CHAPTER 10 #3
“Then I should be sorry indeed to remain ignorant of the county. Will you join me, Darcy?”
His friend nodded in agreement, partially surprised by such a proposal.
Mrs. Bennet could scarcely contain her satisfaction.
“A ball at Meryton is always vastly pleasant,” she declared. “And I am persuaded the neighbourhood will receive Mr. Bingley with the greatest enthusiasm.”
“To which,” Mr. Bennet observed dryly, “Mr. Bingley will no doubt endeavour to survive with becoming fortitude.”
The approach of dinner soon interrupted further discussion; yet before the party moved toward the dining-room, Elizabeth could not help observing once more the easy direction in which Bingley’s attention continually returned toward Jane, nor the quieter but no less deliberate manner in which Darcy seemed conscious of nearly everything she herself either said or avoided saying.
She smiled again, feeling a sudden playful spark of her old courage return as she looked up at him.
***
Dinner at Longbourn possessed little of the stately regulation to which either Mr. Darcy or Mr. Bingley had lately been accustomed at Pemberley, London or Rosings; yet what it lacked in grandeur it compensated for in warmth, movement, and a species of domestic ease which imposed itself almost immediately upon every member of the party.
Mrs. Bennet, once the first anxieties of reception had subsided into the more manageable triumph of successful hospitality, presided over the table with increasing satisfaction.
The servants, stimulated equally by Hill’s vigilance and their mistress’s excitement, moved with unusual rapidity; Lydia spoke whenever silence threatened to establish itself too firmly; Kitty alternated between laughter and attempts at elegance; Mary endeavoured periodically to improve the conversation; while Mr. Bennet observed the whole with the composed amusement of a man who considered family disorder among the most reliable forms of entertainment.
Mr. Bingley accommodated himself to the scene with such unaffected readiness that within half an hour he appeared less a visitor than a cheerful acquaintance already half domesticated by Longbourn.
Whatever Jane said seemed immediately worthy of his attention; whatever she admired acquired, for the moment, additional merit in his eyes; and when she spoke, even briefly, he listened with a degree of earnest pleasure too natural to appear intentionally flattering.
“You have been fortunate in the day for your first inspection of Netherfield, Mr. Bingley,” Jane observed during the first course. “The grounds are always at their best when the weather remains mild so late in the season.”
“I thought them beautiful, Miss Bennet,” Bingley replied readily. “Though I confess I scarcely know whether the house itself or the surrounding country pleased me more.”
“The country improves upon acquaintance,” Mr. Bennet observed. “At first sight Hertfordshire appears merely agreeable. We reserve our real advantages for those willing to remain at least a fortnight.”
“In that case,” Bingley returned laughing, “I am fortunate already in having received instructions to prolong my education.”
“And who instructed you, sir?” Lydia Bennet demanded immediately, with a freedom somewhat beyond strict politeness.
“Mr. Bennet has kindly undertaken to preserve me from bidding more than I should have, and has already spoken to me about some county habits.”
“Then you are entirely safe,” Elizabeth replied. “For my father has spent many years avoiding every species of unnecessary exertion and therefore knows perfectly well where dangers generally begin.”
“My experience has indeed been acquired at considerable personal sacrifice,” Mr. Bennet said, inclining his head gravely.
Even Darcy smiled at this; and Elizabeth, catching the expression before it entirely disappeared, felt again that curious alteration in his manners which Longbourn seemed gradually to encourage.
Mrs. Bennet, meanwhile, found herself increasingly unable to decide whether Mr. Bingley’s good humour or Mr. Darcy’s consequence ought properly to command the larger portion of her satisfaction.
“And has Mr. Collins already departed for Kympton?” she inquired at last, turning toward Mr. Darcy with eager curiosity. “Our poor cousin must be in a state of prodigious happiness.”
“Mr. Collins left London yesterday morning,” Darcy replied. “All necessary documents respecting the living had been completed before his departure. I believe he intended to reach Kympton by this evening. I am sure he will be very welcome.”
Mrs. Bennet clasped her hands together in joy.
“Well! Who could ever have imagined such a change in his fortunes? Only two weeks ago the poor man scarcely possessed certainty enough to plan a dinner, and now he is established with a living of his own.”
