Chapter II #2
That ended Lydia’s whining as Elizabeth had known it would.
The way Mrs. Bennet glared at her daughter suggested she had known it too.
It was a facet of the relationship between mother and daughter that played out but rarely, and proof her mother had the ability to control Lydia if she so chose.
The problem was that she did not exercise the authority she held and rarely understood the need.
Later in the day, when the ladies had all been together, though engaged in different pursuits, Mr. Bennet returned from his study, where he had retreated that morning, accompanied by Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Hurst. Mr. Gardiner was no surprise, as he often sat with Mr. Bennet in his study, but the entrance of Mr. Hurst came as a surprise to the Bennet ladies; they had not known of his visit.
“I hope you will not mind, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet, “but as Hurst is the only resident of Netherfield Park, I suggested he dine with us rather than alone.”
“If it is quite convenient, Mrs. Bennet,” Mr. Hurst roused himself to say. “As it is a late application, I understand the imposition.”
The way Mrs. Bennet regarded the gentleman, Elizabeth was certain her mother would consider it much less of an imposition if it had been Mr. Bingley who joined them.
When her mother glanced at Jane, Elizabeth knew she was not blind to the possibilities in Mr. Bingley’s brother-in-law dining with them and agreed at once.
“Of course, it is no trouble, Mr. Hurst. I shall inform Mrs. Hill to ensure there is another place setting at the table tonight.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Bennet,” said Mr. Hurst, the politeness of his acceptance and his bow went beyond the perfunctory civility she had observed in him at Netherfield. “I appreciate your hospitality.”
Mrs. Bennet nodded and rose to arrange the gentleman’s place, but he turned his attention before she had even left the room, the target of his conversation, Elizabeth herself.
“I hope you are well after last evening’s event, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Yes, I am,” said Elizabeth, surprised he inquired. “I thank you for your intervention, though had you not been nearby, I might have taken the simple expedient of kicking Mr. Wickham’s shins.”
The gentleman’s response was a brief smile. “While I would in no way question your intrepidity, everything I know of Wickham suggests that a little support cannot go amiss.”
By this time, Mrs. Bennet had returned and had heard Mr. Hurst’s last comment. “Do you know Mr. Wickham, sir?”
“Other than last night,” replied Mr. Hurst, “I cannot say that I am acquainted with him. What I can say is that Darcy does not like Wickham and will not associate with him. Given what I know of Darcy’s fastidious nature and the care he takes in choosing his friends, that is enough for me.”
Elizabeth was not certain what prompted her to say it; perhaps some residue of Mr. Wickham’s communication or her continued distaste for Mr. Darcy. It provoked her to open her mouth and comment on Mr. Darcy when it would have been best to hold her tongue.
“To own the truth,” said Elizabeth, “I attribute it to Mr. Darcy’s pride and his reluctance to give attention to anyone who does not meet his standards.”
Mr. Hurst appeared to understand something of her antipathy for Mr. Darcy and was amused by it.
“You are not incorrect about Darcy’s pride, Miss Elizabeth, for he has his share of it and then some.
Where you are mistaken is in Darcy’s friendship.
After all, by society’s standards, my brother is not worthy of Darcy’s attention, yet I have the evidence of my own eyes that they are excellent friends. ”
“And I can say something on this subject,” interjected Mrs. Gardiner.
“As I was raised in a little town near Pemberley, the Darcy estate, I have some knowledge of the family. Mr. Darcy was but a boy when I left Lambton, but he already had an excellent reputation. Furthermore, Mr. Darcy and Lady Anne were highly regarded in the town—I have difficulty imagining such people raising a man to naught but pride.”
“Indeed, I believe you have hit on the crux of the matter, Mrs. Gardiner.” Mr. Hurst offered her a smile but nothing more. “Darcy is not a warm man, but he has an excellent reputation.”
“Mr. Darcy is an odious man,” insisted Lydia, unable to keep her opinion to herself. “Why, Mr. Wickham has spoken of Mr. Darcy denying him the clerical living his father designed for him to have. That is not the act of a virtuous man.”
“Clerical living?” echoed Mr. Hurst. “This is something I have not heard.”
“It was a matter Mr. Wickham offered in confidence,” said Elizabeth, though wondering that Mr. Wickham had told her in confidence, but Lydia somehow knew of it.
