Page 20 of A Sisterly Bond

The morning walk was brief, both of them in haste to return home before breakfast. A scolding for being late for the morning meal was equally annoying whether it came from Lady Catherine or Mr Collins.

“I look forward to seeing you again tonight, Miss Bennet.”

“Likewise, Mr Darcy,” she said, watching him as he swung himself into the saddle and touched his hat in an amiable farewell.

***

The afternoon was exceedingly agitated at the parsonage. Mr Collins supervised even their clothes, insisting that Lady Catherine did not require elegance and fashion from them but modesty and propriety. Charlotte arranged Maria’s hair, then her own several times, then she put in more pins to catch Elizabeth’s rebellious locks.

Elizabeth was amused but also in a disquieted state of mind and struggled to understand the reason.

They walked through the park, with Mr Collins offering detailed explanations about every flower, every tree, every path, and insisting they to admire the splendour of Rosings’ windows. He spoke so much and so hastily that Elizabeth abandoned any attempt to follow his explanations. As they approached and she looked at the impressive building, she noticed Mr Darcy’s figure next to a lit window. She wondered whether he was waiting for them, and her heart began to race; then she scolded herself for such a response. What was happening to her?

In front of the main entrance, Mr Collins and the entire party stopped. The clergyman inspected their appearance one more time, then breathed deeply before he rang the bell and a servant opened the door.

With solemn gestures, he entered, then indicated to the others to follow him. He walked through the entrance hall then stopped once again in front of a door. Another servant introduced them, and only then did they step into the large, elegant dining room, where Lady Catherine, her daughter, Mrs Jenkinson, and her two nephews were waiting.

“Come, Mr Collins, you may enter,” her ladyship said. “You all should sit on the other side of the table. Dr Linfield said there is no danger of illness, but one cannot be too cautious.

“Indeed, your ladyship, we shall do as you say…” Mr Collins stuttered.

“I shall take the chance and sit next to Miss Bennet,” Colonel Fitzwilliam declared. “I believe such lovely company is worth the risk.”

He was joking, but Lady Catherine immediately frowned, and her voice became even colder.

“You should be more careful with your actions, Nephew! Miss Bennet might get the wrong impression about your intentions!”

“I assure you that is not the case, Lady Catherine,” Elizabeth replied, and her response displeased the lady even further. From the other side of the table, seated next to Miss de Bourgh, Mr Darcy gazed at her.

“Let us all sit. Miss Bennet, Sir William, you must tell me how you are enjoying your stay so far. But not now, only after the first course is served.”

Elizabeth lowered her eyes to her plate, wondering whether anyone had noticed her amusement. She wondered whether Lady Catherine would indicate when they were allowed to swallow.

Footmen entered with the dishes, and everyone waited in formal silence. Elizabeth could not help glancing at Mr Darcy. She observed his usual stern countenance but also a little smile that twisted the corners of his mouth.

Suddenly, the butler entered, bowed, then froze in front of Lady Catherine.

“Yes, Benson. What is the matter? Has anyone died?”

“N-n-no, ma’am, it is just that…there is a gentleman here… He asked about Sir William.”

“Sir William?” Lady Catherine repeated, glaring at the man, who turned pale and held his breath. “Here at Rosings? At dinner time?”

“It must be a mistake. I am not expecting anybody.” Sir William struggled to speak, looking at Charlotte and at Mr Collins as if begging for help.

“Did you hear that, Benson?” Lady Catherine said. “It must be a mistake! Tell the man to go to the parsonage tomorrow if he wants to talk to Sir William.”

“As you wish, ma’am…but he also asked for Mr Darcy,” the servant muttered, his eyes to the ground.

“For me?” Mr Darcy repeated, puzzled, rising on his feet. “Who is this man? Do you have his name?”

“Yes, sir… A Mr King, from Meryton, Hertfordshire.”

Mr Darcy frowned, this time in evident confusion. Sir William turned pale, then flushed, while Elizabeth felt a grip in her chest.

“Mr King? I do not remember him,” Mr Darcy declared. “Do you know him, Sir William? Miss Bennet?”

“I do know him, sir,” Elizabeth responded. “He is a friend of Sir William’s and of my father’s…”