Lizzy’s family would be in no less uproar, even if delight would surely make up a great part of their responses. Mrs Bennet would be in danger of expiring with joy, at the same time as having to scramble to reverse her opinions of a man she claimed to detest.

Charlotte would not allow herself to be so disloyal as to smile at the idea of her husband’s dismay if such a proposal came to pass, but she had no doubt he would be badly shaken. Always submissive to the closest and most pressing superior force, he would no doubt throw in his lot with Lady Catherine, and support all her reasons for deploring the match; it would not occur to him that a close association with Mr Darcy might be better in the long term for his prospects. No matter how wealthy and powerful his patroness, Mr Darcy was yet more wealthy and powerful; he was also young, had considerable influence in the church, and – most compelling of all – he was a man. Mr Collins would consider none of this, and she had to commend him for his hypothetical steadfastness, at least. If such a situation ever came to pass, she would have to steer him judiciously.

Would she envy her friend if indeed she became the mistress of Pemberley? She looked about her, at the ordered room, the logs releasing their scent of apple in the grate, the early eglantine framing the window. A rich beef soup was bubbling on the kitchen range, and a rhubarb fool was setting in the larder. This was manageable. She could no more imagine running a household like Mr Darcy’s – she had heard tell they employed sixty servants indoors alone – than she could imagine riding in the Epsom Derby. It was a preposterous notion, the stuff of thieves in oil jars and genies emerging from magic lamps. No, she wished Lizzy joy of her conquest – should it come to pass. She felt certain she understood Mr Darcy’s heart, but she claimed no special insight into his mind; such a grand man might yet consider the opportunity to unite the estates of Pemberley and Rosings the most prudent path to follow.

The last few days of Lizzy’s visit, she seemed unusually subdued and preoccupied; one morning when she came down for breakfast, it was clear from her swollen eyes that she had been giving way to tears. Charlotte made sure to be more than usually attentive, both as an indication of her regret at her friend’s imminent departure, and in case she wished to exchange confidences. However, no explanation was forthcoming, and Charlotte held her peace. Perhaps Elizabeth’s heart was not as disengaged as it seemed.