“And a very respectable one,” Mr. Bennet added. “Though I confess I still await with interest the first letter in which Mr. Collins attempts to describe Kympton without exhausting half the English language in gratitude.”
“I should think gratitude perfectly natural under such circumstances,” Mary observed seriously.
“So should I,” Mr. Bennet replied. “But in your cousin’s case gratitude possesses unusual stamina. Most sentiments grow tired after several pages; Mr. Collins’s generally appear stronger by the seventh.”
Bingley laughed so openly at this that even Mary seemed uncertain whether offence were entirely proper.
“I am persuaded,” Darcy said with quiet composure, “that Mr. Collins feels the obligations very sincerely.”
“Oh, sincerely enough!” Mr. Bennet returned. “Indeed, I have never doubted either his sincerity or his vocabulary. My concern lies chiefly for the endurance of his future parishioners.”
Elizabeth lowered her eyes toward her plate, though not before Darcy perceived the effort she made to suppress amusement.
“Mr. Collins always means to improve those around him,” Jane said gently, anxious as usual to preserve justice in every direction.
“Then Kympton must prepare itself for rapid advancement, I am afraid,” Lydia declared with a smirk.
“At the very least,” Elizabeth added, “the parish may expect sermons of uncommon length and gratitude of uncommon durability.”
Darcy’s expression altered again—very slightly, yet enough to convince Elizabeth that he was listening less to the conversation generally than to her particular share in it.
Mrs. Bennet, delighted equally by the ease of the table and by the visible harmony developing amongst her guests, now renewed the discussion of Netherfield with increasing confidence.
“You must not attempt too many alterations immediately, Mr. Bingley,” she advised. “Gentlemen always begin by pulling down perfectly good rooms merely because they have newly acquired them.”
“I assure you I possess no violent passion for destruction,” Bingley answered. “Indeed, I begin already to suspect that the safest method of managing an estate is to leave half of it alone.”
“A philosophy,” Mr. Bennet observed, “which has preserved Longbourn tolerably well for more than twenty years.”
“My father’s improvements,” Elizabeth said, “have generally consisted in postponing other people’s.”
“A system both economical and peaceful,” Mr. Bennet replied with evident self-satisfaction. “You perceive before you, Mr. Bingley, a gentleman who has survived domestic life principally through strategic inaction.”
The warmth of the room, the brightness of the candles, and the uninterrupted flow of easy conversation gradually dissolved whatever restraint had attended the beginning of the evening.
Even Darcy, though still far quieter than his friend, no longer appeared merely a formal guest fulfilling the obligations of civility.
More than once Elizabeth surprised him looking toward her with an attention at once thoughtful and composed; and though little passed between them openly, she became increasingly conscious that Longbourn itself seemed already to have altered something in their understanding.
By the time the second course had been removed, Mrs. Bennet had privately determined that Mr. Bingley was precisely the sort of young man she had long wished to see established at Netherfield; that the estate itself could not possibly fail under the direction of so cheerful and agreeable a master; and that if Mr. Darcy continued visiting Hertfordshire with equal regularity, the future prospects of Longbourn might yet surpass even those hopes which, in her most sanguine moments, she scarcely permitted herself fully to confess.
***
The following morning rose calm and pale over Hertfordshire, the softened light of an autumn day lying gently upon the lawns of Longbourn, while within the house there still lingered something of the cheerful animation produced by the events of the preceding evening.
Mrs. Bennet, though she affected an air of composure at breakfast, found herself continually returning to Netherfield, to Mr. Bingley’s uncommon agreeableness, to the rapidity with which the neighbourhood would undoubtedly receive him, and above all to the gratifying conviction that Longbourn had been the first house in the county to welcome such a kind gentleman.
Mr. Bennet endured these reflections with the patience of long habit, occasionally contributing an observation sufficiently dry to amuse Elizabeth and perplex Mary, though never powerful enough to interrupt the current of his wife’s satisfaction for more than a moment together.
Jane listened with her customary sweetness, neither encouraging expectation too openly nor attempting entirely to repress it; while Kitty and Lydia had already begun discussing the approaching assembly as though Netherfield had belonged to Mr. Bingley for half his life.
Breakfast had nearly concluded when the sound of hoofbeats upon the gravel announced the arrival of a mounted servant.
Mrs. Bennet looked up immediately.
“There now! Depend upon it, something further has happened.”