Rebellion at Longbourn
Darcy shrugged, uncomfortable with the gratitude. In truth, he knew little of Greeves, save that Elizabeth trusted him, but she did possess superior discernment.
A horror-stricken expression crossed Collins’s face. “But Lady Catherine was so strict in her instructions about how I should keep Weston happy! I had quite forgotten.” He chewed on his thumbnail. “Perhaps there is yet time to persuade him to a different decision.” Without even bidding the other men goodbye, the owner of Longbourn hurried up the road.
Once he was out of earshot, Greeves grinned conspiratorially at Darcy. “I thank you for your help, sir.”
Darcy shrugged helplessly. “It is what Miss Elizabeth would desire.”
“Indeed.” Greeves nodded, evidently pleased to find someone else following Elizabeth’s direction.
Before resuming his trek to the manor house, Darcy spoke with the tenants for a few minutes, finding them to be clever, level-headed men. He could not say he was pleased to be part of Elizabeth’s deception, but at the same time the experience was not wholly unpleasant. Collins and Weston had harmed many people in different ways. Darcy was not sorry to have achieved some revenge.
***
Elizabeth was setting the dining table for dinner when Weston slammed open the front door—startling her soundly—before marching through the hallway and up the stairs. She opened the dining room door and peered up the stairs after him; across the hall, Jane did likewise from the drawing room. After exchanging puzzled looks, they returned to t
heir duties.
Five minutes later, she recognized the sounds of Collins’s distinctive shuffling walk as he entered the house. Muttering exclamations of distress under his breath, he immediately hurried up to Weston’s bedchamber. After a few minutes, sounds of indistinct shouting drifted down the stairs.
The voice was unmistakably Weston’s, but the words were nonsensical. She heard him speak of “fairies” and “enchantments.” When the other man’s rants fell silent, Collins’s voice took on a wheedling tone.
Jane crossed the hall to join Elizabeth in the dining room, but neither could guess what had brought the two men to such a pass. When everything fell silent again, they closed the door.
Soon afterward, they discerned Collins’s steps on the stairs and hurried to the door. By the time he had reached the final step, Elizabeth could no longer restrain her curiosity. “Is something amiss, Cousin?”
Collins’s hand worried what remained of his thinning hair. “Mr. Weston has…er, resigned.”
Unfortunately, clapping would be an inappropriate response. Elizabeth tried to marshal appropriate concern. “Resigned? He has not been at Longbourn very long. What could possibly be the matter?”
Collins adjusted his spectacles. “Apparently, there is a difference of opinion about what constitutes wheat versus clover.”
Elizabeth exchanged a mystified look with Jane.
Her cousin puffed out his chest. “But Mr. Darcy corrected his misapprehension.”
Mr. Darcy had returned? Elizabeth barely managed not to blurt out the question.
“Will you hire someone else?” Jane inquired.
Collins’s shoulders slumped. “I suppose Lady Catherine might know another candidate. But Mr. Darcy does not believe the estate requires a full-time steward.”
This was Elizabeth’s opportunity. “If I might make a suggestion, Cousin?” She plowed ahead without awaiting his response. “Mary has become very familiar with operating an estate and already knows many of the tenants’ wives. She might be of assistance in helping you put the estate in order.”
“I cannot make a woman my steward!”
Having anticipated this reaction, Elizabeth raised a placating hand. “She need not have the official title, but she could provide invaluable assistance.”
Collins opened his mouth, on the verge of rejecting her advice.
“And there would be no need to pay her,” Elizabeth added.
The magic words. Collins’s eyebrows rose. “Very well. I will consider it.” He hurried into his study while Elizabeth ducked back into the dining room, where she discussed the incident with Jane.
Elizabeth returned directly to the kitchen to investigate the progress of that evening’s stew. She had been in the room mere moments when she heard something rattle on the glass in the window by the back door. She paused, trying to identify the source. The rattling sound came again. Peering through the window, she saw nothing, so she opened the back door and scrutinized the courtyard.
Lurking at one corner of the house was a tall figure swathed in shadows. “Mr. Darcy!” She rushed to join him, barely remembering to close the door behind her.
Elizabeth longed to throw her arms around him in a greeting, but he put a finger to his lips. “I did not want to alert the household to my presence. I would like a private word with you,” he said in a low voice.