Chapter 17 #2
“Oh, yes. Mary has learnt a great deal about how to keep a house. And I will make sure she is prepared before the wedding.” Mrs. Bennet added.
Mary looked thoughtful and inclined her head. “I shall endeavour to remember it, sir. Thank you, Mama.”
“I have no doubt that you will succeed.” Darcy finished.
Mr. Bennet, who had been observing this exchange with quiet interest, set down his glass.
“Mary, my dear,” he said, “you are now provided with advice from two authorities – your future husband, and a gentleman who has had the advantage of observing his patroness. Between them, you cannot fail of direction.”
Mary received this with seriousness. “I shall do my best, Papa.”
Elizabeth, who could not trust herself to speak, kept her attention fixed upon her plate, though she was sensible – very sensible – of the gentleman beside her.
For a few moments, conversation resumed its general course. Elizabeth allowed herself to breathe. She had nearly succeeded in persuading herself that she could sit quietly and behave as though nothing at all had changed.
It was at that very moment that Darcy spoke again. “Miss Elizabeth,” he said, in a tone so natural that it might almost have passed unnoticed, “may I assist you?”
She had reached for a dish at the same time as he had.
Their hands came very near.
Elizabeth drew hers back at once. “I thank you, sir.”
Darcy served her without further remark.
Yet the smallest pause followed, and Elizabeth felt it.
She did not look at him.
“Lizzy, my dear,” said Mrs. Bennet, “you are eating nothing. You must take more. Mr. Darcy will think we starve you.”
Elizabeth forced a smile. “I assure you, Mama, I am very well provided for.”
Darcy said quietly, “I should not presume to form such a judgement.”
Elizabeth risked a glance toward him.
His expression was perfectly composed.
It was most provoking.
Mr. Bennet, who appeared to find the whole scene of some private amusement, addressed Darcy with deliberate ease.
“I hope, sir, that our humble table does not suffer too much in comparison with those to which you are accustomed.”
“I find it entirely agreeable,” Darcy replied.
“That is fortunate,” said Mr. Bennet. “For we cannot compete with Rosings.”
Darcy inclined his head slightly. “Few houses attempt it.”
Elizabeth bent her head quickly, though she could not prevent the faintest smile.
The conversation moved on, yet Elizabeth remained acutely aware of everything that passed beside her.
Once – only once – she allowed herself to look at him directly.
Darcy was already looking at her.
There was nothing in his expression that could have been remarked upon by any other person at the table – nothing but composure, and the same quiet attentiveness he had shown throughout.
And yet – she felt it.
The understanding. He knew that she knew.
Elizabeth looked away at once, her composure shaken in a manner she could not entirely account for.
When luncheon at last drew to a close, Mrs. Bennet declared herself quite fatigued by the exertion of the morning and proposed that they return to the parlour.
Darcy rose immediately, as did the others.
As they left the room, Elizabeth found herself walking beside him once more.
Neither spoke.
Yet the silence between them was no longer uncertain.
It was… different.
And though Elizabeth could not yet name the feeling that accompanied it, she knew – very certainly – that something had begun which could not easily be undone.
***
When at last the rain began to lessen, and the steady drumming against the windows softened into a mere whisper, Darcy rose.
“I fear I must take my leave,” he said.
Mrs. Bennet looked at him with immediate concern. “Leave? In such weather? Mr. Darcy, I cannot think of it. The roads will be quite dreadful, and you will certainly be soaked again before you reach Netherfield.”
“I thank you, madam,” he replied, “but I have already trespassed long upon your hospitality. My horse is prepared, and I shall have no difficulty.”
“But indeed you must stay a little longer! The clouds may yet clear entirely.”
Darcy smiled slightly. “I am accustomed to less favourable conditions, I assure you.”
Mrs. Bennet, though reluctant, could not press him further without risking impropriety. “Well, if you must go… But you must promise to send word when you arrive safely.”
“I shall do so.”
They moved into the hall.
Elizabeth had not intended to follow. Yet she found herself rising, almost without awareness of the decision, and joining them.
Hill brought Darcy’s coat, fresh and dry from brushing and having been kept near a fire. He thanked her and put it on with composed ease, though Elizabeth noticed that his movements were not quite as unthinking as usual.
For a moment, there was the small, ordinary confusion of departure – Mrs. Bennet repeating her cautions, Kitty and Lydia hovering with curiosity, Jane offering quiet civility.
And then, somehow, Elizabeth found herself standing nearer to him than the others.
