After Mr. Darcy departed from the parsonage and Mr. Collins had gone off to write his sermon for the upcoming Good Friday service, Mrs. Collins turned her attention fully to her friend. "I may thank you, Eliza, for this piece of civility. Mr. Darcy would never have come so soon to wait upon me, nor would he have remained so long or spoken with such ease to my husband."

"I have no notion to what you refer. I happened upon Mr. Darcy quite by accident while I was out walking. It would have seemed strange if he did not walk with me at least for a little while." Elizabeth was also perplexed by Mr. Darcy's behaviour towards herself, but she would not give any of that away to her friend.

"Walking with you for a short time, I am certain, is the proper thing to do. If that was all that had occurred, I would say nothing. Yet he also came in to break his fast and remained above a half hour speaking with us, even attending to Mr. Collins' talk of bees."

"They have a common interest. I cannot think it surprising that two gentlemen would talk of a shared interest."

"What is surprising is that he came in at all. I think it shows his esteem."

"Of course. Why should he not esteem you and Mr. Collins?"

"That is not my meaning, and you know it." Charlotte sighed and shook her head softly. She took a Bath bun from the table and bit into it, making sure that none of the caraway seeds fell onto her dress.

"If that is not your meaning, then I am sure that I have not the pleasure of understanding you," said Elizabeth.

"Can you not? I have told you when in Hertfordshire that you ought not to ignore a man of Mr. Darcy's consequence. I am quite certain that he watched you quite often."

Elizabeth could say nothing to this. She had previously thought that Mr. Darcy only looked at her to find fault, but his comparing her to his mother had changed her mind. Perhaps the look that she had taken for disapproval was one of sorrow if she brought back memories of his beloved parent. She felt herself soften towards the gentleman, for she may have judged him wrongly in that matter.

"He said I remind him of his dear departed mother," confided Elizabeth. "If he watches me, I think it might be that which is the motivation. I cannot but think it might unsettle to see someone who reminds oneself of a departed loved one."

"What a very great compliment!" exclaimed Charlotte. She was certain that there was more in Mr. Darcy's looks toward Elizabeth than him being struck by a resemblance to one's mother. Men did not look at their mothers how Mr. Darcy looked at Elizabeth. She would not push her friend now, though.

"Indeed. I was quite surprised, for I would never have guessed it. But it does not follow that your supposition — which I am certain you are making — is correct. I know you very well, dear Charlotte."

"Perhaps. We shall see how he acts. I will only beg you to consider the possibility. It would be an extremely good match for you."

"I doubt he would consider me in such a way when he disapproved of his friend's attention to Jane."

"Are you so certain he had a hand in that?" asked Charlotte. "If I recall, there may have been other interested parties involved."

Elizabeth doubted that, so she only made a non-committal noise and took a little more tea.


The rest of that day, Elizabeth spent with Charlotte, calling on the poor and needy in the parish. For all that Elizabeth was still uncertain that Mr. Collins would make Charlotte a good husband, he certainly had chosen well for himself. Many of the tenants had proclaimed that they had never been better cared for than since Mrs. Collins had come into the area.

Mrs. Collins later explained to her friend that Mr. Collins used to ask Lady Catherine to approve every act of charity, no matter how small. She had convinced him that Lady Catherine had better things to do with her time than to look over a basket of food they brought to an ailing congregation member. When next they had dined at Rosings, Charlotte had led Lady Catherine into a discussion of how busy she was and how she had so many obligations.

"I am quite certain that it is a burden for you to have to see to the parish members so often," Charlotte had said. "It must be very tiring."

Lady Catherine had then gone on about how the parish members were never appreciative, how she had to take time away from her regular pursuits to do the calls, and other further complaints.

Charlotte had then suggested that Lady Catherine might tell her what needed to be brought to the poor, the sick, the new mothers, etc, and she might assemble the baskets. In the way it was done so skilfully, Lady Catherine had supposed it to be her own idea. A list, or rather, thirty lists, had arrived several days later. Charlotte had not shown these lists to her husband, instead tucking them away. She followed them sometimes, but often added or took away some of the items included. Elizabeth was impressed by Charlotte's determination and skill in taking back the duties that rightfully belonged to her as the clergyman's wife.

"I do not wish to have the size of jar that I used to bring beef tea to the sick criticised," said Charlotte with a slight shrug.

"Of course," said Elizabeth. She wondered, if her parents had forced her to marry Mr. Collins, if she would have been so masterful in the handling of both him and Lady Catherine. Probably not, for she would have just done what she wished and dealt with the consequences. Mr. Collins was quite fortunate that Elizabeth had not accepted him, for she should have made him quite miserable.

It was these thoughts that were interrupted by the sudden appearance of Miss de Bourgh in her phaeton. Mrs. Jenkinson was at her side, her purplish-grey gown appearing dull compared to Miss de Bourgh's bright pink, fashionable ensemble.

