Chapter 7 #9
“Such condescension! Such generosity from a gentleman of Mr. Darcy’s distinction—I am overwhelmed, Cousin. To be conveyed in such style as far as London—most gratifying, most obliging indeed.”
Elizabeth regarded the note with composed curiosity, though a flicker of something—relief, perhaps, or subtle disappointment—passed across her features, swiftly concealed.
“And Mr. Bingley?” she inquired lightly. “Does he accompany his friend?”
Mr. Bennet shook his head.
“No—Mr. Bingley remains at the inn to oversee the preparations at Netherfield. Possession is near, and he is resolved to make the house ready with all possible dispatch.”
“Remains! Oh, excellent—most excellent!” Mrs. Bennet clasped her hands in renewed rapture. “Only think, girls—he will be forever calling, and Netherfield so conveniently near. We shall have dinners, and assemblies, and—”
“—and peace in the library, I trust, once the novelty subsides,” Mr. Bennet said and regarded his wife with mild irony.
Mr. Collins, his thoughts already turning toward Kent and the happy prospects that awaited him there, bowed again with earnest feeling.
“I shall accept Mr. Darcy’s kind offer with the deepest gratitude, and shall therefore depart tomorrow in his company. From London, a stagecoach will convey me swiftly to Hunsford—my duties, and… other agreeable considerations, call me thither without delay.”
Elizabeth smiled at his transparent happiness, while Mrs. Bennet pressed invitations for future visits and demanded to know whether the gentlemen would attend the assembly despite Mr. Darcy’s departure.
***
The following morning dawned crisp and fair, the sort of autumn day that rendered travel agreeable and farewells less melancholic than they might otherwise have been.
The Bennet household, though accustomed to the comings and goings of relations, felt the stir of an unusual departure: Mr. Collins, with his countenance radiant with the mingled emotions of gratitude and hopeful anticipation, prepared to take his leave for Hunsford.
At the same time, the intelligence that Mr. Darcy’s carriage would call for him added a degree of consequence to the occasion.
The family assembled in the hall with varying degrees of composure—Mrs. Bennet fluttering with a mixture of regret and satisfaction, her daughters disposed about her in attitudes of polite attention, and Mr. Bennet observing the scene with his customary dry amusement.
Precisely at ten o’clock, the sound of wheels upon the gravel announced the arrival of Mr. Darcy’s elegant travelling carriage, drawn by four well-matched bays.
The gentleman himself descended with that grave dignity which marked his every movement, bowing with reserved politeness as Mr. Bennet advanced to receive him.
“Mr. Darcy,” said the host with ironic courtesy, “you are punctual to the minute—an excellence I must commend, though it hastens a departure we might otherwise have postponed.”
Mr. Darcy inclined his head, his manner correct yet betraying a faint shadow of reluctance.
“I am sensible of the honor your family has shown me, sir. Duty calls me to London and thence to Pemberley, but I trust the separation will be brief.”
Mrs. Bennet, who had been hovering with scarcely contained animation, pressed forward with eager civility.
“Mr. Darcy! Such a pleasure—though I am excessively sorry to lose you so soon. You have scarcely seen our neighborhood! But you will return for the assembly, I hope? We should be most gratified—most gratified indeed.”
Mr. Darcy’s gaze rested briefly upon the assembled ladies—lingering, perhaps, a moment longer upon Elizabeth’s composed yet lively countenance—before he replied with grave assurance.
“I shall make every effort to return for the assembly, madam. The engagement is one I should not willingly forgo.”
Mrs. Bennet beamed with triumph, while Lydia and Kitty exchanged delighted glances, and Jane colored faintly with quiet pleasure.
Mr. Collins, stepping forward with earnest deference, bowed low before his benefactor.
“Mr. Darcy, words cannot express my gratitude for this condescension. To be conveyed in such style as far as London—most overwhelming, most gratifying! I shall endeavor to render the journey agreeable by every means in my power.”
Mr. Darcy acknowledged the effusion with a slight inclination of the head.
“The arrangement is mutually convenient, Mr. Collins. I trust we shall travel comfortably.”
Elizabeth, who had observed the exchange with affectionate raillery toward her cousin and a composed indifference toward the taller gentleman, ventured a light remark as the party moved toward the door.
“Your departure is well-timed, Mr. Darcy—the assembly is upon us, and we should not wish to detain you from more pressing engagements. The neighborhood will, I trust, survive until your return.”
