Page 61 of The Lost Prophecy

“So I did.” Darcy took his hat from Hill and opened the front door before Collins could begin his account within reach of the drawing room. “We may speak outside.”

The sky was grey with no sign of sun. Their carriage waited on the sweep, the horses breathing steam into the cold air. Hurst descended the steps first and moved to stand next to it. Bingley followed more slowly, turning once to glance back at the drawing room windows before Darcy directed him down the drive.

Collins emerged without fastening the upper half of his coat. He looked back at the house, then at the coachman and footman, and lowered his voice.

“It is necessary that we speak where we cannot be overheard,” he muttered.

Hurst surveyed the open drive. “Unless the hedges have developed an interest in gossip, I believe we are safe.”

Darcy led them beyond the carriage, stopping where a curve in the drive placed several yews between them and the servants. Longbourn was visible through the branches, denying Mrs Bennet the opportunity to improve the conversation through participation.

Collins faced the three men and discovered that private disclosure required more courage than he had brought outdoors. His hands moved to each other, separated, then disappeared behind his back.

“Yesterday, during the visit from Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst, I experienced a sensation which I have been unable to explain.”

Hurst leaned one shoulder against the trunk of a yew. “If this concerns my wife, explanation has defeated better men.”

“I touched her hand, Mr Hurst.”

“I am aware of the incident. Two cakes died and another sustained injuries.”

Collins’s lips parted. “They were cakes.”

“My wife remembers them fondly.”

Darcy gave Hurst a warning glance. “Allow him to continue.”

Hurst folded his arms and inclined his head, granting Collins temporary possession of the conversation.

“Mrs Hurst’s hand was cold.” Collins flexed his own fingers inside his gloves. “I do not mean that she had recently entered from outdoors or that the room was insufficiently heated. The coldness was settled. There was no warmth within it attempting to reach the surface.”

“Louisa has frequently produced that impression in company,” Hurst murmured.

Collins persisted. “The instant we accidentally touched, every instinct urged me to withdraw. I felt pain, though she exerted no pressure and did nothing which might have caused it. I have considered ague, weakness of the nerves, poor circulation, and a temporary disturbance of the humours, but none explains why the sensation seemed to belong to her while the alarm belonged to me.”

Darcy kept his voice neutral. “You believe Mrs Hurst caused it?”

“I believe I detected a condition which others could not.”

The modest phrasing could not conceal the return of Collins’s self-importance, although fear had reduced it to useful proportions. Darcy allowed him the comfort. A man who believed himself unusually perceptive might disclose more freely than one who suspected he had lost his reason.

“You mentioned another incident.”

Collins drew his coat closer around himself. “At my cousin’s sister’s house yesterday, we were joined by three militia officers. Two caused me no unease. The third behaved with perfect civility, yet I wished to remain as far from him as the dimensions of the room permitted.”

Bingley moved closer. “Did he threaten you?”

“No. He greeted Mrs Philips, conversed with the younger ladies, and treated me with every outward courtesy. His manners were exceedingly agreeable.”

“Dangerous men rarely introduce themselves by insulting the host,” Hurst observed. “Society would become much easier if they did.”

Darcy ignored him. “What caused your alarm?”

“I cannot identify any cause. I moved my chair before he approached, then placed a table between us. At the time I believed the alteration convenient, although it was less useful afterwards and Mrs Philips appeared confused.”

Collins paused and glanced at Longbourn. Darcy followed the direction of his gaze and saw Miss Elizabeth’s figure near one of the windows. She stood partly obscured by the curtain, though whether she watched the drive or merely spoke to her sisters could not be determined at that distance.

“The officer directed much of his conversation to Miss Elizabeth,” Collins continued. “He spoke to her quietly and seemed eager to secure her good opinion. She did not encourage him as Miss Lydia and Miss Kitty did, but neither could she refuse ordinary civility in her aunt’s house.”