Chapter 8
Darcy’s opportunity came unexpectedly, early the next morning while he was riding.
He had set himself to explore a little prominence to the south of Netherfield, and when he crested the rise, he found Miss Elizabeth seated upon a weathered bench there, watching a rather splendid sunrise. She stood and curtseyed.
“Mr Darcy, good morning,” said she. “I see you have discovered where you might behold our most picturesque view. I will leave you to enjoy it.”
He slid hurriedly from his mount, saying, “Please, Miss Elizabeth, stay but a moment.”
She paused and turned to face him, curiosity and caution warring in her expression.
He stepped a little closer. “I am glad of the opportunity to speak with you, as I have for some days been wishing to make an apology for my behaviour at the assembly.”
Her eyes widened ever so slightly.
“I do not attempt to excuse myself,” he hurried to add.
“What I said was unconscionable. I wished to be left alone, but instead of saying so plainly, I drove my friend away by speaking harshly of a lady I did not know and of whom I had no opinion at all, certainly not the opinion I voiced.” He was fidgeting nervously with the chain of his watch and forced his hands to stillness.
“I am sorry I said it, and more so that it ever reached your ears.”
She tilted her head and regarded him quizzically. “May I ask, sir, why you attended an assembly if you were so opposed to dancing that you must rout your friend from your presence for merely suggesting it?”
He flailed for an explanation, knowing that his greatest reason—the fear that Miss Bingley would have stayed at Netherfield with him—could not be voiced.
“It was a combination of things. I am not comfortable in new company at the best of times, and my nature is not given to spontaneity, but I knew nothing of the assembly until I arrived at Netherfield that very day. And further, my mood was rather low due to a family problem I had been much engaged in dealing with of late. However, as Bingley had accepted for his party, I felt it was expected that I attend. He was very eager to meet all his neighbours and have them know us.”
“You yielded to the persuasion of a friend,” she said.
“Yes, I suppose I did.”
She smiled faintly. “There is a merit in the willingness to do so that I respect, sir. And I do forgive you. I hope we may begin again.”
He bowed. “Thank you, Miss Elizabeth. You are generous.”
“It is clear that Mr Bingley values you, and Miss Bingley has told me that your performance at the assembly was a great surprise to her. With such testimony of your character and your own pretty apology, it is impossible to hold a grudge even if I should wish to.”
“I am glad of it,” he replied. “I will not keep you much longer, but I hope that now we are on cordial terms, we might speak of books when next we are in company. Miss Bingley mentioned your suggestion to read a Gothic as though it were a farce, and with that in mind, I perused the first few chapters of the volume you lent her and found it amusing. I am eager to hear what else you might have to say on the subject of literature.”
“Oh, is Miss Bingley enjoying The Dire Pyramid?” she asked eagerly.
“I believe she is. Certainly she was laughing as she read it.”
Her smile was as bright as the sunrise. “I am very glad to hear it, for that was exactly my purpose in recommending it.”
“You and Miss Bingley have become fast friends,” he remarked.
“I suppose we have. I cannot say I know her well, not yet, but it sometimes happens that I will meet someone and feel, upon our first conversation, that we are destined to be great friends. It has not always transpired that way in the end, but Miss Bingley is one such and I am hopeful that we are presently forming an acquaintance which will be meaningful to us both for many years to come.”
Difficult as he found it to imagine anyone of sense regarding the lady in such a way, he could also see that Miss Bingley’s behaviour in Hertfordshire had been quite different from what he had known of her previously and that a new acquaintance might like her very well.
He hoped Miss Elizabeth would not be hurt by a reversal on her friend’s part.
In reply, he chose to say, “Her brother was such a one to me. I felt I wished to cultivate his acquaintance after only a few minutes’ conversation. ”
“I will press you for the story of how you met at some future date, sir. At present, I feel we have been speaking alone for a little too long.”
He had no desire whatsoever to part from her, but she was entirely correct with regards to propriety. “Please, stay and continue enjoying the sunrise; I will go. Thank you for agreeing to hear me, Miss Elizabeth.”
