CHAPTER 4 #2
Darcy did not smile in return. "I revise an opinion, Miss Bennet, only when the evidence obliges me to it. I do not consider that a virtue. I consider it only the alternative to being a fool.” He said nothing further, and turned his head slightly toward the road ahead, as though the matter, having been stated, required no further remark from either of them.
Elizabeth lifted her chin, offered him a polite smile, and excused herself from his presence, slowing her pace to join Jane and Mr. Bingley, who were quite a ways behind.
Mr. Darcy slowed his pace, some half-formed intention of speaking further overtaken, in the same instant, by the sight of her already turning to go.
He recovered himself quickly enough, and offered her, instead, a bow of the strictest correctness, nothing in it that could be faulted, and nothing in it, either, that could be mistaken for warmth, before continuing on at his brisk pace, his countenance composed into its customary gravity, though his heart beat rather harder in his chest than be could thought to warrant.
As he strode ahead of the group, putting rather more distance between himself and the rest of the party, he found himself considering Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
Why do I continue to seek her company? Every conversation with her ended the same, his opinions challenged, his assumptions examined, and his composure tested in a manner he permitted from no one else living.
By every rational measure, and he flattered himself he was a man governed by rational measure, he ought to avoid her.
And yet, he experienced such an uncommon satisfaction in speaking with a woman who neither admired him for his fortune nor deferred to him for his consequence.
Miss Bennet disagreed because she believed herself right, and expected him to defend his position with something better than habit.
It was, he was forced to admit, a standard he respected and, if he were more than honest, valued.
***
On the third afternoon, with the wedding drawing ever nearer and the household given over almost entirely to its preparations, Elizabeth and Darcy found occasion, once again, to disagree, this time over poetry, of all unlikely battlegrounds, Darcy having ventured the opinion, with more confidence than tact, that her evident fondness for satire betrayed a want of proper feeling, and that a lady who laughed so readily at folly could not be relied upon to feel very deeply anything at all.
"A want of proper feeling!” Elizabeth cried, feeling agitated at his hasty assumption.
“I think it betrays rather more feeling than the alternative, sir, which is to admire everything indiscriminately and find fault with nothing, for fear of being thought unkind.
I would rather laugh at folly than pretend I had not noticed it. "
Darcy regarded her steadily and replied calmly. "There is a difference, I think, between perceiving folly and making an entertainment of it. The first requires discernment; the second, though often deserved, is not always charitable."
"Is there truly a difference?" Elizabeth asked, a smile playing about her lips. "I had not imagined the difference so very precise as you describe it. Tell me, Mr. Darcy, do you never laugh?"
Darcy returned her look with one of his own, the corner of his mouth betraying something that was, in another man, very nearly a scoff. "I hope I am not so grave as that."
"You hope it, sir," she replied, with a light and teasing voice, "but I have now enjoyed the advantage of your company for three days, and I have yet to witness any convincing evidence.
I begin to suspect you reserve your laughter for occasions of the strictest privacy, where no one can accuse you of having enjoyed yourself. "
The corner of Darcy's mouth stirred almost imperceptibly, as his eyes drew ever more narrow. "You are determined to find me ridiculous."
Elizabeth shook her head, smiling as she did. "No, sir. I am determined to find you only human."
He had no ready answer, and what reply occurred to him seemed, upon reflection, better left unsaid.
It was at this moment that Bingley, whose attention to the the new wall dressings had long since yielded to his enjoyment of the conversation, declared with perfect sincerity that he could not remember when an afternoon of whist had afforded him such uncommon entertainment.
The observation earned him matching looks of mild reproach. Bingley blinked, looked from one to the other, and, entirely failing to understand the cause of their disapproval, turned cheerfully to discussing colours with Jane.
The debate, however, survived the interruption.
It resumed in quieter tones, wandered from wit to books, from books to travel, and from travel to the curious habits of mankind, until the afternoon sun began to dwindle.
By then, neither Elizabeth nor Darcy could have honestly claimed victory, though both privately suspected the conversation had been the better for remaining unresolved.
***
What struck Elizabeth most forcibly that night, as she undressed for bed in the comfort of her small room, was not that Mr. Darcy disagreed with her.
She had met disagreeable men before, and dismissed them without difficulty, but that he seemed, against what she supposed must be his own better judgment, to seek her out for the purpose.
He does not avoid me, as a man weary of contradiction surely would have done, she reflected.
Why, he came to sit near me at luncheon, and has fallen into step beside me on walks, and however the company arranged itself, Mr. Darcy has seldom placed himself where conversation could not be had with me.
In fact, she believed Mr. Darcy had chosen to be near her with such a regularity that could not, she began to think, be entirely accidental; could it?
Once might be accident. Twice, convenience. But such regularity admitted of neither explanation with much satisfaction. Though, despite the mounting evidence, Elizabeth could not persuade herself that it was intentional.
Mr. Darcy is not a man, she thought, who seeks out the company of a woman merely because she amuses him.
Yet if it were not intentional, it was certainly extraordinary.
He argued with her more than with anyone else, disagreed with her more openly than good manners strictly required, and nevertheless appeared the following day with no less willingness to renew the acquaintance.
It was a contradiction she found herself unable to resolve. Perhaps, she reflected, he simply enjoys disputation more than he is willing to acknowledge. It was, after all, the most sensible explanation. However, even as she settled upon it, she was not entirely convinced herself.
The next morning, a mere two days before Jane’s nuptials, Elizabeth mentioned as much to Jane, half in complaint and half in genuine puzzlement.
"He seeks me out only to disagree with me, Jane, which I cannot account for at all, unless he finds some perverse pleasure in being contradicted that he has not the honesty to admit to. "
"Or," said Jane, with the particular gentleness she reserved for her sister, when she knew she did not wish to hear a thing, "he finds some pleasure in the conversation itself, Lizzy, and has not yet found a better excuse to continue it."
Elizabeth laughed this notion away as absurd, and did not think of it again for above an hour together.
For his own part, Darcy did not have a more satisfactory explanation to his actions.
He only knew that each day he found himself wondering, not whether he should encounter Miss Elizabeth Bennet, but when.
At Netherfield during luncheon, in the sitting room at Longbourn, upon a walk, or in some drawing room conversation, she would invariably discover a fresh opportunity to oppose him, and he, with equal certainty, would answer her.
It ought to have wearied him, as he ought to have preferred the society of those who agreed with him more readily. But, he found himself disappointed whenever a day afforded fewer conversations with Miss Elizabeth than he had expected, and uncommonly attentive whenever she entered a room.
He persisted in calling the sensation irritation, for irritation was familiar and infinitely less disquieting than any alternative. However, when he examined the matter with honesty, he was obliged to admit that it bore little resemblance to annoyance.
Darcy did not seek Elizabeth’s company because she agreed with him, nor despite the fact that she contradicted him. Rather, he sought it because no one else compelled him to think so carefully, defend his opinions so thoroughly, or enabled him to laugh privately at himself.