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Despite the forced awkwardness of the past few minutes, Elizabeth smiled as she was claimed by her next dance partner. Small victories. They were getting better at this.

CHAPTER 8

The ball continued, and Elizabeth found herself cornered by Mr. Collins near the refreshment table. This was going to be painful.

"My dear cousin Elizabeth," Mr. Collins was saying, "I must express my admiration for your performance on the dance floor. Most elegant. Most becoming!"

Elizabeth tried to calculate how quickly she could escape. Mr. Collins stood between her and the door. Her feet wouldn't let her be rude enough to just walk away mid-conversation. Trapped.

"I am certain my esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, would approve of such grace and deportment!"

Lady Catherine. There's a name I've heard rather too often this week, Elizabeth thought grimly.

"Not at all!" Mr. Collins continued, apparently not requiring actual responses. "Indeed, I must confess that I have formed a particular regard for you."

Oh no.

"Your charms and accomplishments are such that I am convinced you would make an excellent mistress for my humble parsonage."

There it is.

"Mr. Collins, I must stop you⁠—"

"Say nothing now!" He held up a hand. "I understand a lady's modesty. I shall speak to your father and arrange a private interview where I may properly express the violence of my affections."

Elizabeth stared at him. "The violence of your affections?"

"Indeed! Most violent!"

"I should have preferred a quieter attachment."

Mr. Collins beamed, entirely missing her tone, and bustled away to terrorize her father. Elizabeth gripped the edge of the refreshment table until she could trust herself with a glass.

"You look hysterical," Darcy observed, appearing at her elbow. "Did something happen?"

"Mr. Collins just threatened me with violent affections."

"Ah."

"Apparently with great violence."

"You mean to refuse him."

"Certainly. I should like to discover whether one refusal will suffice. In the story I remember, it takes pages." Elizabeth considered the distance between the drawing-room chairs and the door. "I'm going to test something. What if I refuse immediately and just... leave? Walk out?"

"The narrative might not let you."

"Then I'll document it. Either way, useful data." She paused. "But first—your experiment. Caroline Bingley."

Darcy looked mischievous. "Ah yes. I won the game. Time to attempt the impossible."

"Making Caroline Bingley laugh."

"Precisely."

"This is going to fail spectacularly."

"That's what makes it interesting."