“You may be assured of my secrecy,” said Mr. Hurst.
There was little reason to demur, so Elizabeth revealed what she knew of the business of the living, though there was little enough to say.
Elizabeth could not claim that she knew much, after all, for her information all came from the mouth of Mr. Wickham.
Mr. Hurst gave her his attention, not speaking while she related what she knew.
Before he could voice his opinion, another interrupted with hers when she would do better to keep her own counsel.
“See?” said Lydia, as if Elizabeth had just proven the matter rather than relating the little she knew from Mr. Wickham’s perspective only. “Mr. Darcy has treated Mr. Wickham most abominably. Can there be any other opinion on the subject?”
“Yes, there can,” was Mr. Hurst’s prompt reply.
Lydia was not pleased that he had contradicted her, but Mr. Hurst did not allow her to speak.
“Miss Lydia, my statements about Darcy’s character are not only my opinion, but what is commonly said about him.
Darcy, you see, is a creature of duty. Had his father left the living to Wickham, Darcy would have seen him installed there, even had he found it distasteful. ”
“While I would agree with your assessment of Mr. Darcy’s adherence to duty,” said Elizabeth, “duty can be fickle, open to interpretation.”
Mr. Hurst smiled and nodded. “You are correct, Miss Elizabeth—what some men consider duty, others may brand as mere wish and ignore it altogether. However, if you had heard Darcy speak of his father as I have, you would understand his reverence for the man who reared him. Trust me when I say that his father’s wishes would have outweighed any personal animus. ”
“The Darcys have been thus for generations, from what I understand,” added Mrs. Gardiner in support. “This portrayal of Mr. Darcy does not match what I know of him and the family, Lizzy. Are you certain your troubles with him have not skewed your perception?”
Elizabeth smiled and shook her head. “My troubles, as you call them, are not so extensive as this. I am not friendly with the gentleman, but I have not known him for long, after all. There is nothing for me to resent.”
There was something to resent, of course, but that matter was not Elizabeth’s alone, nor was it proven, little doubt though Elizabeth had of it being correct.
As Jane would not appreciate her speaking of Mr. Bingley’s abandonment, even to a man who could summon Mr. Bingley back to Hertfordshire, Elizabeth allowed the subject to rest, as did Mr. Hurst.
The conversation in the room changed thereafter, and while Mr. Hurst spoke to her father and Mr. Gardiner more than anyone else in the room, he was more animated than Elizabeth had seen him when she had stayed at Netherfield.
He was not an open or even an engaging man, but he spoke with her father with perfect civility.
As for the rest of the company, Lydia and Kitty spoke in hushed tones—for them—while sneaking gazes at Mr. Hurst; no doubt they were assuring each other of their cleverness and their certainty that everything they had heard of Mr. Wickham was mistaken.
Jane and Mary were quiet, engaged in quiet conversation, and while Mrs. Bennet was speaking with Mrs. Gardiner, her frequent looks at their dinner guest told Elizabeth she wondered if she could use his presence to bring Mr. Bingley back to Hertfordshire.
What Elizabeth had not expected was to learn she was an object of interest to Mr. Hurst, for his gaze rested more on her than on anyone else in the room.
It was not the look of a man admiring a woman, not that she would have expected it, given his marital status.
It was more like he was trying to understand something, or perhaps that he found something amusing, but was not quite certain what it was.
This continued for some time, including a close conversation with her father, which ended with his shrug and Mr. Hurst rising to approach her.
“Miss Elizabeth,” said he, sitting nearby, “I apologize if this question is too direct, but I am curious. Am I mistaken in apprehending you have some reason for disliking Darcy?”
Elizabeth’s eyes found her father and saw him grinning, then glancing at Mr. Hurst as if to suggest she should answer him. Eyes narrowed, Elizabeth shot her father a look that promised vengeance and turned back to the gentleman.
“Does Mr. Darcy’s behavior in Meryton not offer every reason for offense?”
Mr. Hurst cocked his head to the side. “Do you mean something in particular?”
“Only that Mr. Darcy acted as if everyone in the neighborhood was beneath him.”
“That is Darcy and no mistake,” snorted Mr. Hurst. “That is not unexpected at his level of society, and it matches what I have seen of his behavior. Yet there must be something more than this. If a supercilious man descends upon a neighborhood and refuses to give the denizens consequence, what is it to you?”