‘It seems that Mr Collins is another admirer of fine eyes,’ said Caroline, looking at me satirically. ‘I think they will deal well together. One is all impertinence, and the other is all imbecility.’

I had not known, till I heard this, how far my feelings had gone. The idea of Elizabeth marrying Mr Collins was mortifying, and painful in a way I had not imagined. I quickly rallied. Hurst must be mistaken. She could not lower herself so far. To be tied to that clod for the rest of her life…

‘You must be mistaken,’ I said.

‘Not mistaken at all,’ said Hurst. ‘Had it from Denny.’

‘It is not a bad match,’ said Louisa, considering. ‘In fact, it is a good one. There are five daughters, all unmarried, and their estate is entailed, I believe.’

‘Entailed on Collins,’ said Mr Hurst.

‘All the better,’ said Louisa. ‘Miss Eliza Bennet will not have to leave her home, and her sisters will have somewhere to live when her father dies.’

‘And so will her mother,’ said Caroline gaily. ‘How charming to be confined with Mrs Bennet for the rest of their lives!’

I had never liked Caroline less. I would not wish such a fate on anyone, and certainly not on Elizabeth. She suffers for her mother. I have seen it. She blushes every time her mother reveals her foolishness. To be forced to endure such humiliation for the rest of her life…

‘But I wonder why he did not ask Jane,’ said Louisa.

‘Jane?’ enquired Caroline.

‘Yes. She is the eldest.’

Caroline looked at me. I knew what she was thinking.

Mr Collins had not asked Jane, because Mrs Bennet had led him to believe that Jane was shortly to be married to Bingley.

‘I dare say, with the estate entailed, he thought he could have his choice,’ Caroline said. ‘Miss Eliza Bennet’s pertness must have appealed to him, though I am not sure she will make a suitable wife for a clergyman. What say you, Mr Darcy?’

I said nothing, for fear of saying something I should regret. I could not possibly allow myself to admire Elizabeth, so what did it matter if another man did? But I found that my hands were clenched and, looking down, perceived my knuckles had grown white.

She looked at me, expecting an answer, however, and at last I said, more to satisfy my own feelings than hers:

‘It might come to nothing. Denny might be mistaken.’

‘I do not see how,’ said Caroline. ‘He is as thick as thieves with Lydia. He knows everything that goes on in that household I dare say.’

‘Lydia is a child, and might have been wrong,’ I heard myself saying.

‘Denny did not have it from Lydia,’ said Mr Hurst.

‘Had it from the aunt. Aunt lives in Meryton. Told Denny herself. Whole house was in an uproar, she said. First Mr Collins offers for Elizabeth, then Elizabeth tells him she will not have him.’

‘Will not have him?’

I heard the hope in my voice.

‘Refused him. Mother in hysterics. Father on her side,’ said Mr Hurst.

God bless Mr Bennet! I thought, prepared to forgive him every other instance of neglect.

‘If she doesn’t change her mind and have him, he will have the Lucas girl,’ said Mr Hurst.

‘How do you know?’ asked Caroline in surprise.

‘Aunt said so. “If Lizzy doesn’t look sharp, Charlotte will have him,” she said. “He has to marry, his patroness has told him so, and one girl is as good as another in the end. ”’

I breathed again. It was only when I did so that I realized how deeply I had been attracted by Elizabeth. It was a good thing I was going to London. I had saved Bingley from an imprudent match, I could do no less for myself.

Once out of Elizabeth’s neighbourhood, I would cease to think about her. I would engage in rational conversation with rational women, and think no more of her saucy wit.

We arrived in London in good time. Bingley was surprised to see us.

‘We did not want you to be alone here, and to have to spend your free hours in a comfortless hotel,’ said Caroline.

‘But my business will only take a few days!’ he said in surprise.

‘I hope you will not go before seeing Georgiana,’ I said. ‘I know she would like to see you.’

‘Dear Georgiana,’ said Caroline. ‘Do say we can stay in town for a week, Charles.’

‘I do not know why I should not stay an extra day or two,’ he conceded. ‘I should like to see Georgiana myself.

Tell me, Darcy, is she much grown?’

‘You would not recognize her,’ I said. ‘She is no longer a girl. She is well on the way to becoming a woman.’

‘But still young enough to enjoy Christmas?’ Caroline asked.

I smiled. ‘I believe so. You must stay and celebrate it with us.’

