Lizzie and James had barely exchanged greetings with their friends and shrugged off their traveling cloaks when Mr. Collins made the announcement.
"We're to sup at Lady DeBourgh's this evening!" he verily cried out. "She has invited us, all of us. Even my cousins. I trust you've brought presentable evening wear?"
James grinned a half-grin that only Lizzie could have noticed.
"I don't know, Mrs. Pauley," he said, turning to her. "Have we brought anything appropriate for a party of such dignity?"
"Dignity, indeed, Mr. Pauley," interjected Mr. Collins. "Lady Catherine, as well as her daughter Lady Anne, will be in attendance."
"I think we have suitable attire for the occasion," Lizzie said firmly, before James could provoke Mr. Collins with another quip.
Mr. Collins' relief was palpable. "If not," he added, "I doubt my patroness will remark upon it. She is quite used to interacting with those decidedly beneath her station in life."
A silence settled over the room, which Charlotte ended by offering to ring for tea to be sent into the parlor.
Several hours later, the Pauleys found themselves trudging up the lawn of Rosings Park, trailing behind Mr. Collins, who kept a brisk pace to the house.
The house, once they reached it, was as lavish as Mr. Collins had always promised it would be. Lizzie was reminded of the one time her aunt and uncle had brought her to Chatsworth House in Derbyshire when she was a girl. As the maid ushered them through the main hall –– adorned by paintings on the walls, a tapestry on the ceiling, marble floors and statues adorning the space –– James let out a low whistle.
"And this is the woman who patronizes your cousin," he said, shaking his head. "Of all people."
"Hush," Lizzie urged, as the maid ushered them into a sitting room, where two ladies and two gentlemen sat.
Immediately Lizzie had no doubt about which lady was Lady Catherine. Tall, stately, with white hair tied back in a severe bun, she cast an imposing figure. When she spoke, one could feel the room collectively trouble.
"Collins," she snapped, "you are late."
Mr. Collins stumbled over his words. "M-My lady, my most sincere apologies, we were –– "
"No matter," Lady Catherine cut smoothly over him. "Who have you brought with you this evening?"
"My wife, Mrs. Collins, as you know, your ladyship," Mr. Collins said obviously. Charlotte curtsied. "And this is Mrs. Pauley, my cousin, and her husband Mr. Pauley."
James and Lizzie made the appropriate obeisances.
"Thank you for inviting us into your home," James said with uncharacteristic humility.
Lady Catherine waved a hand. "You are guests of Collins', Mr. Pauley. I trust I will come to know you better over the course of the evening." She turned to the other people in the room, who had risen upon the party's arrival.
"This is my nephew, Colonel Fitzwilliam," she said, gesturing to a blonde man in a regimental uniform. "My daughter, Lady Anne," gesturing to the lady, who looked pale and demure. "And Darcy, where are you?"
Lizzie's heart skipped a beat as a tall, dark-haired man stepped out from behind Colonel Fitzwilliam. "Mrs. Pauley," he breathed, as Lizzie answered, "Mr. Darcy?"
Of all the people in the world, Lizzie thought, she would have last expected Mr. Darcy to be sitting in this drawing room. Yet, she found, the surprise was far from unwelcome. For some reason, it was comforting to see him here, in this strange place, for some reason smiling.
"You have met?" Lady Catherine's shock was greater than anyone else's.
"Mrs. Pauley is the niece of my dear friends the Gardiners," Mr. Darcy explained, before suddenly and awkwardly approaching Lizzie and bowing over her hand. He extended a hand to James.
"Your wife, when my father died, was an inexpressible comfort to me, though I did not deserve it," he said. "I am Fitzwilliam Darcy, and I'm honored to make your acquaintance."
James, though taken aback, responded in kind. "The honor is all mine, Mr. Darcy."
Fitzwilliam, Lady Catherine and Lady Anne seemed frozen in shock as Darcy bowed over Mrs. Collins' hand as well and shook Mr. Collins'.
Lizzie, however, stared fixedly at the man who acted as though he knew her so familiarly, understanding little, especially the churning feeling in her stomach.
"Let us sit," Darcy said. "Anne, my dear, you must speak to Mrs. Pauley. I expect you will have much in common."
Finally, comprehension dawned upon Lizzie.
"Your betrothed," she said suddenly, and when James and Mr. Darcy turned to stare at her, she said, "I apologize, but you said your betrothed was the daughter of your mother's sister. I am assuming, Lady Anne, that you and Mr. Darcy are betrothed?"
Lady Anne spoke for the first time.
"Yes, Mrs. Pauley," she whispered.
"My congratulations," Lizzie said, loudly and heartily. "I'm glad to make your acquaintance."
"All well, then," said Mr. Darcy, in the same hearty tone of voice. "Shall the gentlemen then retire before supper? My aunt and cousin dearly love Mrs. Collins' company, and I expect they will feel the same way about you, Mrs. Pauley."
His suggestion was met with a general and loud consensus.
Except for James, who gave Lizzie a quizzical look and squeezed her hand. Before taking his leave, he echoed Mr. Darcy. His words, however, were a question.
"All well, then?"
Lizzie's answering smile was real. But she felt like a liar as she delivered her response.
"All well," she said, but her eyes were fixated on Mr. Darcy as he quitted the room.