Elizabeth could see movement at the windows and heard no less than two shrieks echo through the house. She did her best to keep her expression stoic and stern as she lifted her hand to the heavy doorknocker.
Before she could touch the weathered brass handle, the door flew open to reveal Jane, and Elizabeth breathed a small sigh of relief at seeing her sister.
Several expressions crossed Jane’s beautiful face; surprise being the most prominent among them. She smothered a gasp with her hand and worked to compose herself before clearing her throat.
“Mr. Roberts. How good of you to come so quickly. We have been anticipating your arrival most eagerly.”
“I thank you Miss Bennet,” Elizabeth replied, noting how her sister’s eyes widened at the change in the tone of her voice. But she wondered if Jane thought it sounded convincing... or as though she had taken a part in one of the plays they used to put on at Christmas when they were children.
The sound of footsteps clattering down the stairs drew her attention as Lydia and Kitty pushed at each other to get to the door first.
“Jane, who is it? Lydia will not tell me—“ Kitty’s words were cut off by Lydia’s shriek of excitement.
“Oh!” Lydia reached for Elizabeth’s hair, but Jane slapped the younger girl’s hand away.
“Kitty. Lydia. Greet your cousin properly,” she said sternly. “This is Mr. Roberts... newly arrived to England. I have told you about him, and read you his letters.”
“Yes, of course, Jane!” Kitty cried. “You are very welcome to Longbourn,” she said eagerly and Jane pressed her lips together tightly.
Behind Jane and the other girls, Elizabeth spied a pale man with dark hair that had been flattened down over his wide forehead. He had a waxy look to his features and Elizabeth could only guess at who he could be.
Mr. Collins, no doubt.
“What is all this commotion, Lydia! Kitty! What are you shrieking about!”
All of the excitement at the door had drawn Mrs. Bennet from wherever she had been hiding. Her mother looked tired, and it pained Elizabeth to think of how much strain the usually flighty and effervescent matriarch had been under in these last weeks.
“Mama! You will never believe who is here!” Lydia shouted as Mrs. Bennet arrived at the door, with Mary trailing behind.
“Well, whoever it is, they are most welcome and should not be neglected upon the stair. Come now, Mr.—“ Mrs. Bennet looked up as she spoke, and met Elizabeth’s eyes for just a moment. Her mouth opened and closed, eyes wide as her gaze swept over their visitor.
“Mama?” Jane said quietly. But Mrs. Bennet did not reply. “Mama!”
Mrs. Bennet lurched to the side. She crashed into Lydia and fell to the carpet, dragging her daughter with her. Lydia screamed as they fell and lay moaning on the ground, trapped under her mother’s weight.
“Has she fainted? Perhaps I might be of some assistance. When Lady Catherine de Bourgh is feeling faint she calls for her smelling salts,” Mr. Collins announced.
The look Jane directed her way told Elizabeth that this was a typical manner in which Mr. Collins inserted himself into many a conversation.
“Come, let us move her to the parlor,” Elizabeth said briskly as she stepped over the threshold and into the house.
“Mr. Collins, if you would be so kind,” she said calmly, pulling Lydia from underneath Mrs. Bennet and gripping her mother’s ankles while Mr. Collins lifted her arms awkwardly so that they could carry her to the parlor. “Cousin Jane, if you could lead the way?”
“Of course, Mr. Roberts!” Jane moved quickly to close the front door and usher the other girls down the hallway. Of course, Elizabeth knew precisely where she was going, but she allowed Mr. Collins and her sisters to lead the way.
They set Mrs. Bennet upon the divan while Jane propped her up with various pillows. Kitty had been sent to her mother’s room for smelling salts and Elizabeth fought the urge to assist Jane as she made their mother comfortable.
“Mr. Collins,” Jane said. “If you would be so kind as to show Mr. Roberts to the study, I will have Lydia ring for some tea. When Mama has recovered we may make a proper introduction.”
“Of course, my dear cousin,” Mrs. Collins replied, smiling widely at having been selected for such a task. “I must say that this situation reminds me of a time when Lady Catherine took ill just as I was arriving for tea—“
“Mrs. Collins, if you please,” Jane interrupted. “Mr. Roberts has had a tiring journey...”
