The tea tray soon arrived, and Lady Catherine insisted that Anne pour for their guests. She managed it, rather clumsily, and her cousins thanked her.
“I understand that you know my parson and his wife, Darcy,” Lady Catherine said, raising her eyes from her teacup to her nephew.
“I do, yes. I met them both in Meryton; Mrs. Collins was Miss Mary Bennet before her marriage.”
“How is it that you came to make her acquaintance?”
Mr. Darcy gave her an abbreviated explanation of how he had come to be in Meryton, and then added, “The Bennets are the nearest neighbours to Bingley’s estate, so I was in their company a good deal.”
Lady Catherine scowled at the explanation. “Her father’s estate is quite small, I understand.”
“Compared to Rosings or Pemberley, certainly. But it was able to support the Bennets and five daughters; Miss Mary is the middle daughter.”
“Oh, come to think on it, one of her sisters is visiting her just now.”
Mr. Darcy sat up straight, almost spilling his tea. “A sister?”
“Yes; I cannot recall her name just now, but I have invited them all for dinner tomorrow night.”
Mr. Darcy was unable to speak, so it was left to the Colonel to indicate his pleasure at the idea of meeting Mrs. Collins and her sister. The Colonel then asked if he might be permitted to wash the road dust from his person, and Lady Catherine released her guests to go to their rooms.
As they mounted the stairs, the Colonel hissed, “Think you it might be her?”
“Her?”
“Miss Elizabeth, of course; do not pretend you did not immediately hope for it! I saw your face.”
“It is just as likely to be one of the younger sisters.”
“It is possible, yes. But what if it is Miss Elizabeth?”
Mr. Darcy only shook his head.
But later that night, when everyone was in bed, he lay awake for a long while, wondering what he would do if it was Miss Elizabeth. Would he give in to his secret longings and marry her? Or would his rational mind prevail?
Chapter Fifty-One
Mrs. Collins! Mrs. Collins!”
“Yes, my dear? Only do come in and close the door, it is wet outside.”
Mr. Collins obeyed at once, and came clattering into the parlour. “Oh! There you are, Mrs. Collins, and Cousin Elizabeth, as well. I come bringing very glad tidings!”
“And what are those tidings?” Mary asked, smiling at her husband.
“We are invited to Rosings Park for dinner tomorrow night!”
“Oh, that is very good news. I did hope that Lizzy would see Rosings Park soon. Lizzy, wear whatever you brought that is best. Lady Catherine and her daughter will be very elegantly attired, but we are not expected to rise to their level.”
“And wait! There is more news! Her nephews are here.”
Elizabeth felt the room spin; she fell back in her chair, silent. It was Mary who answered, “Lady Catherine’s nephews? Mr. Darcy and the Colonel?”
“Precisely! What an honour, to be asked to dinner with her nephews, Mr. Darcy of Pemberley and Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, the son of the Earl and Countess of Matlock!” He rubbed his hands together with glee. Still chortling, he went off to his study.
When Mr. Collins had left the room Mary rose and closed the door. “Are you quite well, Lizzy?”
“I am, yes.”
