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Hill’s voice echoed from the front hall. “Right this way, Mr. Darcy, if you please. The blue drawing room.”
Elizabeth took a deep breath, attempting to calm her nerves. I am being silly. He is merely a gentleman of my acquaintance. We will have a pleasant conversation, and then he will depart. There is nothing very remarkable about the visit.
They would exchange pleasantries. Mr. Darcy would speak to Collins about the latest bill in Parliament and comment on the weather to her mother. They would relate the latest happenings in the neighborhood. And that would be the end of it. She would never see him again or have reason to think of him.
Elizabeth and Jane slipped up the back stairs, which led to the breakfast room. From there, they hurried through the dining room to the yellow parlor, grabbing their embroidery so it would appear they had been idling the day away as young ladies should. Elizabeth had been working on the same piece for the better part of a year now.
She heard Charlotte’s light step as she entered the drawing room; it was only proper that the lady of the house be the first person to greet Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth exchanged a nervous glance with Jane before they traversed the hallway and opened the drawing room door.
Their mother had preceded them and was loudly exclaiming how nice it was to see Mr. Darcy and how long it had been since last they met. Charlotte was quietly pouring tea. She never seemed to mind Mrs. Bennet demanding the greater part of every conversation—even when Charlotte’s own parents visited. They were fortunate indeed that Collins had married a woman with such a placid temperament; few others would have tolerated Longbourn’s previous mistress living under the same roof.
At one time Elizabeth might have asked her friend if she found Mrs. Bennet’s presence irksome, but a gulf had necessarily grown between them when Charlotte had become mistress of Longbourn. They were still on friendly terms, and Charlotte often took Elizabeth’s part if she had a difference of opinion with Collins. But they were not as intimate as they had once been. Yet another thing that had been altered forever.
Mr. Darcy’s reaction when Jane and Elizabeth entered was quite pronounced. He stood immediately, regarding Elizabeth in particular with unnerving intensity. “Miss Bennet. Miss Elizabeth,” he murmured, bowing slightly. He eagerly drank in every detail of her appearance, causing her to flush. She must appear very altered to his eyes.
The sisters curtsied, and then Jane quietly maneuvered their mother from the middle of the room to a chair at a distance from Mr. Darcy. As Elizabeth sat on the settee beside Jane, Mr. Darcy’s gaze followed her every movement with a slight frown. Was he judging her and finding her wanting? The thought was nearly intolerable; she had to suppress an urge to make an excuse and leave the room.
Fortunately, her mother was pleased to draw their guest’s attention to her. “It is very good of you to visit us! There have been a vast many happenings in the neighborhood since you departed!”
“Indeed?” Mr. Darcy’s voice was polite and cool.
“Yes, well, Mrs. Long’s oldest daughter is married and left for Yorkshire. And the Bramptons’ son has gone into the regulars. Purvis Lodge has been let to a fine gentleman from the navy, Mr. Shaw, who has a great many children.”
Mr. Darcy accepted a cup of tea from Charlotte.
“Of course,” her mother continued, “the biggest changes have been here at Longbourn. My dear husband perished so suddenly, and now we have the Collinses to take possession.” At least her mother did not burst into tears, as she was wont to do when guests visited. Perhaps she had guessed Mr. Darcy would not appreciate theatrics. She did allow a few tears to trickle delicately down her cheeks so she might dab her eyes daintily with a handkerchief. “We all miss him terribly.”
Mr. Darcy held his teacup awkwardly. “I am sorry for your loss.”
“I thank you!” Mrs. Bennet waved her handkerchief dramatically. “You are the soul of generosity.”
Mr. Darcy regarded her with alarm, unsure how to address such effusiveness. Elizabeth marveled at her mother’s ability to make any guest feel ill at ease.
Hoping to steer the conversation in a more salubrious direction, Elizabeth asked, “How have you been faring these past years, Mr. Darcy?” she asked. “Are you well? And your sister?”
His eyes locked with hers. She had forgotten how blue they were, a deep cobalt intensified by t
he darkness of his hair. It was unfair that one man should be granted such handsomeness in addition to great wealth. “We are both quite well, thank you. We have just returned from a tour of Upper Canada.”
“Canada? In North America?”
“Indeed. We were gone for a year and a half—and only recently returned.”
Oh. I had assumed he was one of the many who had abandoned our family following Lydia’s scandal. But he had not even been in England. But why had he visited Meryton so soon? He must have some pressing matter of business.
“That is a long voyage,” Jane murmured.
Mr. Darcy seemed puzzled. “I thought—I would think—I assumed you knew of my travels.”
“No,” Elizabeth said faintly.
“I believed my aunt had related all of our family news to Mr. Collins, but apparently not.”
Collins’s silence on the matter was a rather glaring omission. He often read long passages from Lady Catherine’s letters at the dinner table. In this way, Elizabeth had learned details about all Lady Catherine’s neighbors, garden, and staff. Yet he had never mentioned something that touched on a mutual acquaintance. How odd.
Mr. Darcy continued. “I have business interests there, and we took some time to tour the country. It was quite lovely. Mr. Bingley accompanied us. You remember Mr. Bingley?”
Jane could not quite conceal a start of surprise. “Yes, of course,” she responded automatically.
