Chapter 17
The Direction of His Attention
They had scarcely reached the door before the rain began in earnest.
Darcy opened it quickly, and Elizabeth passed inside, though not without turning her face slightly away from the sudden rush of cold air and rain. A few drops had already found their way beneath her bonnet, and she laughed, almost breathless, as they entered the hall.
“Well,” she said, removing her gloves, “we have not escaped entirely.”
Darcy glanced at her with a faint smile. “I fear I am responsible for that.”
Before she could answer, the parlour door opened, and Mrs. Bennet appeared.
“My dear Lizzy!” she exclaimed at once. “You are quite damp! I knew it – I was certain the weather would turn. I said so not ten minutes ago. Mr. Darcy, how could you think of taking her out when the clouds were so threatening?”
Darcy bowed slightly. “I must beg your pardon, madam. The fault is entirely mine.”
“Well, I dare say it is,” said Mrs. Bennet, though not displeased by his civility. “Lizzy, you must go upstairs immediately and change. You will certainly catch cold if you remain so. Hill! Hill!”
Elizabeth attempted to protest. “Mama, I assure you…”
“No, no, I will not hear of it. You are quite damp, I can see it plainly. And after such weather! It is most improper. Hill will bring you something warm. Pray do not delay.”
Elizabeth, who knew resistance to be useless, inclined her head. “Very well, Mama.”
She glanced once toward Darcy, and for a brief moment their eyes met again. There was something in his expression – half amusement, half concern – that made her turn away more quickly than she intended.
“I shall return presently,” she said, and left the room.
By the time Elizabeth returned, the house had resumed its usual order, though the sound of steady rain against the windows lent everything a quieter tone.
Darcy was no longer in the parlour.
“He is with Father in the book room,” said Jane, as Elizabeth entered. “Mama thought it very proper that he should not sit idle.”
Elizabeth felt a slight, unaccountable awareness at this. “Indeed?”
“Yes – and Papa seemed very well pleased with the arrangement.”
Elizabeth could not help smiling faintly.
In the book room, Mr. Bennet had received his guest with more attention than he was accustomed to bestow.
“I hope, Mr. Darcy,” he said, as he closed the door, “that you do not regret your walk in our garden, however brief it may have proved.”
“Not in the least, sir.”
Mr. Bennet regarded him for a moment over the edge of his spectacles. “Rain, I have observed, often brings matters to a conclusion which might otherwise have lingered.”
Darcy met his gaze calmly. “That has been my experience as well.”
“Indeed?” said Mr. Bennet. “Then I may hope that your morning has not been entirely unproductive.”
“I believe it has been… most satisfactory.”
Mr. Bennet allowed himself the smallest inclination of the head. “I am glad to hear it.”
He took up a book, though he did not immediately open it. “You must not suppose, sir, that I intend to subject you to interrogation. I have already given my consent where it was required.”
Darcy bowed slightly. “I am sensible of your kindness.”
“Kindness has very little to do with it,” returned Mr. Bennet dryly. “But I have a particular regard for my daughter’s happiness, and I think it best not to stand in the way of it – provided she is of the same opinion.”
“I would not wish her to be otherwise.”
“Very proper,” said Mr. Bennet, opening his book at last. “We shall then leave the matter in her hands. Why do you not choose a book?”
They occupied themselves in such a way. At one point, Mr. Bennet looked up from his book. “She is not indifferent.”
Darcy looked up then, unable entirely to disguise his attention.
“I am obliged to you for your candour, sir.”
“Do not thank me too soon,” said Mr. Bennet. “My daughter has a mind of her own.”
“I should expect nothing less,” Darcy replied, with a faint, thoughtful seriousness. “And I would not value her the less for it.”
This said, he returned to his book – though with little success in attending to it.
***
Meanwhile, Jane had not allowed Elizabeth many moments of composure. “Lizzy,” she said gently, “you must come with me.”
Elizabeth, who had scarcely seated herself, looked at her in mild surprise. “Must I?”
“Yes,” said Jane, with a smile that was both affectionate and resolute. “I cannot be satisfied without speaking to you.”
Elizabeth hesitated only a moment before rising. “Very well.”
Jane led her from the room into a smaller parlour, closing the door behind them. For a moment, she said nothing, but only looked at her sister with an expression of quiet expectation.
Elizabeth felt herself colour slightly beneath that gaze. “Well, Jane,” she said at last, attempting lightness, “you appear to have something to ask me.”
