Chapter Twenty
By the time the company had finished taking refreshments, the music room had been arranged for the debate.
The pianoforte had been pushed back against the wall and the rows of gilt chairs usually reserved for concerts had been turned to face the shallow alcove at the front of the room.
There, two low platforms had been placed several yards apart, each furnished with a narrow table and a glass of water.
They faced the company at a slight angle, close enough that the speakers might address one another without raising their voices, though far enough apart to give the proceedings an appearance of proper formality.
Mr Pritchard stood between them beside the Challenge ledger.
Lady Hortensia had taken possession of a seat at the centre of the front row, her cane resting across her knees and an expression of bright anticipation upon her face.
She had spent the interval refusing to reveal the subject of the debate, though Harriet had attempted to extract it from her by means of extreme flattery.
The attempt had only caused the older woman to laugh and bat her away.
The competitors crowded into the chairs before them, the ladies gathering towards Elizabeth's side and the gentlemen towards Darcy's, though the division was no longer particularly orderly.
Colonel Fitzwilliam had chosen a seat close to Jane, while Mr Hadley had contrived to sit directly behind Mrs Cartwright.
The Blackwood brothers occupied the back row, where they were exchanging wagers in low voices over which captain would speak longest.
Elizabeth made her way towards the front with Lady Frances, conscious of a pleasant flutter beneath her ribs.
She had always enjoyed a debate, particularly when her opponent was intelligent enough to make victory uncertain.
That Mr Darcy was also looking exceptionally handsome, with only one dark curl disturbed by his recent elevation, was a consideration she attempted to put aside.
He detached himself from the gentlemen as she approached and came to meet her between the platforms.
"I hope you have recovered from your triumph," Elizabeth said, a laugh escaping her. "You bore your honours with admirable dignity."
"I was not aware that you were admiring anything, Elizabeth. You seemed chiefly occupied in laughing at me."
Before she could answer, Darcy took her hand. The gesture was confident enough to surprise her, though there was nothing hurried in it. His lips touched the back of her glove and remained there just long enough to send a rush of warmth up her arm.
The effect upon the company was immediate.
"Steady, Darcy!" called Colonel Fitzwilliam. "The debate has not yet begun."
James Blackwood gave a loud approving whistle, while Mr Hadley called from the second row, "A bold opening argument, sir. I confess myself almost persuaded."
Harriet clapped her hands in delight. "Oh, excellent! Do it again."
"Harriet," Clara said, though she was laughing too much for the rebuke to carry any authority.
Elizabeth looked towards Jane in the hope of finding some sisterly support, but Jane had lowered her face behind one hand and was plainly trying not to laugh.
Lady Frances made no such attempt. "Do not allow yourself to be swayed by gallantry or a handsome face, Miss Elizabeth," she said. "The ladies are depending upon you."
Darcy released Elizabeth's hand at last, his expression composed despite the noise behind them. Only the warmth in his eyes suggested that he was enjoying her confusion.
"I fear we have attracted some attention," he said.
"We?" Elizabeth repeated. "I have done nothing but stand here while you behaved outrageously."
Lady Hortensia struck her cane several times against the floor. "That is quite enough. You are here to debate, not flirt."
The laughter rose again, and even Mr Pritchard's grave expression weakened for a moment.
Darcy bowed to Elizabeth, though the smile remained in his eyes. "We had better take our places before we are disqualified."
He offered his hand to assist her onto the low platform. Elizabeth considered refusing it, but there seemed little purpose in pretending indifference now. She placed her fingers in his, mounted the two shallow steps and took her place.
Lady Hortensia waited until the last conversation had faded before speaking.
"The captains will debate a single proposition.
Each will be given five minutes to make an opening argument, after which they may challenge one another directly.
Mr Pritchard will intervene if either of you becomes discourteous or intolerably dull.
You may begin tormenting one another when I have announced the subject. "
Mr Pritchard lifted a folded sheet of paper from the ledger and passed it to her. Lady Hortensia opened it with unnecessary ceremony, looked first at Elizabeth and then at Darcy and smiled.
