‘Ah, my dear, this is a sad business,’ he called as he saw her. ‘I am writing to Lady Catherine. She will of course already have the news – she is attentive to such events, and indeed her sagacity will no doubt be of value to the Bennet ladies. But it is incumbent upon me to inform her myself, and to seek her advice on how to proceed. Not that there is any doubt about what should follow next, but judicious instructions on the manner in which to advance will be welcome.’ He added, ‘I am of course also writing my condolences to Mrs Bennet and her daughters, my fair cousins.’

Charlotte considered. The news had clearly jolted her husband into that state where his faith in his own opinions and decisions had faltered, leading him back to the familiar path of obsequiousness. A firm hand was needed.

‘My dear Mr Collins, I have a proposal to make. An unusual one, to be sure, but I would be grateful if you would hear it nonetheless, and consider it.’ She sat down facing him and leaned forward. ‘Do we have to take possession of Longbourn?’

At the look on his face, she hurried on, ‘The sudden death of Mr Bennet makes what follows very precipitous. I have indeed been thinking of the extra comforts Longbourn offers, the standing, the fact that you would not have to work so hard. But may I say this? I love my – our – home. It is comfortable and completely adequate for our needs, ours and the girls’. It is dear and familiar. I decorated the house myself. I know every tree in the orchard, each hen and how many eggs she lays in a week. And that has made me think of Mrs Bennet. What it will mean to her, newly widowed, to have to quit the home she has occupied for thirty years, to be forced to leave all that is dear to her behind.’

At that, Mr Collins expostulated: ‘But we will not be turning her out into the woods! It will be a great elevation for her, coming to live here – with all this,’ he said, waving a hand at the cherrywood shelves adorned with calfbound volumes, their gilded titles catching the muted sun coming in through the windows. ‘Once her entirely natural grief has subsided, she will be the envy of all her friends.’

‘Yes indeed, and there are the Bingleys, too. But neither establishment will be her home. And even in this great and grand place, I find myself longing for our own home at Hunsford, where I am mistress, where even if our meals are much humbler, I myself have proved the bread and bottled the dessert damsons from our own garden, where you have laboured so much, and with such wholesome benefits.’

Her husband looked at her uncomprehendingly. ‘But we cannot fight the entail, otherwise Mr Bennet would have done so years ago.’