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"There's a proper way to be ill?"

"According to Lady Catherine, there's a proper way to do everything. Including breathing. She has opinions about breathing."

"How can someone have opinions about⁠—"

"She thinks young ladies breathe too shallowly. Insufficient lung capacity. It's unbecoming." Charlotte said this with a perfectly straight face.

Elizabeth stared at her. "You're joking."

"I wish I were. She spent twenty minutes yesterday explaining the correct way to inhale. Mr. Collins took notes."

"Dear God."

"Get dressed. We leave after luncheon. Try to look properly grateful for the honor of her attention."

She dressed and prepared herself for an afternoon of Lady Catherine.

* * *

Lady Catherine had summoned them for tea, which meant Elizabeth and Charlotte were marched to Rosings like soldiers reporting for inspection.

"Remember," Charlotte whispered as they approached. "Agree with everything. Even the ridiculous things. Especially the ridiculous things."

The tea was exactly as pretentious as Elizabeth expected. Lady Catherine held court like a monarch, surrounded by the finest china, the most expensive biscuits, and enough self-importance to fill the room twice over.

"Miss Bennet," Lady Catherine announced, "I have been observing your behavior."

Oh no.

"You walk too quickly. It is unbecoming in a young lady of modest means. One must know one's place."

Elizabeth pressed her lips together.

"Yes, your ladyship."

"And your posture! Too upright! It suggests pride. Young ladies should be demure, not defiant."

My posture is proud? How is posture proud?!

"Of course, your ladyship."

Darcy entered the room at that moment, took one look at Elizabeth's face, and clearly decided to intervene.

They had lasted until afternoon. Elizabeth would concede a delay to her notebook, though she could hardly be expected to thank Lady Catherine for arranging it.

"Aunt Catherine, Miss Elizabeth's posture seems perfectly appropriate to me."

"You would say that, Fitzwilliam. You are too lenient. It comes from associating with people beneath your station." Lady Catherine turned her imperious gaze on him. "Which reminds me—I have heard reports of you taking solitary walks with Miss Bennet. Unchaperoned."

Elizabeth and Darcy exchanged glances.

"We were caught in a rainstorm, Aunt. Hardly a romantic assignation."

"Eighteen rainstorms, Fitzwilliam?"

They both froze.

"Someone has been counting?" Elizabeth asked faintly.