Chapter 18
The Question of Happiness
When they reached the house, Darcy made every indication of taking his leave.
“I must not trespass further upon your time, madam,” he said. “You have already been most obliging.”
“My dear Mr. Darcy, you cannot mean it,” Mrs. Bennet returned. “You must stay for luncheon. It would be quite improper to send you away so soon.”
Darcy bowed. “You are very kind, but I would not…”
He paused.
Elizabeth had turned toward him, and their eyes met.
It was only a moment – yet something in her expression, quiet and unguarded, was very easily understood.
Darcy’s answer followed at once. “In that case, I shall remain.”
Elizabeth smiled – not at the invitation, but at his readiness to accept it.
The weather, however, was not inclined to favour his departure.
Before the hour of luncheon had quite passed, the sky darkened once more, and the rain returned with a steadiness that made any immediate leave-taking entirely impractical.
Mrs. Bennet declared herself both surprised and justified and insisted that Mr. Darcy must on no account think of venturing out again.
Darcy, who might earlier have found such confinement irksome, now submitted to it with perfect composure.
To pass the time, a book was produced – not, as might have been expected, a work of improving seriousness, but a novel, which Lydia pressed upon him with unceremonious eagerness.
Elizabeth watched with some curiosity.
She half expected hesitation – perhaps even polite resistance. Yet Darcy accepted it without the smallest appearance of reluctance.
“If you will allow me,” he said, and began to read.
His voice, though naturally steady, soon took on a warmth and variation that surprised her.
There was nothing stiff in it, nothing of mere obligation.
He entered into the story with an ease that gave it life, distinguishing each character with subtlety and rendering even the lighter passages with a quiet humour that did not escape her notice.
Elizabeth found herself listening more attentively than she intended.
That he should read well did not astonish her; that he should read a novel so willingly – and with such animation – did.
She had not thought him a man to be easily persuaded into such a task. Nor, she reflected, one to perform it half-heartedly.
And yet – he was both easily persuaded and entirely in earnest.
***
On Monday, at an hour which Mrs. Bennet declared most suitable for a morning visit – though it was already approaching noon – the ladies of Longbourn set out for Netherfield.
They were received with all proper civility.
Miss Bingley, though evidently unprepared for such an intrusion upon her morning, exerted herself to appear gracious; Mrs. Hurst followed her example with somewhat less effort. Tea was offered, chairs arranged, and conversation begun with all the usual forms.
Darcy joined them soon after their arrival.
Miss Bingley, who had watched his approach with particular attention, observed the direction of his glance and was not entirely pleased by it; though she spoke as before, her manner acquired a degree of animation that was less natural than usual.
His manner was composed – perfectly so – yet not indifferent. He addressed Mrs. Bennet with civility, Jane with ease, and the younger sisters with a polite attention that did not encourage excess familiarity.
Yet it did not escape notice, least of all Miss Bingley’s, that his attention, whenever disengaged, returned quietly and with constancy to Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
Caroline observed – she could not do otherwise.
Her attention, once engaged, refused to withdraw, fastening upon them with a restless and unwilling constancy.
A hollow dissatisfaction settled upon her as the truth forced itself upon her: Mr. Darcy’s regard was no longer her own to command but wholly directed elsewhere.
Yet she could not persuade herself that he would act upon it – surely, he would not go so far.
The visit proceeded in this manner for some time, until, at a natural pause in the conversation, Darcy rose.
“I intend to take a short walk,” he said, with an ease that might almost have passed unnoticed. “If any of the ladies should wish to join me, I should be happy to attend them.”
There was the smallest pause.
“Excepting, of course, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst,” he added, with composed civility, “who must not be deprived of their duties as hostesses.”
The distinction was made so naturally as to admit of no objection.
Miss Bingley smiled – though not without effort. “You are very considerate, Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth rose. “I should like some air,” she said.
Mrs. Bennet, who might once have objected, now merely nodded. “Yes, yes, my dear – a little air will do you good. Only do not go too far.”
Darcy offered his arm. Elizabeth accepted it. They left the room together.
For some moments after their departure, conversation continued – though not without interruption.
Mrs. Bennet, who had seated herself near the window, glanced out with an air of growing satisfaction.
“They are very fond of walking, I think,” she observed. “Mr. Darcy has taken a great deal of exercise of late, and Lizzy always preferred it to sitting still. It is quite a fortunate agreement.”
