Chapter 8 #2
“Intrude? Nonsense. We are quite at home on Sundays. Indeed, we are never so comfortable.”
This, though not strictly accurate, was delivered with such conviction that contradiction would have been churlish.
Quite uncharacteristically, Mr. Bennet came out to meet the group and regarded the gentlemen with mild curiosity. “You will find us tolerably furnished with chairs, at least.”
That settled the matter. And so, the gentlemen were ushered inside. Jane and Elizabeth now walked in before them, whispering to each other.
At Mrs. Bennet’s brisk instructions, two more chairs were brought to the table, and plates and utensils were moved to make space for the valuable guests.
Longbourn on a Sunday did not resemble Netherfield. The table was laid with care but without symmetry; conversation began before everyone was seated; Lydia spoke across plates; Kitty interrupted; Mrs. Bennet issued instructions to servants in a tone that suggested both urgency and optimism.
“We were just waiting for Jane and Lizzy to arrive. Everything is ready. No ceremony, feel free to take whatever you wish. There are roast beef and goose, with turnips, carrots, parsnips, and cabbage, all nicely roasted in goose fat. Mr. Bennet likes his pie. Today, it is steak pie. There is plenty of it, if you like. Oh, and there is cold ham. Please, help yourselves. After that, there will be cheeses, nuts, and apples. And some cake from last night.”
Elizabeth offered the bread from the other side. She encouraged Darcy to take one with a smile. “It is fresh, still warm. Our cook spoils us.”
Darcy, for whom Elizabeth’s unrestrained smile toward him was still a novelty, took two without looking at the breads themselves.
Mr. Bennet decided to be generous. “Gentlemen, we have ale from the inn. Would you care to join me?”
The offer was immediately accepted with relish, and the footman brought two more cups.
Mrs. Bennet was in high spirits. She recounted, with renewed animation, the particulars of the previous evening.
“And Mr. Darcy was so obliging as to endure my enquiries about Derbyshire,” she concluded, turning toward him with evident pride. “I declare I had no notion of such scope and magnificence.”
Darcy inclined his head. “You honoured the county with interest, madam.”
Darcy observed that when Mrs. Bennet began to recount the triumphs of the previous evening, Elizabeth did not contradict her.
She even added a compliment regarding the fare.
Then she glanced at her father – a look so pointed that he laid down his fork and, with dry composure, offered a praise of his own.
The effect was immediate. Mrs. Bennet quieted.
Miss Elizabeth was a strategist, he thought – and a subtle one.
Mr. Collins, however, had assumed an air of particular gravity. He placed himself with evident intention within Elizabeth’s hearing.
“It is a rare felicity,” he began, adjusting his cuffs, “to observe domestic harmony so ably directed. Miss Elizabeth’s discernment last evening – in arranging the table with such propriety – was most admirable.”
Elizabeth looked up, faintly puzzled. “I only ensured everything was in order, Mr. Collins.”
“Particularly the seating,” Darcy observed, his tone carefully neutral.
“Indeed, Mr. Darcy. How good of you to have noticed,” gestured Mr. Collins.
Elizabeth smiled, but the colour in her cheeks deepened, betraying more consciousness of the remark than she would have wished.
“Yet how decisive the effect,” he continued earnestly. “A lady who understands the influence of arrangement understands the foundation of household felicity.”
Darcy’s knife stopped in motion – only for a moment.
Mrs. Bennet beamed. “Indeed!” she cried. “I have always said Lizzy has a turn for management – though I did not expect it to be remarked upon so soon!”
Jane smiled politely. Bingley grinned. “Hear! Hear!”
Elizabeth, now composed, laughed lightly. “You attribute far too much consequence to trifles.”
“Trifles are seldom trifles in capable hands,” Mr. Collins replied.
Mr. Bennet intervened dryly. “Cousin, you overwhelm us. Pray allow the roast to recover from such eloquence.”
Mr. Darcy was grateful for Mr. Bennet’s intervention. He did not wish to be reminded that Mr. Collins had decided to wed Miss Elizabeth. Looking at both, he wondered if she knew of her cousin’s intention. Will she accept it? He leant back in his chair at the uncomfortable thought.
The meal proceeded with interruptions and crosscurrents.
Lydia demanded an account of the officers who would attend the ball, and she was sure she would dance with all of them.
