Chapter Nine #2
Darcy had observed it. He had said nothing at the time. He had not thought it necessary. Now, he found his thoughts returning to it with a different perspective.
What, he wondered, did it signify?
That a man engaged in trade possessed less worth than one who did not? That a family’s value might be measured solely by the occupations of its relations?
Darcy did not dismiss the importance of connections. He understood them well. He had been raised within their influence, guided by their expectations.
But there were other measures. He had seen them that morning, in the conduct of two sisters. In the contrast between them and those who had presumed to judge them.
Darcy turned from the window entirely. He moved to the small table near the hearth and rested his hand lightly upon its surface, his thoughts settling into a clearer form.
He wished to know them better. Not from hearsay, nor from the observations of others, but from his own experience.
Miss Bingley’s opinions did not hold the authority she seemed to believe. Nor did Mrs. Hurst’s agreement lend them greater weight. Darcy had formed his own judgment and it was not easily altered.
He thought of Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s expression as she had stood in the doorway. Composed. Controlled. There had been something else there, too. Something beneath the surface, held firmly in place.
Pride, perhaps. Not of the sort that demanded attention, but of the sort that refused to yield it unnecessarily. Darcy found himself respecting it. More than that, he found himself interested.
The rain had ceased. Beyond the window, the grounds lay still, the damp earth darkened by the morning’s weather. The path Elizabeth had taken would not yet have fully dried. And still, she had walked it.
Darcy drew a breath. Yes. He would call. And he would not be deterred by the opinions of those who had shown so little understanding of what they observed.
The evening at Lucas Lodge did not begin as Darcy would have wished.
Miss Bingley had found much to object to before they had even left Netherfield.
The invitation itself had been received with a degree of resignation that soon gave way to complaint.
The hour was inconvenient. The company uncertain.
The weather, though improved, was still discussed as though it posed a personal affront.
Darcy endured it with as much patience as he could command.
Bingley, for his part, attempted cheerfulness. “It will be a pleasant evening,” he said, for perhaps the third time. “Sir William is most obliging, and the ladies are always very agreeable.”
Mrs. Hurst smiled faintly. “You find everyone agreeable.”
“Because most people are,” Bingley returned, with easy conviction.
Miss Bingley gave a soft sound that might have been a laugh. “Your standards are remarkably accommodating.”
Georgiana said nothing. She sat beside Darcy in the carriage, her posture attentive, her hands folded neatly in her lap. There was an animation in her expression that she made little attempt to conceal. This was to be her first social event, and she was ecstatic.
When at last they were settled and the carriage set in motion, she turned slightly toward her brother. “Thank you,” she said. “For allowing me to attend.”
Darcy glanced at her, his expression softening. “There is no great sacrifice in it,” he said. “We are in the country. Such gatherings are entirely suitable.” And he rather hoped that Miss Bennet and her sisters would be there.
Miss Bingley gave a small snort. “My dear Miss Darcy,” she said, “a country assembly is hardly a society event. You must not expect too much of it.” She sniffed, her nose so high in the air, Darcy wondered if she would hit it on the ceiling of the carriage.
Georgiana’s expression faltered only slightly.
Bingley leaned forward at once. “I cannot agree,” he said. “I have never met with more agreeable people than those who have so warmly welcomed us to Meryton.”
Mrs. Hurst adjusted her shawl. “It takes very little to please you, Charles. You are hardly an authority.”
Bingley laughed, though there was a trace of impatience in it. “If being pleased is a fault, I am content to remain so.”
Darcy did not intervene. He found his own patience thinner than usual, however, and struggled to keep his peace. By the time they arrived at Lucas Lodge, his irritation had settled into something more controlled, though no less present.
The house was well lit, its windows casting a warm glow into the evening. Voices carried even before the door was opened, and the sound of music drifted faintly from within.
Darcy stepped down first, offering his hand to Georgiana as she followed. She took it with a small smile, her earlier enthusiasm returning.
Inside, the rooms were already full. Darcy’s attention moved at once across the assembled guests. He did not pause to consider his purpose. He knew it.
Elizabeth Bennet stood near the far side of the room, her posture composed, her expression attentive as she listened to something her sister said. Mrs. Collins stood close beside her, angled slightly so that Elizabeth’s left side remained unobstructed.
