Page 31 of Strange Happenings at Longbourn (Darcy and Elizabeth Variations #11)
“It is not fair,” Kitty pouted immediately, her lower lip thrust out in dramatic fashion. “You have spent your pin money and mine, and now Mama has given you hers?”
“That is enough, girls.” Jane’s serene tones, warm but firm, brought the squabble to an abrupt halt. She stood between them with the quiet authority of a queen keeping peace in her court. “Shall we?”
Mr. Collins wasted no time in offering his arm to Mary.
Though she hesitated for the briefest moment, her sense of duty prevailed, and she placed her hand lightly upon his sleeve.
They stepped out first, moving at a dignified pace, Mr. Collins discoursing on the quality of the autumn sunshine and the invigorating nature of country air.
Kitty and Lydia soon darted ahead, their laughter and chatter carrying on the breeze, leaving Jane and Elizabeth to follow at a more measured pace.
The road to Meryton stretched before them, lined with hedgerows turning gold and copper, the rustle of leaves beneath their boots mingling with the distant caw of rooks.
“Do you think Mary will entertain his offer when it comes?” Jane asked in a low voice, glancing at the pair in front of them.
“I do not know,” Elizabeth replied thoughtfully.
“Last month I would have answered in the affirmative, but she seemed reluctant when we spoke this morning. I wish for our sister to have happiness in marriage. We have all seen what a strained union can bring. I do think they would balance each other nicely—Mary could, perhaps, soften some of Mr. Collins’s rougher edges. ”
“Mary has her faults, but she is good-hearted,” Jane agreed. “It would be, as Mama says, a smart match.”
“In terms of financial security, yes, it would,” Elizabeth conceded.
“But what of love? What of compatibility? So far, their interests seem aligned, but it has been less than a day. How can one come to know a man well enough in so short a time—well enough to trust him with her welfare for the rest of her life? And society seems determined to keep us blind to a prospect’s faults until after the wedding, when it is far too late. ” She gave a rueful smile.
“These are deep thoughts, Lizzy. What prompts them?” Jane’s eyes held a teasing sparkle.
Elizabeth met her sister’s gaze, only to see the beginnings of a knowing smile form .
“Who is the fortunate gentleman?” Jane continued in a tone of gentle mischief. "It could not possibly be Mr. Darcy, could it?"
Heat rushed to Elizabeth’s cheeks, and she shook her head with more force than was strictly necessary. “Perhaps your courtship—unofficial though it is—prompts these musings.” She was not ready to share.
Jane’s soft, musical laugh carried over the crunch of gravel beneath their feet. “Very well, keep your secrets. You will tell me when you are ready.”
Meryton was bustling with life that afternoon, the air brisk but bright beneath a pale autumn sun.
The streets were alive with a steady stream of pedestrians and the rhythmic tramp of boots from the redcoats stationed nearby.
The soldiers’ scarlet coats flashed brilliantly in the sunlight, drawing the admiring—and unabashed—attention of several young ladies along the way.
Kitty and Lydia had planted themselves before the haberdashery’s wide glass windows, their eyes fixed upon the military men striding past. Their whispers and stifled giggles were punctuated by the occasional pointed finger, heedless of whether the subjects of their admiration noticed.
As Jane and Elizabeth approached, the hems of their cloaks brushed the cobbles. Elizabeth glanced about the lively street. “Where are Mary and Mr. Collins?”
“He took our sister to the confectioner’s,” Kitty answered with a sigh, as though such gallantry were the greatest of privileges. “I wish a man would buy me sweets.”
Lydia smirked. “Well, you could have had Mr. Collins.”
Kitty gave an exaggerated shudder. “Any man but him!” she cried, and the two descended into laughter that drew a few curious looks from passersby.
“Shall we go into the shop?” Jane interjected smoothly, her tone pitched to restore propriety.
The warm scent of new fabric and starch greeted them as they stepped inside the haberdashery. The polished counters gleamed in the afternoon light, and ribbons cascaded in orderly rows of color—delicate pastels, rich jewel tones, and the occasional flash of metallic thread.
A spool of silver and blue ribbon immediately caught Elizabeth’s attention, its sheen subtly shifting in the light.
