Papa interrupted Mr. Collins at once. “Does Lady Catherine have other livings in her gift? Can she do more for you than she has already?”
“But . . .”
“You need not act in any way you do not wish, of course,” Papa said placatingly. “However, I would take Mr. Darcy’s side, for I suspect that he has more to give.”
“You may have meant well,” Elizabeth added quietly, “but I am sure Mr. Darcy felt all the offense of his aunt’s clergyman taking him to task over a sprig of mistletoe.”
Mr Collins stood, shifting his weight from one foot to another. “Perhaps I ought to make my apologies. Yes, perhaps I should.”
“I think that is a very proper notion,” Papa said, opening the door to the hall. Mr. Collins bustled out, and Elizabeth smiled at her father.
Mr. Collins’s voice rang out from the hall. “Mr. Darcy, sir! I must offer my most humble apologies!”
She shook her head. “You know his apologies will be endless and drive Mr. Darcy to distraction.”
Papa matched her smile as he shut the door and Mr. Collins’s never-ending requests for pardon were muted. “I thought you would appreciate that. Insult for insult, as it were.”
Elizabeth glanced away. “He is not so very bad.”
“Indeed?” Her father observed her carefully before saying, “He did tell me a story about this Lieutenant Wickham your sisters are so fond of. Was he telling me the truth?”
“I believe that he was.” She sat in a chair near the hearth. “I was fond of Mr. Wickham too, but as it turns out, he was merely using me to take some sort of revenge upon Mr. Darcy.”
“Hmm.” Papa pushed his spectacles up on his nose. “I gather he has done worse than Mr. Darcy related to me, but how have you come to such a conclusion?”
“Well, I had a story from Mr. Darcy which makes a great deal more sense than Mr. Wickham’s. Thus, I was forced to revise my first impression of Mr. Darcy.”
Her father smiled. “Oh dear. This must be serious, for I know how much you dislike revisiting your initial opinions.”
“Papa,” she said, aggravated.
Her father walked over to her and placed a light kiss upon her brow. “I always did wonder why you were so angry with him that night. You must know that you are very pretty, Lizzy. What one pompous man from London says cannot change that.”
“What I have learned, Papa, is that I am every bit as vain as the next young lady who wishes to be well thought of,” she told him.
He chuckled. “Young men are vain too, Lizzy. Do not allow them to pretend otherwise.”
She nodded. “I shall not.”
Her father sat behind his desk and folded his hands before him, then peered at her over the top of his spectacles. “Is there anything to this kiss under the mistletoe, then?”
Was there? “How can I know until he speaks? And I believe he is unlikely to speak.”
“Well, just as he chooses,” her father said. “If he cannot pluck up his courage, he is not worthy of you.”
“Thank you, Papa,” she said affectionately.
He grunted and pointed to the door with the corner of the book he still held in his hand. “Yes, well, off with you. This house is entirely too full for my liking. All these young bucks about. I shall be pleased to see them all off when they go.”
“Jane will eventually go too, Papa, for Mr. Bingley will certainly declare himself before long.”
“Well, at least it is only to Netherfield.” He sighed. “Although I cannot suppose your mother will leave them in peace. You at least must promise not to live too far away.”
She tipped her head to one side. “I cannot make any promises, sir.”
Papa’s look was shrewd. “Perhaps all the way to Derbyshire, eh, Lizzy?”
She shook her head at him. “Perhaps never any farther than the cave near Oakham Mount. Do you think Mamma would give me the hermit’s position?”