Mr. Collins flushed briefly and nodded, gesturing for Elizabeth to follow him. Lydia clapped her hand over her mouth to smother a giggle and Elizabeth could not help but fix her with a glare, which served only to make Lydia’s struggle not to burst out laughing even more dire.
Kitty rushed by them in the hallway, carrying her mother’s smelling salts tightly in her fist.
Elizabeth could not have anticipated how difficult it would be to stand in her father’s study after he was gone. The bed he had occupied only weeks ago had been removed from the room, replaced by the familiar horsehair stuffed sofa that had stood in its place before he took ill.
It seemed like years ago now, and Elizabeth steeled herself against the emotions that rushed over her. She would mourn her father when she was alone.
Mr. Collins walked by her and made himself comfortable in Mr. Bennet’s chair; Elizabeth fought the urge to push him out of it and send him sprawling to the floor. “Mr. Roberts, Cousin Jane tells me that you have just arrived form the Colonies,” Mr. Collins said, eagerness tingeing his voice ever so slightly. “I was just telling my patron, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, how thrilling it would be to see the New World.” He sighed deeply. “Had I not taken my parish in Kent, I had a mind to take my sermons abroad and see God’s own wild country for myself…”
“Indeed,” Elizabeth replied. Mr. Collins seemed a talkative sort of gentleman, one who required very little prompting to continue his stream of conversation. If she were in possession of any luck at all, Mr. Collins might not even notice the one-sided nature of the conversation.
Elizabeth leaned upon the mantle, enjoying the warmth of the fire upon her legs. Her wool breeches held the heat much better than any gown or layers of chemises and linens… it was a revelation to be truly warm.
“On, indeed, Mr. Roberts. Lady Catherine herself told me, ‘Collins, only you could bring God’s message to those heathen peoples. My heart goes out to those so far away from good society. You would bring them a great comfort, I have no doubt.’” Mr. Collins beamed at her, awaiting her agreement, but all Elizabeth could do was nod gravely to hide her true feelings.
This was the man her father had entailed Longbourn to.
This was the man he had instructed her to marry.
Elizabeth felt a stab of resentment twist in her side. Of course it would have been easier to follow her dear father’s wishes, but now that she had met Mr. Collins and experienced his personality… even in the briefest of conversations, she felt certain that her father would have admitted his mistake and apologized at once. This was no fit husband for her… nor any young lady of her acquaintance.
Insufferable.
“How do you find England, Mr. Roberts?” Mr. Collins asked, barely allowing any silence to fall between them. “I daresay it would be very different for you,” he mused. “All of that wilderness… I have often imagined it, you see. And the savages! Terribly exciting, but I imagine that coming back to civilized society and the busy streets of our beautiful cities…” he leaned back in Mr. Bennet’s chair and crossed his arms over his chest, a wistful expression on his face. Elizabeth was designing a reasonable reply, when there was a knock up on the door and Mr. Collins jolted forward, all thought of the colonies forgotten. “Ah, there is our tea!”
Once again rescued from conversation, Elizabeth turned away from the door as Longbourn’s housekeeper entered with tea and freshly baked scones. She couldn’t let Hill see her face yet. She could only hope that Jane would reveal the secret to the house staff tonight before supper. No doubt, Hill’s response would be similar to Mrs. Bennet’s and Elizabeth wanted to avoid that for as long as possible.
“Thank you, indeed, Hill,” Mr. Collins exclaimed as though he had settled himself into Longbourn’s way of life already. Elizabeth’s fingers curled into a fist upon the mantle, but she stayed still until the housekeeper had left the room and latch had clicked as the door shut behind her.
“Mr. Collins,” she said briskly, coming to the table and taking a cup of tea before Mr. Collins could help himself. “How long do you plan to stay in Hertfordshire?”
Mr. Collins looked taken aback for just a moment. “I have not yet decided,” he said carefully. “While I feel a certain responsibility to my dear cousins, I fear that Lady Catherine de Bourgh was most insistent that I return to Hunsford with the promise of a future Mrs. Collins… something I fear I have not yet accomplished.” Mrs. Collins appeared genuinely distressed that he had not yet found a suitable wife among his ‘charming’ cousins and Elizabeth had to force herself not to smile.
