Dawn greeted Elizabeth Bennet with a mission. Rising with the sun, she set out to learn the truth behind the mystery of the chickens only producing a fraction of the eggs one would expect from the brood the parsonage kept. Wrapping herself in a shawl and wearing her weathered boots, she tiptoed from her guest room. Now three days since her arrival, it was the first morning she felt confident of the household routine to escape unnoticed.

The young maid Eileen cleaned and assisted in the parsonage, but as her elder sister worked at Rosings, Elizabeth felt that she could not trust the young lass to agree to her plan to stalk the chicken coop. Rather than test the girl, Elizabeth saved her from ever making a choice by keeping the maid as much out of her affairs as was humanly possible. And Anna, being a guest servant, but not quite truly Elizabeth’s own maid, did not need to get into any mischief. No, the chicken investigation would by necessity be a one-woman operation.

With the early glow on the horizon, Elizabeth waited in the dusky shades of the retreating night in a darkened corner of the hencoop. She had to stoop low, but her small frame allowed her to enter the vile smelling cranny with minimal fuss from the chickens as she was not above collecting their labors herself shortly after the sun rose. Animals know a person accustomed to their keep and care.

Her stealth paid off in but minutes when a young boy of about eight poked his head right in and lifted an egg from a vacated nest right in front of her eyes.

“Ooooo! So you’re the thief!” Elizabeth chuckled but scared the poor boy right out of his wits. After making a startled yelp, the boy began running away. “Wait!”

All of the commotion caused an uproar in the previously docile chickens, making them flap and squawk and attack Elizabeth as she tried to maneuver out of the small coop. Feathers and muck flew in the air. Gashing her hand against the rough wooden frame on her way out, she paused a second to see which way the boy ran, and seeing some tall weeds moving rapidly to her east, she also took off running.

Years of walking and occasionally, unladylike running, made Elizabeth far faster than the poor boy and she caught up to him just as he was crossing a glebe field and dashed into the small copse of woods that lined the southern edge of Rosings. Elizabeth had never ventured in this direction before, as she had yet to meet the tenants of the glebe lands. Barred from her “rambles” as both a practical rule and one of the great indignities Mr. Collins imposed to exert control over his cousin, the unfamiliarity of the lands began to worry her conscience more than the senseless rule.

“Please, wait, I shall not hurt you. But I am unfamiliar with these parts and I will become lost without your aid.” She called after the boy who paused and looked surprisingly at Elizabeth so close behind him.

“You run fast, miss!”

Elizabeth smiled. “We haven’t been properly introduced.” Elizabeth wiped her hand on her apron and noticed the nasty gash between her thumb and her forefinger. A healthy amount of blood mixed in with the dirt and likely chicken droppings smeared on her hand, making even Elizabeth repulsed at the idea of touching it. She shook her hand loosely and nodded to the boy. “I am Elizabeth Bennet. My cousin is Pastor Collins, the manager of these lands.”

“Peter Holbein, ma’am.” He gave a small bow and grinned, showing missing teeth in the top of his mouth next to his front two teeth.

“Mr. Holbein, may I count on you for assistance? I injured my hand back there and need desperately to clean the wound.”

“Our cottage is just around here.” He pointed further into the copse of trees, and Elizabeth tried to follow the direction of his hand, but it was pointless. All she could see was the forest becoming denser and a narrow footpath before her.

“Well, I should have to trust your lead, sir.”

Peter grinned at Elizabeth and marched on at a quick pace, though not trying to lose her, but just urge her to hurry with him towards help. Before long, they stood in front of a modest home with the prettiest brook off to the northern edge of it. Elizabeth recognized at once where she was as she saw the drive lead through another copse of woods back toward the main road to the proper village of Hunsford. She remembered the bridge crossing on her arrival, but had no idea this picturesque cottage lie just minutes away and on lands controlled by her cousin.

