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Elizabeth laughed.
Charlotte rubbed her forehead. “Honestly, Lizzy, I do not mind Collins’s company. Mostly he harms nobody but himself. But it was such a relief to leave behind Rosings and Lady Catherine…” Conflicting emotions played over her face. “I would prefer to remain here.”
Elizabeth took her friend’s hand. “You might. There are many couples of the ton who live apart most of the year. It is a rather fashionable arrangement. Mr. Collins might appreciate an opportunity to be au courant.”
Ch
arlotte watched Elizabeth as if she offered the last chance of salvation for her soul.
“It would not appear odd if Mr. Collins were to leave Longbourn,” Elizabeth continued. “Many gentlemen manage their estates from afar….Perhaps you might remain at Longbourn to watch over the estate while Mr. Collins attends to Lady Catherine’s…spiritual needs.”
Something very much like hope began to blossom in Charlotte’s eyes. “Yes, such an arrangement would suit me quite well.” Although Charlotte was not watching Elizabeth, she spoke very carefully. “I find the air of my native Hertfordshire is much more conducive to my health, and it is so advantageous to raise Robert near his grandparents and cousins.”
And further away from his father.
A warm sensation began to spread through Elizabeth’s chest; it took her a moment to recognize it as hope. If sensible, practical Charlotte would manage Longbourn, everybody on the estate would benefit. She would listen carefully to the tenants’ concerns and advice and would make decisions in a firm but compassionate manner. Life for the Bennet sisters would improve markedly.
“However, it seems my husband has already dismissed the idea,” Charlotte said. “I cannot suggest it; he would not listen to me.”
“But if he understands that it is for the best, surely—”
Charlotte wrung her hands. “He is…stubborn. He believes it is his Christian duty to live at Longbourn and see to the well-being of its inhabitants.”
Elizabeth managed not to laugh at her friend. Collins’s presence at Longbourn could not possibly contribute to anyone’s spiritual well-being.
“Surely there is a way to change his mind,” Elizabeth mused. “Perhaps if he were convinced that Lady Catherine had great need of him…”
“Yes, he would do anything for her. But she is proud. After having offered the position once, she would never lower herself to begging for his company.”
“I might enlist Mr. Darcy’s assistance,” Elizabeth said.
“Mr. Darcy?”
“Yes. He wishes to help my family.”
“How…generous of him,” Charlotte murmured.
Elizabeth recalled that Charlotte was the only person who had guessed at Mr. Darcy’s interest at Hunsford. She experienced a sudden impulse to confess everything, but she could not reveal Mr. Darcy’s almost-proposal.
“He believes he owes the Bennet family a debt for not preventing Wickham’s depredations.”
“I see,” said Charlotte, a faint smile playing around her lips. “So, he is motivated by a desire to atone for past neglect?”
Elizabeth stood, fearing she would reveal everything if she remained. “So he says.” Charlotte smirked, and Elizabeth decided a change of subject was in order. “In any event, Mr. Darcy might have thoughts about how to convince Mr. Collins that he belongs at Rosings.”
All traces of humor vanished from Charlotte’s face. “If he does, then we will all owe him a debt.”
***
Mr. Darcy visited Longbourn later in the day, but Elizabeth had no opportunity for private conversation. Collins had kept the poor master of Pemberley trapped in the drawing room—the audience for a soliloquy that alternately lamented Mr. Weston’s precipitous departure and praised Lady Catherine’s wisdom despite recent evidence to the contrary.
When Collins learned that Mr. Darcy had recently visited Rosings, the man had been forced to recount every word of every conversation. Then Collins questioned him in detail about any alterations that might have taken place at Rosings, not excepting the size of the boxwoods near the front entrance, the placement of the mantel clock, or the arrangement of china figurines on the drawing room table. Nobody else entertained even the slightest hope of participating in this discourse.
Mr. Darcy had shot Elizabeth a despairing look as he departed. Elizabeth deeply regretted their failure to develop a secret code that would allow them to communicate a later rendezvous.
After the dinner dishes had been washed and put away, Elizabeth was far too restless to remain enclosed by Longbourn’s walls, listening to Collins read from his book of improving sermons. The days were long as they approached summer, and the sun had not yet begun to set. It was the perfect time of day for a walk.
Elizabeth grabbed her most worn bonnet and strolled toward the stream that ran through the center of Longbourn’s property. The weather was pleasant: warm, but with a hint of spring chill in the air. Insects were not yet out in force. The lowering sun cast elongated shadows of trees and shrubbery over the fields and paths.
