“No. Only tired.”
He studied her more closely, which was so rare an occurrence that Elizabeth almost wished he had not begun. “Tired from nursing Jane, I suppose.”
“Partly.”
“And the rest?”
Elizabeth shifted the papers against her arm. She had not meant to answer honestly, but fatigue made evasion more difficult. “From being in a house where one must smile while receiving small attacks from every side.”
Mr. Bennet’s brows rose. “Ah. The elegant Miss Bingley has unsheathed her claws?”
“She has a very polished manner of doing so.”
“And Mr. Darcy? Has he been equally polished?”
Elizabeth’s grip tightened upon the letters. “Mr. Darcy was perfectly civil.”
“That bad, was it?”
She could not bear to discuss him. Not with her father, who would make a jest of it, or worse, perceive too much and still make a jest of it. “Jane is improving. Mr. Bingley was kind. We came home because it was time.”
“Then I have just the thing to cheer you.”
Elizabeth looked at him warily. Her father’s notion of cheer was not always kind.
He reached beneath his book and drew out a letter. “Our esteemed cousin, Mr. Collins, has written me a letter.”
“Mr. Collins?” Elizabeth set the stack upon the edge of the desk and took the letter. “The heir?”
“The very same… well, not exactly. My cousin apparently passed away last year, and his son is now the heir presumptive. A clergyman now, under the noble patronage of some great lady whose condescension appears to have entirely overset him.”
Elizabeth unfolded the letter and read quickly. After the first few lines, her weariness sharpened into incredulity. After the next few, her brows rose. By the end, she could only stare.
“He is coming here in two days?”
“So he says.”
“And Mama does not know?”
Mr. Bennet leaned back in his chair. “Not yet.”
“Papa.”
“What? I thought it would be amusing to watch her discover it with insufficient time to prepare. A Bennet relation, a clergyman, the heir to the estate, arriving almost without warning—there is drama enough there to enliven a fortnight.”
“It may enliven it by killing Mama outright.”
“Then I could remarry and have a son, and we should all be spared the entail.”
Elizabeth did not smile. She was too tired, and too raw, and the jest struck too near old pain. “You cannot mean to keep it from her until the day itself.”
Mr. Bennet’s amusement faded into irritation. “My dear Lizzy, I am hardly obliged to manage every flutter of your mother’s nerves.”
“No. You leave that to me.”
His eyes narrowed. “You have come home in a temper.”
“I have come home to find estate matters waiting, bills unpaid, Jane still weak, Mama ignorant of a guest who will arrive in two days, and you laughing over the confusion as if none of it will fall upon anyone but yourself.”