“Hurry inside, miss. Mama is a right good healer. She takes care of all my scrapes.” Peter gave another broad grin, still holding possessively to the one egg he managed to nick that morning.

Elizabeth took notice of his stolen treasure, reminding herself she wasn’t completely happy with this boy and had to speak with his parents about his thievery of Charlotte’s eggs, but first she needed to clean her hand as quickly as possible before it made her ill.

“Perhaps you should go inside first and let your Mama know I have called.” Elizabeth shifted her weight from foot to foot, feeling far more the horrific stranger for calling at such an ungodly early hour and not as a gentlewoman related to the manager of the lands the Holbeins leased.

Peter nodded and ducked his head inside the plain wooden door. He had hardly closed it when he heard him yell for his mother. In a few moments, the door swung open quickly; revealing a woman not too much older than Elizabeth with long, thin auburn hair and a belly full with child. Her dress was clearly on a turn and looked to be nearly ready for the rag pile.

Elizabeth quickly dropped to a curtsy for the woman who did her best to respond, though given her condition managed not much more than a slight knee bend.

“Oh please, I am so sorry for the inconvenience. You see I ran into young Peter at my cousin’s chicken coop this morning and I injured my hand…”

“Come in, come in Miss Bennet.” The woman smiled much like her son, and Elizabeth couldn’t help but be calmed by the resemblance, though Peter’s hair was a dark brown. “Petey told me all about it and I must say, I’ve been so very thankful for the work your cousin be letting him do.”

Confused, Elizabeth followed Mrs. Holbein into the snug home that consisted of a main open room with a single door on the back end. Stairs led to a lofted area above, where she supposed Peter slept. A young girl, perhaps two or three, sat on a ratty rug in front of the fireplace and sucked on her two first fingers on her right hand in comfort. Mrs. Holbein stooped down and scooped the young girl up, turning to present her to Elizabeth.

“This here is my youngest, Mary Jane.”

Elizabeth was delighted to hear the young girl’s name and shared she had two sisters of those very same names. The young girl pulled out her fingers and gave a toothy smile and then shocked Elizabeth by responding.

“My name is for my aunties who are in heaven.” The young girl promptly returned her fingers to her mouth and Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. Perhaps she was not so young as she was just simply small.

Mrs. Holbein poured some of the water set to boil for breakfast into a basin and added cool water from the pump. A small sliver of lye soap on the sink joined the bowl at the plain wooden table and Mrs. Holbein directed Elizabeth to it.

“Mrs. Holbein–”

“Please, call me Diana.”

Elizabeth smiled and then grimaced as the woman plunged her hand into the basin and began vigorously scrubbing at the dirt and grime caked onto the skin. She sucked in her breath and then felt an odd sensation on her leg. She looked down and saw the petite hand of Mary Jane touching her knee to calm her as the girl looked up dolefully from the floor, her fingers of comfort still in place. Before Elizabeth could say anything, the sharp pain stopped as Diana had wrapped her hand in a fresh towel and beckoned Peter to dispose of the water outside.

Protectively holding her hand, as it still stung from the fresh cleaning, Elizabeth addressed the woman and thanked her for her help.

“Twas nothing, Miss Bennet. The least I could do for all of your family’s generosity.”

“Now, you must call me Elizabeth if I’m to call you Diana.” Elizabeth paused; slightly perturbed at the number of liberties she was breaking by first imposing on this woman at such an early hour and now calling her by her Christian name, but was rapidly making up for it in reciprocating the offer. While she had fully planned to take Peter to task for his misdeeds, the family living inside of the cottage made her pause before jumping to a decision. But she felt most unpleasant there was a falsehood afoot about the source of eggs Peter was bringing home, and she would remedy reality to the truth, one way or the other. “Is your husband already at work in the fields?”

“Nay, he’s still resting but should awake in an hour or so when the drink wears off.”

