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“My son and I have made other plans for tomorrow. I am not in the habit of disappointing his hopes,” Elizabeth expressed in a measured response.

“I am most eager to meet your son. I insist it be tomorrow! I, too, am not in the business of having my hopes disappointed. He is but a child. I fear, as an only child, you may have spoilt him. This is yet another of the many advantages to your alliance with Mr. Collins—the prospect of extending your family and providing young Bennet with siblings.

“A healthy young woman such as you will likely bear a number of children,” Lady Catherine declared. She regarded Elizabeth’s youthful appearance in wonderment and thought to ask, “Pray what is your age?”

Elizabeth smilingly submitted, “Your ladyship can hardly expect me to own it.”

“I detect a bit of dignified impertinence in your tone that I pray your young son does not possess. I insist on being satisfied! Tell me at once! If my memory serves me correctly, you are in your early twenties.”

“I am not yet four and twenty, your ladyship,” Elizabeth was compelled to disclose.

“There, that was not so difficult. You young people today have much to learn when it comes to showing the proper deference to your elders. Indeed, I shall be quite interested in meeting your child.”

Having assured Lady Catherine in the most earnest manner her wishes would be acceded to over those of the child, Geoffrey Collins thoughts tended towards the gentleman seated at the side of his betrothed. Were he a man of a suspicious constitution, he would have sworn there was some unspoken exchange between Elizabeth and her dinner companion. He had to admit to suffering increasing annoyance. That was three times in a single day she had undermined his authority in front of others. It was one thing to do so amongst close family, but to be so blatantly disrespectful in a room full of strangers was insupportable. Truth be told, in Collins’s estimation, there was only one person amongst their party who needed most to be made aware of Elizabeth’s unwavering loyalty to the man to whom she was betrothed—Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy!

That rich, arrogant, sanctimonious prick has some gall. Here he is, engaged to an heiress, the sole heir of all of this property and ostentatious wealth, and yet it seems he cannot take his eyes from my Elizabeth, and he makes no pretence to hide it.

What is he about? Does he suppose he can marry that cold fish of a cousin of his and take Elizabeth as his mistress? I would not be surprised, knowing of his kind as I do. Such degeneracy is characteristic of his ilk. Well, that is his great misfortune! She is MY betrothed. My intentions are strictly honourable whilst his are dubious at best. I will be damned if my plans will be disrupted on account of that bastard!

Geoffrey Collins decided a change in conversation was desperately in order. “Your ladyship, if you will allow, I would like to offer my congratulations, as well, on the engagement of Mr. Darcy to your lovely daughter.” He raised his glass and offered a toast. All who would do so lifted their glasses, as well. Some members of the party simply could not.

Collins went on to speak of the extraordinary prospects that lay ahead with the combining of the two prominent estates of Pemberley and Rosings Park in a manner that could bring no one more delight than Lady Catherine herself and no more vexation to anyone other than Darcy.

Mr. Collins raised the question of when the engagement would be announced publicly, the irony being even his own engagement had not been announced (a matter he intended to correct immediately upon his return to his home).

Darcy was at a complete loss for words. All eyes were upon him, although only two of his silent inquisitors mattered most. Anne, whom he cared for deeply as a cousin and one whom he was not apt to subject to derision, and Elizabeth, whom he admitted to himself he was in love with and whose good opinion meant everything to him. Anne looked at him pleadingly. He returned her look with one of assurance that he did not intend to engage in such a delicate discourse during that evening’s dinner party.

Lady Catherine seized the moment finally to have her nephew on public record of his true intentions, strongly suspecting, if not praying, he would not dishonour the family in any way. She asked, “Well, Darcy, Mr. Collins has posed the question to which we are all rather eager to know the answer. When do you intend to announce your engagement to my daughter before the world?”

It seemed to Darcy as if providence was on his side. At that very moment, the butler approached him with a note on a silver salver. With all eyes firmly trained upon him, Darcy picked up the note for his own perusal and within seconds excused himself from the table.

“Where are you off to during the middle of dinner?” Lady Catherine demanded.

“Pardon me, everyone. This is an urgent express—one to which I must attend post-haste. I shall endeavour to return to the party before the end of the evening. Once outside the dining room, Darcy pocketed the card, which turned out to be blank, and said a silent prayer for his cousin’s foresight in coming to his rescue.

After dinner, when the gentlemen had joined the ladies in the drawing room and tea was being served, Lady Catherine once again directed her attentions towards Elizabeth.

“Please play something for me, young lady.”

“No, your ladyship! I beg of you. You see, I own to playing rather poorly.”

“Nonsense! Rarely do I have the opportunity to be entertained. Why, music is my delight! If I had ever learnt, I should have been a great proficient. And so would Anne, if her health had allowed her to apply herself. I am confident she would have performed delightfully.”

“I am afraid you might find my proficiency more distracting than entertaining,” Elizabeth demurred, hoping against hope such a prelude would discourage her hostess.

“Any degree of accomplishment is better than none. Why! I wager your skills would be quite admirable should you take the time to practise. I have told Mrs. Collins this several times, that she will never play really well unless she practises more, and though she has no instrument, she is very welcome, as I have often told her, to come to Rosings every day, and play on the pianoforte in Mrs. Jenkinson’s room. She would be in nobody’s way, you know, in that part of the house.”

“I am certain my friend, Mrs. Collins, appreciates your magnanimous gesture; however—I,” Elizabeth began, but was interrupted before she could continue her sentence.

“Once again, I detect that unguarded impertinence in your speech that is most unbecoming. I insist on being satisfied!”

Geoffrey Collins agreed, “Yes, my dear cousin, I, too, shall be delighted to hear you perform on the pianoforte this evening. It has been far too long since I enjoyed that pleasure.”

Elizabeth acquiesced and made way to the grand instrument. She felt if nothing else, she would spend the rest of the evening stationed there, away from Lady Catherine’s increasingly annoying regard and her intended’s watchful eyes.

Darcy joined the party when tea was over and the card-tables were placed. Lady Catherine was so taken with the elder Mr. Collins’s commendations of her daughter’s engagement in words that could not had been better expressed than if she had uttered them herself, she supposed they must be kindred souls. This earned him the right to sit across from her as they sat down to whist.

Finally, Darcy saw a chance to speak with Elizabeth alone, and he seized on it. He approached the pianoforte and placed himself so as to command a full view of her beautiful countenance. He stood a few moments in silent, ardent admiration before venturing to speak. He spoke tenderly, “It is not true, you know.”