Chapter 2
TWO
Meryton Assembly.
Elizabeth
The secret, Elizabeth had long since determined, lay in arriving sufficiently early to choose one's position before the room grew crowded and conversation dissolved into a general murmur.
She had accomplished it that evening. Barely.
She had secured a place along the eastern wall, near enough the floor to observe the dancing, yet far enough from the musicians that they served chiefly as ornament.
Charlotte sat beside her, which was a blessing in itself.
Charlotte possessed the useful habit of always turning toward the person to whom she spoke, a quality Elizabeth had never ceased to value, though she had never said so aloud.
"Well," Charlotte said, touching her arm with some eagerness as she looked toward Jane and Mr. Bingley. "He is precisely as described."
"Thus far, he seems exactly as reported," Elizabeth replied. "Open, cheerful, and perfectly at ease with himself and everyone around him. Jane already thinks well of him, which can surprise no one."
"I was not speaking of Mr. Bingley."
Charlotte directed her attention, with some deliberation, toward the opposite side of the room. Elizabeth followed her gaze.
Mr. Darcy stood somewhat apart from the company, a glass in his hand and an expression which suggested the evening had already disappointed him.
He was tall, well-formed, and might have been called handsome had his countenance not seemed so determined to remain severe.
He had arrived with the Netherfield party and had, so far as Elizabeth could tell, occupied nearly the same position ever since.
Yet it was not Mr. Darcy who first claimed her notice.
Beside him, seated a little apart from Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley, was Miss Darcy. She was fair, slight, and elegantly dressed, observing all around her with a quiet attentiveness that conveyed no particular wish to join in the festivities.
"She has not danced all evening." Elizabeth inclined her head slightly. "Miss Darcy, I mean."
"She is very young," Charlotte replied. "And newly come amongst strangers. Perhaps she is merely overawed."
"Perhaps." Elizabeth watched Mr. Darcy glance toward his sister. There was concern in the look, and something almost protective. "Or perhaps she is as uneasy here as her brother. Neither appears to derive much pleasure from the evening."
Charlotte grimaced. "You have concluded all that from across a crowded assembly room?"
"I have concluded it from observing two people who are exerting themselves admirably to appear occupied by nothing at all," Elizabeth said. "It is not difficult if one pays attention."
Charlotte shook her head and pursed her lips as she always did when Elizabeth's observations struck nearer the mark than she found comfortable. Elizabeth accepted the reaction without remark and turned her attention once more to the dancers.
Jane was still radiant. Mr. Bingley was still captivated. The evening proceeded exactly as such evenings always proceeded, and Elizabeth was content, for the present, merely to observe it.
"Ten thousand a year," Charlotte said, returning, as she invariably did, to practical matters. "That is what Mrs. Long says of Mr. Darcy."
"For a gentleman who arrived in Hertfordshire only this day, how does Mrs. Long know the amount of his fortune?"
Charlotte lifted her eyes in mock reflection. "Mrs. Long is seldom mistaken where incomes are concerned."
"She does possess a singular talent for discovering particulars which do not concern her," Elizabeth agreed.
"The difficulty is that he has not spoken to anyone beyond his own party," Charlotte continued. "He has not danced, and yet every mother in the room is aware of him."
"Every mother in the room was aware of him within a quarter of an hour of his arrival," Elizabeth replied. "My own included, I dare say, though she has not yet informed me of it."
She turned just in time to see Mr. Darcy survey the room with detached attention, as though finding it deficient. "My objection to him is that he is proud."
"He is wealthy."
"Charlotte." Elizabeth scolded.
"I merely observe that the two qualities frequently travel together." Charlotte tucked a loose curl behind her ear. "What else?"
"He does not look as though he wishes to be here," Elizabeth said. "Though judging by the frequency with which he looks toward his sister, I am no longer entirely convinced that is the whole of it."
Charlotte regarded her curiously. "What do you mean?"
Elizabeth did not answer at once.
Mr. Darcy had glanced toward Miss Darcy again. The look was brief and unguarded, there and gone before anyone not watching closely would have marked it. Whatever had brought him into Hertfordshire, she thought, it was not solely regard for his friend.
"Nothing," she said at last. "Only that proud men are rarely so simple as they first appear."
The set concluded. Mr. Bingley returned Jane to their mother's side with evident reluctance. Jane's countenance glowed with a happiness Elizabeth had not witnessed in many months, and the sight filled her with warmth entirely independent of the crowded room.
"She is happy," Charlotte observed, her eyes settling on Jane.
"She is," Elizabeth agreed. "Let us hope he deserves it."
Mr. Bingley made his way back to Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth watched him speak with animation, gesturing broadly toward the room, the dancers, and the assembled company. Mr. Darcy's expression remained unmoved. Then Mr. Bingley turned and gestured, quite distinctly, in her direction.
Elizabeth did not look away. She had discovered long ago that looking away was seldom worth the effort. Her attention settled on their mouths as she followed what fragments of the conversation she could.
"Lizzy, Mr. Marcus has engaged me for the next set. I had better make myself available lest he suppose me indifferent and bestow his attentions elsewhere." Charlotte said before rising to leave.
Elizabeth uttered some reply she scarcely heard herself, though she made no attempt to look toward Charlotte as she departed.
Mr. Darcy's gaze travelled slowly across the room.
It reached her, rested upon her for a moment without particular warmth, and passed on. His lips moved in response to something Mr. Bingley had said.
Elizabeth read them with ease.
She had been reading lips across crowded rooms for a couple of years, and Mr. Darcy, whatever his faults, spoke with admirable precision.
She is tolerable, I suppose. But not … me. And I am in no humour tonight to give consequence to young ladies slighted by other men.
Elizabeth's heart gave a violent start.
What had he said?