Again shocked by the honesty of Mrs. Holbein, Elizabeth squirmed at the mention of Mr. Holbein’s drunkenness. “I am so sorry to hear of his affliction.” She looked down at the table, trying to formulate a solution to her current predicament.

“Oh no miss, he’s no devil of a man. The ale lets him sleep what little comfort he can. Last fall, a tree fell on him, as he’s a logger. It nearly killed him. Broke his back, I say. He’s been stuck up in a bed for months and the pain just makes him moan and moan. I worked as a launderer until I became too far along with this one, the babe the Good Lord blessed us with before my husband turned ill. Our last I suppose, as my good John cannot walk on his own.” Diana rubbed her protruding belly as she told her tale and Elizabeth felt heartsick.

“Forgive me, but what has your family subsided on?” Elizabeth naturally reached down to little Mary Jane, still playing at her feet and planted the young girl onto her lap. Mary Jane twisted around and looked up at her new friend with the trust only a child can bestow. With a happy sigh, the little girl rested her head against Elizabeth’s shoulder.

“We had some money saved up, and there was the firewood John had cut for us that I was able to sell. I wrote to his cousin Peter as well, as some of John’s family came to England before we did, and I suspect he will send some aid soon.”

Mrs. Holbein began to pour in oats to make a large bowl of porridge when Peter came running in, releasing his stolen treasure to his mother.

“Sorry Mama, I only collected one this morning before bringing Miss Elizabeth to get help for her hand.”

Diana patted his head and took the egg as a most precious cargo. She cracked it gently and dropped it in the boiling water before wiping her hands on her apron. Her work made Elizabeth remember she would be missed before too long and had to leave.

Spying young Peter shift nervously at the corner of the kitchen area, Elizabeth sat up taller as she realized how she could help. She caught his eye and winked, making the boy with a gaunt face, now that she took proper stock of him, open his mouth in a surprised ‘o’ shape before pressing it closed again.

“If you can spare Peter for a little more time this morning, I have a few more tasks he can help me with Mrs. Holbein.” In her fib, Elizabeth forgot to use Diana’s Christian name, but hoped the flaw wouldn’t be noticed.

“Absolutely, Miss Bennet.” No such luck and Elizabeth realized her mistake re-established her superior social class to the Holbeins though that was not her intention.

Diana turned to Peter to address him after opening the larder to hand him the moldiest piece of bread Elizabeth had ever seen. Forgetting she might offend the woman further, Elizabeth stepped in to promise to break Peter’s fast at her own kitchens as soon as they arrived.

With nothing more to do than to take her leave, Elizabeth marched back across the fields soaked in dew with young Master Holbein at her side. Her anger at the poor family’s situation rose as a bitter taste in the back of her throat, but she refused to let it rule her reasoning.

“Mr. Holbein, while I appreciate the measures you felt necessary to save your family by stealing my cousin’s eggs, nevertheless a thief holds no honor. You may have eggs and other food as they can provide, but you will report here each morning to help with the chores in payment for the assistance.”

Peter’s eyes lit up. “You are offering me work, Miss Elizabeth?”

“Well no, not a permanent position, but there will just be no more stealing food that rightfully belongs to Mr. Collins. You may earn food to eat, but never take.” Elizabeth noticed the young boy walking a touch taller in response to her admonishment and assignation of enough age to earn his keep. Her own stomach gave a lurch from the hours of consciousness with no nourishment, and she wondered if the Holbein children only received one meal a day, as it would not be inconsistent with the state of the larder she saw.

Approaching the parsonage, Elizabeth could see heavy smoke rising from the chimney, telling her the kitchen staff of two was awake and well. She motioned for Peter to follow her through the small herb garden to the side door and wait for her on the stoop.

Cook promptly assisted Elizabeth as soon as she stepped in the door with the removal of her shawl, deference Elizabeth always appreciated from her one ally in the home.

“Missus, you would not believe! Eileen found six eggs this morn, the chickens are healed!”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and washed her hands in the basin near the sink just for this purpose. “It was less the chickens than a hungry family.”

