Chapter 4 #2
Lady Lucas, who had been listening with polite interest, now addressed Darcy with a mild, enquiring smile.
“You must forgive my curiosity, Mr. Darcy,” she said, “but I have often wondered at the closeness of your friendship with Mr. Bingley. He appears so very young beside you.”
Darcy received the observation without stiffness. “He is younger,” he replied. “By nearly five years.”
“Oh!” Mrs. Lucas exclaimed. “I had not imagined the difference so great.”
“It is enough to be remarked upon,” Darcy said. “We were introduced some years ago, upon the recommendation of a mutual acquaintance.”
Elizabeth’s attention sharpened at once.
“At first,” he continued, “our dispositions seemed little alike. Mr. Bingley’s spirits are naturally light; mine, I fear, have never been so obliging. Yet we discovered, before long, a circumstance in common.”
Lady Lucas leant forward. “Indeed?”
“We had both lost our parents early,” Darcy said simply. “The experience forms a bond more readily than one expects.”
There was a brief pause.
Darcy went on, with a candour that surprised even himself.
“Mr. Bingley came into a fortune without the habits required to manage it. He had generosity in abundance – far more than caution, in fact. I…” He stopped, then added more deliberately, “… had caution enough for two, but no great inclination toward cheerfulness.”
Elizabeth, listening from across the table, felt something shift.
“It suited us,” Darcy concluded. “He required a steadier influence. I required…” He hesitated, then allowed the smallest smile. “… a reminder that the world is not entirely burdensome.”
Lady Lucas nodded, evidently pleased. “That is a very handsome explanation.”
Darcy inclined his head. “I believe it has served us both.”
Elizabeth looked at him then – not covertly, but openly – and found his expression composed, unassuming, entirely without the air of condescension she had so readily ascribed to him before.
She had expected hauteur. She had not expected honesty.
Across the table, Bingley caught Darcy’s eye and smiled, entirely unconscious of having just been so accurately described.
Elizabeth turned her attention back to her plate, but her thoughts did not follow.
A mentor, she repeated inwardly. And cheerful company.
It was a new way of seeing him – and she did not like how easily it made sense.
Mrs. Bennet, who had been listening with increasing interest, now leaned forward again.
“And have you no other family, Mr. Darcy?” she asked. “I mean, besides your aunt, of course, whom we hear so much of. A gentleman of your position must surely have relations.”
“I have a sister,” Darcy replied. “Only one. She is considerably younger than I am.”
Mrs. Bennet clasped her hands at once. “A sister! Dear me, how charming. And unmarried, I suppose?”
“She is,” Darcy said. “And still very young.”
Lady Lucas smiled. “You must be quite devoted to her.”
Darcy did not hesitate. “Entirely. We are… close.”
There was something in the simplicity of the answer that drew attention.
“And where is she now?” Mrs. Bennet asked.
“She resides chiefly at Pemberley,” he answered, “under the care of a most excellent companion.”
“Tell us more about her.”
Darcy straightened in his chair. He looked far away as he spoke. “She has a quiet disposition, a fondness for music, and a particular delight in reading. Of late, she has taken an interest in botany, which occupies her very agreeably.”
“How nice. Lizzy, did you not use to press all the plants you could find?” Charlotte asked. “She has quite the collection, Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth glanced at Darcy’s questioning expression.
“Indeed, Miss Elizabeth?”
She swallowed. Instead of answering, she inclined her head.
Mrs. Bennet nodded vigorously. “Quite so. And music! How very proper. I always say a young lady cannot be too fond of music. It keeps them from idle thoughts.”
Lady Lucas added, “She must be much admired.”
Darcy’s expression softened, though only slightly. “She deserves admiration. Her temper is gentle, unassuming. Rather shy, I would say. She relies upon me for direction. I hope she will come to her own soon.”
Elizabeth, who had been listening in silence, felt a sudden and unwelcome disturbance.
A sister. Young. Gentle. Shy.
It was not the picture she had been given.
Her eyes moved, almost of their own accord, down the table.
Wickham sat opposite, engaged in conversation with Kitty and Mr. Denny, smiling readily, yet with a watchfulness she had not noticed before. At the mention of Darcy’s sister, his laughter faltered. He turned back to his plate and listened before resuming his former ease.
Elizabeth caught it.
The hesitation was slight, but it was there.
Darcy, meanwhile, continued, unaware of the observation he had provoked. “I am anxious that she should see as few of the world’s harsher lessons as possible.”
Mrs. Bennet sighed theatrically. “Ah, how fortunate she is to have such a brother. I always say a good guardian makes all the difference. Why, you could have brought her with you.”
Elizabeth lowered her gaze to her plate.
What Wickham had told her returned to her mind – not as a conviction now, but as a narrative that suddenly required adjustment.
She had accepted it readily, even eagerly; and yet here was a man speaking calmly of duty, protection, restraint – and doing so without the least sense of self-justification.
She looked again at Wickham, in conversation with Kitty and Mr. Hurst. She saw him peeking at her. Then, when he realised her attention was upon him, he suddenly dropped his napkin and had to lean down to get it.
Elizabeth felt a faint, uncomfortable tightening in her chest.
She told herself that one account did not cancel another, that charm and confidence were not proofs of truth. And yet, for the first time, she wondered whether she had listened too readily and questioned too little.
The thought did not please her – yet it would not be set aside.