Chapter 12 #2
Darcy paused a moment outside his chamber door.
With that reflection, he entered his room, though the image of her bright, indignant eyes remained with him.
***
The following morning at Longbourn began far later than usual.
The exertions of the Netherfield ball had disordered the household entirely.
Lydia and Kitty, who had nodded off in the carriage, were taken to their bed and slept with great determination.
Mary had been awake earlier, but even she had delayed her morning practice at the pianoforte, judging that the rest of the house might not be disposed to profit from the study of music so soon after such festivities.
Mrs. Bennet had declared herself quite overcome with fatigue and remained comfortably in her room.
Elizabeth, however, had been awake for some time.
The events of the evening had followed her even into sleep, and after lying awake longer than she cared to admit, she at last rose and crossed quietly to her sister’s bedroom.
Jane was still asleep, her expression perfectly peaceful.
Elizabeth smiled a little and touched her arm. “Jane.”
Jane stirred and opened her eyes. “Lizzy? Is something the matter?”
“Nothing at all,” Elizabeth said. “Only I could not wait any longer to hear what passed between you and Mr. Bingley.”
Jane laughed softly and pushed herself upright against the pillows. “I suspected that might be the reason.”
“Well then,” Elizabeth said, settling herself at the foot of the bed, “you may save me the trouble of guessing.”
Jane hesitated only a moment. “He told me he must go to London for a few days.”
Elizabeth frowned slightly. “So soon?”
“Yes, but he assured me it would not be for long. Some business that requires his presence.”
“And when he returns?”
Jane’s colour deepened a little.
“He asked whether he might call at Longbourn.”
Elizabeth looked at her closely. “Call at Longbourn or call on you?”
Jane, as expected, reddened.
“Oh, Jane! And what answer did you give him?”
“At first, I told him that he would always be welcome here.”
Elizabeth frowned.
“But he said that was not quite what he meant,” Jane continued. “He already knew himself welcome in the house. What he wished to know was whether I would receive him.”
Elizabeth’s smile grew warmer. “And I trust you did not leave the poor man in suspense.”
Jane laughed again, though her cheeks were now quite pink.
“I told him that I should be very happy if he called.”
“Then I think Mr. Bingley must have gone to London in very good spirits,” Elizabeth said.
Jane regarded her with quiet amusement. “I believe he did.”
There was a brief silence before Jane added,
“But I observed something else as well.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “Did you indeed?”
“I saw you dancing.”
Elizabeth pretended great composure. “That cannot have been very surprising. I danced several times.”
“With Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth glanced toward the window. “So I did.”
Jane watched her closely. “You said before that you would not.”
Elizabeth gave a small shrug. “One cannot always adhere strictly to one’s resolutions.”
“And did you enjoy it?”
Elizabeth paused. “He proved himself capable of very civil behaviour,” she said at last.
Jane smiled. “That sounds almost like praise.”
Elizabeth laughed lightly. “Do not expect me to grow enthusiastic all at once.”
Yet as she spoke, she felt again the memory of the evening – his unexpected civility, his answering her mother when no one else would, and the quiet understanding in his look afterwards.
She rose and moved toward the window.
“He may not be quite the gentleman I first supposed him to be,” she said.
A more favourable opinion of Mr. Darcy was becoming difficult to resist. Yet it would not do to think too well of him; he would soon leave Hertfordshire, and with him, this confusion.
Jane looked pleased. “I am glad of it.”
Elizabeth turned back with a faint smile. “My dear Jane, you are always glad when anyone is thought well of.”
“That is because people often deserve it.”
Elizabeth did not immediately reply. For the moment, she was not quite certain Jane was wrong.
***
Mr. Collins did not sleep quite so soundly as the rest of the household.
The events of the preceding evening had furnished his mind with the matter of very serious reflection. Indeed, he considered himself engaged in a deliberation of no small consequence, as it concerned not only his own happiness but also the proper discharge of his duty as a clergyman.
When he had first formed the intention of seeking a wife among his fair cousins at Longbourn, his choice had been Miss Bennet as the most beautiful and eldest daughter.
He had then been encouraged to turn his attention to the second daughter, Miss Elizabeth, and had persuaded himself that her lively manners and pleasing countenance rendered her a very suitable object of choice.
