Chapter 11 Resignation - Elizabeth #2
I finally tried several sallies into discussion of the number of couples, the decorations, the benefits of a private ball over a public assembly, and the like.
I refrained from pointing out that evidence suggested the man would insult me in the latter and dance with me in the former, as I doubted he even remembered the initial slight.
He had never apologized, nor in any way shown he regretted his words, and I suspected he had convinced himself I had not heard them, so decided to let sleeping dogs lie.
He might even have forgotten them as just one more unpleasant encounter among hundreds in a society he was obviously uncomfortable in.
I briefly wondered what I would do if I were in his place, listening to all the matchmaking mamas blathering about my income.
It would be even worse than what Jane endures with her beauty.
The man was just starting to thaw, much to my relief, as I had come to enjoy conversing with him, and I strongly suspected he enjoyed talking to someone willing to disagree, which I assumed was somewhat novel.
I was trying to come up with a topic less fraught than Mr Denny when Sir William interrupted us.
The man was not as disguised as Mr Hurst or Lydia were likely to be, but he was working his way in that direction.
Sir William naturally blathered on about our so-called superior dancing, which was putting it a bit thick.
Mr Darcy was graceful and light on his feet (much to my surprise), which made him an excellent dance partner, but otherwise it was not anything out of the ordinary for two young people such as us.
Thus far, all we had done was demonstrate that we had one of Miss Bingley’s seven skills required for an accomplished woman.
Sir William subsequently earned one of my rare frowns when he blathered on for some time about Mr Bingley and Jane and the ‘happy event’ everyone was expecting.
My own opinion was that ‘everyone’ should mind their own affairs, but gossip never heeded my wishes.
People would gossip, and there seemed every chance my own family would be among the worst offenders.
The moment came when Mr Darcy startled, as if the idea that Mr Bingley created the dreaded expectations had never occurred to him.
After that, I entirely lost his focus. He was polite and attentive, and I had to admit his voice was still the best I ever heard, but his attention was on his friend while his answers were rote. He did not look happy!
We ended with the usual politeness, but his actions when walking away were perplexing, to say the least. He seemed to want to say something but found an embargo on every subject.
He vacillated between giving me looks that might be considered something like ‘longing’ in another man, but in him they mostly looked confused, as if he had never developed any ability to comprehend that there were things he could not have.
What he wanted that he could not have was a complete mystery to me, since he could not possibly long for me.
I sat out the supper set with a weak excuse and spent the time watching the proceedings with ever growing horror.
My mortification increased apace through the dance and thence through supper.
The subject of his preoccupation had obviously moved from me to Jane, and I disliked the way he examined her.
If I had to speculate, I would assume he was absorbing the idea that Mr Bingley had made expectations, and if I had to guess, either he had worked out who Jane was, or more likely, engaged on the fool’s errand of trying to discern her feelings.
Since that task was beyond even me, he had not the slightest hope of success.
That said, a man like him would assume he understood a woman’s heart after a few hours of observation, and I became convinced he might interfere.
While I liked Mr Bingley, I had to admit he had his faults, and lack of resolution was one.
He really should have taken his sisters to task when they openly insulted a guest in his house, but he did not even seem to hear them. He would hear Mr Darcy though!
Supper was like entering Dante’s third or fourth circles of Hell, representing gluttony and greed respectively.
My mother ate too much, drank too much, and carried on long, loud, and endlessly about how Jane had captured the hapless Mr Bingley, and how it might ‘throw her daughters in the way of other rich men,’ and so on.
I could elaborate, as there was plenty of material to work with, but I suspect that is enough.
I tried to curb her tongue, since said gentleman was giving me a good view of the combination of handsomest and angriest man I had ever seen. Mr Darcy was nothing if not extreme.
When she finally said, well within that gentleman’s hearing, "What is Mr Darcy to me, pray, that I should be afraid of him?
I am sure we owe him no such particular civility as to be obliged to say nothing he may not like to hear," I gave it up as a lost cause and tried to work out some strategy to mitigate the damage.
Jane had finally started giving Mr Bingley the attention he had earned, but I thought it was likely too little, too late.
She was setting herself up for heartbreak, while I desperately tried to work out a way to save her.
Being near the head of the table, Jane had missed most of Mama’s blathering, as well as Papa and the younger girls.
She was also finally giving Mr Bingley some real attention, which did her awareness no favours.
After supper, Mary and Mr Collins managed to humiliate themselves, though neither were even aware of how ridiculous they were, and my father even joined the fray. Lydia and Kitty were loud, obnoxious, flirtatious, and generally too terrible for words.
By the time dancing resumed, it appeared that, had my family made an agreement to expose themselves as much as they could during the evening, it would have been impossible for them to play their parts with more spirit or finer success.
Mr Darcy looked fit to be tied, and I had no idea how to fix things.
I could not really blame him for my family’s weaknesses, but had he acted in a more gentlemanlike manner, they could have been managed.
As it was, I suspected he would drag Mr Bingley back to London at first light and it would be the last we saw of them.
I even admitted that were our positions reversed, I might well do the same, but being on the receiving end of such ire was not something I aspired to.
Something had to be done, so I sought Jane with urgency bordering on panic, and proposed a desperate plan.