Chapter 12 #3
Darcy’s own situation was rather different.
Since his father’s death, nearly all his attention had been devoted to Pemberley.
The estate had demanded care and judgement, and he had given it both willingly.
The responsibility had seemed natural to him, almost inevitable.
In fulfilling it, he had scarcely paused to consider what might be absent from his own life.
Many of the gentlemen he had once counted among his closest companions were now married.
He had attended more weddings in the last three years than he cared to count.
Each had been conducted with the proper degree of festivity and good wishes.
Yet, he had always returned from such occasions with a vague sense of relief, as though he had escaped an expectation not entirely his own.
Marriage had never seemed an immediate necessity.
His position, his responsibilities, and the scale of Pemberley itself had required prudence above all things.
It was natural, therefore, that any future mistress of the estate must possess qualities suited to the situation – elegance, composure, and an understanding of the society in which he moved.
Several ladies of the ton came to his mind in succession.
Miss Ashbourne, whose beauty had been much admired the previous season; Lady Margaret Elliston, whose fortune and family connections had made her the object of considerable attention; Miss Davenport, whose manners were so perfectly regulated that she had scarcely ever been known to betray a spontaneous thought.
Each possessed advantages which the world would readily acknowledge. Yet as Darcy considered them, he found the recollection of their faces strangely indistinct. It was another countenance that intruded upon his thoughts with inconvenient clarity.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
He remembered the quick intelligence of her expression, the readiness of her wit, and the animation that seemed to transform her features whenever she spoke with warmth. Her eyes – so often lively with amusement – could also flash with an energy that had taken him wholly by surprise.
He had witnessed it the previous evening.
The moment returned to him now with remarkable vividness: her standing in the library doorway, colour heightened, confronting Wickham without the least hesitation.
The indignation in her voice had startled him at first. Yet the more he reflected upon it, the more that spirited defence had impressed him.
It was not merely boldness. There had been a sincerity in it – a refusal to remain silent where injustice was concerned – that he found… invigorating.
Darcy exhaled slowly and reached for his coffee.
He could not remember any lady of his acquaintance who had affected his thoughts in quite this manner.
Which, he told himself with some firmness, was reason enough to dismiss the matter altogether.
The door opened at that moment, and Bingley entered the room with an air of cheerfulness that seemed wholly undiminished by the previous evening’s exertions.
“Ah, Darcy! I feared I should find you already finished with breakfast.”
Darcy set down his cup.
“You are not late by any ordinary standard,” he replied.
Bingley laughed and seated himself opposite him.
“I must leave for London within the hour, so I thought it best not to delay too long.”
Darcy inclined his head. “I hope your business will not detain you.”
“Nor do I,” Bingley said. “Though I cannot imagine it will. A few days at most.”
He paused while a servant placed coffee before him, but his spirits were too lively to permit much attention to food.
“You saw Miss Bennet last night,” he said after a moment, unable to conceal the satisfaction in his voice.
“I did.”
“And what did you think of her?”
Darcy regarded him calmly. “I thought her very much the same as before.”
Bingley smiled, evidently content with the answer. “I believe I shall call at Longbourn as soon as I return.”
“That seems a very natural intention.”
Bingley leaned back in his chair, his expression suddenly thoughtful. “I mean to say I asked whether she would receive me if I called.”
“You did? I suppose you know what you are doing.”
“I think I do. Look, in plain terms, she is a gentleman’s daughter, while I am from trade. It is true she has not much fortune, but I have enough for both. I can support a family in comfort. If anything, I have always been good with money.
Darcy inclined his head. The remark only confirmed what he had already suspected.
“Darcy – there is something I wish to ask of you.”
Darcy raised an eyebrow slightly. “If it lies within my power.”
“I wonder whether you might look in on the Bennets while I am away. Only as a matter of civility, you understand. I should not like them to suppose that my departure means any neglect. I cannot trust my sisters to visit her.”
Darcy was silent for a moment.
The request was a simple one, yet it carried an implication he could not entirely overlook. Longbourn… Longbourn contained Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
He folded Georgiana’s letter once more and set it aside.
“If an opportunity presents itself,” he said at last, “I shall certainly pay my respects.”