Cook’s eyes widened at the threat of treacherous theft, but Elizabeth approached the older woman and patted her arm.

“All is well. But please, gather any food and supplies we can spare until Charlotte and I go to market tomorrow. Give them to the young boy outside the door as quickly as you can.” Elizabeth smoothed her work dress and debated if she should retire upstairs to try and clean up further or just wait until later when she was to visit Anne de Bourgh with Charlotte. “We have a Christian duty to uphold.”

On this last proclamation, Mr. Collins appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, inquisitive to his cousin’s health. As she replied in the positive, he next asked her about the Christian duty she was most involved in this morning by her conversation with Cook.

Elizabeth expertly gave a slight nod to reinforce her pleas and escorted her cousin to the dining room where they joined his wife Charlotte to take their breakfast together. As she poured herself a cup of tea, she decided fortune favored the bold and asked Mr. Collins about the Holbein family. Perhaps he was unaware of how dire their predicament truly stood.

“Ah, the recusants. Have no fear Cousin Elizabeth, Lady Catherine and I are hard at work on removing their non-conforming family from the haven of our lands so that a more deserving family might benefit from the magnificent bounty of the Rosings.”

Elizabeth nearly dropped her cup, but recovered well enough to make it to the table and sit down. Her head was spinning. The poor family she met only this morning was to endure more hardship, and at the hands of her bombastic cousin? Her kin? No, no it could not come to pass!

“But the father of the family is gravely ill, he broke his back last year in your service! Surely allowances must be made for their lack of attendance at church services.” Elizabeth had no doubt with the last name, they were likely Catholic. But still, she had to hope that with proper guidance and encouragement, they could convert. After all, they left their homeland to live so far away; surely their plan was to conform before John Holbein’s accident.

“They failed to make their rent payments last quarter and Mr. Hobbs informed me earlier this week they have not paid this quarter’s and have no intention to settle their debts. An eviction notice is underway.” Mr. Collins calmly opened his napkin as the breakfast dishes arrived to the table from the kitchen and he dug into his simple omelet with abandon.

Usually disgusted by her cousin’s lack of table manners, Elizabeth sat more appalled at the fate to befall the Holbein family. She picked at her breakfast, despite being very hungry earlier.

“Remember we are to read to Miss de Bourgh this afternoon, Lizzie? She finds such comfort in the sermons.” Charlotte tried to change the subject but she was too late. Mr. Collins interjected his own investigation.

“How did you come to know of the Holbein family? And why is there a bandage on your hand?” Mr. Collins did not wait to swallow his food before interrogating his cousin as to her whereabouts that morning.

“I was collecting eggs from the coop when I met their son, Peter, looking for work in exchange for food.” Elizabeth lied, but also revealed a truth to her cousin. “I told him I would gladly see he could perform chores for food and I accompanied him home to learn the situation of the family for myself, to ensure there was not more help we needed to offer.”

“You walked across two fields and the woods to their cottage?”

Elizabeth nodded, knowing she was forbidden to take such a ramble without informing her cousin, but decided it to be better for her to take on the transgression than to reveal young Peter’s lack of morality.

“Well, I am astonished, my cousin, that again, you would directly disobey me.” Mr. Collins wiped his mouth with his hand before pounding his fist on the table. “I am already confirmed that my gross negligence of your manners and behaviors has led to Lady Catherine’s extreme displeasure in your reputation.”

Elizabeth perhaps should have winced if she had felt a true shame for her love of Fitzwilliam Darcy, but as she did not, she didn’t feel any guilt towards a scandalous affair that had yet to occur. Her lack of repentance, while a great mark towards her lack of practice in deception, was a less than encouraging sign to Mr. Collins.

“It appears you need further reminder that in this household, you are expected to behave with the highest modicum of propriety. That as a parson’s relation, and under my protection, you may not traipse about the countryside as some country miss without a responsibility in the world– ”

“But Cousin Collins, I felt a responsibility to the family on your glebe lands. I did not know you were in the process of evicting them from their cottage, though it pains my sensibilities to see children so hungry.”

