Page 13 of Beyond First Impressions
Kitty’s satisfaction was immediate.
From the house, the sound of a door opening carried faintly across the lawn.
Jane glanced toward it. “That will be Mr. Collins.”
Elizabeth turned slightly, though the figure emerging from the doorway remained indistinct at this distance.
“He walks as though he has discovered something of consequence,” Kitty observed.
“Or something he believes to be so,” Elizabeth said.
As he approached, his pace quickened, his expression earnest.
“My dear Mrs. Collins—Miss Elizabeth—Miss Catherine,” he said, inclining his head to each in turn. “I have just received intelligence of the most gratifying nature.”
Elizabeth felt Kitty’s glance flick toward her.
“What sort of intelligence?” Jane asked.
Mr. Collins clasped his hands together. “It concerns Netherfield Park.”
Elizabeth stilled. The estate had been empty for a year.
“Netherfield?” Kitty echoed.
“Yes, yes. It has at last been let.” Mr. Collins drew himself up slightly. “To a gentleman of fortune, I am told—young, agreeable, and with an income that does him considerable credit.”
Jane’s brows lifted. “Indeed?”
“Indeed. The information comes from a most reliable source.” He paused, then added, with significance, “Mrs. Phillips.”
Kitty suppressed a smile.
“And when is he expected?” Jane asked.
“Very soon. It is anticipated that he will take possession within the week.”
Elizabeth felt something stir—not excitement, precisely, but a shift. A sense of something new approaching the calm, ordered world they had constructed.
“A neighbor, then,” she said.
“A most desirable one,” Mr. Collins returned. “It is of the greatest importance that we should make a proper impression upon him at the earliest opportunity.”
Kitty glanced toward Jane.
Jane met her look, then turned back to Mr. Collins. “I am certain we shall do all that is proper.”
“Yes, yes. And there is to be an assembly in Meryton,” he continued, warming to his subject. “It will provide the perfect occasion for introduction.”
Elizabeth lowered her gaze to the book in her hand. An assembly. The word carried with it a hundred regrets—music, movement, light, and the intricate dance of society on which she had wished to enter but been deprived of the full experience.
Now? She drew a soft breath. Society was different than she expected but not impossible to navigate.
Elizabeth lifted her head, turning slightly so that her left eye caught the light. “When is it to be held?” she asked.
“Within the fortnight,” Mr. Collins said. “We mustallattend.”
The prospect settled uneasily in Elizabeth’s mind—not as dread, but as something to be measured and prepared for. It would not be avoided. And therefore, it must be faced well.
