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As the days passed after Mr Collins’ departure, life settled back into a quiet routine at Longbourn. After Mr Collins’s departure the day after the Netherfield ball and Mr Darcy’s abrupt retirement from the county, Elizabeth rarely had anything to dismay or upset her.

Nor was she the only member of the neighbourhood who seemed to find it a pleasant change.

Mr Darcy’s absence seemed rather a cause for general relief — and not a little curiosity.

Despite the best efforts of the gossip mill, the reason for his departure remained largely a mystery.

It seemed that Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy had had a falling out, but despite Jane’s gentle pressing, she could not find out anything more for their mother from Mr Bingley.

Disliking gossip as Jane did, likely the pressing had been very gentle indeed.

Privately, Elizabeth wondered at what had come between them to cause the breach.

They had seemed such fast friends, and even though she did not care a stitch about Mr Darcy’s feelings, she thought it a pity that Mr Bingley should be upset by the man.

She could only hope that Jane’s continued company would soon help him forget any sadness he might feel over his difficult friend.

“Mama?” Kitty spoke up one morning during what had been a leisurely breakfast. “Lydia and I have heard some news that we simply must tell you.”

Elizabeth raised a brow at her sister’s excited tone.

“Oh, do let me tell it, Kitty!” Lydia exclaimed from across the table.

“No, I want to tell it. I heard it from Lady Lucas, and I should be the one to tell the others!” Kitty pouted, looking to their father for some support.

She was to be disappointed. Mr Bennet hardly troubled himself to look over his newspaper at the exchange. He only uttered a heavy sigh, then muttered something unintelligible from behind the black and white page.

“I am older, I should be the one —” Kitty began, but she Lydia swooped in and blurted the news before she could speak another word.

“Mama, the militia is coming!” Lydia clapped her hands and bounced in her seat. She looked about the table as though she expected congratulations for her cleverness in reporting such news.

Kitty uttered a cry of dismay, but she was drowned out by her mother’s cry of excitement. “Oh, happy day! My goodness, what took you so long to tell me?” Their mother got up and started flitting about the breakfast room. “We must prepare ourselves posthaste!”

“Mama, surely they are not coming to call now, if they have only just arrived. They will need at least a few days to settle into their camp,” Mary said.

“Besides, I think chasing after the militia is a vulgar pastime. We would all be better served by staying in to read Fordyce’s sermons, as Mr Collins so often suggested.

” At the mention of their cousin, Mary’s eyes were downcast. Of late, they had often been so.

Though Mary was certainly the only one of the Bennet family to miss the man, Elizabeth could not help but feel sorry for her sister.

Perhaps Mr Collins would have been a good match for her serious sister, after all.

She certainly would have gone off to be his wife in a heartbeat if he had only given her a passing glance.

Despite Mary’s chidings, Kitty and Lydia could not be dissuaded from walking into Meryton and attempting to spy some of the newly arrived soldiers.

Exchanging only a silent nod, Elizabeth and Jane resolved to go with them, lest their youngest sisters be left to their own guidance and rather lax standards of behaviour.

Mary stayed behind, resolved not to waver from her distaste for the idea.

At least it was a pleasant day for an outing. Elizabeth and Jane remained several paces behind Lydia and Kitty as they walked. Their younger sisters chattering excitedly all the way, wondering what the men would be like and exclaiming about how handsome they would be in their red coats.

Elizabeth sighed as they walked. “We shall have a time reining them in,” she said, shaking her head. “I do not understand why Papa allows it.” She shook her head, wishing there was something she could say to prevail upon their father.

“He wants some peace and quiet, I presume,” Jane said mildly.

Their father surely did want his peace and quiet, but at what cost?

If he would not trouble himself to check their youngest sisters, their behaviour could only grow worse.

She did not think her parents had been so lenient with her and Jane when they were young.

As more and more daughters were added to the family, it was almost as though her father had given up.

Despite her best efforts, their mother had continued to give him daughters, with no hope of a male heir to carry on the name or the inheritance.

And while she knew their father loved them, his inattentiveness caused a nagging doubt in the back of her mind.