Elizabeth had miscalculated. She did not know the upbraiding Mr. Collins experienced from Lady Catherine over her mere arrival at Rosings and the apparent warning of her clear moral failings her disappointment represented. To interrupt her cousin, while never an acceptable behavior, but one he had overlooked in the past when she played missish to his words and not his intent, pushed him over the edge.

“Mr. Collins—” Charlotte tried to speak, but he held his hand up and his wife, knowing better, obeyed.

Mr. Collins stood up and leaned over the table with both hands on either side of this plate, his knuckles white. “Elizabeth Bennet, you are on the precipice of damnation with your sins against this household, our esteemed patroness Lady Catherine, and God himself. I am remiss in my duty as your nearest male relation and pastor of this flock if I did not take a strong hand with you to correct your ways.”

Elizabeth sat in shock at the man before her. Mr. Collins always held a healthy dose of the ridiculous in him, but never had she ever anticipated him to actually act the brute! The nature of this conversation was alarming indeed, and she lacked the skills to thwart it, as her father had never so much as scolded her aside from laughing at her expense.

Staring down at her plate appeared to have some effect on Mr. Collin’s tirade of Scripture and other sermon notes about a dutiful woman’s place in the world. In all honesty, her panics prevented her from listening further and instead assess her current limited options. If she raised the alarm now, all would be for naught. The Archbishop would not arrive for another four days’ time.

“As ultimate responsibility falls to me for your very salvation, I believe you shall spend the day in your room without meals until tomorrow to finally accept your new place in the world as a poor relation reliant upon the generosity of your betters. And to consider the ramifications of your actions when you act without your family’s approval and therefore the approval of the Divine.”

Elizabeth’s involuntary smirk was ill-timed, as even she could not believe this man truly believed she considered him, a distant cousin she had never met until last year, to represent her father’s authority.

“You may begin now.” Mr. Collins pushed himself away from the table and stood to brook no argument from Elizabeth, but that did not stop her from trying.

“I am to read to Miss de Bourgh today, surely you do not wish me to dissatisfy Lady Catherine . . . ”

“I have no doubt the magnanimous Lady Catherine will applaud this intervention as she has pressed upon me the need to curtail your headstrong ways before they make me the laughingstock of the neighborhood.”

Elizabeth had no choice but to serve out this ridiculous penance for a transgression she would never repent, but considered the days of goodwill she should reap from her cousin in granting him this one day of false obedience. After all, it’s not obedience if one is compelled to comply.

“Please send my regret to Miss de Bourgh and her cousins if you visit Rosings today.” Elizabeth looked to Charlotte, whose face was paler than freshly laundered linens. As Charlotte’s lips trembled, Elizabeth blew out a quick breath in a whistling motion to signal all was well. Disappointment finally displayed on Elizabeth’s face as she truly desired to visit with her Mr. Darcy whom she had not seen in two days.

“I most certainly shall, and remember dear cousin, excel in this to show me you acknowledge your place and you may perhaps visit the illustrious Rosings tomorrow.”

As Elizabeth took each step slowly, still in shock she was in truth being sent to her room for disobedience like a child, each lifted foot reinforced that she would never have survived a marriage to this man. Furthermore, if she couldn’t have survived, she had to find a way out of this disastrous union for Charlotte. Near the top of the stairs, Elizabeth comforted herself that her prison was to be her room where she had a novel, letters, and most importantly a lock on the door.

As she entered the room and swiftly turned the key to keep her meddling cousin from any second thoughts or lectures of her behavior, a deep rumble echoed in Elizabeth’s belly. She was hungry, and for today, she would suffer those pangs in careful fasting for the plight of the Holbein family, who she vowed to see to happier times before rescuing her knight, Mr. Darcy.