Mr. Bennet called out to his wife the next morning when he saw her walking past his study on her way to the breakfast room. She went to him, her lips brushing his cheek as she settled down next to him and waited to hear what he had to say.

"I have had a letter, my dear," he began. "It is from Mr. Collins, my heir. I received it about a se'nnight ago, and have been thinking of how I might reply."

"Oh?" said Mrs. Bennet with great interest. "What can he have to say to you?"

"Not much of sense, I fear, but read it yourself." Mr. Bennet then handed the letter to his wife, and she began to read.

Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent,

15th October.

Dear Sir,

The disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late honoured father always gave me much uneasiness, and since I have had the misfortune to lose him, I have frequently wished to heal the breach. For some time I was kept back by my own doubts, fearing lest it might seem disrespectful to his memory for me to be on good terms with anyone with whom it had always pleased him to be at variance. My mind, however, is now made up on the subject, for having received ordination at Easter, I have been so fortunate as to be distinguished by the patronage of the Right Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh, whose bounty and beneficence has preferred me to the valuable rectory of this parish, where it shall be my earnest endeavour to demean myself with grateful respect towards her ladyship, and be ever ready to perform those rites and ceremonies which are instituted by the Church of England.

As a clergyman, moreover, I feel it my duty to promote and establish the blessing of peace in all families within in the reach of my influence. On these grounds I flatter myself that my present overtures are highly commendable, and that the circumstance of my being next in the entail of Longbourn estate will be kindly overlooked on your side, and not lead you to reject the offered olive-branch. I cannot be otherwise than concerned at being the means of injuring your amiable daughters, and beg leave to apologise for it, as well as to assure you of my readiness to make them every possible amends — but of this hereafter. If you should have no objection to receive me into your house, I propose myself the satisfaction of waiting on you and your family, Monday, November 18th, by four o'clock, and shall probably trespass on your hospitality till the Saturday se'nnight following. This I can do without any inconvenience, as Lady Catherine is far from objecting to my occasional absence on a Sunday, provided that some other clergyman is engaged to do the duty of the day.

I remain, dear sir, with respectful compliments to your lady and daughters, your well-wisher and friend,

William Collins

When Mrs. Bennet put the letter aside, she had to pause to organise her ideas before sharing them with her husband. "I do think it right of him to wish to heal the breach between the branches of the family, but I cannot think what he means by apologising for being next in line in the entail. I cannot suppose he would help it if he could. If he truly wishes to make amends, perhaps you might offer him a sum of money in order to break the entail. He is of age, and therefore it could be done. If he is so happy with his current position as parson, he may be happy to remain in such a role and to have funds now rather than an estate later."

"Where am I to get such funds?" asked Mr. Bennet. "We have not enough to tempt Mr. Collins to give up his inheritance."

"I do not know how much it might cost, only that it is something Mr. Phillips mentioned once in the past. Perhaps you might speak to him and see what amount might be reasonable for an estate of such a size as Longbourn. Then again, it does not seem that Mr. Collins is a sensible man, if we are to base our judgement of him only on the letter, so what is reasonable for a sensible man might not suit him."

"I shall speak to Mr. Phillips, my dear," replied her husband. "I should like it above all things to have my family secure in their home. Even though there is always your cottage, I do not like to think of my girls having to leave where they have grown up. Nor do I like the idea of leaving my tenants to the care of such a man as Mr. Collins seems to be."

"You will agree for him to visit, then?"

"Of course. I see not how your plan can otherwise be accomplished." With that, Mr. Bennet went to his desk and began to pen a reply to his erstwhile cousin.

Mr. Collins' letter was not the only one to consider that day, for while the party was yet breakfasting, a note arrived from Netherfield addressed to Elizabeth and Kitty, and the servant who was sent with the note awaited an answer.

"Well, dearest," said Mrs. Bennet to Elizabeth, "tell us what it says."

Elizabeth opened the letter and read aloud the contents.

"My dear friends,

If you are not so compassionate as to dine to-day with Louisa and me, we shall be in danger of hating each other for the rest of our lives, for a whole day's tête-à-tête between two women can never end without a quarrel. Come as soon as you can on receipt of this. My brother and the gentlemen are to dine with the officers.

Yours ever,

Caroline Bingley"

"May we have the carriage?" Kitty asked eagerly, her voice rising in excitement.

"Mr. Bennet, may they?" asked Mrs. Bennet

"I fear not, my love," said Mr. Bennet. "It is likely to rain later, and the horses are needed in the fields. We need to get as much of the crop in as possible before the rain begins."

"That is terribly unlucky, my dears," said Mrs. Bennet, "but we will invite the Netherfield party to dine soon, so you need not miss heir company long."

Kitty was dreadfully disappointed at this, for she enjoyed dining out above all things. Elizabeth attempted to soothe her younger sister by occupying her with practicing new music at the pianoforte. Before they had been very long in their practice, however, another note arrived offering Mr. Bingley's carriage to the ladies, should they be able to leave for Netherfield soon.