She had not perfectly caught the middle portion. As was her habit when uncertain, she silently repeated the movement of his mouth.
Not handsome enough to tempt me.
Her eyes widened.
There was no other arrangement of words that suited the movement she had observed, and the phrase fit the remainder of his speech perfectly.
While Elizabeth reflected upon the rudeness of such a declaration, and upon the degree of pride required to speak so publicly of an entire stranger, she observed an unexpected stillness come over him.
Recognition lingered upon his features.
As though he had witnessed something remarkable.
A tap upon her shoulder startled her so thoroughly that she nearly jumped.
Turning, she found her mother at her elbow.
"Lizzy," Mrs. Bennet said at a volume sufficient to overpower the musicians, "you appear far more interested in Mr. Darcy than in securing a partner for the next set."
Recovering herself, Elizabeth shook her head. "My observing Mr. Darcy has nothing to do with my not dancing."
"He is very stiff," Mrs. Bennet declared, to Elizabeth's no great surprise. She suspected her mother's sudden interest in her had far more to do with gossip than with securing her a partner for the next set. "Ten thousand a year is no excuse for incivility. I do not like his look at all."
"Is that your own opinion, Mama, or are you speaking on behalf of every mama in the room?"
"He has not asked a single young lady to dance."
"No, Mama."
"Which is exceedingly rude. Everyone thinks so. A gentleman of consequence ought at least to be civil. I shall never like him, Lizzy. I have entirely made up my mind."
Snapping her fan shut, Mrs. Bennet swept away in the direction of Mrs. Kings before Elizabeth could reply.
With her mother gone, Elizabeth allowed her gaze to wander in search of her sisters.
Lydia and Kitty had attached themselves to the Goulding brothers with considerable enthusiasm.
Mary sat in a corner with a glass of lemonade, observing the room with an expression of mild disapprobation which suited her admirably at social gatherings.
Jane was being led back to the floor by Mr. Bingley, who had apparently determined another set with her was worth whatever notice the neighbourhood might take of it.
Across the room, Elizabeth's attention returned briefly to Miss Darcy.
She had not moved.
She remained in almost precisely the same posture she had occupied for the better part of an hour, observing the dancers with quiet care.
I wonder, Elizabeth thought, whether she wishes to dance and does not know how to begin. Or whether someone has persuaded her that she ought not.
She glanced once more toward Mr. Darcy.
He was looking at his sister again with that same unguarded concern he seemed entirely unaware of displaying.
Having satisfied her curiosity, Elizabeth returned to a pastime she had long since perfected.
She watched mouths moving across the room, silently shaping the words she could discern, smiling at those she deciphered and frowning at those which defeated her. It was an old habit, a private one, and it served her exceedingly well in assemblies such as this.
She did not once look again toward the corner where Mr. Darcy stood.
She had no need.
From the moment he had declared her not handsome enough to tempt him, he had not ceased watching her, and she saw no reason to grant him the satisfaction of knowing she had noticed.
? ? ?
That evening, the Bennet ladies provided their father, a gentleman who possessed little fondness for assemblies but never objected to hearing of them afterward, with a thorough account of the evening's events.
"Mr. Bingley is something quite extraordinary.
" Mrs. Bennet settled comfortably into her chair, satisfaction evident in every line of her countenance.
"He danced three sets with Jane. Three! I am quite persuaded he would not have stood up with another young lady all evening had common civility not required it. "
"Indeed?" Mr. Bennet's lips twitched. "Then Jane must have been the toast of the room."
"The envy of it," Mrs. Bennet declared, fluttering her fan. "Five thousand a year, perfectly agreeable, and not a disagreeable feature to be found. She could not have done better had I selected him myself."
"And what of the remainder of the party?" Mr. Bennet asked, turning his attention to Elizabeth. "Did Mr. Bingley arrive with the large company rumour promised?"
"Not particularly large," Elizabeth replied. "Only his sisters, his brother-in-law, Mr. Hurst, and a friend, Mr. Darcy."
"Darcy." Mr. Bennet considered the name. "And what sort of gentleman is this Mr. Darcy?"
"Proud," Lydia answered at once. "He stood in one corner the entire evening and did not ask a single girl to dance. Not one."
"He is handsome, though," Kitty supplied. "And has ten thousand a year."
"Ten thousand a year and not a particle of manners," Mrs. Bennet said decisively. "He is nothing at all to Mr. Bingley. Extremely stiff. Extremely disagreeable. I do not like him in the least."
"You did not speak to him, Mama," Jane observed gently.
"I saw quite enough. Any gentleman who refuses to dance at an assembly thinks vastly too well of himself. We have no need of such people in Meryton."
"There was also his sister," Jane continued. "Miss Darcy. She remained with the party throughout the evening. Very young and very pretty."
"She did not dance either," Lydia said. "Nor did she speak to anybody. She seemed very much like her brother."
"Perhaps," Elizabeth said, finding herself unexpectedly inclined to offer a defence, "she merely required time to grow accustomed to the company."
Lydia made a noise which clearly indicated her dissatisfaction with such an explanation.
Mrs. Bennet had already returned to the infinitely more important subject of whether Mr. Bingley might call for Jane before the week was out and how many weeks could reasonably be expected to pass before an offer of marriage followed.
Elizabeth offered no further remarks. Settling back upon the settee, she allowed the conversation to flow around her unnoticed.
To her surprise, she found herself thinking instead of Miss Darcy, seated so quietly in her corner, and of Mr. Darcy's repeated glances toward his sister, each marked by particular concern.
Then, against her inclination, she found herself thinking of him watching her for the remainder of the evening with an expression she could not quite decipher.
Whatever it signified, she did not like it.
And she was tolerably certain she had not heard the last of Mr. Darcy.