Chapter Five #2
“Mr. Bennet!” Mr. Bingley’s grin spread from ear to ear and his good humour suffused the room.
“It was most kind of you to call last week, and I have been remiss in returning the compliment. I have been busy settling my sisters into the house, and just yesterday received my good friend Darcy as well. Do allow me to introduce him to you!” He addressed himself to Elizabeth’s father, but his eyes were upon her sister.
For her part, Jane blushed most prettily but remained silent, waiting to be spoken to.
Lizzy’s suppositions were correct, it seemed, and Jane likewise reciprocated Mr. Bingley’s regard.
Mr. Darcy was soon introduced to the lady of the family, and he said all the correct things and made the most elegant of bows, complimenting Mrs. Bennet on the proportions and furnishings of the room, and upon the unparalleled beauty of her five daughters.
Having thus insinuated himself into her good graces, he begged introductions to the younger ladies.
“I had hoped to be introduced last night at the assembly,” he offered, “but I found my health not equal to my desires.” He gestured to his wounded arm, now bound to his body beneath his coat.
Lizzy’s jaw stiffened. He had found no trouble with his desire to insult her, merely to avoid his friend’s invocation. She refused to meet his eye.
“Indeed it is so!” Every sentence Bingley uttered was delivered with an enthusiasm that brought Lizzy from her annoyance.
She kept her expression calm and pleasant as her new neighbour continued.
“Poor Darcy survived a day in the carriage with his beastly injuries, but only a half hour at the assembly, and would not even dance! It is our hope and expectation that a few weeks in this fresh country air will be what it takes for him to recover completely to his usual vigour.” He beamed again.
If his smile alone had curative powers, Mr. Darcy would be immediately recovered.
For his part, Mr. Darcy bowed, his lips curled into a pleasant but studied smile, but said nothing.
A line from Shakespeare flitted through Lizzy’s head: That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain.
Whilst she was not quite ready to cast Mr. Darcy into the villain’s role, neither was her mind changed by his demeanour.
Mr. Bennet performed the appropriate introductions to his daughters, each of whom responded suitably.
Lizzy saw Jane present her sweet smile, although her eyes flashed to Darcy’s friend immediately upon rising from her curtsey, and then watched Mary’s awkward curtsey and Lydia’s eyes flutter in a manner she must consider flirtatious.
Kitty, only a year Lydia’s senior, mimicked her younger sister to poorer effect.
Darcy had manoeuvred himself so as to be introduced to Elizabeth last, and he bowed deeply as he uttered his words of pleasure at the acquaintance, perhaps more deeply than necessary.
This was the greeting he had promised her the previous evening as they spoke on the balcony.
She almost winced as she imagined the pain the bow must cause to his injured leg.
“Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy intoned. “A pleasure to be introduced to you.” She bristled at the implication of the words, a reminder of their inappropriate conversation.
“Come, gentlemen,” Mr. Bennet rose once the ladies had all been presented, “Let us adjourn to my study for a while, and perhaps we can rejoin the ladies for tea afterwards.” Lizzy raised her brows at this invitation.
Perhaps Papa had nothing out of place in his study after all.
Had the Frenchman been given enough time to make his escape?
If so, how would he know that there were guests?
Or could it be that Papa had simply wished for Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy to meet his family?
That was most unaccustomed, something more like what Mama would do. What a strange day this was becoming.
So perplexed, Lizzy watched the three men leave the room. She hardly knew what to think. For all the bright sunshine that streamed through the sheer draperies, her mind was much befogged. Nothing seemed as it ought to be.
There was a strange machine on a table in the room above her own chamber, and a strange man examining it, and Papa seemed quite content to allow him his labours.
Could it be that Papa was unaware of the man’s presence?
Papa was surely a good and true English country squire!
But that was impossible, for Elizabeth had heard her father converse with some Frenchmen in that very room only weeks before, heard them discuss a task.
Did that have something to do with the apparatus on the table?
Then came today’s visitors, who had been shown into the parlour where the family sat.
Mr. Bingley seemed quite an open personality, keeping little to himself, offering few surprises to those who knew him.
Mr. Darcy was quite different, however, and she knew not what to make of him.
That he was reserved where his friend was open seemed clear; this in itself was not alarming or unnatural, for she and Charlotte were the dearest of friends, yet quite different in temperament.
