“Oh, he is very tall,” Kitty exclaimed.
“But not handsome.” Lydia gave a huff, straightening from the window.
Elizabeth slanted a look to find that, despite the commotion her younger sisters were making, Mr. Bennet now watched her and Jane, and so she mustered a cheerful expression. Through her smile, Elizabeth murmured, “He requires a doctor, but I could not convince him it is safe to call one. I am not certain if he is cautious or delirious.”
“Oh dear. The poor man. Something must be done for him.”
“He is not that unfortunate in appearance,” Kitty said from her place at the window. “And he will have Longbourn someday.”
Lydia shook her curls. “That makes him no more handsome to me.”
“I left him food,” Elizabeth reassured Jane quietly. “And covered him with a blanket.”
Jane pursed her lips. “Where is he?”
“In the old shed on Mr. Grason’s land.”
A knock sounded on the front door.
“Whatever were you doing there?” Jane asked as the door creaked open under the auspice of a maid.
Elizabeth’s mind raced. Should she admit to encountering Colonel Fitzwilliam while out walking?
“A Mr. Collins is here to see you, sir,” the maid said, stepping into the room.
Elizabeth cast Jane an apologetic look, though in truth she was relieved by the reprieve. She had no good answer, especially with their father watching. She didn’t believe he could guess people’s words by the shape of their lips as she’d learned to do, but he was astute and would decipher much simply from the shifts in Jane’s expression.
Elizabeth stood along with her relations as a tall, broad-shouldered gentleman entered. He wore black, save for a white lawn shirt and cravat, and neither coat nor waistcoat boasted a hint of embroidery, but what buttons she could see gleamed silver. He would, as Kitty had said, not be unfortunate looking, were his expression not an almost impossible seeming mix of servility and hauteur that left his wide mouth and equally wide-set eyes almost slack with indecision.
He bowed to them all, and introductions were made, Mr. Bennet moving from Mrs. Bennet, to Jane, to Elizabeth, who did not miss how Mr. Collins’ attention remained fixed on her older sister as their father moved on. Nor did he shift his focus while angling a bow at Mary.
“And this is our fourth daughter, Catherine,” Mr. Bennet continued. “And our fifth, Lydia.”
“Everyone calls me Kitty,” Kitty said loudly, finally snapping Mr. Collins’ attention away from Jane.
“A lovely name, Catherine. It is the name of my esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who so wisely encouragedme to visit your, well someday to be my, lovely home.” His mouth stretched into a smile. “Lady Catherine always knows what is best, Miss Catherine, and she does not hold with the use of Kitty. Kitty, she says, and rightly to be certain, diminishes a person.”
“Do you hear that, Kitty?” Lydia said, wide eyes full of laughter. “You are diminished.”
“I am not.” Kitty cocked her chin into the air.
“Maybe that is why you sneeze all the time,” Lydia added.
“It is not, and I do not.” Kitty, who had not done so in days, sneezed.
Lydia cast her a smug look.
“I cannot see how such a thing can be possible,” Mr. Collins stated with utter seriousness. “That a name should make a person sneeze does not seem correct. I will, however, bring the matter before Lady Catherine for her opinion, fair cousins, and report to you her answer.”
“She is quite the oracle then?” Mr. Bennet asked blandly.
Mr. Collins’ head bobbed. “Lady Catherine has made the study of her fellows her life’s work and is wise in all things.”
“How fortunate you are to have her as your patroness,” Mrs. Bennet said brightly.
“I am.” Mr. Collins scanned them all. “And if I may be so bold, at Lady Catherine’s urging, one of your lovely daughters will be equally fortunate.”
Dismay filled Elizabeth. He could not mean—
