Page 49 of The Lost Prophecy

“We met yesterday,” he reminded her, bowing awkwardly. “Mr Collins, rector of Hunsford in Kent and fortunate recipient of the patronage of Mr Darcy’s esteemed aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”

Mrs Hurst regarded him with faint uncertainty, as if she had just discovered that an unpleasant dream had acquired a second morning. “Yes. Yes, I remember.”

Mr Collins bowed again. “Your recollection honours me.”

Mr Bennet turned another page. “It has survived almost twenty-four hours. Such endurance ought to be acknowledged.”

Miss Bingley’s gaze moved to him, but Mr Bennet appeared absorbed in his book. She accepted the tea Mrs Bennet offered and held the cup delicately on its saucer.

“We have also come on a matter of business.” Miss Bingley addressed Jane with a smile which might have been warm if warmth had not required practice. “My brother promised that you should choose the date of the Netherfield ball. The household cannot proceed until you have pronounced judgement.”

Jane glanced at her mother. Mrs Bennet had already opened her mouth.

“The twenty-second would be suitable,” she began. “Although the twenty-third may give Jane another day to recover, and there is no reason to delay beyond that unless Mr Bingley wishes to invite a great many people.”

“The twenty-sixth,” Jane said quietly.

Mrs Bennet stopped.

Jane rested her hands on the abandoned shawl in her lap. “I believe the twenty-sixth would allow sufficient time for the invitations and preparations. I shall also be entirely recovered by then.”

Miss Bingley inclined her head. “The twenty-sixth it shall be.”

Lydia sprang from the window and hurried across the room. “Will Colonel Forster and all the officers be invited?”

“Lydia,” Elizabeth warned.

Miss Bingley lifted her cup but did not drink. “My brother has already assured the regiment of its welcome.”

“All of them?” Kitty asked, leaning around Lydia.

Mrs Hurst selected a small cake from the plate Hill offered and placed it on her saucer. “Unless Colonel Forster has recruited half the county since yesterday.”

“That would improve the county considerably,” Lydia replied.

Mary closed her book on one finger. “A military coat does not necessarily indicate moral worth.”

“No,” Lydia agreed, resuming her place. “But it indicates an officer.”

Mr Bennet’s shoulders moved once behind his book.

Mrs Bennet began listing the families who must be invited, the families who expected to be invited, and the families whose exclusion would be discussed for years. Miss Bingley listened with composed endurance while being informed how many people intended to invade her home.

Mr Collins waited for a pause and failed to find one. He therefore created it by stepping into the centre of the room.

“I trust that a clergyman’s attendance would not be considered inconsistent with the dignity of the occasion. Lady Catherine encourages dancing among personages of established respectability, provided that animation does not descend into vulgar display.”

Miss Bingley stared at him. For one beautiful instant, Elizabeth watched her consider every possible means of denying the heir to Longbourn entry to Netherfield. Lady Catherine’s name removed most of them.

“We should be pleased to receive you, Mr Collins.”

He bowed deeply. “You do me great honour. I am not insensible to the responsibilities attached to such an invitation and shall endeavour to distinguish myself without attracting undue attention.”

Mr Bennet lowered his book. “That should be worth observing.”

Mr Collins accepted the remark as encouragement and continued. “I flatter myself that my dancing, though not fashionable, is conducted with propriety. Lady Catherine once witnessed me participate in a country dance at the Hunsford harvest celebration and offered no criticism.”

“Extraordinary,” Elizabeth murmured. “She had retained consciousness throughout?”