Darcy observed it without surprise. He had begun to notice such things. The elder sister was called away as they neared, and she cast an apologetic glance at Darcy and his sister.
“Miss Bennet,” he said, as he approached.
Elizabeth turned at the sound of his voice, her face brightening at once. “Mr. Darcy.” There was warmth in her tone. Unforced.
Darcy felt it more keenly than he expected.
Elizabeth’s expression softened further. She turned to greet his sister. “I am very pleased to see you again, Miss Darcy.”
Georgiana inclined her head, her smile small but sincere. “And I am glad to see you, Miss Bennet.”
Darcy watched the exchange with satisfaction. “I thought,” he added, “that my sister might wish to make the acquaintance of Miss Lydia and Miss Kitty. And Miss Mary, if she is so inclined.” Miss Mary did not seem as lively as the other two, but perhaps that was a good thing for Georgiana.
Elizabeth’s smile widened. “I am certain they would be delighted.” She turned slightly, scanning the room before lifting her hand in a small gesture. “Lydia,” she called.
The response was immediate. Miss Lydia appeared at once, her energy undiminished by the evening’s progress. Miss Kitty followed close behind, her expression more restrained but no less interested.
“Miss Darcy,” Elizabeth said, “may I present my sisters.”
Introductions were made quickly. Georgiana’s initial reserve softened under Miss Lydia’s lively curiosity and Miss Kitty’s gentler inquiries. Within moments, the three of them had drawn closer together, their heads bent slightly as they spoke in lower tones, laughter following not long after.
Darcy watched as they moved away, Lydia taking the lead with characteristic confidence. He heard them mention seeking out the third sister, and felt pleased his plans had worked out so well.
Elizabeth followed their progress with evident pleasure. “I am very glad she is here,” she said.
Darcy glanced at her. “As am I.” He paused, then added, with a faint smile, “I thought it prudent to avoid further protests on her behalf.”
Elizabeth’s expression shifted, recognition dawning. “Lydia did speak very strongly on that subject after the assembly.”
“I am sure she did,” Darcy said. “As did my sister. I found her argument difficult to oppose.”
Elizabeth laughed softly. “I am sure she is even now informing my sisters of her success. Lydia will be gratified on her behalf.”
Darcy inclined his head. “I do not doubt it.”
For a moment, they stood in companionable silence. Then Elizabeth turned slightly toward him. “And how do you find our country society now, Mr. Darcy?” she asked.
Darcy considered the question. “I find it…more engaging than I expected.”
Elizabeth’s lips curved. “That is a cautious endorsement.”
“It is an honest one.”
She studied him for a moment. “And what do you find engaging?”
Darcy met her gaze. “The people.”
Elizabeth’s smile deepened slightly. “That is a fortunate conclusion.”
“And you?” he asked. “What do you find most agreeable?”
Elizabeth considered. “Conversation,” she said.
“When it is well conducted.” Her hand flexed around her walking stick, and she angled her head so her good eye faced him more fully.
Darcy shifted in a manner so she could see him head on instead of at an angle, noting how the smile spread across her face at his solicitude.
“Conversation,” he said, “is indeed a reasonable preference.” And speaking with Elizabeth was both stimulating and rewarding.
“And music,” she added. “Though I do not play as often as I once did.”
Darcy’s attention sharpened. “No?”
She shook her head lightly. “It requires a degree of precision that I do not always possess now. I prefer not to subject others to the consequences. And reading the music can bring on a headache. I manage well enough with selections long memorized, but they are neither complex nor overly entertaining.”
Darcy regarded her steadily. “I should not think your efforts would be unwelcome.”
Elizabeth smiled faintly. “You are very kind.”
“And reading,” she continued, after a moment. “Though that, too, is…more difficult than it was.”
Darcy said nothing.
She went on, more lightly, “And needlework, though I am slower than I once was. My stitches are not always as neat as they ought to be.” She paused, then shook her head. “I do not wish to be overly reflective.”
Darcy’s expression did not change. “I find your reflections most interesting.”
Elizabeth glanced at him, a hint of surprise in her expression. “You are generous in your assessment.”
“I am sincere in it.” She was by far the most fascinating woman he had ever met.
She studied him for a moment, then smiled. “Thank you.”
Before he could reply, Mrs. Bennet appeared at Elizabeth’s side. “My dear Lizzy,” she said, her tone urgent, “you must come at once. There is something you must see.”