“I have a great many things to ask you,” Jane replied, still smiling. “But I will begin with only one.”
Elizabeth waited.
Jane’s voice softened. “What has passed between you and Mr. Darcy?”
Elizabeth turned away briefly, walking slowly toward the window. The rain traced soft lines upon the glass.
“Has Papa not already told you something?”
“He has told me nothing,” said Jane. “But he has behaved in such a way that I cannot doubt there is something to be told. He did not really need to talk to me.”
Elizabeth could not help laughing quietly. “I am sorry.”
Jane came a step closer. “Lizzy… he asked Papa’s permission, did he not?”
Elizabeth did not answer immediately. Then, after a moment, she inclined her head. “Yes.”
Jane’s eyes widened, though her expression was all warmth. “And you?”
Elizabeth hesitated. “He has not asked for my answer,” she said at last. “At least – not yet.”
“But he wishes for it.”
“Yes.”
Jane took her hand. “Extraordinary. And what do you wish?”
Elizabeth looked at her sister, and for once, there was no attempt at wit in her expression. “I do not yet know,” she said honestly. “Only… that I do not wish him to give up just yet.”
Jane’s smile deepened. “Then I think you know more than you suppose.”
Elizabeth shook her head slightly, though she smiled in return. “Perhaps. But I should like to understand my own mind before I am required to declare it.”
“And he is willing to wait?”
“He said he was.”
Jane’s expression grew thoughtful. “Oh, Lizzy! Just imagine… He must be very much in earnest.”
Elizabeth turned again toward the window, though she was no longer looking at the rain. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I believe he is.”
***
By the time Elizabeth and Jane returned to the parlour, the house had settled into its usual rhythm, though the steady fall of rain lent the morning an air of quiet enclosure.
Mr. Bennet soon joined them, followed shortly by Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth, who had not expected to see him again so soon after their walk, felt a renewed awareness at his entrance.
He bowed to the company with his usual composure, though when his eyes met hers, there was something in his expression – calmer now, yet no less intent – that made her look away more quickly than she wished.
Mrs. Bennet received him with undiminished civility. “Mr. Darcy, we are quite honoured that you remain with us. Such dreadful weather! You must not think of venturing out again until it improves.”
“I am very comfortable here, madam,” he replied.
“Indeed, you must stay for luncheon. It would be quite impossible to send you away in such rain.”
Darcy inclined his head. “You are most obliging.”
Luncheon was soon announced. They all assembled around the table.
Elizabeth seated herself, endeavouring to appear entirely composed. Jane, however, after a brief hesitation, chose a place beside her mother instead.
The consequence was immediate.
Darcy, after the slightest pause, took the vacant seat at Elizabeth’s side.
She became suddenly conscious of how little distance the arrangement allowed – she was very much aware of the quiet steadiness of his presence, the faint scent of rain still clinging to his coat. She fixed her attention resolutely upon her plate.
For a time, the conversation proceeded in its usual manner, Mrs. Bennet directing it with cheerful determination.
Darcy spoke when spoken to, attentive and polite, though Elizabeth could not help noticing that, whenever the conversation allowed, his attention returned quietly to her side of the table.
She told herself it was only imagination.
It was not a very convincing argument.
At length, Darcy turned toward Mary. “Miss Mary, allow me to offer my sincere congratulations.”
Mary looked both surprised and pleased. “You are very kind, sir.”
“I understand you are shortly to remove to Hunsford,” he continued. “The parsonage there is, I believe, very comfortably situated.”
“Yes,” said Mary, with modest gravity. “Mr. Collins has described it in very favourable terms.”
“Rosings Park lies near,” Darcy added, with composed civility. “My aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, resides there, and takes a particular interest in all that concerns the parish.”
Elizabeth, hearing this, could not help a slight movement of her eyes in his direction.
Darcy continued, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching his expression. “My aunt is accustomed to offering her advice – freely, and with great confidence in its value.”
Mary listened with earnest attention.
“Such guidance,” he went on, “may, I think, always be received with respect…”
“Yes, it is very important to listen to our elders.” Mrs. Bennet nodded. “Mary is a very obedient girl.”
Darcy inclined his head toward Mrs. Bennet, but then he turned back to Mary. “Yet there are occasions when one must rely upon one’s own judgement.”
Elizabeth lowered her gaze, though not before a spark of amusement passed through her eyes.
“A lady,” Darcy added, “is best qualified to understand the comfort and order of her own household.”