Yet the last few days’ observations had introduced a degree of uncertainty.
Miss Elizabeth, he could not but admit, possessed a spirit that was at times remarkably decided.
Her manner of interrupting him during his intended speech of gratitude at Netherfield had been delivered with a composure that might almost be termed authoritative.
Though he was far from resenting such a circumstance – indeed, he prided himself on a disposition most forgiving – it nevertheless suggested a firmness of temper which might, under certain conditions, prove difficult to reconcile with the humility so proper in a clergyman’s household.
His thoughts then turned to Miss Mary.
Miss Mary Bennet, suggested by her father to his attention, he reflected, had many qualities particularly suited to the situation of a parson’s wife.
She was studious, serious in her habits, and evidently well acquainted with improving literature.
Her fondness for moral reflections and religious texts could not fail to recommend her in the eyes of those whose judgement in such matters deserved the highest respect.
Nor could it be denied that her appearance the previous evening had been very creditable. Her countenance, when animated by the satisfaction of performing before an attentive audience, had possessed a degree of dignity which he found quite pleasing upon recollection.
Miss Elizabeth, it was true, had greater liveliness, but liveliness was not always the first qualification to be sought in a wife whose example must necessarily influence a parish. He had observed, too, that she was allowed a degree of independence not always desirable in a young lady.
Mr. Collins folded his hands thoughtfully upon the counterpane.
In the society of his esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, a wife of calm understanding and modest deportment would unquestionably be most proper.
A young lady too ready with her opinions might, however unintentionally, fail to display the degree of respectful attention which Lady Catherine’s superior judgement naturally commanded.
Miss Mary, on the other hand, seemed precisely the sort of young woman who would listen with gratitude to such guidance.
These reflections gradually settled the matter.
Miss Elizabeth remained, he allowed, a very agreeable young lady; but upon mature consideration, Miss Mary Bennet appeared the more suitable companion for a gentleman situated as he was.
Having arrived at this conclusion with considerable satisfaction, Mr. Collins composed himself to rest, feeling that he had acted with the prudence and foresight expected of a man entrusted with both a parish and the patronage of so distinguished a lady.
***
The morning at Netherfield was already well advanced when Mr. Darcy entered the breakfast room.
The house retained the languor that often follows a large entertainment. The servants moved quietly, and the air of the place suggested that most of its inhabitants were not yet inclined to exert themselves very early.
Darcy, however, had been awake for some time.
A letter lay beside his plate, which he unfolded once more as he took his seat. The hand was instantly recognisable.
Georgiana.
Her letter was affectionate, gentle, and filled with the small concerns of her life at Pemberley. Yet there was one passage that had drawn his attention more than once.
She spoke of Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
Darcy had mentioned her in his last letter from Netherfield – only briefly, and with what he believed at the time to be perfect composure. Yet Georgiana, with the quick perception that often surprised him, had not overlooked the mention.
You speak of Miss Elizabeth Bennet with such warmth, she had written, that I begin to wish very much to know her. I think she must be quite an extraordinary young lady.
Darcy folded the letter slowly. Extraordinary.
The word returned to his thoughts with unexpected persistence.
He had not intended to give such an impression. Indeed, when he first came to Hertfordshire, Miss Elizabeth Bennet had appeared to him merely a lively young woman whose manners were somewhat too free for his taste. Yet the recollection of her as he had last seen her was far less easily dismissed.
Her countenance, animated by wit and intelligence… the spirit with which she spoke… and, most vivid of all, the moment in the library when her eyes had flashed with indignation.
Darcy leaned back in his chair, thoughtful.
It was an odd circumstance that he should now find himself reflecting so frequently upon a young lady whom he had known only a short time.
His gaze fell absently upon the window.
Bingley would likely marry soon.
The thought came to him with unexpected clarity. His friend’s attachment to Miss Bennet had become too evident to be mistaken. Darcy had watched it grow with increasing certainty throughout the evening, and the scene he had witnessed at supper had left him with little doubt as to its direction.
Bingley was younger than he was. Yet the possibility of marriage had clearly entered his friend’s mind without hesitation.