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Not from malice. From fascination. From carelessness.

But it was spreading all the same.

* * *

Longbourn – Drawing Room – Elizabeth

The sound of horses on the lane brought a flurry of motion to the house. When Hill announced that Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy had arrived, Mrs Bennet barely concealed her delight.

“To call before he leaves! How proper-how respectful! You see, I said he would not go without coming to take leave of us!”

Jane had risen at once, and Elizabeth followed her into the drawing room just as the gentlemen were shown in. Both were lightly spattered from the road, the freshness of the ride lending a glow to their cheeks and an ease to their step.

Mr Bingley greeted Jane with genuine warmth, apologising for his imminent departure and promising his return within a few days. His attention scarcely left her face.

Mr Darcy’s entrance was quieter. He greeted Mr and Mrs Bennet with the same careful civility as always and offered a brief bow to Jane before his gaze shifted-unmistakably-to Elizabeth.

She returned his greeting with a curtsy, her composure steady despite the tumult of her thoughts.

Mr Collins, who had been restlessly re-reading Lady Catherine’s letter in the library, appeared as the gentlemen were announced. He entered with great purpose, as though his presence might lend official weight to the moment.

He took a chair near Mrs Bennet and watched Mr Darcy with such intensity that even Kitty paused in her conversation to frown at him.

Conversation followed, mild and pleasant.

Mrs Bennet effused; Jane smiled graciously; Mr Bennet watched from behind his newspaper with dry amusement.

The upcoming ball was touched on briefly-Mr Bingley asked after Jane’s and Elizabeth’s health and seemed pleased to hear they would be well enough to attend.

Mr Collins declared the weather was sure to hold.

Elizabeth said little. Mr Darcy, even less.

Still, once or twice, their eyes met.

And once, without knowing why, she glanced away first.

* * *

Longbourn – Drawing Room – Mr Darcy

As the gentlemen made their farewells, Mr Collins rose with sudden decision. He followed them to the door, his expression fixed in one of great seriousness.

“Mr Darcy,” he said as they reached the threshold, “if I might presume upon your time for a moment?”

Darcy, taken slightly aback, turned with a polite nod. “Of course.”

Mr Collins drew himself up. “It is only that I find myself in something of a quandary, sir, and I hope you will forgive the boldness of my question, as it is prompted entirely by concern for my cousin, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

Darcy’s gaze flicked sharply to him, but he gave no other sign of emotion. “Go on.”

Mr Collins cleared his throat. “I must ask, sir - is it indeed the case that you are the nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh?”

“I am.”

“Indeed,” Mr Collins said, blinking rapidly.

“Indeed. I had not made the connection before - most remiss of me, I must confess. Her ladyship’s letter reached me this morning, and I was taken quite by surprise.

That such a connection should have gone unnoticed - by myself, of all people - is humbling. ”

Darcy inclined his head. That anyone at Longbourn might not know his connection to Lady Catherine was unsurprising-but to have it brought up now, here, on the heels of her letter, unsettled him in ways he had not anticipated.

It was a reminder that the circles of gossip and assumption reached further than he had allowed for.

That Elizabeth might come to hear the engagement spoken of as fact - that she might believe it - was intolerable.

“I do not wish to presume,” Mr Collins continued, “but if there are - that is, if certain attentions you have paid my cousin might be construed - I mean to say, I would not wish for any misunderstandings to arise, especially given your esteemed connection.”

Darcy’s voice was very quiet. “Miss Bennet is an exceptional young lady. I have the highest regard for her.”

Mr Collins blinked again, visibly out of his depth.

“Yes. Yes, of course. Most gratifying. Most prudent. I… thank you, sir. Lady Catherine indicated that your engagement to Miss de Bourgh is progressing toward a spring wedding. I had not realised it was so soon! I had not realised it was so soon! Such a distinguished connection. I can only imagine the splendour of the occasion, sir, and the honour it must be to be so firmly fixed in the good opinion of her ladyship.”

He stepped back awkwardly as Mr Bingley swung easily into the saddle. Darcy, already holding the reins of his horse, had one foot in the stirrup when Mr Collins’s words gave him pause.

He had heard his aunt speak of it for years, as though it were fact. But to hear it now, echoed at Longbourn-as something expected and imminent-twisted in his chest like a blade. That Elizabeth might hear of it. That she might believe it. That was intolerable.

He glanced toward the house, his foot still in the stirrup-and saw her.

Elizabeth stood just beyond an open window, still as glass. She had heard.

Their eyes met, and in that instant, he knew she had understood every word. Not just what had been said, but what it meant. Her face betrayed nothing, and yet something inside him curled tight with the certainty that it mattered.

She turned away a moment later, but the image of her stayed with him-clearer than the sky, heavier than the reins in his hand.