Greetings were exchanged, with Miss de Bourgh's hands clasped together tightly in her lap as she stared down, only speaking a few words and letting the others carry the conversation. The feeling Anne got when she had to talk to unfamiliar people was something she despised, as she felt her heart pounding and her mind going blank. Why could she not be more like Miss Bennet, who was not daunted even by Lady Catherine? She allowed Mrs Jenkinson to lead the conversation and the few remarks Anne did make were directed at Mrs Collins, whom she was more familiar with than Miss Bennet. She had a fondness for both women, particularly Miss Bennet, however, she always felt like her jaw became frozen shut when she was meant to speak to her or anyone else who intimidated her.

Mrs. Jenkinson seemed to notice Anne's growing discomfort, and therefore, they took their leave and returned to Rosings.

Mrs. Collins and Elizabeth returned to the parsonage to find Mr. Collins donning his bee suit and heading out of doors. He needed to expand the bees' hive by adding another box to it, or so Elizabeth understood. He seemed to be pleased that his hive was doing well, and thus the ladies went inside to leave him to his business.


Darcy sat on a log by the stream, preparing to read one of his mother's letters. It was the missive intended to be read before her funeral. He had put it off, as he knew it would be an emotional reading, thus why he had taken it to this place. The stream always calmed him. He knew there was a chance that someone would happen upon him, but this early in the morning, the only person who would likely be awake would be either Miss Bennet or his cousin Richard.

Thus resolved, Darcy broke open the letter and began to read.

My dear son, William,

I know not how you are feeling, for no one can. Everyone must feel their own grief differently. There may be people today at the funeral who tell you that they do know how you feel, or they may even try to tell you how to feel. Be polite in your responses, but do not take their words to heart. They mean well and are trying to comfort you, however ill-judged they may be. Even your father, Aunt Catherine, and your cousins will feel differently than you do, although I flatter myself that they all love me and are saddened by my passing. Yet, none of them was my dear son. They might have similar feelings, but it is not the same.

I also wish you to know that you do not have to attend the funeral if you do not wish to. I have already spoken of this with both your father and my brother. At your age of twelve, no one would find it unusual if you do not attend. Your own feelings should be the only factor that determines your choice. These are my wishes and anyone who wishes to complain may take it up with me.

It would be prudent to steer clear of your Aunt Catherine at the tea afterwards. Actually, I strongly recommend that you take yourself off and avoid the tea altogether. I always loathed the teas after funerals. I understand the purpose of them is to bring comfort to the family, yet I personally found them to be unpleasant.

The rules of mourning dictate that there will be limitations imposed on you and the other family members for a year after I'm gone. However, I do not wish for you to overly restrict yourself. Behave appropriately for mourning when out in public, but have fun and enjoy yourself when you're at home. I would not like to think of you as miserable for an entire year. I have never understood why we put the same mourning restrictions on children that we do on adults. Again, if anyone has an issue with this, they may take it up with me.

I do not know what else to say except that I wish you did not have to go through this and that I love you very much, my dear William.

Love,

Mamma

Darcy was quite surprised by his response to the letter. He was filled with joy, and a smile spread across his face instead of tears. The tenderness in the words his mother wrote was unmistakable, reflecting her affection for him. She wanted her son to feel free to handle the difficult day however he saw fit, instead of having to stick to the outlined funeral and mourning protocol.

He remembered the day of his mother's funeral. He had not attended, as his father had shared his mother's wishes with him. He had watched out the window of his bedroom as people came and went. He never even ventured to the lower levels of the house, spending his day with George Wickham and his cousin Richard. Lady Catherine was not pleased with their absence, but his father refused to let her reprimand them. His father and uncle believed that twelve and fourteen were too young to be compelled to attend a funeral if they had no desire to.

Darcy heard the sound of steps getting closer, so he put the letter back in his pocket. He rose and bowed when Miss Elizabeth came into view. "I suppose this must be your favourite path as well, sir," she said after greetings had been exchanged.

"It is. I find the sound of the stream calming." Darcy offered Elizabeth his arm, which she accepted.

"I also find the stream calming, but I cannot sit still while appreciating it. I must walk."

"I was reading a letter, not just listening to the stream."

"Another of your mother's letters?" asked Elizabeth, before realising that what letter he was reading was none of her concern and apologising.

"It was. I was reading the one intended for just before her funeral."

"That must have been difficult to read." She raised her eyes to him, her face full of compassion.

"I do not know if it is simply getting easier to read these letters or if it was a less emotional letter than I supposed it would be, but it actually made me smile. I could hear her love and concern in her words."

"I am glad, then, that the letters are not causing you as much distress as you supposed."

Elizabeth and Darcy parted ways before he came into sight of the parsonage. Although he would not mind spending more time in Elizabeth's company, breaking his fast at the parsonage two days in a row might arouse suspicion. It might also arouse expectations, ones that he was yet uncertain that he wished to raise.