“And are you giving a ball?” asked Lizzy.

“Yes. Caroline has been good enough to arrange it!”

Having reached the drawing-room, where Caroline and Louisa were already seated, the other two ladies joined in the conversation, and a discussion of the forthcoming ball ensued. Refreshments were discussed, the guest list reviewed, clothes spoken of, so that the time until the gentlemen joined them was agreeably spent.

After that, there was some general discussion about Bingley’s relatives and the new estate, but Jane soon began to tire and excused herself. Bingley followed her out of the room and their footsteps could be heard climbing the stairs to the nursery.

Elizabeth and Darcy continued to talk to Caroline and the Hursts for half an hour, but then they too excused themselves and retired for the night.

*   *   *

Elizabeth was not altogether looking forward to seeing her mother, particularly at such a time when her mother would no doubt interfere in everything she wished to eat, drink, or do, but she was longing to see her father again. He had always been very dear to her. He had defended her when her mother had tried to force her to marry Mr. Collins, and he had obliged her by discovering the good qualities in her husband, even though, at first, he had doubted they existed. He had come to realise that underneath Darcy’s reserved and proud exterior there was a man who was worthy of his daughter, and Mr. Bennet knew no higher praise than that, for he had always had a soft spot for his Lizzy.

So when, the following morning, she caught sight of the Bennet carriage appearing through heavy snow, she was delighted.

Bingley went out to greet them, quickly bringing everyone into the drawing-room, where a large fire and some refreshments awaited them.

“Lizzy, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet. His face was a picture of delighted surprise as he saw his favourite daughter. “This is an unexpected pleasure. We did not think to find you here. How are you?” He ran his eyes over her full figure. “Well, I hope?”

“Yes, Papa, very well,” said Lizzy, kissing him on the cheek. “When Jane invited us, I could not resist seeing her new house and my new nephew.”

“You should not have travelled in your condition. If I had known what you intended, I would have put a stop to it,” said Mrs. Bennet.

“Then it is as well that you did not. I am sure Lizzy was just as excited about seeing the newest addition to the family as we are,” said Mr. Bennet. There was a trace of unaccustomed pride in his voice. “Jane is well?”

“Very well. She will be down directly.”

Mr. Bingley urged them all to sit down and they settled themselves by the fire.

“It is perhaps a good thing you are here, after all, Lizzy,” said Mrs. Bennet. “I hope you will learn from your sister. I knew how it would be. I said, did I not, Mr. Bennet—did I not, Mary, Kitty, Maria?—that Jane would have a boy.” She looked around the drawing-room. “This is a very elegant drawing-room, far better than the one at Lucas Lodge, and better than Netherfield too, is it not, Mr. Bennet?”

“The relative merits of various drawing-rooms are, I am afraid, beyond me,” said Mr. Bennet.

Kitty looked around the room and pronounced it very fine. But it lost all its interest when, a moment later, Jane entered the room with little Charles in her arms. The talk was then all of the baby, with Mrs. Bennet predicting a great future for him and Mr. Bennet being quietly pleased. Kitty cooed over her first nephew and addressed herself as Aunt Kitty several times, whilst Mary said, “It is usual on such occasions to predict that the infant is destined for greatness, but I have often observed that very few of those who have greatness foretold for them manage to achieve such greatness when the full measure of their maturity unfolds.”

Elizabeth laughed. Mrs. Bennet said, “Hush, Mary, whoever asked you?” and Mr. Bennet said gravely, “Very wise, Mary. I am glad to see that your hours of study have not been wasted, but have been productive of such wisdom.”

Mary gave a gracious smile.

Little Charles was passed round all the females and, as they made a great fuss of him, Mr. Bennet said to his eldest daughter, “You have found yourself a fine house here, Jane. The situation is good and it seems comfortable. It is a true family home.”

Having passed the baby round everyone in turn, little Charles was returned to his mother.

“There is nothing finer than a fire in winter,” said Mrs. Bennet. She added complacently, “I am sure Lady Catherine will like it. She will be used to the very best fires at Rosings Park, for the chimney piece cost eight hundred pounds, and no one would wish to find a niggling fire beneath a chimney piece of such value. But even Lady Catherine, I am persuaded, will have no fault to find with this.”

Elizabeth looked at her mother in surprise, wondering why Lady Catherine had entered the conversation.

