Chapter 6
Chapter Six
The morning after the assembly dawned clear and mild, the sort of autumn day that seemed inclined toward reflection rather than excitement. At Longbourn, however, private reflection was not long permitted when news had been gathered the evening prior.
Elizabeth was already seated in the small morning parlor when the first hints of renewed discussion began to stir through the house.
She had chosen her place, as she always did—near enough to the window that the light would fall kindly upon her book, though not so directly as to strain her eye too soon.
She had not read far. Her thoughts wandered too easily, returning without invitation to the events of the previous evening. Not in any dramatic fashion, nor with undue agitation, but with a steady persistence that made the words before her blur into insignificance.
A voice. A manner. A conversation carried in the softened silence of the terrace.
Elizabeth closed the book gently and rested it upon her lap.
“Lizzy?”
Kitty stood just inside the doorway, her expression bright with interest.
“They have come,” she said.
Elizabeth smiled faintly. “The Lucases?” It was expected; the Lucas family always came the day after an assembly.
“Yes. And Mama is already engaged in the most animated account of the assembly.”
Elizabeth rose, reaching for her father’s walking stick where it leaned against the chair. “Then we must not keep them waiting for correction.”
Kitty laughed softly and moved aside to allow her passage.
The drawing room was full when Elizabeth entered. The familiar arrangement of voices greeted her first—her mother’s rising above the others, eager and expressive; Lady Lucas’s tones, measured but not without interest; and beneath them, the calmer presence of Charlotte.
Elizabeth paused just within the doorway, orienting herself before moving forward. The room was well lit, the morning sun softened by the curtains, and she could distinguish the nearer figures without difficulty.
“Miss Bennet,” Lady Lucas said, noticing her.
Elizabeth inclined her head. “Lady Lucas.”
“My dear Lizzy,” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, turning at once. “Come, you must sit here. We have been speaking of nothing but last night, and I declare it was the most remarkable evening.”
Elizabeth moved toward the indicated chair, her steps measured but unhurried. She felt Charlotte’s presence near before she saw her clearly, and her expression softened.
“Charlotte,” she said, as she took her seat.
“Lizzy,” Charlotte returned, her tone warm and steady. There was no fuss in her greeting. No undue attention given to Elizabeth’s movements. Only an awareness that made everything easier.
At the far end of the room, Mrs. Hill stood holding a small boy by the hand.
“Master Michael,” she said smoothly, “I believe Master Thomas is upstairs.”
The youngest Lucas boy—no more than two years of age—looked uncertain for but a moment before being encouraged forward. Lydia, who had been perched restlessly near the window, sprang up at once.
“I shall take him,” she declared, already moving toward the door. “Thomas will be quite delighted to have company.” Kitty and Maria Lucas followed, offering assistance, and in another moment the small procession had disappeared upstairs, leaving the room to quieter company.
“It is good they are of an age, is it not?” Lady Lucas observed.
“Indeed,” Jane said from her place near the hearth. “Thomas has no other young boys in this house with whom he might play.”
“And a fine boy he is,” Lady Lucas returned. “You must be very proud.”
Jane smiled, her expression composed but touched with warmth. “I am.” She was very proud of her son and took delight in his company.
Mrs. Bennet leaned forward, her attention returning at once to the matter she found most engaging. “And as for the evening,” she said, lowering her voice only slightly, “it was quite evident—quite evident, I assure you—that Mr. Bingley’s attentions were directed in the most particular manner.”
Lady Lucas’s brows lifted. “Indeed?” She spoke cooly, and Elizabeth could hear something bitter in her voice.
Her gaze remained fixed, yet she perceived Charlotte's focus intensify in her vicinity.
“My dear Lady Lucas,” Mrs. Bennet continued, “he danced with Mrs. Collins twice. Twice! And scarcely spoke to any other lady with the same degree of animation. My daughter pleases wherever she goes. She is most deserving of such admiration.”
Jane made a small sound, half protest, half embarrassment. “Mama—”
“It is nothing but the truth,” Mrs. Bennet insisted. “One cannot mistake such behavior.” Her hands fluttered as she spoke.
At that moment, Mr. Collins entered the room. His silver hair had been combed with care, and he smiled ingratiatingly at the women seated before him.
“My dear ladies,” he said, inclining his head with solemn courtesy. “I trust I do not intrude.”
“Not at all,” Mrs. Bennet replied eagerly. “We were only speaking of the assembly—and of Mr. Bingley’s evident preference.”
