Page 35 of Colour My World (The Bennet Sister Variations #3)

The carriage rolled past the hedgerows. Elizabeth watched the fields slip by. Jane sat opposite, pale but steady, her hands folded in her lap.

Longbourn, unassuming and weathered, stood waiting as they entered the drive. It was not Netherfield Park nor any grand estate designed to awe. Simply, it was home.

The carriage came to a halt. Their father stood beside their mother and Mrs Hill. Elizabeth barely had time to step down before Mrs Bennet surged forward.

“My dear Jane! My love, you look pale. Oh, but no matter, you are home! Hill will see that a tea tray is sent up at once.”

Jane endured her mother’s fussing with good grace, allowing herself to be swept inside with murmurs of affection and gentle admonitions.

Mrs Bennet turned to Elizabeth, gave her a once-over, and sniffed. “I suppose you’ve been out and about, as always.”

“Yes, Mama. From one sickroom to another—and in the company of Miss Bingley. A most exhilarating tour.”

Mrs Bennet waved a hand as she followed Jane into the house. “Oh, do not speak of that woman! I am quite convinced she is a viper. But no matter. You returned and that is all that matters.”

Pale yellow. She means it. I love you, too, Mama.

Elizabeth paused at the threshold. “Are you not coming in, Papa?”

Mr Bennet smiled faintly and lifted a letter in his hand. “Not quite yet. I have before me an epistle—long, pompous, and entirely unavoidable.” His tan aire was edged in brown.

“From whom?”

“My cousin, Mr Collins. Do you recall him? The esteemed clergyman of Hunsford? It seems he intends to honour us with a visit.”

Elizabeth made a face. “He has not written in years. What could have prompted such generosity of spirit?”

“I suspect Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s command is more binding than generosity. Either way, I shall read his offer and see if it warrants a response.”

Elizabeth laughed. “Enjoy your entertainment, Papa.”

“I most certainly shall.”

* * *

Later that evening, they gathered in the drawing room. Mr Bennet sat comfortably, the letter spread across his lap. His tan aire pulsed. He seemed to be suppressing a smile.

Mrs Bennet eyed him warily. “Well? What does he want?”

“To make our acquaintance, naturally.”

Mrs Bennet scoffed. “The man has never sought to know us, yet now he arrives with all due haste? Unfathomable.” She turned to Elizabeth. “How many syllables was that, Lizzy?”

“Five.”

Everyone laughed.

“I do not believe Mr Collins is acting of his own volition. He is likely following the guidance of another.”

“You mean to say he is being directed?” Elizabeth asked.

“Encouraged, at the very least.” Her father leant back and tapped the letter. “His patroness seems disinclined to leave matters to chance.”

“You do not sound concerned,” Mrs Bennet replied.

“I am not.” He folded the letter neatly. “But I shall have my amusements, for he has extended an olive branch.”

He unfolded the letter, cleared his throat, and read aloud:

“I am most sensible of the hardship the entail must cause to my fair cousins and their esteemed mother, and I should be pleased to heal any breach between our branches of the family.”

Mrs Bennet rose. “You will not consent to give one of our girls to that odious man, Mr Bennet. Promise me.”

Elizabeth blinked. Her mother’s fiery aire had returned, if only for a moment.

Her father caught her mother’s hand and pressed a kiss to it. “I am yours to command, my dear.”

Elizabeth bit back a smile. Mr Collins had yet to cross the threshold, and already he had unsettled the house.

* * *

On a temperate afternoon in November, the Bennet family gathered at Longbourn’s entrance, awaiting their guest. Kitty twisted the hem of her pelisse; Lydia tugged at her glove.

“Decorum, Sisters,” Jane murmured.

“Never fear, Mrs Ecclestone shall return before the holiday season,” said Mrs Bennet.

“I do not mind, Mama,” Jane replied.

Mrs Bennet touched her cheek. “You are a treasure.”

Elizabeth turned to her father. “A pity. Mrs Ecclestone would have had much to say about this visit.”

Mr Bennet smiled. “Indeed. It would have been quite the diversion.”

At precisely four o’clock, Mr Collins arrived.

He descended from the carriage with practised solemnity, his portly frame encased in a coat far too fine for the road.

His chin was inclined as though he were to enter some great hall rather than a modest country home.

Around him shimmered an oily gold aire , like gilt rubbed thin over something far baser.

His bow to Mr Bennet was excessively low.

“It is an unspeakable honour to at last make the acquaintance of my esteemed cousins and their most gracious parents. I must first offer my sincerest gratitude to my noble patroness, the inimitable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, whose unparalleled generosity has allowed me the means to travel and perform this most Christian duty.”

Elizabeth exchanged a glance with Jane. Mary pressed her lips together.

Lydia leant closer to Kitty and whispered, “One.”

Mr Collins faltered. “I beg your pardon, Miss Lydia?”

“Oh, nothing at all, sir,” Elizabeth said. “Pray, continue.”

“Ah, yes. As I was saying, Her Ladyship…”

“Two,” Kitty whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

Mr Collins paused again, then carried on. “Her Ladyship, in her boundless wisdom, often remarks upon the importance of familial duty…”

“Three,” Lydia whispered behind her hand.

Elizabeth glanced at her father; Mr Bennet had trapped his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Indeed, Her Ladyship…”

“Four,” Kitty whispered, nudging Lydia.

Mr Collins looked from Jane to Elizabeth, then Mary. “I must say, Cousin, I do not quite—”

“You do not quite what?” Mr Bennet cut in.

Mr Collins’s mouth opened, then closed again. He cleared his throat with exaggerated gravity. “No matter. I shall be pleased to fulfil my duty as your most devoted cousin. Lady Catherine herself…”

“Five.”

A flicker of doubt crossed his features. “Lady Catherine is most generous in her expectations…”

“Six.” Lydia giggled behind her gloved hand.

“Lydia,” Jane whispered, then sighed.

Mr Bennet cleared his throat. “Let us enjoy some refreshment, Mr Collins. I imagine you have many tales to tell of the grandeur of Rosings Park.”

Mr Collins brightened. “Indeed, sir! Her Ladyship herself…”

“Seven,” Kitty whispered, then coughed into her hand.

Jane ushered Kitty and Lydia towards the house. Mrs Bennet grasped Mary’s hand, looked at Elizabeth—and burst out laughing .