Page 78 of The Lost Prophecy

“It may improve the figures,” Hurst suggested.

Mrs Hurst stood and smoothed one hand over the front of her gown. “The guests will begin arriving shortly. We all know our positions.”

Darcy glanced once more at the floor plan before Fletcher removed it. The ball, the study, and Miss Elizabeth’s part in the trap had been reduced to doors, routes, and assigned places.

The first carriage entered the sweep before eight. Others followed in quick succession while footmen opened doors, received outdoor clothing, and announced families into the ballroom. Sir William and Lady Lucas arrived early enough to praise the house before it became crowded. Miss Lucas entered behind them, found Mrs Hurst near the ballroom doors, and took the place agreed between them without any hesitation.

The Bennet carriage came next.

Bingley had been greeting a local magistrate but abandoned the gentleman so quickly that Miss Bingley was forced to complete the welcome. He reached the entrance hall as Miss Bennet surrendered her cloak to a maid. Mrs Bennet followed, already describing the roads, the number of carriages, and the excellent effect of Netherfield’s windows when illuminated. Mr Bennet stepped aside to permit Miss Lydia and Miss Kitty to enter together, Miss Mary came after them, and Miss Elizabeth crossed the threshold before Collins brought up the rear.

Darcy forgot the room.

Her gown was fashioned from pale ivory silk with dark green embroidery at the sleeves and hem. The low neckline left the graceful line of her throat uncovered, and the pulse moving there carried the True Blood through skin no more capable of concealing it than glass could conceal flame. Every civilised instinct Darcy possessed insisted that he greet her with composure. Every other instinct proposed removing every man from the house and setting fire to the invitations.

Miss Lucas joined Miss Elizabeth while the maid took her cloak. Their brief exchange confirmed that both women remembered the plan they had discussed the previous evening.

Collins attempted to pass the footman without surrendering the stout walking stick in his right hand.

“Allow me, sir.” The footman extended one gloved palm.

Collins drew the stick closer. “That will not be necessary.”

“Walking sticks are placed in the entrance stand until departure.”

“This is not a decorative accessory, sir. I require it for physical support.”

The footman’s eyes descended to Collins’s feet. “Are you injured, sir?”

“I have suffered a disturbance of the smallest toe.”

“You walked from the carriage without difficulty.”

“The pain is intermittent.”

Hurst approached from the ballroom and surveyed the stick. Its polished ash shaft ended in a heavy brass ferrule, while the handle appeared thick enough to support far more than Collins’s disputed toe.

“You intend to dance while unable to cross a hallway without assistance?”

Collins drew himself upright. “The motions required by dancing differ materially from those required by ordinary walking. Lady Catherine has often observed that physical infirmity should not be permitted to obstruct social duty.”

“Has Lady Catherine inspected the toe?”

“The injury occurred after my departure from Kent.”

“Then we must rely on your diagnosis.”

Fletcher appeared beside the footman. He studied the stick, then Collins’s grip on it. “Mr Collins may retain it, provided that he keeps the ferrule from the polished floor.”

Miss Bingley reached the hall in time to hear the ruling. “He may not take a walking stick into my ballroom.”

Collins bowed. “I shall exercise every caution, madam.”

Miss Bingley withdrew to the receiving line before Collins could produce further medical equipment.

Darcy bowed to Miss Elizabeth. The hall contained her family, the Lucases, several newly arrived guests, and enough servants to carry every careless expression through Hertfordshire before supper. He kept his hands behind his back.

“Miss Elizabeth.”