“I see. Has Miss Bennet not explained my presence here at Longbourn to you?”
Mr. Collins shook his head. “I daresay find myself quite surprised but your arrival here and the… exuberant reaction your coming has left me quite perplexed.”
Indeed, Mr. Collins was the very picture of confusion, and Elizabeth took great pleasure in apprising him of the situation and the change in Mr. Collins’ expression as the realization of his change in status dawned upon him.
“As Mr. Bennet’s closest living relative, I find myself in the unique position of inheriting an estate which I am unfamiliar, and acting as head of a family that I do not know. I am a stranger to them as well… a most disagreeable position, to be sure. I daresay that my uncle had given up hope that his dear sister, my own darling mama, would return from the Colonies.” Elizabeth paused for a moment, allowing her words to sink in. Mr. Collins looked pained, and she could almost see his thoughts racing behind his eyes.
“My father died when I was very young,” Elizabeth continued, “and alas, I did not learn of Mr. Bennet and my dear cousins but by a chance discovery of a letter sent by him many years ago among my late mother’s possessions. I wrote to him immediately, desperate for some word from family. Instead of reply from my uncle, I instead received a reply from Miss Elizabeth Bennet who told me of her dear father’s death and invited me at once to Longbourn—“
“Ah, yes, Cousin Elizabeth,” Mr. Collins interrupted. “I was told that she left for London just before I arrived. I presume she was there in Bath to welcome you?”
Elizabeth breathed a small sigh of relief at the confirmation of her suspicions. Mr. Collins was a simple man, after all, not given to deep contemplation about topics that did not interest him or did not relate directly to his patron or her great estate at Rosings Park.
“She was, indeed, most kind to meet me as I arrived.”
Mr. Collins beamed and tapped his fingers upon his thighs. “Will she return to Longbourn soon, Mr. Roberts? I should very much like to meet her…”
Mr. Collins did not finish his thought, but Elizabeth knew that he imagined that she would be a suitable wife. There was no other thought in her mind that repulsed her more than that of becoming Mrs. Collins. Elizabeth suppressed a shiver and smiled thinly.
“Alas, Mr. Collins, Cousin Elizabeth did not tell me when she would return.”
Mr. Collins smiled sadly and stirred his tea. He was about to raise it to his lips when he paused. “Why, Mr. Roberts, I have just realized something!”
“Oh, indeed, Mr. Collins?”
“Yes! Just this very moment. If your mother, my condolences on her passing, was indeed the sister of our dear departed Mr. Bennet, why then you are the closest male relative he has in the world!”
Elizabeth fought the urge to roll her eyes. She had stated that very fact only moments ago, but it was clear that Mr. Collins had not been listening. Even so, it had taken the man far too long to come to the very obvious conclusion to which he now clung.
“It would seem so,” she replied.
“Well, it would seem that happy and unhappy news brings you to England, Mr. Roberts. We must go straight away to Mr. Hawksworth!”
“Mr. Hawksworth?” she asked, pretending some bewilderment at the situation presented.
“Indeed! Mr. Bennet’s lawyer holds all of the proper documents relating to the entail, which I, myself am no longer entitled to…” Mr. Collins said, laughing briefly. “I confess I am somewhat relieved, Mr. Roberts. Though Longbourn is indeed a beautiful… and relaxing estate, I fear that the care of my dear cousins was a burden I was not certain I would be strong enough to bear.”
Elizabeth pressed her lips together. A burden indeed.
“Yes, it will be a challenge,” she said flatly.
Mr. Collins seemed not to notice the change in his companion’s demeanor, and he continued to talk. “I must make my apologies to Mr. Bingley,” he said. “I was to have been the guest of honor at the Netherfield Ball this coming Thursday. But now, as the patriarch of this fine estate, you must take my place!”
A ball?
Elizabeth felt her stomach twist with panic. This was the very worst thing that could have happened. She tried to keep the desperate beating of her heart under control and an expression of alarm from overtaking her features. Her reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall confirmed that her cheeks had paled and she struggled to regain her confidence.
“A ball,” she said quickly, hoping that the nervousness she felt did not manifest in her voice.
“Oh, yes, dear Lydia and Catherine have talked of nothing else since the invitation arrived.”
Elizabeth’s jaw tightened. Of course.