Mr. Collins’s expression brightened at once. “Ah! Yes, yes. A most gratifying observation.” He turned a pleased smile on his daughter-in-law.
Elizabeth felt Charlotte shift slightly beside her.
“It is always pleasing,” Mr. Collins continued, “to witness the favorable regard of a gentleman of consequence directed toward one’s own family.” He laced his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels.
Lady Lucas regarded him with mild curiosity. “I confess,” she said, “I would not have expected you to be so eager to replace your son in your daughter-in-law’s affections.”
There was a brief pause. Elizabeth stilled. Mr. Collins, however, appeared not in the least discomposed.
“My dear Lady Lucas,” he said, with a measured nod, “my son’s memory is secure, and his heir is established. My line, therefore, is in no danger of interruption. It is only natural that I should wish to see Mrs. Collins advantageously settled once more.”
Elizabeth felt the words land—not harshly, not unkindly—but with a clarity that could not be softened. Despite the man’s continued welcome, he wished to unburden himself of the Bennet ladies. And since it was Jane who had drawn Mr. Bingley’s attention, she would be the first to go.
“Indeed,” Mr. Collins continued, warming to his subject, “such an alliance would serve to strengthen the family’s position considerably. It is a matter of prudence as much as sentiment.”
Elizabeth frowned. There was that, too. Mr. Collins did so love his position in society. Inheriting the estate had elevated him to the status of a gentleman.
Charlotte leaned closer. “It appears,” she murmured, her voice pitched for Elizabeth alone, “that my mother is distressed by the prospect of your sister securing two such successful matches.”
Elizabeth’s lips curved. “Perhaps,” she returned softly, “we Bennets ought to make an effort to share more generously.”
Charlotte suppressed a smile. Their silent amusement passed unnoticed amid the continued conversation.
“I am certain,” Mrs. Bennet was saying, “that nothing could be more desirable. Mr. Bingley is exactly the sort of gentleman to appreciate such qualities as my daughter possesses.”
Jane said nothing, though Elizabeth knew her well enough to imagine the slight flush in her cheeks.
Lady Lucas inclined her head. “It is certainly an advantageous prospect.”
Elizabeth turned slightly toward Charlotte. “You must allow that he admired her,” she said in a lower tone.
Charlotte met her gaze. “He did more than admire her. He was quite taken.”
Elizabeth smiled faintly. “I hope she will marry only for love, if she finds it.”
Charlotte did not immediately reply.
Elizabeth continued, more quietly still, “She has already married once for prudence. It would be well if she were spared the necessity a second time.”
Charlotte lifted her teacup and took a small sip before answering. “Love,” she said at last, “is not always so easily secured.”
Elizabeth did not press her. Instead, she said lightly, “And what of your own gentleman? Mr. Tipton was very agreeable last evening. Will he attend the next assembly?”
Charlotte set her cup aside. “He will.” She blushed a little. The expression was so out of place for Charlotte. that Elizabeth grinned.
“And is he as agreeable to dancing as he appeared last evening?” He had stood up with Charlotte three times—tantamount to a proposal.
“I believe so.”
Elizabeth tilted her head. “You are very cautious in your praise.”
“I am practical,” Charlotte replied. “Until the banns are called and the register is signed, I dare not raise my hopes too far.”
Elizabeth smiled. “That, too.” Charlotte had been disappointed in love more than once in her life.
There was a brief pause. Charlotte’s expression shifted—subtly, but enough that Elizabeth noticed.
“And Mr. Darcy?” she asked. There was an intentional nonchalance in her tone that Elizabeth neither trusted nor believed.
Elizabeth shrugged. “You mean my conversation with him?” she said.
Charlotte inclined her head. “Yes. I am curious.”
Elizabeth considered for a moment, her fingers resting lightly against the arm of her chair. “I found him intelligent,” she said. “And engaging.” It had been the best part of her evening.
Charlotte’s brows rose. “Engaging?”
“In a reserved manner,” Elizabeth clarified, a hint of amusement in her tone.
Charlotte studied her. “And how long,” she asked, “do you suppose it will be before the banns are called?”
Elizabeth laughed outright. “Your imagination is very rapid,” she said. Still, something akin to exhilaration pulsed through her.
“I only follow the evidence before me. You are the only person with whom he spent any time in extensive conversation.”
“There is no evidence,” Elizabeth returned. “We are little more than acquaintances.”
Charlotte did not appear convinced.