She ran her fingers along the soft satin, imagining how well it would set off her favorite ball gown.
Without hesitation, she purchased five yards—enough for her purpose and a little extra, should she change her design.
Jane gravitated towards a length of rose-colored satin, its gentle blush perfectly suited to her complexion.
Meanwhile, Kitty and Lydia had discovered a wide pale yellow trimming and were soon in an open dispute over it, their voices rising until Lydia abruptly abandoned the quarrel in favor of a bright roll of pink.
With their purchases tucked neatly away, they stepped back into the crisp air. Elizabeth shaded her eyes to scan the street for Mary and Mr. Collins, but before she could spot them, her gaze was drawn to a pair of riders approaching at a measured pace.
Mr. Bingley’s amiable countenance was unmistakable, and beside him rode Mr. Darcy—straight-backed, imposing, and entirely too aware of his surroundings. The ladies’ presence brought a marked change to their expressions; both men’s faces brightened, though Darcy’s smile was smaller, more reserved.
Beside Elizabeth, Jane drew in a soft breath.
The gentlemen dismounted with practiced ease, tying their reins to a post with deft hands.
“Good day!” Mr. Bingley called cheerfully. “We were just on our way to Longbourn to call upon you.”
“Good afternoon, sir,” Jane replied, her voice tinged with warmth. “ How do you do?”
“Very well, indeed. As I said, we were on our way to Longbourn. What brings you to Meryton?”
Elizabeth scarcely heard the rest, for Mr. Darcy had approached her and offered a slight bow. The late sunlight caught in his dark eyes, lending them an intensity that made her pulse quicken.
“Good day,” he said politely, but the small curve of his lips betrayed genuine pleasure. “I am very pleased to see you.”
She matched his smile, tilting her head in mock inquiry. “Missing my presence already, sir? What would Miss Bingley say to that?”
A low chuckle escaped him. “Her attentions have waned since you and your sister stayed with us at Netherfield. It is…refreshing.”
Before Elizabeth could frame a reply, the moment was broken.
“Cousin Jane! Cousin Elizabeth!”
Mr. Collins bustled towards them with Mary at his side, his face set in an expression of self-importance laced with faint censure. “I must insist you show better propriety. It is not right for young ladies to speak with men without a proper chaperone.”
Elizabeth’s smile cooled. “We are hardly unattended, sir. And these gentlemen are known to us. ”
Darcy’s pleasant expression vanished. His voice when he spoke was cool as cut glass. “Miss Bennet, will you introduce us?”
“Of course. Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, our distant cousin, Mr. William Collins.”
Jane had barely completed the introductions before Mr. Collins surged forward. “Mr. Darcy? Of Pemberley?”
Darcy inclined his head, offering no more than a courteous nod.
“Why, what a remarkable coincidence! I am Mr. Collins of Hunsford Parsonage, sir! Your aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, is my patroness! I had the extreme honor of calling upon her on Sunday, and she and your cousin are in the best of health! Your betrothed, Miss de Bourgh, is a fragile flower—elegant and refined. I look forward to the day when I might officiate your nuptials!”
Elizabeth’s heart dropped like a stone, but Mr. Darcy’s reply was swift and firm. “I am not betrothed to my cousin, sir.”
“But your good aunt assures me it is so,” Mr. Collins protested, clearly scandalized. “Surely, you would not call your aunt a liar.”
Darcy’s jaw tightened, his tone clipped but controlled. “It is a favorite tale she spins—that she and my mother planned such a union from my first moments. In truth, my mother had no such desire. Now, I insist you cease importuning me on the matter.”
“But—”
Mary, with quiet decisiveness, placed a hand on Mr. Collins’s arm. “Mr. Darcy knows his business better than anyone else. If he were betrothed, he would own it, for he is an honorable and just gentleman. We have known him these four weeks at least.”
Mr. Collins blinked at her, perplexed, but inclined his head.
Perhaps there is hope for him yet, Elizabeth thought, though the notion felt tenuous at best.
They resumed their walk towards Longbourn, with the gentlemen accompanying them. Kitty and Lydia trailed behind, sharing a paper bag of sugared almonds and lemon drops, their self-satisfaction evident. Elizabeth suspected they would regret such indulgence long before supper.