But where Mr. Bingley seemed determined to be pleased by everything he saw, Mr. Darcy seemed the opposite, searching for some detail to scorn, some matter to look meanly upon. Some young lady to disparage...
Lizzy, she chided herself, you cannot base your entire estimation of a man upon one incident, at your first meeting. Still, it was most difficult to remove the impression made by those comments that first she had heard uttered from his lips.
Certainly, Mr. Darcy had seemed to be exerting himself to make a favourable impression today.
He was behaving more the gentleman this morning than he had been last night.
He had, indeed, offered her his promised bow, and he seemed to be walking with less discomfort than last night.
Perhaps his pain really was such that he had taken leave of his manners for a time.
Now that he had chosen to affix a smile to his face, rather than the grimace he had worn at the assembly, she found his handsome features rather appealing.
Whether his character, in the absence of his previous physical discomfort, would be as appealing as his visage remained to be seen.
She glanced down to the embroidery she was applying to the edges of a gown for the parson’s wife’s new baby, but no matter how she attempted to apply her concentration to her task, her mind continually slipped to the strange man hidden in the tower room, and to the tall gentleman who had come to visit her father.
“Lizzy!” Mama’s voice wrested her from her ponderings.
“Is that hem not yet complete? Look at the mess you’ve made with that embroidery.
We can never give that to Mrs. Ilbert, for she will not have it!
You must unpick it and repair it at once.
Oh, why can you not be so accomplished as Jane at your sewing? You quite vex me, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth did not roll her eyes, although the struggle against that inclination was strong. She bit back a retort and uttered, “Yes, Mama,” as she set about picking out the wretched mess she had made of the pattern on the garment’s hem.
She had almost completed the ornaments on the baby’s gown when Papa returned with his two guests. “Mrs. Bennet,” his voice resounded through the room, “Would you please call for tea?”
Lizzy watched the ensuing activity with interest, keeping her lids low but her eyes alert.
Mama set about her task at once, her voice silent for a change, but her eyes speaking volumes as she cast them first upon the two handsome young men in her parlour, and then upon her various daughters.
To Lizzy’s reckoning, her mother had paired Mr. Bingley up so completely with Jane that the gentleman need do nothing more but select the colour of his wedding suit.
At first Mama seemed uncertain which of her younger offspring would best match Mr. Darcy’s fine woollen coat, and she glanced across at Lydia several times, skipped over Mary, and then returned her eyes to Kitty, but soon gave her head that very slight shake that meant she had given up on a task.
It seemed that Mr. Darcy was relieved—for the moment—of being the subject of imposed matrimony.
But when that gentleman moved across the room to take the seat next to Elizabeth on the sofa, Mama’s regard narrowed and she pursed her lips: she had decided upon something and would not be shaken from her conviction.
Lizzy wondered how her mother would react to being denied for the first time in her life, for she had scarcely decided whether Mr. Darcy would be tolerable company for a quarter of an hour.
She certainly had no notions of marrying him, no matter what Mama had settled in her mind; she was even quite convinced that she did not wish even to know him better.
Her conviction was put to the test just moments later, however, when Mr. Bingley declared with a broad smile that he rather fancied the rose garden at the one side of the house, and hoped that Miss Bennet and her sisters would agree to show it to him once they had enjoyed tea.
His eyes lit upon Jane, whose responding blush answered his question to his evident satisfaction.
“Oh Jane, of course you must show Mr. Bingley your roses. She tends to some of the bushes herself, sir, and has the finest hand in arranging the flowers that are cut and brought into the house. Take care to wear a bonnet, for you would not want your skin to brown and freckle. Lizzy, I suppose you must join them. Your skin is already brown from too much sun, but I do not believe Mr. Bingley will mind too much. Is Mr. Darcy joining you? Perhaps Lydia can go instead. I need Kitty here to help with the silk flowers for my frock. Mary, are you still reading?”
Mama’s monologue lasted until the tea was brought into the room by one of the maids.
Papa, who had entered with the visitors, had said not a word, and Lizzy discerned an expression on his face that she could not quite identify.
Was he pleased to have the acquaintance of these newcomers, or was he not?
His smile was indulgent, but his eyes wary.
Lizzy found she could not account for it at all and was thankful when she was asked to pour for the gentlemen, for it gave her an occupation other than fretting over her father’s odd expression.