She tromped across another field, and another, with no care for her boots or hem. Her mind churned around and around, the eye of the maelstrom a single, dark, lurking fear she tried to avoid… Why had Miss Bingley seemed so certain that Elizabeth had no future with Fitzwilliam?
Had he said as much, to those in Netherfield Park? Did Miss Bingley know something Elizabeth did not? Why, why, why would she say such a thing?
And, now that she dared consider his actions in a less favorable light, why had he kept coming to meet her, alone?And then he’d departed Hertfordshire without a word. True, she hadn’t been allowed to receive callers, but the colonel was a resourceful man. He could have found a way to get some sort of message to her. Especially if he had any intentions regarding her.
Elizabeth’s angry strides carried her onward until, finally, she drew in sight of Longbourn, and the brightly varnished, excessively large, crest-adorned carriage there.
With a gasp, she broke into a run.
She flew through the front door to the sound of Mrs. Bennet in the parlor, rambling, “…in my house. An earl. Only think what this means? Lady Lucas will be awash in envy, and he did not say you cannot pursue his son, my sweets, only Elizabeth.”
Darting a look into the parlor, Elizabeth saw only her mother, a pinch-faced Jane, and her two grinning youngest sisters. Catching her eye, Jane nodded in the direction of their father’s study. A rendition of, “…sweet, beautiful girls. One of you will surely have him. Most likely Lydia, of course, she being the…” followed Elizabeth down the hallway as she raced away.
Turning the corner, she skidded, halting at the sight of Mary and Mr. Collins outside her father’s study door. Hands balling, Elizabeth drew her shoulders back and marched forward.
“You cannot go in there,” Mary said, sighting her, and stepped into Elizabeth’s way.
Leveling a look full of every bit of anger and disgust she felt for Mary’s and Mr. Collins’ actions on them, Elizabeth did not slow her pace.
Mary gulped and scuttled out of the way.
Only to be replaced by Mr. Collins. “I cannot permit you to interrupt a conversation with an earl. Mr. Bennet’s laxness has been an unkindness to you, Cousin Elizabeth. You have been permitted to grow wild with notions of female entitlement. With a sense of importance and some ridiculous, mad idea that awoman knows her mind better than her male relations do. You—”
Elizabeth jabbed a finger into his chest. “And you, sir, are a coward and a sycophant. You have no honor. No moral fortitude. No character. You are not fit to lead a pig from a sty, let alone the souls of a congregation.”
His mouth dropped open, his face going red. His jaw worked, but no words came out, even as the crimson suffusing him darkened nearer to purple.
“How dare you?” Mary hissed. “Mr. Collins is the worthiest of men. Everything he has done has been undertaken to protect your virtue, and all of our futures. I shudder to think what would have happened were he not here to curtail your wildness.”
Anger snapped Elizabeth’s spine straight but before she could speak, the door to Mr. Bennet’s study opened. The earl stepped out, his face so smug as to stab sorrow through Elizabeth, Mr. Bennet behind him.
“You may cease your caterwauling, girl,” the earl said, looking down his nose at her. “The matter is settled.”
Her chest so tight her heart couldn’t beat, Elizabeth turned to her father.
Mr. Bennet nodded.
“Papa…no.”
“I am afraid the earl is correct. The matter is settled.” Mr. Bennet said, before adding to that peer, “I assume you recall your way out of my house?”
“Perfectly.” With another smirk at Elizabeth, the Earl of Matlock strode past her.
She stared at her father, stunned. “How could you?”
Distantly, the words indistinct, she heard her mother cajoling the earl, but the front door opened, then slammed closed.
“You have done the right thing,” Mr. Collins said to Elizabeth’s father. “One must always submit to one’s betters.That is the nature of the fabric which weaves our society. Why, my esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, is forever saying—”
“Out,” Mr. Bennet snapped at him, pointing down the hallway.
Mr. Collins looked about, obviously confused.
“Out of my home, now,” Elizabeth’s father clarified. “You will inherit Longbourn someday, but you have not yet, and I will not suffer a spy under my roof, reporting my daughter’s actions to people who have no business knowing them.”
Mr. Collins puffed out his chest. “I was duty bound to report Cousin Elizabeth’s abominable behavior and to put a stop to her pointless aspirations before they harmed her reputation and, subsequently, that of her sisters. You cannot possibly blame me for her—”
“I said out.” Mr. Bennet did not yell, but his voice held thick, banked anger. “You have thirty minutes, sir. Anything of yours that you have not removed from the premises by that time will be taken outside and burned, and that includes your person.”
