Lady Catherine directed her attention to her new guest. “Miss Bennet, I have learned from Mrs. Collins that your elder sister has recently married Darcy’s friend, Mr. Bingley.”
Elizabeth nodded. “That is correct, Lady Catherine.”
“I am surprised your father allowed the match; is he not the son of a tradesman?”
Elizabeth’s brows rose at such a question. She supposed she could say that she and her sisters had little in the way of dowries, the estate was entailed, and her family had been entirely overjoyed at the match, but instead she replied with, “They fell in love, Lady Catherine.”
“Love! Love? Bah.” Lady Catherine almost snorted.
“Yes, I am told that the first circles prefer to marry for financial advantage,” Elizabeth said, coolly.
Miss de Bourgh, most unexpectedly, spoke up. “And I think the first circles wrong in this regard. I would not marry anyone for whom I did not have a decided preference.”
Elizabeth smiled at this unexpected support. “Thank you for saying so, Miss de Bourgh. My elder sister and I swore, many years ago, not to marry except for the deepest love.”
“And she was able to do so! I am glad for her.”
“Thank you again, Miss de Bourgh.”
Lady Catherine interrupted again. “I see you have freckles, Miss Bennet. That speaks of a good deal of time out of doors. It is not good for a lady’s complexion to have so much time under the sun. If you must go out, you must take great care to wear a bonnet with a wide brim, sufficient to cover your face entirely. The sun is your enemy, Miss Bennet; never forget it.”
Elizabeth managed to stifle a laugh. “I thank you for your concern, Lady Catherine. It is true that I enjoy being out of doors, and I must say that being outside in your lovely gardens has been a treat.”
“Oh!” Lady Catherine tossed her head. “I designed them myself, you know.”
“They are quite beautiful.” Privately, Elizabeth thought them over-manicured, but she would not say so.
Mr. Darcy felt now that he could participate in the conversation. “How is the rest of your family, Miss Bennet? Bingley is an indifferent correspondent, so I hear little news of Meryton.”
“Likely he thinks you disinterested,” Elizabeth returned. “But we are all well.”
“I do miss playing chess with your father,” he pushed on.
“Doubtless thetoncontains superior players; I am certain you could find a substitute,” she said. She could not help the tinge of bitterness in her voice.
A brief silence fell upon the group. Happily, they were then called in to dinner.
Mr. Darcy’s hope of sitting beside Miss Bennet was not to be gratified; he was between Lady Catherine and Mrs. Collins. But he took advantage of the arrangement to speak to Mrs. Collins. He was glad – and rather surprised – to learn that she was quite happy in her new situation. Indeed, she looked a good deal better than he remembered. Less thin, less pale, less reserved; in fact, he could not recall ever seeing her smile before, but now she smiled a good deal. “You look well, Mrs. Collins, if I may be forgiven for such an observation.”
“I feel very well!” she exclaimed. “Marriage has been truly wonderful.” She sent a warm glance toward Mr. Collins; therecipient of her gaze evidently felt her eyes on him, for he looked at her and smiled warmly in return.
Mr. Darcy felt a stab of – was it envy? Was he actually envious of a country parson? He shook his head, and then looked at Miss Bennet. She was seated between the Colonel and Mrs. Jenkinson, and was deep in conversation with the Colonel. Mr. Darcy scowled at his cousin, but he was ignored.
Face the facts, Darcy, he thought. She no longer cares for you. Did she ever? Perhaps he had imagined her regard! He had been certain that she felt as he did, but – had it just been merely his hopes informing his beliefs?
Lady Catherine finally rose and led the ladies from the table, leaving Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Collins behind. Mr. Darcy wasted not a moment. “What do you think you are about, Richard?”
The Colonel did not pretend to misunderstand. “I was seated beside her, Darcy; would you have me ignore her?”
“No! Yes! I do not know. Was she acting cold toward me, think you?”
“What does it matter?” the Colonel responded, leaning his chair back on its rear two legs.
Mr. Collins had been listening in some confusion, and he finally said, “See here! Are you speaking of my Cousin Elizabeth?”
Both men ignored him. Mr. Darcy said, “It does matter, of course it does! Her regard is important to me!”
“Indeed? And can you tell me why?”
