Page 128 of Colour My World
Mr Bennet lifted a brow. “My lady, I do not believe I have.”
Mrs Bennet pressed a hand to her chest. “He would not, Your Ladyship. One does not jest about bishops.”
Lady Catherine squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “You mock me.”
Mr Bennet turned to his wife. “My dear, have you mocked Her Ladyship?”
Mrs Bennet, eyes wide and innocent, blinked. “Mock, Mr Bennet? Me? I would sooner mock the King.”
A fresh wave of colour flooded Lady Catherine’s face.
Mr Collins stepped forward. “Your Ladyship––”
She sliced the air with her hand. Her gaze snapped back to the Bennets, who had composed themselves once more, standing asif nothing untoward had passed between them.
They knew. She knew.
Lady Catherine’s face darkened to a furious red, her fingers white upon her fan as though she meant to snap it in two. She appeared on the verge of an apoplexy.
Mr Bennet darted an eye at Darcy and winked.
Lady Catherine exploded. “Mr Collins! You distinctly told me five young women were roaming the countryside without proper escort.” She swept her hand towards the assembled girls. “And these, these pictures of elegance, are the hoydens in question?”
Collins’s mouth opened and closed, and then he gulped loudly.
Darcy stepped next to Elizabeth. Though her lips were pressed together, she remained calm, mostly unaffected. Yet amusement danced in her eyes.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he murmured. “You look… magnificent.”
She did not look at him. “And you, silent.”
“Rendered silent, if I may admit.”
She turned to him. “You may.”
* * *
Mr Howard had served great houses for over five decades. He had witnessed earls bicker, countesses weep, and more than one lord abandon dignity in pursuit of a mistress. During his five-year tenure at Netherfield Park, he had become well acquainted with Longbourn’s patriarch and the man’s peculiar tendency to make light of every situation, especially those which ought not to be trifled with.
But this. This was a tableau he would savour. He cleared his throat. “Dinner is served.”
Lady Catherine ascended like a monarch. “As a proponent of propriety and rank, precedence must not be ignored.”
Mr Bennet extended his arm. “Then allow me the honour, Your Ladyship.”
Lady Catherine, after the briefest flicker of consideration, placed her hand upon his sleeve. “As is proper.”
Mr Darcy, ever the gentleman, turned to Mrs Bennet. “Madam?”
She placed her hand upon his forearm—but only just.
Miss Anne de Bourgh took Miss Elizabeth’s arm while Miss Mary fell in with Miss Bennet. The parson was the last cock on the dunghill.
Howard kept his face neutral as his predecessors had for generations, though it took some effort.
The party passed through the grand threshold to the dining room.
Mr Collins stepped forward to follow, but a footman moved into his path. “Sir, you are not of the dinner party.”