He rode away, and when he looked back over his shoulder, she was seated once again, her face turned to the east, bathed in sunlight. He thought he had never seen a prettier picture.
The advent of new, elegant neighbours had inspired the gentry of the area to entertain more often, and over the course of the next fortnight, the residents of Longbourn and Netherfield saw each other several times.
Conscious though he was of the inadvisability of paying too much attention to any young lady, Darcy always found a few minutes in which to speak with Miss Elizabeth of books.
One or more of her friends were generally present, for Miss Elizabeth was well-liked and naturally sociable, but once they debated Richardson for ten minutes complete without any other attending.
Darcy walked away from that conversation with a reluctance which warned him that he was in some danger.
He made a resolution to better resist the temptation of her company in future, and promptly forgot it when next they met.
Sir William Lucas held a large party one evening, some three weeks after the assembly.
There was much talk of the imminent arrival of a regiment of militia, of which they had previous intelligence, but tonight they were introduced to its commander, Colonel Forster, and two officers who had accompanied him to Meryton to inspect the place where they were to be quartered for the winter.
The instrument was opened early, and Miss Lucas pressed Miss Elizabeth to play and sing.
Darcy attended the performance with great interest. Her performance was by no means capital, but was pleasing and engaging, and her voice quite fine.
She was succeeded by her sister Mary, who played with better technique overshadowed by her stiff, conceited air.
At the close of a long concerto, her younger sisters pleaded for some Scotch or Irish airs, and Sir William ordered the carpet rolled back in one corner of the room so that the young people might dance.
Such a haphazard means of getting up a dance—an activity which was not a favourite to begin with—did not at all suit Darcy’s tastes, but mindful of the poor impression he had given his friend’s neighbours not long ago, he replied politely when Sir William Lucas remarked to him that it was a charming amusement for young people and began to natter on about St James’s and the dancing to be had there.
Miss Elizabeth came towards them then, and Sir William expressed surprise that she was not dancing, attempting to induce Darcy to lead her into the ragged line which had formed across the room.
Surprisingly, he was not unwilling, and had opened his mouth to request the pleasure when she said, “Indeed, sir, I entreat you not to suppose that I moved this way to beg for a partner. Rather, I have come to task Mr Darcy with a most solemn and important question.”
“Well, well! I do not know that I approve of solemnity at my party, Miss Eliza,” the older man replied jovially. “But you have roused my curiosity, and if your question is not a great secret, I would attend while you ask it.”
Her eyes sparkled as she smiled at her neighbour.
“My acquaintance with Mr Darcy is hardly of such depth and duration as to admit secrets, Sir William.” She turned that smile on Darcy, and he felt as though she could ask him for his house in Mayfair and he might sign it over.
She then put on an air of gravity, though her eyes still shone with humour.
“Sir, I have determined that the illustration of your character depends upon your answer to this question: If you were about to set out on a long journey, and could only take one book, what volume would you select?”
He laughed; he could not do otherwise. “The illustration of my character, is it? Am I such a mystery?”
“In some ways, sir,” she allowed. “As any new acquaintance must be, though I do not believe I do you an injustice by saying that I have already determined that yours is an intricate character. But you have yet to answer.”
Sir William appeared delighted by this banter, his avid gaze darting between them.
Darcy made a bit of a show of pondering the question, to entertain them both, and then replied, “I have it! In my library at home there is a volume, acquired by my grandfather, collecting Shakespeare’s comedies.
That is what I should take with me on a long journey, if I could have but one volume. ”
She regarded him with some astonishment. “The comedies, Mr Darcy? That you would prefer Shakespeare is no surprise at all, but I should have thought you inclined towards the tragedies.”
“I do enjoy them, very much, but you specified a long journey. Travel is often uncomfortable, and even more often dull. To laugh and to be amused is, I think, preferable when one is in an otherwise trying situation. I leave the pondering of the weighty themes of King Lear or Othello to a quiet hour in my own home, when I am comfortable and at my ease. And now you must tell me—what have I revealed of my character, Miss Elizabeth?”
