CHAPTER 9 #4
Miss de Bourgh, who had hitherto spoken little, was not inattentive.
There was in her manner a restrained curiosity which suggested that the evening, however governed by form, was not without its personal significance.
When she addressed Elizabeth, it was with a gentleness which had gained something of confidence.
“You must find our situation very different from your own, Miss Bennet,” Anne said. “We have less variety—but perhaps not less quiet.”
“There is much to recommend quiet,” Elizabeth replied, with a sincerity which surprised even herself; “particularly when it is chosen, and not imposed.”
Miss de Bourgh received this with a look of understanding which required no further explanation.
Lady Catherine, though she did not immediately comment, appeared not displeased.
“Quiet,” she said, after a pause, “is often undervalued by those who have not been accustomed to it. It is not incompatible with society—when properly regulated.”
“Nor with enjoyment,” Mr. Bennet added, with such moderation of manner that the remark passed without offence.
The second course was introduced; and with it came a further easing of the party.
Mr. Collins, emboldened by continued success, ventured upon a comparison between the arrangements at Rosings and those of other houses; but though his expressions were ample, they were received with sufficient patience to prevent his exceeding the bounds of indulgence.
Elizabeth, observing him, could not but reflect that his happiness, however easily secured, was at least genuine; and the reflection, joined to the general tone of the evening, contributed to a sense of quiet satisfaction which she had not expected to feel.
Mr. Darcy, on his side, was less occupied with the table than might have been supposed.
His notice, though properly engaged by the table, returned more than once—without apparent intention—to Elizabeth; and if his manner remained composed, it was not without a degree of engagement which, though slight, was more apparent to himself than he cared to examine.
Once, when the servants passed between them, their eyes met again; and though neither smiled, there was in the mutual recognition something less uncertain than before.
The conversation turned, by a natural transition, to travel; and Mr. Bennet, seizing the moment, spoke with a lightness which yet carried purpose.
“We have been so much gratified by what we have seen,” he said, “that I begin to fear our own county may appear somewhat diminished upon our return.”
“That is not to be supposed,” Lady Catherine replied. “Every place has its advantages.”
“Undoubtedly,” he returned; “and I should be most happy to have them fairly appreciated by those who have shown us so much civility. If, at any time, your engagements should permit a visit to Hertfordshire, I can answer for a reception not unworthy of the attention we have received here.”
The proposal, though modestly expressed, was not without effect.
Lady Catherine regarded him with a steadiness which suggested both consideration and surprise.
“Hertfordshire,” she repeated. “It is not a direction in which I am frequently called—but I do not say that it is impossible. You are very obliging, Mr. Bennet.”
“I should not presume to expect more, madam,” Mr. Bennet said and bowed.
Mr. Darcy, who had listened in silence, did not immediately speak; yet there was in his manner a slight alteration which Elizabeth could not wholly overlook.
Anne, more simply, said, “I should like to see it once, Mama.”
Elizabeth met her with a look of warmth which required no words.
The meal drew, by degrees, toward its conclusion. The earlier constraint had entirely subsided, and though nothing approaching intimacy had been established, there prevailed a composure which rendered such a want neither felt nor required.
Lady Catherine rose.
“I am satisfied,” she said, “that the evening has proceeded as it ought.”
There was no dissent.
The gentlemen remained; and as the ladies withdrew, Elizabeth perceived, with some surprise, that her mind was not entirely at rest. The events of the day, far from being dismissed, seemed rather to have arranged themselves into something more intelligible, though not yet entirely understood.
***
For some moments after the door had closed behind the ladies, little alteration took place in the temper of the party.
The servants moved quietly about the table; wine was offered and accepted; and the conversation, though less restrained than before, did not immediately abandon the measured civility which had governed the latter part of the dinner.
Lady Catherine’s absence, however, produced in Mr. Collins an almost visible uncertainty of direction.
Accustomed somehow to receive both encouragement and correction from her immediate presence, he appeared for a short interval at a loss how properly to distribute his attentions; until, recollecting at once his duties as a future clergyman, he turned with solemn earnestness toward Mr. Darcy.