Darcy turned slightly toward her. “Miss Elizabeth.”
She hesitated.
“I wished to thank you,” he said quietly, “for your company this morning.”
Elizabeth lowered her eyes, suddenly uncertain of herself in a way that was entirely new.
“It was… not disagreeable,” she said, and almost smiled at the inadequacy of the expression.
Darcy’s expression softened.
There was a brief pause.
Elizabeth clasped her hands together, as though to steady them. “This is…” she began and then stopped.
Darcy waited.
She forced herself to continue, though her voice was quieter than she intended. “This is a new situation for me. I do not quite know how I am to behave.”
Darcy looked at her steadily – without surprise, without amusement. “I would not wish you to alter your behaviour on my account.”
Elizabeth glanced up at him. “I think that may be impossible.”
Something like a smile touched his expression.
“This is new for me also,” he said, more quietly. “And I confess I am looking forward to it.”
Elizabeth felt her breath catch, though she could not have said why.
He continued, more gently, “There is no haste required of you. I would not have you uneasy.”
She met his gaze then, more fully. “I am not uneasy,” she said – then, after the smallest pause, “only… unaccustomed.”
“That is easily remedied,” he replied.
Elizabeth’s lips curved, though faintly. “You speak as though it were a simple matter.”
“I believe it may become so.”
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then, from behind them, Mrs. Bennet’s voice rose again:
“Mr. Darcy, you must not delay! The ground will only worsen!”
Darcy inclined his head slightly, though his eyes remained on Elizabeth longer.
“I must go.”
Elizabeth stepped back, though reluctantly. “Yes.”
He bowed to the company, then to her.
Elizabeth returned it, though not without a slight hesitation.
The door was opened. A breath of cool, damp air entered the hall.
Darcy paused only once more, just at the threshold. “Till next time, Miss Elizabeth.”
Her heart gave a small, unexpected movement. “Till next time, sir.”
He was gone.
Elizabeth stood for a moment longer, her gaze fixed upon the closed door. Then, becoming aware of herself, she turned back to the room though not quite as she had left it.
***
Miss Bingley had rarely found the prospect of Sunday service so little agreeable.
“We have scarcely seen Mr. Darcy these past days,” she said, arranging her gloves with more precision than was necessary.
“And now I am told he has taken to riding out again – in such weather. It is quite unaccountable.”
Mr. Hurst, who had just seated himself with visible reluctance, gave a faint shrug. “Perhaps he prefers the exercise.”
“To what?” Caroline returned. “To rational society?”
Mrs. Hurst, who had already perceived the direction of her sister’s temper, interposed gently. “My dear Caroline, you must not exaggerate. Mr. Darcy has always been fond of riding.”
“I do not exaggerate,” said Caroline coolly. “I observe.”
At that moment, the church door opened. Caroline turned at once.
Mr. Darcy had arrived.
Her expression brightened – only to change the very next instant. For, without so much as a passing glance toward their pew, Darcy moved with quiet decision across the aisle.
To the Bennets.
Caroline sat perfectly still.
“What,” she said at last, very quietly, “can he be about?”
Mr. Hurst followed her gaze. “Paying his respects, I suppose.”
“To them?” Caroline’s composure faltered. “A family with whom we are scarcely connected – and after… his former opinions.” She stopped herself, though not before the memory of former expressions rose sharply to mind.
Mrs. Hurst laid a light hand upon her arm. “My dear sister, Mr. Darcy is at liberty to speak with whom he pleases.”
“Certainly,” Caroline replied, with measured restraint. “But one may still be surprised at the direction of his attention.”
Mr. Hurst, with the faintest trace of amusement, added, “Perhaps it is very deliberately directed.”
Caroline turned to him with visible displeasure, but before she could reply, Mrs. Hurst said quietly, “Pray, let us attend.”
Darcy, meanwhile, had joined the Bennet family with an ease that admitted of no hesitation.
His manner was composed – perfectly so – yet there was a steadiness in his attention, particularly when he addressed Miss Elizabeth Bennet, which did not escape notice.
It had certainly not escaped Miss Bingley.
He had dined at Netherfield the evening before. Miss Bingley had spared no effort to render the evening agreeable. Music had been proposed, conversation guided, attentions offered with all her accustomed elegance.
Yet none of it had succeeded in engaging him. For though he had been present, he had not been occupied.
His thoughts had returned, more than once, to a pair of lively eyes – eyes which, of late, had been lowered more often than raised, and when raised, with a softness he had not previously observed.