CHAPTER SEVEN #2
The older members of the party noticed as well, though none remarked upon it aloud.
Mrs Gardiner watched with mild interest, Jane with gentle approval, and Mr Bennet with that quiet amusement which suggested he saw far more than he intended to acknowledge.
Lady Catherine, occupied chiefly with her own opinions, seemed content to allow the arrangement so long as it did not interfere with her authority at table.
Elizabeth, for her part, endeavoured to attend to the conversation before her, but her eyes betrayed her. They wandered again and again to the head of the table.
Mr Darcy spoke little, though when he did, the table listened. He was attentive to Georgiana, ensuring she was at ease, and addressed the company with courtesy, yet he avoided Elizabeth’s gaze with a determination that troubled her more than outright coldness would have done.
Why does he not speak to me, she wondered, unless he must?
The thought returned with unwelcome persistence.
Midway through the meal, Darcy addressed the table. “Georgiana and I intend to begin the Christmas decorations tomorrow.”
The announcement drew immediate attention.
Elizabeth looked up at once, surprised, and could not prevent the spark of admiration that followed. There was something quietly pleasing in the notion of Darcy involving himself in such a domestic, almost playful undertaking.
Lady Catherine, however, was far from pleased.
“Decorations?” she repeated sharply. “Surely that is the proper employment of the servants. I cannot imagine why such matters should require your personal involvement.”
Darcy answered with composed politeness. “The servants will, of course, attend to the greater part of it. But Georgiana and I have always preferred to add certain personal touches when we are at Pemberley for Christmas.”
Georgiana coloured slightly but smiled, clearly gratified.
Mr Collins leaned forward eagerly. “Indeed, your ladyship, it is quite exemplary. A most noble attention to tradition. Though I confess I had always supposed such tasks beneath—”
“—Mr Collins,” interrupted Mr Bennet mildly, “I have often found that those who enjoy their homes most are precisely those who do not consider themselves too elevated to enjoy them.”
Elizabeth bit back a smile.
Lady Catherine sniffed. “Sentiment is all very well in its proper sphere, but there are duties suited to one’s station. Such arrangements are best left to those employed for them.”
“The servants will attend to what is proper.” Darcy met her gaze with composed steadiness. “However, Georgiana and I choose to concern ourselves with what gives us pleasure.”
He paused, then added, “As the weather promises to keep us indoors more than usual, I have thought it might be agreeable to plan a few diversions. Anyone who wishes is welcome to join us in the decorating tomorrow. We shall endeavour to make Pemberley lively despite the snow.”
A murmur of interest followed.
Captain Ashford turned at once to Elizabeth. “That sounds a most pleasant occupation.”
Elizabeth smiled, though her eyes had already drifted back to Darcy. He had not looked at her when he spoke, nor since. And yet the invitation felt… personal. Or perhaps she wished it to be.
Caroline was quicker to speak. “How charming. I should hate to miss such an opportunity.” Her glance slid toward Elizabeth, bright with something unreadable. “I am certain Miss Elizabeth would enjoy it as well.”
Elizabeth murmured something agreeable, aware of Captain Ashford’s approving smile and Darcy’s continued silence.
He invites everyone, she told herself. It means nothing at all.
Supper continued with renewed animation.
Mr Bennet’s dry observations were received with laughter, Mr Bingley spoke eagerly of past Christmases, and Kitty and Lydia speculated noisily upon mistletoe and ribbons until Jane hushed them with a look.
Captain Ashford remained attentive without presumption, Caroline keen without concealment.
Elizabeth sat amid it all, engaged and yet strangely apart.
Her admiration for Darcy rose unbidden each time he spoke with quiet authority, each time he attended to his sister, each time he restored ease without demanding attention for himself. And yet his determined avoidance troubled her far more.
Perhaps he believes I wish to avoid him.
Perhaps he has resolved to be nothing more than civil.
Or perhaps it is Lydia’s conduct, and the man she has married. Perhaps it is my own refusal of his former proposal.
These reflections pressed upon her as the meal drew toward its close, yet no single explanation offered her peace. Clarity remained stubbornly beyond her reach.