“Oh, I do hope there are some handsome ones. I do not wish to marry a pockmarked, invalid hero. He must be handsome. And charming!” Lydia was saying as she and Kitty practically bounced down the lane.

Elizabeth cleared her throat. “That is no way to talk about someone who has been defending your country from harm, Lydia. What if you find a man who has battle scars but has a good heart?”

Lydia only waved her off. “One has a choice in whom one marries, Lizzy. And I have decided to find a handsome, charming man. A captain, perhaps!” She clapped her hands together and gave an exaggerated sigh.

“Any red coat is handsome, of course, but the captains, with their frills and trimmings —” she put a hand to her forehead as though she were about to faint.

“I could die when I see a captain in his fine red coat.”

“When have you ever laid eyes on a militiaman?” Elizabeth asked, annoyed by her sister’s silliness.

Lydia and Kitty ignored her and went on talking about how exciting it would be to see the men parade down the streets, if they were so lucky.

When they arrived in Meryton, all their hopes seemed likely to be disappointed.

Everything was as it had been on every other day of their upbringing.

People milled about the market, shopboys ran hither and yon with deliveries, and women strolled about the dusty lanes in pairs or threes, chatting about the latest gossip.

“I should like to stop in at the lending library and exchange this for a new book,” Elizabeth remarked.

“No one wants to go to that dreary old library, Lizzy. Kitty and I want to go to the milliner’s and look at ribbons.”

“I will take them. Come along, Kitty, Lydia,” Jane suggested. Sweet Jane — always so accommodating. She ushered the younger girls onto the boardwalk outside the shops. “We shall come and collect you when we are finished.”

Elizabeth shot her a grateful smile, then watched them head two doors down to the milliners before stepping into the little library.

It had the dear, familiar scent of musty books, all of them just waiting for her to read them.

She had got through a goodly portion since she and Jane had become old enough to walk to town on their own.

“Ah, good morning, Miss Elizabeth,” Mr Wainwright greeted her as she entered the dimly lit establishment. “Back with your last book already?”

“Yes, Mr Wainwright. I wondered if I might trade this one out for another?”

He shook his head. “I think you are the fastest reader in Meryton—perhaps the county.” He motioned to the half-dozen shelves that were lined with books. “Please help yourself.”

Elizabeth thanked him, then went to peruse the shelves.

There were books on philosophy, science, history, and theology.

But she always gravitated toward the books of fiction, preferring to spend her walks with scenes of heroines presented with impossible choices and heroes prevailing against all odds.

She chose a thick volume of three Gothic novels put into one issue, and Mr Wainwright promptly noted the loan down in his great ledger.

With a word of thanks and a quick bow, Elizabeth left the lending library.

She opened her book and began to skim the contents, stepping out onto the steps leading up into the lending library — one step too far.

Having missed the step, momentum carried her inescapably forward.

Elizabeth gave a yelp of surprise and tripped on her skirts before she knew what was happening.

The world seemed to slow as she careened toward the street.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and braced for the impact.

At the last moment, she felt strong arms encircle her, breaking her fall. Her eyes flew open, and she saw a handsome face staring down at her, breathless and concerned. “Are you well, Miss? Please tell me you are unhurt.”

For once, Elizabeth’s ready tongue deserted her.

The shocking but necessary liberty of his arms around her was so great that she could not seem to speak.

It took a moment of great willpower before she could bring herself to answer.

“I believe I am all right.” She looked down in dismay at her skirts, the hem torn when she had stepped on it in her fall.

He continued to hold her, almost as though they were dancing.

“Forgive my forwardness, but I could not stand aside and see you fall into the road. Please forgive me if I have embarrassed you.” He released Elizabeth, pausing a moment to ensure she was steady on her feet.

Looking around in renewed embarrassment, she saw that a small crowd had gathered, including her sisters.

Undoubtedly, they had been coming to retrieve her at the library.

“You did not embarrass me,” Elizabeth said when he helped right herself. “I did that to myself. How can I thank you enough, Mr —”