About a week later, after a spell of biting wind and freezing rain had kept Charlotte from her rides, a note arrived from Miss de Bourgh: would she care for a ramble round the hothouses the following afternoon? Charlotte handed the communication to her husband, whose response, once he had recovered from his surprise, was predictable: ‘My dear, what a mark of honour and affability! Could any couple be happier in the notice of noble patrons? This emanates from Lady Catherine, I am sure of it. This is testament to her good opinion of you, that she suggests or encourages such a visit. And indeed, she is not wrong to value your amiability and steady temper. Miss de Bourgh is gracious indeed in marking you out for attention this way. I would offer to accompany you in this most happy enterprise, but I am not unaware that ladies sometimes feel the need for exclusively feminine companionship, and my presence, while surely not unwelcome, might indeed be unwanted.’

Charlotte forbore from pointing out that for months on end, barring the presence of menservants, Rosings could pass as a nunnery, with only Lady Catherine, Miss de Bourgh, and Mrs Jenkinson in residence, and settled to writing a note of thanks and acceptance. Mr Collins hovered over her, suggesting a word here and there, and although the servant who had brought the note was waiting for the reply, he even offered to carry her letter across the park in case the opportunity for expressing personal thanks to members of the household arose.

CHAPTER V

THE NEXT DAY, CHARLOTTE PRESENTED herself at the Rosings hothouses, magnificent structures of glass and iron that branched off from the main conservatory. She had not explored them since the early days of her marriage, when Mr Collins was determined to wring from her praise of every aspect of Rosings. Now she was instantly struck by the softness and wetness of the air, the faint sound of running water, the near-tropical warmth, and the all-pervading sweet odours. One of the hothouses was reserved for salad leaves and vegetables too tender to withstand frost, but the one in which Miss de Bourgh awaited was given to plants from far-flung balmy corners of the globe, as well as those table flowers that required respite from more punishing cold during the winter months.

Anne did not waste time on pleasantries. ‘Mrs Collins, as you know, Colonel Fitzwilliam, Mr Darcy’s cousin, visited my mother and I last week. I believe he called on you as well. His purpose in coming here was to make me an offer of marriage. Again. The man grows desperate. His purse does not match his tastes.’

Whatever Charlotte was expecting, it was not this, but she masked her expression of astonishment and waited for her companion to continue.