“Why not?” Elizabeth asked, all the frustration of the past days making her words a bit too sharp. “Forgive me, Jane, but everything is topsy-turvy just now. Mr. Collins has proposed to me, and Mr. Bingley has not yet proposed to you. In what world is that the correct order of things?”
Jane smiled a little at that, but Elizabeth could sense her sister’s hesitation. As she opened her mouth to speak, there was a commotion out in the hall.
“I have news!” a male voice called imperiously.
Both women froze before Elizabeth simply hung her head.
Mr. Collins had returned to Longbourn.
Darcy returned downstairs after some hours with Bingley and was met by the giggling of Miss Lydia and Miss Kitty. A heap of the mistletoe they had collected was piled on a small table in the corner of the sitting room. Miss Bennet was sewing and did not look up at him when he entered. Miss Mary was reading a book, and Miss Elizabeth was nowhere to be seen.
He considered his options before taking a chair near Miss Bennet. “Is everything quite all right, Miss Bennet?” he asked.
She glanced up at him and just as quickly glanced away. “Of course, Mr. Darcy.”
“Bingley believes he shall be able to hazard the stairs tomorrow,” he offered. That should bring her some pleasure.
“That is good to hear, sir,” she said flatly.
Darcy blinked. He had only been upstairs a few hours, and yet he had descended into an entirely new set of circumstances. One had to remain vigilant to keep pace at Longbourn.
The giggles grew louder.
“Do you mind, sisters?” Miss Mary asked peevishly. “I am attempting to read.”
“You just want Mr. Collins to notice you, Mary,” Miss Lydia crowed, “but it will not matter, for I know something you do not.”
“What is that?” Miss Mary asked with a sigh.
“Mr. Collins is not to marry youorLizzy, for he has asked Charlotte Lucas, and what do you think? She has accepted him!”
Miss Elizabeth’s absence from the room suddenly took on a more sinister meaning. He hoped she was not locked in a room somewhere with her mother.
Miss Mary’s shoulders slumped. “How do you know?” she asked.
He could not help feel a bit of sympathy for her.
“Maria Lucas told Captain Carter, and he told us,” Miss Kitty said proudly.
“Kitty!” Miss Lydia complained. “I wanted to tell her!”
Not that marrying Mr. Collins was a point in Miss Lucas’s favour, but as Miss Elizabeth had mentioned, Mr. Collins could at least afford a wife. Despite Sir William’s elevation, there was likely not money enough to support all the Lucas children, for there were many, and Miss Lucas was a good deal older than Miss Elizabeth. It was a prudent match, then, and a clear escape for Miss Elizabeth. All in all, the business was neatly concluded.
Except that now none of the Bennet women would be the next mistress of Longbourn. That could not sit well with the current mistress.
Poor Miss Elizabeth. She was living through several very trying days.
Darcy wished he had the right to offer her some comfort, but he had been within hours of departing Hertfordshire forever less than two days ago and had allowed no sign of his preference to escape in her presence. Miss Bingley’s teasing about the matter had grown increasingly irritating to him; she had seen his attraction even if Miss Elizabeth did not. Could not. It had made him act with more reticence than was normal, even for him.
He was still not certain how he would explain his choice to Miss Elizabeth, let alone his family. Bingley’s accident had given him an opportunity to spend more time with her, to allow her to see his admiration, and he was a lost man. There was nothing to do now but give in, and he believed that now he had apologised for insulting her and cleared the air about Wickham, she was not entirely set against him.
Georgiana would not mind his choice in the least, of course; she would love Miss Elizabeth. His cousin Richard would find her charming, if he ever returned from the peninsula. It was the rest of the family that had him worried.
He had always expected to marry a wife who was a member of the ton. He had hardened himself to the necessity of escorting her to endless balls and at-homes, soirees, dozens of plays where everyone spoke over the actors. It exhausted him to even think of it. Yet if it was Miss Elizabeth who wished his escort, he would not hesitate. He could not say with complete honesty that he would enjoy such events, even with her company, but he would detest them less.
And he would love being with her. He swallowed.
He loved her.