When at last the company rose, Elizabeth found herself no nearer an understanding of Darcy’s thoughts than before. Captain Ashford’s interest was plain, kind, and increasingly directed. Caroline’s encouragement was unmistakable. Darcy’s silence remained.
And it was that silence, more than anything said at supper, that followed Elizabeth from the table, leaving her unsettled and quietly, inexplicably, longing for a word he did not offer.
***
The Ladies Retired to their chambers later that night. The house had grown still, and only the soft crackle of the fire and the low glow of the candles disturbed the quiet. Elizabeth had just set aside her bonnet when Jane, unpinning her hair with unhurried care, spoke.
“Eliza,” she said gently, “I must tell you something before we sleep.”
Elizabeth turned at once. “You sound quite solemn. What is it?”
Jane smiled, though there was more feeling beneath her composure than she attempted to disguise. “Mr Bingley spoke to me during our walk this morning. Properly spoke, I mean.”
Elizabeth crossed the room and sat beside her. “And?”
“He told me why he did not seek me out after he left Hertfordshire,” Jane continued. “Why there was such silence.”
Elizabeth felt a quiet tension settle in her chest, though she kept her expression composed.
“He had no notion I was in London,” Jane went on. “Caroline never mentioned it. He believed I remained in the country.”
Elizabeth’s mouth firmed. “That does not surprise me.”
Jane hesitated a moment before adding, “He learned the truth much later. It was Mr Darcy who told him… after he understood that he had been mistaken.”
Elizabeth’s eyes dropped at once. She traced the edge of the coverlet with her fingers, the motion slight but deliberate. Darcy had spoken, when speaking mattered. He had done so without advertisement, without explanation. The knowledge sat heavily with her.
“Yes,” Jane said, mistaking the silence for reflection alone. “By then, Mr Bingley had persuaded himself that I was indifferent to him. He was encouraged to believe it.”
“And he believed it?” Elizabeth asked quietly.
Jane nodded. “He does not excuse himself. He said he ought to have trusted his own feelings rather than other opinions. He regrets it deeply.”
Elizabeth inhaled slowly. There was something in that admission which resonated more strongly than she cared to examine.
“And now?” she asked.
“Now he wishes for openness between us,” Jane said, her voice warm with relief. “Whatever mistakes were made, he claims them honestly.”
Elizabeth took her sister’s hand. “I am very glad,” she said, and meant it without reserve.
Jane returned the pressure, then studied Elizabeth with affectionate attention. “You have been thoughtful all evening.”
Elizabeth smiled faintly. “There has been much to observe.”
"Captain Ashford, perhaps?" Jane said softly, though the teasing glint in her eye and the small, knowing smile that played about her lips betrayed her gentle mockery.
Elizabeth laughed under her breath. “He is very agreeable.”
“And very attentive.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth agreed. “Though I suspect that was encouraged.”
Jane tilted her head. “By Caroline?”
“I think she would like my interests settled elsewhere,” Elizabeth said. “With all convenient speed.”
“So that she may admire Mr Darcy without feeling observed,” Jane said, gently.
Elizabeth leaned back against the pillows. “She believes he still regards me with interest.”
“And do you think he does?”
Elizabeth considered the question. “I think he keeps very much to himself.”
Jane studied her. “Perhaps he is being careful.”
“Perhaps,” Elizabeth allowed. “Or perhaps he has simply resolved upon silence.”
“And Captain Ashford?” Jane asked.
Elizabeth shook her head, smiling. “He does not disturb me, Jane. I have known him scarcely a day, and I like him well enough for that. His attentions are however easy to receive… and just as easy to forget.”
Jane smiled, satisfied. “Then you know your own heart better than you suppose.”
Jane reached for the candle snuffer, and the room fell gradually into shadow. Elizabeth lay awake a little while longer, her thoughts no longer straying toward Captain Ashford, but settling instead upon what the evening had revealed.
Mr Darcy had spoken when speaking mattered. He had acted, twice now, without seeking acknowledgement, and in doing so had spared her family far more than she had once understood.
There was nothing left to question in his conduct… save the curious reserve with which he now kept himself apart.
That single, unresolved thought followed her quietly into sleep.