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Longbourn – Elizabeth Elizabeth, with increasing reservation.

She would not judge a man on hearsay. Not entirely. But the weight of it pressed more firmly now, and she could not help but wonder what the day might bring.

Mr Collins, having seated himself rather nearer to Elizabeth than was strictly necessary, turned to her with an air of solemn concern.

“I trust you rested well, Cousin Elizabeth? You were very much missed last night. Mrs Phillips expressed particular regret that you were unable to attend.”

“I slept tolerably, thank you,” Elizabeth replied, taking the teacup from Jane without meeting Mr Collins’s gaze.

“Your fortitude continues to impress me,” he said, leaning forward with a pompous air.

One hand hovered mid-air, as though he meant to pat her arm in a gesture of reassurance.

Elizabeth, with perfect timing, lifted her teacup to her lips and took a sip, forcing him to divert his hand awkwardly to the table instead.

“Such trials are sent, I believe, to refine our character. Lady Catherine often says that a young woman’s composure under adversity is the truest mark of gentility. ”

“Does she?” Elizabeth said lightly.

“Indeed, and I must say, your behaviour has been most admirable. Most admirable indeed.”

He glanced at the space before her and frowned. “You have not yet served yourself, Cousin Elizabeth. May I be permitted to fetch you a plate? Perhaps some toast with jam, or a fresh roll? I will get it for you at once.”

Elizabeth blinked in surprise. “That is kind of you, Mr Collins, but quite unnecessary.” She took the plate Jane had just filled for her and, as she settled it in her lap, reached out to give Jane’s hand a brief, grateful squeeze. “I assure you, I have everything I need. Thank you, Jane.”

He looked vaguely disappointed, but recovered quickly. “Lady Catherine always says a lady’s health must be preserved above all things. I could not forgive myself if you were to suffer for want of a proper breakfast.”

Elizabeth hid her smile behind her teacup.

Across the table, Mr Bennet lowered his newspaper just enough to observe the scene with wry amusement. He peered over the edge with one brow arched. “It seems your cousin means to make himself indispensable, Lizzy,” he said. “Do take care he does not begin reading aloud to you again.”

Elizabeth glanced in Jane’s direction, who bit her lip to hide a smile.

“I shall do my utmost, Papa.”

Mr Bennet returned to his paper with exaggerated interest, one eyebrow still raised above the fold.

Mrs Bennet, meanwhile, reached again to pat Lydia’s curls and resumed her questions about Mr Wickham’s success at the card table-had he won often, and was he as charming while playing as he seemed in conversation?

* * *

Road to Longbourn – Inside the Carriage – Darcy

The road to Longbourn was dry despite the chill, and the Bingley carriage made easy progress through the quiet lanes.

Inside, Miss Bingley adjusted her gloves with languid precision while her sister sat primly opposite.

Bingley, ever cheerful, tapped his fingers lightly against the top of his cane, his foot jostling with restrained energy.

“I thought it best we deliver the invitations personally,” Bingley said. “It will make the event feel more formal-and I should like to see Miss Bennet again.”

Darcy, seated beside him, nodded once. “It is a thoughtful gesture.”

“You need not sound so grim about it,” Bingley said with a grin.

“I am not grim.” Darcy shifted his gaze to the window. “Only quiet.”

“Which means you are thinking far too much,” Bingley said easily.

Miss Bingley looked over with a small, knowing smile. “I daresay he is wondering if Miss Elizabeth’s ankle is well enough for dancing.”

Darcy’s gaze flicked toward her but he said nothing.

“Do you suppose she will come to the ball?” Mrs Hurst asked.

Bingley smiled. “If she is able, I am sure she will. But even if she cannot dance, she must come and observe. It would not be the same without her.”

Darcy leaned back against the squabs of the carriage, folding his gloved hands. “It will be some weeks yet. She may be perfectly recovered by then.”

Miss Bingley’s smile grew thin. “How fortunate.”

Bingley, oblivious, continued, “I have mentioned to Miss Bennet that I must go to Town for a few days at the end of the month. Business, nothing more. But I hope to be back in good time for the ball.”

Darcy glanced at him. “You are certain it will not delay you?”

“Quite. And even if it did, I daresay the event would keep until I returned.” Bingley grinned. “I will not miss our own ball.”

Darcy nodded once, but his thoughts had shifted. If the ball were in December… then Mr Collins would be gone. That notion settled oddly in his mind.

He looked out the window again, to the hedgerows speeding by.

Would she come?

Would she dance?

Would she think of him, as he thought of her now?

Had she noticed his quietness the last time they called? The way he had hovered near without words, glancing more than speaking? Did she think him aloof-or worse, indifferent?

He was not usually given to planning such things, but if she came-if she was well enough-then yes. He would ask her to dance.

But even more than that-he might ask her before the ball. Alone, if the moment arose. It was not something he had intended to do so soon… and yet the idea had lodged itself in his mind.

If she said yes, he might allow himself to hope.

* * *

Longbourn - Drawing Room - Elizabeth

The Bennet ladies were sitting in the drawing room engaged in various tasks-Jane with her needlework, Mary with a book, Kitty absently trimming a bonnet, and Elizabeth with her closed volume still resting on her lap. Mr Collins was reading in Mr Bennet’s library.

The muffled crunch of wheels on gravel echoed up the drive, and Lydia leapt from her chair with the energy of a cannon shot. She darted to the window and yanked back the curtain with a gasp.

“It’s Mr Bingley! And his sisters-and Mr Darcy too!” she declared, already bouncing on her toes.