The Lightning Strike
Stunned silence followed Elizabeth’s pronouncement.
Lydia seemed ready to giggle, laugh, or otherwise show her amusement.
Kitty looked ready to follow whatever Lydia did.
Mr Bennet was determined to keep a stony face to see what happened so he could make sport of it.
Mary looked disapproving, as usual. Jane was as serene as ever, so it was an open question whether Mrs Bennet’s censure, Lydia and Kitty’s giggling, or Mr Bennet’s open laughter would be the first to arrive.
Perhaps fortunately, perhaps not, they were forestalled by a voice that was unexpected, though it probably should not have been.
“I certainly hope Miss Bennet was not injured,” said Mr Bingley, grinning as he entered the parlour ahead of the rest of the Netherfield party, in advance of Hill’s superfluous announcement.
The attention of the entire party turned towards the door, everyone wondering how long their guests had been outside the doorway and what they had heard.
Elizabeth felt moderate anxiety. It was one thing to endure her family’s embarrassing foibles, and quite another to witness the Netherfield party observing them. She did have some pride, even if she could not match Mr Darcy’s.
Ever the peacemaker, Jane said, “It was more metaphorical lightning than actual. I remain unscathed.”
Miss Darcy was slightly confused, while her brother was entertained, which struck Elizabeth as against his nature. Miss Bingley and the Hursts were absent, for which Elizabeth found she liked Mr Bingley even more than she had previously.
Mrs Bennet had not even had time to arrange the seating to her liking, so the Netherfield party found their own places with alacrity.
Mr Bingley and Miss Darcy hastened to their favourite spots, while Mr Darcy joined his sister, and the colonel avoided the younger sisters by engaging Mr Bennet in conversation about politics, though she doubted either of the men had their hearts in it with so much potential entertainment before them.
Kitty and Lydia sat nearby, so Kitty, uncharacteristically, spoke first. “Miss Darcy, that is a lovely gown. The shade goes well with your colouring.”
Elizabeth watched the interactions far more than she attended to her companions, but they were happy enough with her silence.
She knew Mr Darcy preferred silence above all things and did not know Miss Darcy well enough to speculate.
She supposed she and the young lady had matters to discuss, but certainly not in the current company.
Elizabeth awoke from her reverie to look across, wondering which sister they were attempting to emulate, if any.
A comment on clothing was hardly new conversational ground to plough, but it was as worthy of an opening salvo as any.
She was happy to see her youngest sisters without apparent guile, giggles, or fits.
“I thank you,” Georgiana said shyly. “I like yours as well. Where did you get the pattern?”
“We had it made in Meryton. Our local dressmaker has most of the latest fashions, and our uncle has ready access to good materials.”
“That sounds lovely.”
Elizabeth observed that her companion had abandoned her disguise for obvious reasons.
She was dressed much as one might expect, in expensive fabrics but simple and modest styles and light colours befitting a young lady not yet out.
She wondered how her brother managed it, but only for a moment.
Once Mr Darcy and the colonel settled on the impromptu visit as their explanation for Miss Darcy’s presence, it must have been a simple matter to send a servant to town.
One man could ride hard for London with a note, and another could return immediately with a trunk.
It could easily be done in a day. While she found the whole business silly, she had to admit grudgingly to being slightly impressed.
While she almost took pity on poor Miss Darcy, who had reverted to her timid state, she reflected that anyone who could face down her tormenter of the past summer with such aplomb should certainly not be intimidated by Kitty and Lydia Bennet.
If she could not endure the drawing rooms of Hertfordshire, she would be devoured in London.
Kitty and Lydia were undeterred, and with only occasional prompting by Elizabeth, and the occasional stern look, the three younger ladies began a conversation that was awkward for a time but finally improved.
Elizabeth noticed Mary sitting alone as usual.
Remembering that she had been her sole defender at breakfast, she exchanged places and introduced a discussion of music.
Kitty and Lydia tried to prevent her from doing such a pointless and cruel act, but she dissuaded them by clasping her hands and smiling beatifically at them in an exaggerated version of Jane’s serene countenance, with the clear implication that she could just as happily emulate Mrs Bennet if it became necessary.
Elizabeth watched and encouraged the group for perhaps a quarter of an hour but ceased when it devolved into two simultaneous conversations with poor Miss Darcy stuck in the middle.
Elizabeth considered rescuing her, and considered it further, and was giving the idea a third consideration when she nearly squealed like Lydia at an unexpected address.
Elizabeth shook her head in confusion and looked to Mr Darcy, who she had forgotten was close. Whether her forgetfulness was deliberate avoidance, absence of mind, or mere obtuseness was hard to determine.
“You are remarkable,” Mr Darcy said.
She spoke quietly to match him, and by design, be inaudible to her sisters and Miss Darcy.
“You are easily impressed, sir.”
He surprised her again by chuckling and saying only, “You accomplish in minutes what my relatives fail in months, so I shall stand by my statement.”
Having no idea how to respond but feeling some slight enjoyment of the compliment, and possibly the slightest hint of a blush, she simply said, “I thank you,” then asked about a book they had discussed several weeks earlier at Netherfield.
They resumed the debate, at nearly the same place they left off months earlier, and she gradually forgot her companions and her discomfort.
For the first time in a while, she was happy to be back in a situation where she understood what was happening with certainty:
She was right, he was wrong, and that was the whole of it!
She had no idea how long they had been speaking, though she thought it might take hours to convince the stubborn man of the obvious superiority of her position, when she was interrupted by Mr Bennet.
“Mr Darcy, I hate to interrupt your argument, but I thought I might save you from my daughter who never admits defeat. Your cousin says you play an adequate game of chess, so might we enjoy a game before dinner?”
“It would be my pleasure,” Mr Darcy said jovially, and he chuckled when Elizabeth muttered, “Coward!”
Without her foil, she realised she had been in the man’s company for at least an hour without a disapproving stare, but she had no more idea what to think about him than she had that morning.
She looked to the gaggle of girls that comprised her younger sisters and saw Miss Darcy looking back longingly.
“Who is for a walk?” she asked, only to have the offer accepted with alarming haste by Miss Darcy.
She thought for a moment that she should regret abandoning the lady to the cruelties of her younger sisters but got over her slight feeling of remorse easily enough.
She stood and politely asked the rest of the room.
She noticed some fashion plates scattered on one side of the table, musical scores on the other, and had to suppress a laugh.
Mary, of course, had no more interest in walking than she ever did, while Kitty and Lydia were eager to have Miss Darcy to themselves for once. It was not long before they were suitably attired and walking through the back garden, chattering about bonnets and ribbons.
Fortunately for Elizabeth’s sanity, the colonel, being a more than adequate cavalryman, swooped in to protect her flanks and diverted Kitty and Lydia with stories of heroism and bravery that Elizabeth judged likely fictional.
To her pleasure, she learned that Miss Darcy liked a faster pace than her sisters, and it was not long before two dozen yards separated them. Since Kitty and Lydia could chaperon each other, and they were in full view of the house anyway, they could fend for themselves.
With a grin, she took Miss Darcy’s arm and dragged her through a garden gate, and they set out across a meadow towards a frog pond she had tried to learn to fish in as a child, with nothing to show for it.
She was tired of trying to work out what was happening without conversation, and a frog pond seemed the very place to start.