Page 27 of The Crown’s Gift

Charlotte watched Mr Collins explain one of Lady Catherine's chimney arrangements to her father. "Considering a situation with open eyes."

"Charlotte."

"He is foolish, not cruel. Hunsford is comfortable. I am seven-and-twenty, Lizzy, and my brothers will not support me forever with delight. Your father has shown that Mr Collins can be checked. I might prefer a husband who requires management to a future that requires permission from everyone."

Elizabeth's protest rose and stopped. Charlotte's face held neither romance nor despair.

"Could you respect him?"

"Enough not to humiliate him. More, perhaps, if he learns."

Across the room, Mr Collins looked toward Charlotte with genuine gratitude when she rescued him from Mr Lucas's attempt to discuss turnip prices.

Elizabeth did not approve. She could no longer pretend not to understand.

By the end of the week, Mr Collins had transferred his admiration with a speed he considered delicacy. Charlotte accepted him privately and insisted that the engagement remain quiet until Sir Thomas reviewed the settlements.

"Lady Catherine has never been asked to revise a settlement," Mr Collins said, aghast.

"Then she will enjoy a novelty," Charlotte replied.

Sir Thomas liked her very much.

* * *

Bingley announced his ball with all the restraint of a boy announcing summer.

"The twenty-sixth," he said at Netherfield. "If Sir Thomas and Lady Bennet approve. I know it is strange to entertain you in your former house."

"It will be stranger if you ask my permission every time you light the chandeliers," Sir Thomas replied. "Give your ball."

Lady Bennet approved of everything except the date, the supper hour, the number of musicians, and Jane's first choice of gown. Her objections were so energetic that Bingley departed convinced she was delighted.

Elizabeth looked forward to dancing and dreaded meeting Darcy with equal determination. The brown gloves had been returned without a note. She had told herself his silence was proper, then wondered why proper silence could feel so pointed.

He had called twice with Bingley. On the first visit, he spoke mainly to Sir Thomas. On the second, he asked Mary about music and listened to her answer. Elizabeth could not decide whether he sought to improve her opinion or whether her opinion had nothing to do with it.

The evening of the ball, Longbourn blazed with light. Carriages curved through the familiar drive. The front doors stood open beneath garlands, and music travelled from the ballroom added by Sir Thomas during the improvements.

Lady Bennet paused in the hall.

For one unguarded moment, her face changed. She looked up the staircase where she had carried five infants, toward the parlor where she had waited through fevers, proposals never made, bills she had feared, and years in which her husband's laughter had too often arrived from behind a closed library door.

Sir Thomas offered his arm.

"Do you regret it?" he asked quietly.

"Leaving? No." Her fingers settled upon his sleeve. "But I remember."

"So do I."

They entered together.

Bingley met Jane before she had crossed half the hall. Darcy bowed to Elizabeth.

"Miss Elizabeth."

"Mr Darcy."