Whether he ought to be so very ready to do so was, perhaps, another question entirely.
Bingley’s face brightened at once. “Capital! I knew I might depend upon you.”
Darcy allowed himself the faintest of smiles.
***
The morning at Longbourn advanced so leisurely that breakfast was entirely abandoned in favour of an early luncheon.
Mrs. Bennet, having at last descended from her chamber somewhat refreshed by sleep, soon began to enquire after the rest of the household. Lydia and Kitty were still upstairs, Mary had not been seen since early morning, and Elizabeth and Jane were walking in the garden.
Mary, in fact, had established herself in the small parlour with her embroidery frame placed beside the window, where the light fell most advantageously upon her work. Before her lay a neatly folded piece of muslin which she embroidered with careful attention.
Opposite her sat Mr. Collins.
He held open a volume of sermons and read aloud in a tone of grave satisfaction, pausing occasionally to remark upon the excellence of a particular passage.
Mary listened with the attentive seriousness which she believed such material deserved, and from time to time offered a modest observation of her own, usually drawn from some religious or moral work with which she had lately been occupied.
Mr. Collins found her remarks exceedingly encouraging. He even took occasion to note down one or two reflections suggested by her remarks.
The conversation possessed a tone of improvement that he considered highly suitable to a well-regulated morning, and he was more than once struck by the thought that Miss Mary Bennet’s disposition was admirably formed for the quiet duties of a parsonage.
Their discussion was interrupted only when Mrs. Hill announced that luncheon was ready.
By that time, the whole family had assembled in the dining room.
Lydia and Kitty arrived last, animated by recollections of the ball and eager to repeat every small detail of the evening’s triumphs.
Jane listened with gentle patience, Elizabeth with amused tolerance, while Mary resumed her seat with the air of one who had spent the morning far more profitably than the rest.
Mr. Bennet entered last and took his place with visible composure.
Mrs. Bennet, whose spirits had returned in full force, could not allow the conversation to proceed long without directing it toward the subject that occupied her thoughts most entirely.
“I declare,” she said, arranging her napkin with great satisfaction, “that it was a most extraordinary evening in several respects. Mr. Bingley and his household have done an honour to the neighbourhood, even if they had guests from town. Several of our acquaintances mentioned how Jane was the subject of Mr. Bingley’s almost undivided attentions.
Mark my word, that man is besotted with our dear Jane. ”
Jane reddened as could be expected.
Elizabeth went to her rescue, voicing what her sister could and would not.
“Oh, Mama, I wish you did not speak of such things. It is bad luck to speak of things before they occur. He has yet to call on her, despite his attentiveness. And he did pay attention to others too, I saw him dance with not one of his London guests.”
“Oh, hodge podge! Everyone could see how he was with Jane. He even filled her plate for her at supper. Did you see that, Mr. Bennet? And the dinner on Saturday? He was everything attentive. He clapped the longest when Jane sang.” Mrs. Bennet paused only long enough to refresh herself before continuing with renewed animation.
“And that was not all. Mr. Darcy behaved quite differently from what anyone might have expected after the Meryton assembly.”
Elizabeth glanced up.
“Did he indeed, Mama?” Kitty asked.
“Certainly he did. Why, he danced with Lizzy first of all! And afterwards with Miss Lucas, and even with Jane. I observed it very particularly.” Mrs. Bennet continued with wonder in her voice.
“And what is more, he did not dance with his hostess at all. I overheard Miss Bingley quite put out because of it. Nor with those fine ladies from London who were so much admired. I noticed it immediately. Such a thing cannot happen by accident.”
Kitty leaned forward. “Perhaps he did not admire them.”
“My dear Kitty, that is exactly what I mean!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed triumphantly. “His opinion has changed entirely. I have long suspected as much.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “You believe Mr. Darcy’s opinions are so easily altered?”
“I believe,” Mrs. Bennet replied with conviction, “that he has discovered what everyone else already knew – that you are a very handsome girl.”
“I was not aware that such a discovery required so much dancing to confirm it.”
“A mother notices such things.”
Elizabeth laughed. “And all at once, I am handsome?”