Before she had time to speak, Jane said, “Lady Catherine, Mama? Why should it matter whether or not Lady Catherine likes my fire?”

“Why, because I have invited her to stay here, of course. We have travelled up from Hertfordshire in the same party. Lady Catherine called in at Lucas Lodge on her way north to visit relatives, something to do with telling Charlotte that she was breeding the wrong sort of poultry, and as the weather was so poor, she was condescending enough to say that we could all travel on together. Two carriages are so much better than one when it snows, you know, for if one is stuck in a snowdrift, then the extra horses can be used to pull it out.”

“Lady Catherine is here?” asked Jane, looking out of the window in expectation of seeing her ladyship’s carriage.

“She is at an inn, not an hour’s drive away. It was as we stopped there to change the horses and take some refreshment that a party of gentlemen came in, telling us that the road further north was completely blocked. They themselves had tried to get through and had had to turn back. Lady Catherine decided that she would have to take rooms at the inn until the weather improved, but I assured her that she would have to do no such thing, for she would be welcome here. I knew you would not mind,” she said to Jane. “You have plenty of room, and Lady Catherine is family, you know.”

“Mama!” said Lizzy. “You had no right to issue an invitation on Jane’s behalf, especially when Jane is not yet recovered.”

“Now, Lizzy, do not take on so, it is not your house, you know, and Jane is delighted. Are you not, Jane?” Mrs. Bennet went on without waiting for Jane to reply. “Besides, Lizzy, Lady Catherine is your aunt. I could not leave her to a lengthy stay in the inn, for who knows when the roads will be clear. I dare say Mr. Darcy, at any rate, is pleased.”

If it was so, then Mr. Darcy hid his pleasure well.

“I had better arrange for a room to be aired,” said Jane.

“Two rooms,” said Mrs. Bennet. “Mr. Collins is with her ladyship. He has a brother nearby, and as he happened to mention it when Lady Catherine was visiting Lucas Lodge, she offered him a place in her carriage so that he could visit his brother without any trouble or expense.”

“I am sorry, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet to Jane. “I was too late to prevent the invitation being issued, and the best I could do was to encourage Lady Catherine to pause for something to eat so that we could arrive here first and give you some warning.”

“Never fear, Papa, Lady Catherine is welcome,” said Jane amicably.

“I did not know that Mr. Collins had a brother,” said Elizabeth, learning this new knowledge with interest.

“Oh, yes, a very fine young man by all accounts, I am sure he is everything that is charming and delightful. And what a good thing for Kitty!” said Mrs. Bennet, looking complacently at Kitty. “I have often wondered what would become of her, but now my mind is at ease.”

The smile left Kitty’s face.

“How can the fact that Mr. Collins has a brother be good for Kitty?” asked Elizabeth in surprise.

“Because Kitty will be able to marry him, of course.”

“No, Mama, I will not marry Mr. Collins’s brother!” said Kitty vehemently.

From the tone of her voice, it was obvious she had heard the suggestion before.

“Of course you will. He is a very eligible gentleman,” said her mother. “You will be delighted with him, no doubt.”

“I will not be delighted with him. I am not delighted with Mr. Collins,” said Kitty stubbornly.

“No one is asking you to be delighted with Mr. Collins; you are not expected to marry Mr. Collins. His brother is no doubt as different from him as you are from Lizzy. I am sure he is everything that is handsome and agreeable.”

“And I am sure he is nothing of the kind,” said Kitty. “I am determined not to marry him!”

“But, only think, my love. When Mr. Collins dies, as I am sure he will before very long—for he eats and drinks a prodigious amount and he will no doubt have an apoplexy before the year is out—his brother will inherit all his worldly possessions, so he will also inherit the entail. Then, when Mr. Bennet dies and you and your husband inherit Longbourn, you, Mary, and I may live there, all three of us together, till the end of our days.”

This prospect did not appear to cheer Kitty, who, instead of smiling with delight, looked as though she was ready to cry.

“There, there,” said Mr. Bennet, patting her hand. “I mean to live for a good long time yet, and neither Mr. Collins nor his brother shall have Longbourn until I am gone.”

Mrs. Bennet opened her mouth but Bingley, with a great deal of tact, silenced her by the simple expedient of offering her a piece of seed cake. She accepted with relish, saying that she was famished, and fell mercifully silent for a full two minutes.