Mr. Darcy met her eyes with a gravity that held a flicker of something deeper—curiosity, perhaps, or the stirrings of a challenge unmet.
“I anticipate finding it much as I left it, Miss Elizabeth.”
The farewells concluded with due politeness—Mrs. Bennet pressing invitations for future visits, the younger girls whispering of the assembly’s prospects, and Mr. Bennet offering a dry wish for a safe journey.
Mr. Collins embraced the opportunity for repeated expressions of gratitude, while Mr. Darcy maintained his reserved courtesy to the last.
The two gentlemen ascended the carriage at length, the door closed with a decisive snap, and the equipage rolled smoothly down the sweep, leaving the family upon the steps in a mixture of satisfaction and speculation.
Mrs. Bennet turned to her daughters with rapturous animation.
“Only think—he will return for the assembly! And Mr. Bingley remains—most gratifying, most gratifying indeed!”
Elizabeth smiled quietly, her thoughts dwelling with private curiosity upon the reserved gentleman who had promised to return, while the carriage bore its occupants toward London—and, for one at least, toward duties and reflections that Hertfordshire had rendered unexpectedly complex.
Eight
The assembly rooms at Meryton were filled with that agreeable confusion peculiar to a country ball of the first consequence, the air warm with the scent of beeswax candles, while the musicians upon the little dais struck up a lively country dance that set the floor in motion with spirited animation.
Ladies in muslins of every hue mingled with gentlemen in coats of blue or black, officers in scarlet adding a dash of military splendor to the scene, and the general hum of conversation and laughter promised an evening of unpretending pleasure, where the hopes of the young and the calculations of their elders might find equal scope for indulgence.
An immediate favorite wherever he appeared, Mr. Bingley had secured Miss Bennet for the first set of dances with an eagerness that drew many approving glances from the company, his countenance radiant with undisguised delight as he led her to the set, his thoughts already dwelling upon the felicity of finding himself in the presence of a lady whose gentle beauty and serene kindness seemed calculated to awaken the tenderest sentiments.
With her customary serenity, Jane accepted the honor with a modest grace that only heightened her partner’s admiration, her gentle smiles and soft replies drawing him further into enchantment with every turn of the dance.
The same set included Mr. Collins and Elizabeth—his steps executed with earnest care, if not with perfect ease, and his conversation interspersed with warm compliments upon the pleasure of the evening and the felicity of finding himself once more among relations so dear to him.
Though amused by his transparent satisfaction and reflecting privately upon the quiet contentment that prudence might secure, Elizabeth replied with her usual lively good humor, her eyes sparkling with affectionate raillery as she guided the discourse toward lighter topics.
Much apart from the dancers stood Mr. Darcy, his tall figure commanding attention even in silence, his appearance in public assemblies marked by that grave dignity which rendered him an object of curiosity rather than invitation.
With an air of detached reflection, he observed the dancers, his thoughts dwelling upon the unexpected graces of the neighborhood he would once have dismissed too hastily—the gentle kindness of one sister, the lively intelligence of another—and upon the curious indifference with which the latter had treated his presence at Longbourn.
The memory of her composed detachment, mingled with the warmth of the room and the press of unfamiliar society, stirred within him a resolve he had not anticipated: he would solicit Elizabeth Bennet’s hand for the next set, if only to ascertain whether her reserve proceeded from disdain or mere caprice.
As the current dance drew toward its conclusion, Mr. Collins, his countenance glowing with earnest gratification, bowed to Elizabeth with profound respect.
“My dear cousin,” he said, his voice rich with feeling, “nothing could afford me greater happiness than this opportunity to dance with you once more. Yet I perceive Miss Lucas—my betrothed—standing in need of a partner, and duty, as well as affection, calls me thither.”
Her eyes dancing with quiet amusement at his solemn declaration, Elizabeth curtseyed with graceful acceptance.
“Go to Charlotte, Cousin. She will be pleased to see you, and I would not detain you from such agreeable claims.”
With another bow, his heart full of tender anticipation, Mr. Collins made his way toward Miss Charlotte Lucas and Lady Lucas, both receiving him with pleasure, Charlotte’s composed smile holding the promise of mutual contentment.
Having led Jane from the floor with reluctant gallantry, Mr. Bingley returned her to Mrs. Bennet’s side with expressions of warm admiration, while Jane coloured faintly with modest pleasure.