“That you are of a practical turn of mind—you have selected a collection, which will provide you with the contents of several volumes in one, and you have considered what is most suitable to the situation, rather than selecting purely on inclination. Had I simply asked you to name your favourite book, I think your answer would have been different.”
“It would,” he allowed. “And now I must turn your question upon you, that I might illustrate your character.”
She laughed. “You will despise me, sir, for I should choose Evelina. I never tire of it.”
“I cannot despise you, for I have not read it. If you approve of it so greatly, however, I must presume that I have been in error to have passed it by.”
“A most excellent answer!” she exclaimed, laughing. She looked across the room and nodded to someone. “I beg your pardon, Miss Long is waving at me, and I must see what she has to say.”
He and Sir William bowed to her, and she moved off to attend to her friend.
Sir William then took his leave, chuckling and muttering to himself about young people discussing books at a party.
Darcy was not alone for very long, however, for Miss Bingley soon passed by and, seeing that he was without company, stopped.
“I judge by your smile that you are having a pleasant time, Mr Darcy,” she said.
“I am, yes.”
“Not long ago I should have thought it insupportable to pass an evening in such a manner; indeed, in such society,” she said reflectively.
“I came to Hertfordshire prepared to be cordial for Charles’ sake, but without any expectation of pleasure for myself.
I have never been so happy to be proved wrong. ”
“There is little of fashion or elegance to be found here,” he pointed out without rancour.
“True. However, I will see fashion and elegance enough in the spring. Country society has its charms, and I am enjoying those at present. I find that my tastes are broader than I knew.”
“I confess, I am enjoying my residence here far more than I expected, as well.”
Young Mr Lucas requested her hand for the new dance which was forming just then, and Darcy was left alone with his thoughts once more. He found they returned again and again to a pair of fine eyes, and to the great pleasure to be found in a pretty lady’s artless smile, directed at him alone.
Caroline had not missed the way Mr Darcy’s gaze had sought out Miss Elizabeth Bennet when he spoke of enjoying his stay in Hertfordshire.
Nor had she failed to notice their lively, though appropriately brief, conversations on other occasions of late.
She felt the sting of rejection; how could she not?
She had pursued him for years, and another had attracted his notice without effort.
Even though she acknowledged that she had never felt deeply for him, her pride was yet wounded where her heart was untouched.
She acquitted Miss Elizabeth of any intentions of drawing his eye.
Her new friend had clearly disliked him in the beginning, and though they had reached some sort of rapprochement—she presumed he had offered an apology for his speech at the assembly—Caroline did not see that she treated him much differently than any other gentleman.
She suspected an attraction on his part, but could not say whether it was at all reciprocated.
It was likely immaterial, she concluded.
He might like Miss Elizabeth quite well indeed, but would he ever stoop to offer for a lady with neither wealth nor connexions?
She considered it improbable. He was too conscious of his lineage and position to reach outside his sphere.
It must be immaterial to her, in any case.
She had tried for him and failed. His choice of a bride must not concern her, for she would only make herself resentful if she allowed herself to do aught but wish him well.
As she moved through the dance, she saw her brother and Miss Bennet by the punch bowl.
They each seemed quite pleased with the other, and there, Caroline thought, was a much more likely pairing.
Jane Bennet would make a pleasant sister, and in marrying a gentleman’s daughter, her brother would raise the status of his own children.
They were suited to each other in both situation and temperament, and therefore there could only be one immediate objection to the match: that Mrs Bennet and her youngest daughters absolutely could not be presented to society.
At some point, Charles might find himself responsible for looking after a widowed Mrs Bennet and any of her daughters who had not wed, but that was a more distant concern.
Well, if her brother did propose to Miss Bennet, Caroline would speak with him about ensuring that her relations did not mortify them; until then, there was little point in worrying over the matter. She returned her partner’s smile and directed her attention to his conversation.