Perhaps there would be a way to avoid attending the ball, surely, some excuse… but if she did not attend, there would be more chance that others would arrive at Longbourn to satisfy their curiosity. Jane had been instructed to take Charlotte Lucas into her confidence; however, her mother, Lady Lucas, was a notorious gossip and Elizabeth knew without any shred of doubt that news of the arrival of a mysterious gentleman at Longbourn would already be circling Meryton.
Elizabeth tugged nervously at her waistcoat. Her deception had barely begun and she was already having serious misgivings about her decision. Fooling a gentleman she had never met into believing that she was, indeed, Mr. Alexander Roberts, Mr. Bennet’s only nephew, was a simple matter when compared to the challenge of a society event.
However, her most pressing worry, was the fact that convincing another woman of her identity would another problem entirely…
Mrs. Bennet had suitably recovered herself by the time Jane came to fetch them for supper. They went into the dining room and Elizabeth settled herself into her father’s chair with a brief flash of regret.
He should still be here, grumbling into his soup as Mama lectures him about the need for new dresses…
As the first course was served, Elizabeth did her best to ignore the stares of her younger sisters, the housekeeper, and the serving girl. Mrs. Bennet did her best to keep Mr. Collins thoroughly distracted by inquiring about the gardens at Rosings Park, one of his favorite topics.
“Mr. Roberts, you must agree to take Mr. Collins’ place at the Netherfield Ball,” Lydia cried, tiring of the conversation about the new grape arbor that her Ladyship was having installed upon the south slopes of the Rosings estate.
“Now, Lydia,” Jane admonished, anticipating Elizabeth’s desperate glance. “Mr. Collins was invited as the guest of honor, we cannot expect—“
“I am quite relieved for you to say so, Cousin Lydia,” Mr. Collins said. “You truly are as bright as you are lovely.” Lydia made a face, but Mr. Collins did not seem to notice. “I was, indeed, just telling Mr. Roberts that he should take himself to Netherfield Park at once to make Mr. Bingley’s acquaintance.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened slightly and she averted her gaze quickly to the Cornish game hen that Hill set in front of her. She had barely touched her soup, and sensed that if she had been wearing a dress that she would have been scolded for her lack of appetite. Elizabeth dabbed at her mouth with her napkin, her thoughts a panicked jumble.
“Oh, yes! You simply must,” Lydia said fervently, clearly enjoying the discomfort her elder sisters were experiencing.
“We shall see, Lydia,” Mrs. Bennet snapped, and that appeared to be the end of the conversation as Mr. Collins began a comparison of Hill’s Cornish hens to the one he had last eaten at a dinner party at Rosings Park.
Elizabeth and Jane exchanged relieved glances, but Elizabeth knew that this was not the last time the topic would be broached. The Netherfield Ball was only a few days away, and her meeting with Mr. Hawksworth much farther removed.
Elizabeth was in a precarious position—acting out of character would be suspicious. How would a gentleman react; especially one newly come into an inheritance such as this?
Elizabeth put a forkful of Cornish hen into her mouth and tried to think of something to say. As the new head of the family, she could not let her mother dictate her, or Mr. Roberts’, actions.
She chewed thoughtfully for a moment and then set down her knife and fork. “I believe that Cousin Lydia is correct,” she said, louder than she had intended.
All noise in the dining room ceased as every pair of eyes turned in her direction.
“Mr. Roberts, surely—“ Jane began, but Elizabeth silenced her with a sharp glare.
“From what Cousin Jane has told me in her letters, Mr. Bingley has been very kind to this family, and he deserves a proper introduction, and our gratitude. I will visit him at Netherfield Park tomorrow.” Elizabeth’s tone was firm and Jane nodded while Mrs. Bennet pressed her lips together, unused to being spoken to in such a manner.
“Jane, you should accompany Mr. Roberts,” Mrs. Bennet said, recovering herself quickly. Any chance to put Jane in front of Mr. Bingley must be taken, and this was the perfect opportunity to do just that.
“Of course, Mama,” Jane replied, her cheeks flushing just a little.
Elizabeth nodded and picked up her knife and fork once more. “Then it is settled,” she said, cutting into her Cornish hen. “Tomorrow we shall set out for Netherfield Park.”