, but in the course of the morning, he fully expected all would be settled to his satisfaction.
Without regard for the sanctity of his host’s private library, he gave a brief knock and entered, not waiting for a reply. Instead of Mr Bennet, as he expected, he found a tear-streaked Elizabeth cloistered with a middle-aged man in a grey overcoat. The man had placed a familiar hand on her shoulder as she muffled her tears in a handkerchief. A surge of indignant jealousy bubbled up. Without much grace, he demanded an introduction to the man who would dare impose himself on a young lady in her own father’s library.
The man stood gravely, not entirely masking his irritation. Though he spoke to Collins with an iron in his voice, his eyes frequently turned with gentle concern toward Miss Elizabeth. “My name is Jones. I am the apothecary in Meryton, and I have known Miss Elizabeth since her birth. May I ask your name and the nature of your intrusion?”
The apothecary’s tone was even less cordial than his words. Clearly, he was posing himself between the young lady and this interloper. Collins bristled, but as a clergyman, he remembered that he ought to consider it incumbent upon himself to arbitrate peace among those connected to him.
“Of course, Mr Jones, do forgive me. I feared you might be distressing my young cousin.” He smiled winningly at her. She gave no indication that she saw it, for surely if she had, she would not have turned suddenly away with a renewal of her sobbing. He drew breath for a speech of introduction, but the apothecary interrupted.
“I am afraid, Mr Collins, there has been an accident this morning. Mr Bennet took a fall and is currently unconscious. I will thank you not to disturb Miss Elizabeth at the moment, as she and I are working out what must be done for him.” Jones returned a comforting hand to Miss Elizabeth’s shoulder, and she took a deep, shuddering breath.
Collins’ eyes went wide, and Elizabeth was sure she detected a mercenary gleam in them. “Oh, my dearest cousin! Allow me to offer my condolences for the indisposition of your esteemed father! Please do not fear for any of the arrangements. I feel it is my duty as a clergyman, and, dare I say it,” he smiled charmingly at her, “a verycloseconnection of the family to supervise these affairs. I feel certain that, when I have explained all to my noble patroness Lady Catherine de Bourgh, she will sanction my excellent intentions to….”
“Thank you, Mr Collins!” Elizabeth stood bolt upright, clenching her handkerchief in her small fist. “My sisters and I are perfectly capable of caring for my father while he recovers. I assure you, he is not in any danger and only wants time and rest.”
Collins smiled condescendingly, directing his next comments to the apothecary. “My dearest cousins are quite accustomed to having to make do without the comfort of a decisive man to settle things for them. Their natural modesty becomes them, but I am quite persuaded that when the full import of the circumstances shall be revealed, they will be greatly in need of my services. If you please, sir, I insist you direct any information or inquiries through myself, and I will be flattered to be of assistance.”
Jones’s jaw dropped at this audacious speech. It was no secret that Collins stood to inherit Longbourn. Word around Meryton was that he was silly and self-important. Jones settled with himself that Collins was also a worthless fool. He did not like leaving the Misses Bennet to his mercy. Caring for their injured father and hysterical mother would be strain enough, but to have this pompous vulture living right under their own roof could mean leaving them vulnerable.
He did not doubt Miss Elizabeth’s indomitable spirit, nor Miss Jane Bennet’s wise discretion, but there were the younger girls to consider as well. There was the additional concern that he as yet had no indication whether his old friend would recover or if he would be in his right mind when he did so. He resolved to have a word with Mrs Hill to see what could be done toward the family’s protection.
They finished the short conference in the library, both Elizabeth and Jones purposely interrupting Collins whenever he spoke. Had they not, the discussion might have lasted another hour. Jones took his leave of Miss Elizabeth while Collins profusely assured him of his devoted condescension toward his lovely young cousins. He could not make his way out the door without being delayed three full minutes while the red-faced oaf thanked him artfully for his assistance. He shut the front door firmly behind himself and made his way around to the back door of the house, where he hoped to find the family’s servants.
He knocked on the door and found Mr and Mrs Hill in close conversation over the kitchen table. They welcomed him like the old friends they were, and Mrs Hill asked Clara, the housemaid, to fetch him a cup of coffee. When she had gone, he brought his concerns to the couple.
They all agreed that Collins should not be trusted with the care of a dog—let alone a house full of spirited girls, a distressed mistress, and a seriously injured Mr Bennet. No one was ready to accuse him of malicious intent, though he could certainly be found guilty of avarice every time he toured through the house. His appraising study of his future inheritance had been inappropriately bold from the first day of his residence there. There was little to be done about that, as it was well within his rights as the legal heir to know of the property, but they did not have to allow him authority over Mr Bennet’s private affairs while he yet lived.
