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Part of her entertained the idea that she had been mistaken about what she thought she heard. Part of her embraced the idea that her plans for Longbourn still bore a chance of unfolding. Meeting a man like Mr. Darcy was not meant to change anything.

Elizabeth placed her hand on her stomach. She knew enough about her own body to doubt her tryst would lead to unintended consequences. What was more, Mr. Darcy had exercised extraordinary measures to that end.

Elizabeth would not regret what they had done, nor would she say it would never happen again. What would be the point? Her head was full of the gentleman and how it felt being in his arms. However, she would vow to be extra mindful of the timing of future assignations.

The last thing she needed was to jeopardize her desire to keep her standing as the mistress of Longbourn. She owed it to herself, her family, and her beloved father’s memory. Longbourn had always been and always would be their home to Elizabeth’s way of thinking.

Elizabeth climbed the steps to the front door, cracking it, hoping that her family and her intended, Mr. Collins, were nowhere around to know she had returned. She pushed it open as quietly as she could and slipped inside. As was her habit, she took a moment to look around the foyer, appreciating that all was as it ought to be. The housekeeper, Mrs. Hill, was adept at keeping things in order, allowing Elizabeth to spend copious time with Jane at Netherfield.

Elizabeth headed up the stairs to her apartment, the same room she had shared with her sister Jane despite her elevated standing as mistress of Longbourn by way of her marriage to her father’s immediate successor, the late Mr. Tilman. She had not made it very far when she heard her mother calling.

In mere moments, she would have to face her mother, who would undoubtedly be especially excited once she learned of the arrival of an eligible man in their society. She had three younger daughters to get rid of. The business of her mother’s life was marrying them off. This thought made her head ache. She paused for a moment and closed her eyes.

Opening them, Elizabeth retraced her steps and went into the parlor where her mother, Mrs. Fanny Bennet, attended her sewing.

“My dear, dear girl! You are home,” the former matriarch cried, poring her eyes over her second eldest daughter before returning them to her sewing. “Did you enjoy your time with Jane?”

“Yes, Mamma.”

“How is our dear Jane?”

“Jane is very well.”

“Yes, I suppose she is. I pray we will receive exciting news in that quarter soon. Your sister is the mistress of Netherfield, but she must not rest on her laurels until she has given Mr. Bingley an heir.”

Of course, Mrs. Bennet could have no way of knowing that her eldest was already with child. Jane had told no one other than Charles and Elizabeth. Elizabeth did not mean to break her sister’s confidence.

Mrs. Bennet tore her eyes from her task and peered at Elizabeth once more. “Lizzy, you look tired. Did you sleep well? I am sure your room must have been very comfortable.” She sighed. “If only Longbourn was half so nice as Netherfield. Not that I am one to complain, for Longbourn is far grander than Lucas Lodge, and thanks to your generosity, I shall always call Longbourn my home.”

Elizabeth’s mother had a way of boasting of her own good fortune while slighting her friends and neighbors. In this case, Mrs. Bennet disparaged the neighboring estate—the home of her friends Sir William and Lady Lucas. Elizabeth’s closest friend next to Jane also lived there with her parents—Miss Charlotte Lucas. Charlotte was seven and twenty and still single, which gave Mrs. Bennet something to boast about, for two of her daughters had married already and not one of Lady Lucas’s had.

Elizabeth swallowed. “I slept very well, thank you, Mamma,” she replied with a slight smile, trying to be as pleasant as possible.

“I am glad to hear that everything was to your satisfaction.” Then, resuming her former attitude, she asked. “Did you know Mr. Collins has been looking for you to return from Netherfield all morning?”

“I have no doubt,” said Elizabeth, hoping she did not sound rude. “Pray, pardon me, Mamma. I was just on my way upstairs to my apartment to rest awhile.”

“Rest? Lizzy, are you ill?”

“No, Mamma. I assure you; I am quite well.”

“If you are not feeling poorly, then why are you going to your room to rest? This is not like you at all. You are usually the one who is the first to rise and the last to retire. Shall I send for Mr. Jones?”

The door swung open before Elizabeth could object, and Mr. Collins burst into the room, his spirits unusually high. She had never seen him in such a mood in all the time she had known him.

“Elizabeth, my dear,” he said, bowing before her. “How kind of you to grace us with your lovely presence today. I was hoping that you and I could have a talk,” he said as soon as he caught his breath.

Elizabeth did not like to encourage him. Talking to him was the surest means of thwarting her purposes. But he was her betrothed. It was the least she could do, she often told herself. “Yes, Mr. Collins. I am rather tired after my walk, and I thought it would be best to rest. Perhaps you could say what you have to say to me later? Perhaps after dinner?”

Mr. Collins’ countenance collapsed, and he looked rather young and more vulnerable than Elizabeth had ever seen him. Elizabeth suffered a tinge of guilt over her dislike of him. Was this feeling due to her leaving Mr. Darcy’s bed mere hours earlier—after she and Mr. Darcy had awakened in each other’s arms? How was she to go on despising Mr. Collins now that she bore such a secret that would ruin her family’s chances of staying at Longbourn, were she found out?

Collins’s own duplicity came to Elizabeth’s mind, adding to her conundrum. She thought she had heard Mr. Collins speaking of his being impotent with his valet, but what if she had been mistaken in what she thought she had heard. What if he had said he was important … importuned? Had she behaved as she had because of a misunderstanding? How would she ever know with certainty before they were actually wedded?

I might ask, she silently considered. But what would be his incentive to tell me the truth? Elizabeth inwardly sighed. Now she really was in danger of a headache.

Might he have said omnipotent? It would have been just like him to utter such nonsense. Elizabeth silently scoffed. No—I am quite persuaded I heard him correctly. Mr. Collins is impotent.

“I am certain what I have to say cannot wait, for it is good news. Indeed, something that must surely elevate everyone’s spirits,” said Mr. Collins.