‘We will not be staying so long,’ said Bingley.

‘What, and miss Christmas with Darcy and Georgiana?’ asked Caroline.

‘But I promised to dine with the Bennets,’ he said.

‘Mrs Bennet asked me particularly, and in the kindest manner.’

‘Are you to abandon old friends for new?’ cried Caroline. ‘Mrs Bennet said you could dine with her family at any time. I heard her say so myself. The Bennets will still be there after Christmas.’

Bingley looked uncertain, but then he said: ‘Very well.

We will stay in town for Christmas. ’ He began to look more cheerful. ‘I dare say it will be good fun. It is always better to celebrate Christmas when there are children in the house.’

This did not bode well for his feelings towards Georgiana, but I comforted myself with the fact that he had not seen her for a long time, and that although she might have seemed like a child the last time they met, she was now clearly becoming a young woman.

‘And once it is over, we will go to Hertfordshire for the New Year,’ he said. ‘I will write to Miss Bennet and tell her of our plans.’

‘There is no need for that,’ said Caroline. ‘I will be writing to her today. I will tell her so myself.’

‘Send her my best wishes,’ said Bingley.

‘Indeed I will.’

‘And tell her we will be in Hertfordshire in January.’

‘I will make sure I do so.’

‘Commend me to her family.’

‘Of course.’

He would have gone on, but I broke in with: ‘Then it is settled.’

Caroline left the room in order to write her letter.

Louisa and her husband went, too, and Bingley and I were left alone.

‘A Christmas to look forward to, and a New Year to look forward to even more,’ said Bingley.

‘You like Miss Bennet,’ I observed.

‘I have never met a girl I liked half so well.’

I sat down, and Bingley sat down opposite me.

‘And yet I am not sure she would make you a good wife,’ I said pensively.

‘What do you mean?’ he asked, surprised.

‘Her low connections –’

‘I do not intend to marry her connections!’ said Bingley with a laugh.

‘An uncle who is an attorney, another who lives in Cheapside. They can add nothing to your consequence, and will, in the end, diminish it.’

Bingley’s smile faded.

‘I cannot see that it matters. What need have I of consequence?’

‘Every gentleman needs consequence. And then there are the sisters.’

‘Miss Elizabeth is a charming girl.’

He had hit me at my weakest spot, but I was firm with myself and rallied.

‘Her sisters are, for the most part, ignorant and vulgar.

The youngest is a hardened flirt.’

‘There will be no need for us to see them,’ said Bingley.

‘My dear Bingley, you cannot live at Netherfield and not see them. They will always be there. So will her mother.’

‘Then we will not live at Netherfield. I have not yet bought the estate. It is only rented. We will settle elsewhere.’

‘But would Jane consent to it?’

His face fell.

‘If she felt a strong attachment to you, perhaps she might be persuaded to leave her neighbourhood,’ I said.

‘You think she does not feel it?’ asked Bingley uncertainly.

‘She is a delightful girl, but she showed no more pleasure in your company than in any other man’s.’

He chewed his lip.

‘I thought…she seemed pleased to talk to me…seemed pleased to dance with me…I rather thought she seemed more pleased with me than any other man. When we danced together –’

‘You danced but twice at each ball, and she danced twice with other men.’

‘She did,’ he admitted, ‘but I thought that was just because it would have been rude to refuse.’

‘Perhaps it would have been rude of her to refuse you.’

‘You think she only danced with me to be polite?’ he asked in consternation.

‘I would not go so far. I think she enjoyed dancing with you, and talking to you, and flirting with you. But I think she enjoyed it no more than with other men, and now that you are not in Hertfordshire –’

‘I must go back,’ he said, standing up. ‘I knew it.’

‘But if she is indifferent, you will only give yourself pain.’

‘If she is indifferent. You do not know that she is.’

‘No, I do not know it, but I observed her closely, and I could see no sign of particular regard.’

‘You observed her?’ he asked in surprise.

‘Your singling her out was beginning to attract attention. Others had noticed besides myself. If it had been gone on much longer, you would have been obliged to have made her an offer.’

‘I would have liked to have made her an offer,’ he corrected me, then faltered. ‘Do you think she would have accepted?’

‘Of course. It would have been a good match for her.

You have a considerable income, and a beautiful house.

She would have been settled near her family. There is no question of her refusing. But should you like to be married for those reasons?’