Chapter 12 #4
“Well, as I have said. You are not as handsome as Jane, but then nobody is. But you have a very pretty face, and when you smile, your eyes shine. I can see a man notice that.”
Mr. Bennet, who had listened to the discussion with quiet amusement, now spoke for the first time.
“I rather suspect that Mr. Darcy never meant his remark at Meryton half so seriously as it has since been repeated.”
Lydia turned toward him at once. “Not mean it? But, Papa, he said she was tolerable! Nothing could be plainer.”
Mr. Bennet smiled slightly. “A gentleman who says a young lady is tolerable may, upon further acquaintance, find her considerably more than that.”
Elizabeth regarded her father with curiosity. “And you suppose Mr. Darcy has already arrived at such a conclusion?”
Mr. Bennet took a sip of his wine before replying. “My dear Lizzy, I merely observe that a gentleman who dances with the same lady first at a ball seldom does so without some reason.”
Mrs. Bennet nodded eagerly. “There! You hear your father. If only he could fall in love with her.”
Elizabeth only smiled and returned her attention to her plate, though she could not help reflecting that Mr. Darcy’s reasons were perhaps not quite so easily guessed.
Across the table, Mr. Collins cleared his throat with solemn deliberation.
“I must warn you, Cousin,” he began, “that the attentions of a gentleman of Mr. Darcy’s consequence cannot be taken in any other way than condescension. He was, I am sure, merely polite, even if it is flattering…”
Elizabeth felt the sting of his unwanted comment, more than she expected. “Mr. Collins,” Elizabeth said with composure. However, there was a firmness in her voice that could not be mistaken, “I do not require your advice on the interpretation of a gentleman’s civility.”
Mr. Collins blinked, visibly surprised that his well-meant guidance should be received in such a manner.
“I merely intended, cousin,” he replied with grave politeness, “to prevent any misunderstanding. A gentleman of Mr. Darcy’s distinguished rank cannot always be supposed to act from motives easily understood by those not accustomed to such society.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth as though to answer, but Mr. Bennet intervened.
“My dear Mr. Collins,” said he lazily, “I believe Lizzy has survived the dangers of dancing with a gentleman of fortune once already. I see no immediate reason to fear for her safety.”
Mr. Collins was about to reply but thought better of it as he glanced at Miss Mary. He was reassured of his earlier decision. Miss Mary suited him better, even if she was not as handsome as her elder sisters. She was safe from some gentlemen’s notice.
“It is always my duty,” he yet continued with solemn earnestness, “to guard against impropriety wherever it might arise.”
Mary, who had been listening with great seriousness, nodded slightly as though this principle deserved general approval.
Mr. Bennet, observing their expressions, leaned back in his chair with quiet satisfaction. The subject of the Netherfield ball, he suspected, would provide entertainment for several days yet.
Elizabeth, seeing that further argument would only encourage him, returned her attention to her plate.
Mrs. Bennet, meanwhile, had no patience for any topic that diminished her present satisfaction.
“Well, whatever Mr. Darcy’s motives may be,” she declared briskly, “he behaved vastly better than he did at Meryton, and that is all I care about. I am convinced he has altered his opinion entirely. It may be that our dinner invitation did the trick as he saw our family in such a spectacle.” She nodded as if to convince herself of her own opinion.
Mr. Bennet raised his brows. “Then the neighbourhood may rest easy. Mr. Darcy’s opinions appear to be of considerable importance.”
“They are when they concern my daughters,” Mrs. Bennet said.
Mr. Bennet regarded Elizabeth with a look of quiet amusement. “My dear Lizzy, it seems you have quite improved your consequence in the county.”
Elizabeth laughed. “If that is the case, Papa, I must endeavour not to lose it.”
Lydia leaned forward eagerly. “Perhaps he will dance with you again at the next ball!”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Pray do not arrange my future engagements quite so hastily.”
But though she spoke lightly, the recollection of the evening returned to her mind: Darcy’s unexpected civility, the steadiness with which he had answered her mother, and the curious expression in his eyes when they had last looked at one another.
Elizabeth dismissed the thought almost immediately.
There were far safer subjects for reflection than Mr. Darcy.
After the meal had ended and the company began to disperse, Mr. Bennet rose with the unhurried composure which usually accompanied his movements. “Lizzy,” said he, pausing by the door, “when you are at liberty, you may come to me in my book room. I have something to tell you.”
Elizabeth looked up in mild surprise. Her father’s invitations to private conversation were not common, and when they did occur, they generally promised some degree of entertainment. She rose shortly after and followed him down the passage.
Mr. Bennet had already established himself comfortably in his chair when she entered. A book lay open in his hand, though he appeared to have forgotten it the moment she arrived.
Elizabeth seated herself opposite him. “You alarm my curiosity, Papa.”
“I thought you should know this. Last Saturday evening, after the ladies had withdrawn, I had some conversation with Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth raised her brows slightly. “Indeed?”
“Yes. I discovered, to my surprise, that the gentleman is capable of speaking when properly encouraged.” He regarded her with mild curiosity. “If you took his rude comment at the assembly to heart…”
“I did not.”
“Oh, then it was all for nothing,” said Mr. Bennet calmly. “In that case, I have nothing to tell you.”
He made a show of returning to his book.
Elizabeth leaned forward. “What was said?”
Mr. Bennet set the book aside again, removed his spectacles, and began polishing them with deliberate care.
“Well?”
Mr. Bennet regarded her with a faintly amused expression. “He was very contrite,” said he at last. “He admitted that he had been very much in the wrong.”
Elizabeth blinked. “He said that?”
“Yes, my dear, he did. I was quite impressed. Gentlemen of his sort do not often enjoy being reminded of their mistakes.”
Elizabeth sat back, considering this. “And what precisely did he say?”
Mr. Bennet replaced his spectacles. “That his judgement, in that instance, had been neither just nor accurate – and that he hoped to correct it.”
Elizabeth said nothing for a moment.
“That is… unexpectedly reasonable.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Bennet. “I thought so too. Particularly as the error concerned my daughter.”
Elizabeth smiled despite herself. “You seem to have defended me with great spirit, Papa.”
“My dear Lizzy,” he replied mildly, “a father must occasionally vindicate his family’s beauty.”
Elizabeth rose at last, still smiling. Yet as she left the room, she found herself reflecting upon what she had heard. Mr. Darcy had admitted he was wrong. Such a confession did not suit the opinion she had formed of him.
And yet – she remembered the steadiness with which he had risen to her challenge at dinner, and the way he looked at her the night before when she caught his glance.
Elizabeth shook her head at herself. Mr. Darcy was not a gentleman whose character ought to occupy her thoughts. But she could not entirely prevent them from doing so.