This was agreeable to all, and after selecting suitable evening clothing to be brought along for dining, they hurriedly made their way to the carriage and departed for Netherfield. Halfway through their journey, they heard a rumble of thunder, followed by a heavy rainfall. The sound of the rain pounding on the carriage roof was so deafening, conversation was difficult on the way to Netherfield.

Mr. Bingley and a footman hurriedly greeted them with umbrellas upon their arrival, shielding them from the rain as they entered the house. Despite their efforts, the sideways rain was so heavy that they were still damp. Hot baths were hastily drawn for them and afterwards they changed into their dinner attire despite the early hour.

When the gentlemen descended to take their leave, the ladies had already convened in the drawing-room. The conversation was lively. Only Kitty was not as sprightly as she normally was, and she was coughing periodically. Both Elizabeth and Mr. Bingley were alarmed, as her coughing was rough and laboured and she looked slightly pale. Upon Mr. Bingley's observing this aloud, Mrs. Hurst agreed with the observation and ordered that chambers be prepared so Miss Catherine might rest. With the assurance that his guests were well taken care of, Mr. Bingley departed with the other gentlemen for the dinner with the officers.

Kitty worsened throughout the afternoon and evening. Elizabeth reluctantly left her side so she might dine with the ladies, but only after seeing that her sister was resting and well-attended by a maid.

Upon Elizabeth's entering the dining room, Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley made civil inquiries after Miss Catherine's health. Elizabeth, unfortunately, could answer only that she was much worse, but that she was resting well. Miss Bingley begrudgingly offered them the hospitality of a night's stay. Elizabeth gratefully accepted this kindness with many thanks.

The rest of the conversation throughout dinner vexed Elizabeth exceedingly. Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley seemed determined to learn as much as possible about the Bennet family. She understood their reasons, as their brother was annoyingly infatuated with her. It was their manner that she objected to.

"I understand that your mother was your governess before she married your father?" asked Miss Bingley.

"Indeed," said Elizabeth.

"How charming! There are few gentlemen who would not mind a lady with such unfortunate circumstances. Say, was she in the home long before they became betrothed?" asked the other sister.

"Seven years."

"And your mother, Blackwall cottage was her home before she came to be your governess? It is now let to the Seamus family, is it not?" asked Miss Bingley.

"It is."

"Such a small, charming cottage," said Mrs. Hurst. "I thought it one of Netherfield's tenants' homes when I first saw it."

"It is right on the border of Netherfield's land, so I see how you might think that."

"I find it odd there was no governess before your mother passed. Was not your elder sister old enough for one?" asked Mrs. Hurst

"She was perhaps, but at that point, my mother had been able to teach her everything she needed to know. She was only eight."

"And after they married, did you get a different governess?" asked Miss Bingley.

"Of course not. Her ability did not diminish due to her change in station. Besides, by that point, we were old enough to rely mostly on masters and tutors."

"Tutors?" asked Miss Bingley. "Pray, what can a tutor teach young girls?"

"The same thing they might teach young boys, I would imagine. Mathematics, languages, natural philosophy, history."

"How positively masculine! Your father must be quite progressive in his views." Miss Bingley's tone made it clear that this was not a compliment.

"We were given lessons in any subject that interested us. My father was a professor at Cambridge before he inherited. He was the second son, so he needed a profession. He believes very much in child-led education based on the theories of learning put forth by Rousseau and Basedow." Elizabeth doubted that the other ladies knew who either Rousseau or Basedow were, or that her knowing their theories would raise her in their opinions, but she did not care.

"How charming," said Mrs. Hurst.

By the time dessert came, Elizabeth had been interrogated about all of her connexions — those from her mother, her step-mother, and her father. Elizabeth had decided that she would not tell the supercilious sisters of her sister's title. She wondered if the sisters' attitude towards her would change if they knew, given that Lord Wallingford — Chris to his family — had been cut off from most of his family since he was barely more than a boy. Chris had not abandoned his sister, who had become ruined through imprudent youthful actions. As a result, his father — Lord Greenwich — had nothing to do with either his heir or his daughter. Chris had two other brothers as well, both of whom obeyed their father in shunning their relations. Thus, Chris was no longer in the first circles and had to engage in trade to support himself and his family. His title was enough for the lower circles of society to forgive such a stain on his otherwise pristine reputation, but Elizabeth knew that some people were still unkind and whispered about him. She would not wonder if Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley would be the sort to do so.

After dinner, Elizabeth begged the forgiveness of her hosts, but took her leave to return to her sister. Kitty was sitting up in bed, but coughing wracked her body. The maid informed Elizabeth that Kitty had taken some tea and some soup, but that she had coughed to the point of expelling some of that which she had taken in. Regretting having left her sister to dine, she asked the maid to bring a cot into Kitty's room. There Elizabeth's night was spent in small intervals of sleep as she tended to her ailing sister.