Kitty looked at Lydia. They started to giggle.
“Oh, Mama.”
“What is it, Lydia?”
“Mama, do you not see that they are courting?”
Kitty gave a small laugh.
Mrs. Bennet turned at once. “Courting? Nonsense, child! What an idea. Mr. Darcy – and Lizzy…” She stopped. “Mr. Darcy! ten thousand a year… Why would you say such a thing?”
Lydia rolled her eyes. “Mama, they have had several walks together. You remember last Sunday? And he seems to enjoy our parlour. I think it is obvious.”
Mrs. Bennet opened her mouth, but no words followed. When she looked at her eldest daughter, Jane nodded.
The effect was immediate.
“God bless me! How did I not see this? Mr. Darcy and our Lizzy.”
Miss Bingley sat very still. Mrs. Hurst’s composure did not entirely conceal her attention. “Such conclusions,” said she, with measured restraint, “are, I think, rather premature.”
“Very much so,” added Mrs. Hurst.
Caroline’s smile, though perfectly arranged, did not reach her eyes.
“Indeed, I cannot imagine upon what foundation such an idea could rest. Mr. Darcy has always shown himself most particular in his attentions. To suppose that he should form an attachment so suddenly – and in such a manner – is quite… extraordinary, I must think.”
Lydia, wholly undeterred, replied, “I do not think it sudden at all. He has been at Longbourn very often, and he always finds something to say to Lizzy.”
Kitty nodded. “And he asked her to walk just now.”
“That proves nothing,” Caroline returned quickly. “And he did not even address himself to her in particular. A gentleman may offer such civilities without the least intention beyond them.”
“Especially,” added Mrs. Hurst, “when circumstances require politeness.”
Lydia laughed. “If that is politeness, I should like to see what comes next.”
Caroline’s composure faltered for the briefest moment. “You mistake entirely. Mr. Darcy is not a man to act without consideration. His connections, his family – his expectations…” She stopped herself, though not before the implication was clear.
Mrs. Bennet, however, was no longer attending to her. Her eyes had already moved back to Jane. She rose. “I believe,” she said, with sudden resolution, “that I shall take a little air.”
***
Darcy and Elizabeth had not gone far.
They walked at an easy pace, their conversation quiet and unforced – each perhaps more aware of the other than of the path before them.
It was Elizabeth who first perceived the approach. She stopped. Darcy stopped at once beside her.
Mrs. Bennet was advancing toward them with a degree of purpose that admitted of no misunderstanding.
She said nothing as she came near. Instead, she halted directly before them. For a moment, she only looked.
First at Elizabeth. Then at Darcy.
Then again at Elizabeth. And again at Darcy.
The silence was not a comfortable one.
Elizabeth felt the colour rise in her cheeks. Darcy, though perfectly composed, did not immediately speak. They exchanged a glance – instinctive, unguarded – and as quickly returned their attention to Mrs. Bennet.
She looked from one to the other once more. Then, with all the directness of her character, she asked:
“Are you two courting?”
Darcy did not hesitate. He turned slightly toward Elizabeth before answering. “I hope to be so, madam,” he said, “with Miss Elizabeth’s consent.”
Elizabeth’s colour deepened.
Mrs. Bennet gasped. “Consent! Lizzy!”
Elizabeth, with effort, steadied herself. “You must not be in such haste, Mama. Indeed, Mr. Darcy and I are courting. We wish to determine whether we suit one another.”
Mrs. Bennet gave another gasp and placed her hand before her mouth, though some inarticulate sound still escaped. “If you suit?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“I never considered. Oh, Mr. Darcy, Lizzy is a good girl, very clever indeed…”
“You do not need to convince me, Mrs. Bennet. I am very sensible of her beauty, too.”
“Oh, she is-she is very beautiful, Mr. Darcy. How good of you to notice. What am I saying? Of course, you noticed it. Well, do not stand here. Walk on, pray – and talk.”
What was there to talk about? she asked herself, as she walked away, still in a daze.
She could hardly account for it. A man worth ten thousand and likely more, and a big estate in the north.
Good Lord, she thought suddenly, how fortunate that Mr. Collins turned towards Mary.
It would have been a most unfortunate waste.
For a few moments, neither spoke. Then Elizabeth said, with a quiet attempt at composure, “I believe we may safely conclude that my mother knows.”
Darcy glanced at her. “I believe we may. Does this trouble you?”