Pride and Premeditation (Jane Austen Murder Mystery #1)(77)

“Known what, my dear?”

She set her face in regret and looked up. “You must understand, Mr. Collins. I turned down your proposal because I believed that you were like my father. He could have been magistrate. Perhaps not King’s Counsel, like you . . . but I’ve always yearned for more. I see now I made a grave mistake in assuming because you started off as my father’s apprentice that you’d never exceed him.”

Lizzie hoped her father, who was listening with Darcy at the grate above the drawing room, didn’t take offense at her indictments against his work ethic. She didn’t mean it, but she had to make certain that Collins believed her to be earnest.

“Oh, my dear.” Now Collins sprang out of his seat but did not sit down next to her. Instead, he knelt on the floor in front of her. Lizzie allowed him to take her hand. “I forgive your misconception. It’s your father’s fault, naturally. Instead of applying himself, he allowed you to embark on some trifling matters of business at the firm. But when I am made barrister, you will never have to work again.”

“But I do like having tasks and a purpose,” Lizzie said, unable to consent to a life of idleness, even when she was attempting to fool Collins.

“There will be many social duties for you to undertake, in addition to running the household,” Collins assured her. “You’ll have to pave our way into the social scene.”

Lizzie could think of nothing more boring, but she pretended to accept it. “That’s all very well, Mr. Collins. But I must remain practical. How do I know that you are willing to do whatever it takes to become King’s Counsel?”

Lizzie was fearful for a moment that her doubts had offended him, for his face fell, but his grip on her hands strengthened. “I assure you, I am prepared to work very hard.”

“Hard work!” Lizzie scoffed. “London is full of men who work hard! If I wanted a husband who was willing to work hard, I could marry a laborer. No, my dear Collins, I want to know that you will do whatever it takes to secure our future.”

She stared into his washed-out gray eyes and mentally begged him to understand her meaning, hoping that he would be so caught up in the moment that he would reveal everything. Lizzie was afraid if she looked away, he would suspect her true motives and call off the proposal, and then he’d walk free, and Bingley would go down for Hurst’s murder, and Lady Catherine would continue extorting and stealing and pirating and—

“Say you’ll marry me, dear Elizabeth,” Collins said, and it sounded more like a threat than a proposal. “I cannot begin to tell you all I will do to secure our future.”

She wavered, partly because of Collins and partly because in a disjointed flash, she recalled Darcy looking at her with concerned eyes, and this memory alone took her breath away.

“Very well!” she gasped, surprised at finding the words sneak out of her while her mind was still on Darcy.

“Excellent!” Collins exclaimed, grinning, and his proclamation sent a spray of spittle in her direction. “This is very good. Now, you may have heard me mention my benefactress? I told your father she was a widow of means from my county, who wished for her kindness to remain anonymous.”

“Oh?” He still had her hands clasped in his own, and aside from causing her great physical discomfort, she was beginning to feel trapped.

“Yes! She goes by the name of . . . Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”

Lizzie could tell by his sly, knowing look that she was supposed to know whom he was talking about. “Why, I’ve met her,” she said, sounding puzzled—it was not an act.

“I know; she told me!” He chuckled. “She is the one who wishes we marry. She has a great number of plans for us, and she’ll even give us land in Kent! Her Ladyship was very displeased when you refused me at first, and expressed doubt that you might come around—she knows you’re very strong willed. But she’ll be happy to hear this news, and insist we marry as soon as the banns can be read.”

“Plans?” Lizzie asked. “But what kinds of plans?”

“Nothing for you to worry about,” Collins told her. “We’ll call on her tomorrow morning—no, this afternoon—and tell her the good news.”

Lizzie smiled grimly. Collins had revealed two essential bits of information—first, that he was in regular contact with Lady Catherine, and second, that he had no knowledge of her flight from London the night before. The lady likely saw the noose closing in around her lackeys and decided to flee while she still had the chance. That she had not extracted Collins, and had shot Wickham, spoke a great deal of her character.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Lizzie said softly. “I have a case in court this afternoon.”

Collins shook his head. “Oh no, as your fiancé, I cannot allow you to attend that Bingley matter.”

“Why not?” Lizzie asked, and it took all her might to keep the edge from her voice.

“Don’t worry about it. Between you and me, it’s one of Lady Catherine’s little schemes.” He looked all too delighted to reveal this to Lizzie. “I’m sure she’ll explain when we see her.”

“I don’t think so,” Lizzie said. “Lady Catherine has taken her leave of London.”

Collins shook his head. “What?”