Happily, Mr Collins was so distracted by the notion of Mr Darcy being indebted to him, and so determined to contradict this point, his speeches took him all the way to the door to see off their illustrious visitor, with Charlotte obliged only to return his bows with her most gracious curtsey.

As soon as she could, she repaired to her parlour to read Mrs Darcy’s letter in private.

My dear Charlotte,

I write in haste, as Mr Darcy leaves for London in an hour, and has just apprised me of his decision to visit you to seek clarity on the matter of Longbourn. I will be frank. I see your hand in this, my dearest and oldest friend. I mean no disrespect when I say that I doubt that Mr Collins would or could have dreamed up such a scheme. Delay taking possession of Longbourn? It is an act of such kindness, Charlotte, such thought and care of the feelings of others, as can only stem from your good heart. Depend upon it, I know that however united a front you and Mr Collins present, this proposal stems from your concern for myself and my family. When I think of the times my mother has been less than gracious to you, I am ashamed, and grow even more grateful towards you. Even if this plan does not come to fruition – Mr Darcy is dubious about it, and I cannot imagine how you got Lady Catherine to agree to it – know that I appreciate your kind efforts to spare my mother and sisters further grief and misery. And, remembering our conversations at Pemberley, I suspect you of wishing to spare me an added burden of anxiety, too. I have not spoken of this point in particular to my husband, and shall not divulge my suspicions that you are behind this plan to anyone else, not even my sister Jane; but I know she joins me in praising your true compassion and friendship at this time of sorrow. I send my compliments and love to Sarah and Laura. I miss having children at Pemberley.

God bless you,

Yours, etc.,

Eliza Darcy

CHAPTER XXXVI

EARLY AUTUMN WAS THE PERIOD most marked by industry and activity in Kent, and the fields were once again filled with travelling labourers, the women’s skirts bright splashes of colour against the pale stubble and golden grass of field and meadow. Carts trundled along the lanes, piled with sweet resinous-smelling hops on their way to the oast houses to be stripped, sifted, and dried.