Her father dryly commented that it would be ladylike to leave some opportunities for others.
Kitty seconded her father. Mary attempted to make a moral observation but was not permitted to finish it.
Mrs. Bennet narrated how the churchgoers envied their party for having the esteemed gentlemen at the table.
And through it all, Elizabeth moved easily. She quieted Lydia with a glance. She diverted Collins without cruelty. She supplied her father with bread before he asked. She laughed – but not at the expense of others.
Darcy found himself watching her more than he intended. This was not the ordered dignity of Pemberley. It was less measured. Less restrained. And yet – it was alive.
He had expected to endure the visit. He did not.
He looked around the table; the voices blurred into a low hum.
What he saw was a family – irregular, certainly – yet not without order.
Mrs. Bennet had remembered her husband’s favourite dish.
The younger girls spoke freely, if a little too loudly, but without constraint.
The elder daughters restored balance without display.
They were not perfect. Yet there was harmony in it – and affection.
He found, to his surprise, that he did not object.
It was at that moment that he noticed Elizabeth looking at him.
She had been speaking to Jane, but something in his stillness must have caught her attention.
Her eyes lingered upon him with open curiosity.
It was not the challenging look of Netherfield – and, to his surprise, he almost regretted its absence.
He realised too late that his expression must have betrayed more reflection than he intended.
“You seem very grave, Mr. Darcy,” she said lightly, though the remark was meant for him alone. “Are we so formidable a spectacle?”
There it was – that look of challenge. She kept testing him. He straightened slightly. “On the contrary.”
“Then I am relieved. I know we are not what you call a refined company, but…”
“I hope I have not given you cause to suppose that my comfort depends upon ceremony.”
“No, no. I do not know why I said it.”
“Hospitality requires no pedigree, Miss Elizabeth. Your family has shown me every civility. I could hardly wish for more.”
“There is a good variety of cheeses to choose from. Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, have a look.” They heard Mrs. Bennet offering the delicacies.
“You are very generous, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth continued.
“Not at all.” He hesitated, as though he had not meant to speak further. “I was actually considering my sister.”
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows.
“Most of the time, it is just the two of us. She has no company other than her companion, but that is not the same.” He gestured toward the other Bennet ladies. “If she had been raised in a big family, maybe, she would be much more… confident.”
Elizabeth regarded him more thoughtfully now.
“I am not certain numbers produce confidence,” she said gently. “But if numbers produce confidence, Lydia has more than her share.”
A faint smile touched his mouth before he suppressed it. “Maybe.”
“But I understand what you mean,” she continued. “There is something in noise and interruption that prevents too much self-consciousness.” She considered him further. “She is fortunate,” Elizabeth said at last, “to have a brother who considers her so carefully.”
He did not answer at once.
The compliment was simple, almost unadorned, and it meant more to him than she knew. He could not think of Georgiana without recalling how near he had come to failing her, and how narrowly that failure had been averted.
“I do only what is expected of me,” he said.
Elizabeth’s expression suggested she did not wholly accept that explanation, but she did not contradict him.
***
Elizabeth did not accompany the gentlemen to the door when they took their leave. She left that office to her mother and Jane. Yet she found herself, almost without intention, pausing at the bay window of the parlour. From there, she could see the sweep of the drive and the gentlemen mounting.
She ought not to have lingered.
As Mr. Darcy adjusted the reins of his horse, he lifted his head – and looked directly toward the window. She started, as though discovered.
For a fleeting instant, she had the absurd impression that he had known she stood there all along. Before she could recollect herself, another thought intruded – unbidden and inconvenient.
He made a very fine figure on horseback.
She drew back at once, half vexed with herself.
That so little as four-and-twenty hours should alter one’s judgement was a circumstance she would not have believed possible.
***
Within minutes, they had left Longbourn behind them.
Darcy could not suppress a faint rolling of the eyes as Bingley turned in his saddle for the third time to look back. Miss Bennet still stood at the gate, her hand raised in parting.
He could only hope he himself would never cut so conspicuous a figure.
Bingley began to speak almost at once. “I cannot recall a more agreeable afternoon,” he declared, urging his horse forward before remembering himself and moderating the pace to match Darcy’s.
“We were fortunate with the weather. I had the most excellent walk with Miss Bennet. It was only right to accompany her. Thank you for indulging me.”