“I trust, sir,” Mr. Collins began, “that I shall never cease to remember the generosity with which you have this day acted in regard to my future prospects. The delicacy, as well as the liberality, of your conduct must impress itself most deeply upon every serious mind.”
Darcy, who seemed less desirous of prolonging the subject than Mr. Collins was of exalting it, replied with quiet brevity.
“You attribute too much importance to what required only common justice, Mr. Collins. I am glad that I could offer some compensation for your unexpected disappointment.”
“Justice!” Mr. Collins repeated, almost overwhelmed by such modesty. “To unite justice with consideration for the feelings of all parties concerned is, I am persuaded, a distinction possessed by very few gentlemen.”
Mr. Bennet, who had accepted a glass of wine without appearing particularly attentive to it, glanced for an instant toward Darcy.
“You must allow, Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Bennet said mildly, “that when gratitude has once seized upon a man of Mr. Collins’s disposition, it is not easily persuaded into moderation.”
A faint smile appeared at the corner of Darcy’s mouth.
“I should be sorry to attempt it, sir,” he replied.
This answer, simple as it was, seemed to gratify Mr. Collins beyond measure; while Mr. Bennet, observing the ease with which Darcy had accommodated himself to the peculiarities of the evening, began to think more favourably of him than he had previously been inclined to do.
“Have you been long absent from Pemberley, sir?” Mr. Bennet inquired after a pause.
“Several weeks,” Darcy replied. “I remained in London longer than I had intended, assisting a friend of mine, Mr. Bingley, in the search for an estate to lease. His sisters prefer a situation nearer town; but Bingley himself is strongly attached to country life, particularly where there are woods, a running stream, and tolerable fishing.”
“In that case,” Mr. Bennet said, with the appearance of speaking almost casually, “I believe I may venture a recommendation. Within a few miles of Longbourn stands Netherfield Park, a very respectable estate, sufficiently near London to satisfy those unwilling to abandon society altogether, yet surrounded by remarkably fine country. The place has remained to let for longer than it deserves.”
Mr. Collins, hearing a neighbouring estate introduced into the discussion, became immediately attentive.
“I have known both its proprietors and several of its tenants,” Mr. Bennet continued, “and I have always considered it among the most agreeable situations in the county. There is an excellent house, tolerable shooting, a good stream, and woods sufficiently extensive to flatter any gentleman’s attachment to nature. ”
“And Hertfordshire society is by no means inconsiderable,” Mr. Collins added eagerly, anxious not to appear wholly excluded from the subject.
Mr. Bennet inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the addition without encouraging it further.
“What say you, Mr. Darcy? Are you at all acquainted with Hertfordshire?”
“I believe I was very young when I last saw St. Albans and the surrounding country,” Darcy answered. “I cannot claim to know the county well.”
“No gentleman truly knows a county,” Mr. Bennet replied, “until he has survived at least three family dinners, two public assemblies, and one disagreement regarding the merits of neighbouring estates.”
Even Darcy, whose gravity was seldom overcome without resistance, appeared unable entirely to withhold amusement from the observation.
“I shall endeavour to improve my knowledge by the proper methods, then.”
“I do not doubt it,” Mr. Bennet said. “You have already shown a commendable patience under trial. You are therefore better prepared for Hertfordshire than most gentlemen. Bring your friend to visit, and I shall endeavour to serve as a reliable guide to the neighbourhood.”
After a short pause, during which the servants again moved about the table, Mr. Bennet resumed in a tone of easy civility.
“May I inquire whether your friend is married, Mr. Darcy?”
“He is not, sir.”
“A circumstance,” Mr. Bennet returned gravely, “which would, I fear, render him an object of considerable curiosity in Hertfordshire after a tenancy of three months.”
Darcy’s expression suggested that he was not entirely unacquainted with the truth of this observation.
“You must forgive me for mentioning it,” Mr. Bennet continued, with the faintest appearance of amusement, “but my wife would scarcely conceive it possible that such information should reach the other matrons of the county before reaching herself.”
Even Darcy, though prepared for something of the sort, seemed unable entirely to resist smiling.
“I shall endeavour, then, to place Mr. Bingley in as little danger as possible.”
“That,” Mr. Bennet replied, raising his glass slightly, “would require considerably more influence than any gentleman is generally allowed to possess.”