"The proposition before you is this: whether constancy is always a virtue.
" Lady Hortensia continued, "Miss Elizabeth will argue that constancy is a virtue and ought to be admired.
Mr Darcy will argue that there are occasions upon which changing one's course is the wiser and more honourable choice. "
Elizabeth looked across at him again. For the first time since taking his place, Darcy's composure shifted. It was no more than a pause before he inclined his head, but she saw it.
"An interesting division," he said.
"Do not look so pleased, sir. You have yet to hear my argument."
"I look forward to being persuaded."
Lady Hortensia settled back in her chair. "Excellent. Miss Elizabeth, you may begin."
Elizabeth rested her fingertips lightly upon the table and allowed herself a moment to consider the proposition.
Lady Hortensia had given her the easier side, or so it first appeared.
Constancy was praised in sermons and novels.
Every young lady was expected to admire it, particularly when it appeared in the form of a gentleman remaining devoted over time.
Darcy was watching her with an expression of such calm interest that the familiar arguments suddenly seemed insufficient. She had no desire to offer him a collection of empty sentiments which he could dismantle before the company.
"Constancy," she began, "is often spoken of as though it were merely the refusal to change one's mind. If that were all it meant, I should find very little to defend. A child may persist in reaching for the same forbidden object all afternoon, but no one praises his steadfast character."
A few people laughed and Harriet nodded enthusiastically. Elizabeth took a deep breath and continued.
"True constancy requires judgement. It is the choice to remain faithful after the first enthusiasm has faded and every inconvenience has made itself known.
Almost anyone may be devoted when devotion costs nothing.
The real test comes when the person disappoints us, circumstances change or some easier and more attractive course appears.
Constancy is not proved by clinging blindly to the first thing one admired.
Otherwise every foolish attachment would become a virtue merely because it had lasted. "
She glanced across at Darcy. He stood with one hand resting upon the edge of his table, listening without interruption.
"We rely upon constancy every day, though we do not always give it so grand a name.
A friend trusts that affection will survive a disagreement, a family depends upon its members continuing to do their duty when it becomes tiresome and a promise is worth very little if it lasts only while keeping it is convenient.
A vow that disappears at the first difficulty is not constancy at all.
It is merely enthusiasm in its best coat. "
"Very good," murmured Lady Frances.
Sir Geoffrey turned in his chair. "Are remarks from the audience permitted?"
"No," said Lady Hortensia.
Lady Frances inclined her head without the slightest sign of repentance.
Elizabeth continued. "Without constancy, every attachment would remain uncertain.
We should never know whether a person who stood beside us today might find a more agreeable companion tomorrow.
Every difficulty would become an excuse for departure and every change of feeling a justification for broken faith. "
She paused, aware that the room had grown quieter.
"I do not argue that a person should remain constant to error merely because he has once embraced it.
But when the course is right and the obligation freely undertaken, constancy becomes more than stubbornness.
It is proof that our principles govern us even when our inclinations would carry us elsewhere. "
Darcy's gaze sharpened slightly at that, though his expression remained composed.
"There are people," Elizabeth said, "who begin every undertaking with great enthusiasm and abandon it at the first sign of discomfort.
They call themselves adaptable. Others change their loyalties whenever it becomes socially or personally advantageous and call themselves sensible.
I confess I would rather trust the person who remains steadfast."
She looked towards Lady Hortensia. "Constancy is not always easy and it is not always fashionable, but I believe it deserves admiration precisely because it asks us to value something beyond the feeling of the present moment."
The ladies applauded warmly and gave several shouts of praise and encouragement. Mr Hadley joined in from the gentlemen's side until Sir Geoffrey reminded him once again where his allegiance ought to lie.
Elizabeth inclined her head to Lady Hortensia, then looked across at Darcy. "Mr Darcy."
He bowed. "Miss Elizabeth."
There was a thoughtful pause before he began.
"I find myself in the unusual position of disagreeing with very little my opponent has said."
Mr Ashcombe let out a dissatisfied sigh. "That is hardly a promising start."