Chapter 10
FIVE
Netherfield.
Darcy
Breakfast at Netherfield was, almost without exception, a quieter affair than dinner.
Bingley attended to his correspondence as he ate.
Mrs. Hurst devoted herself to her breakfast. Mr. Hurst devoted himself to rather more of everything than was strictly necessary.
Miss Bingley presided over the table with all the consequence of a woman who considered herself mistress of the house already.
Darcy drank his tea and said very little.
Georgiana sat beside him, making respectable progress through her breakfast and answering Miss Bingley's enquiries regarding her musical studies with polite brevity.
It required only a glance for Darcy to recognise that she was making a considerable effort.
Caroline's questions betrayed a degree of self-importance which far exceeded her actual accomplishments, and Georgiana, though too well bred to show it, appeared perfectly aware of the fact.
"You play beautifully, dear Miss Darcy." Miss Bingley reached to refill her cup with such studied elegance that it appeared intended for the benefit of any observer. "I have rarely heard the pianoforte touched with such feeling. Your brother must be exceedingly proud."
"He is very kind about it," Georgiana replied.
"Not kind at all." Darcy glanced towards his sister and was pleased to see that the compliment had brightened her countenance. "Merely accurate."
Miss Bingley smiled at him as though the remark represented a significant advance in their intimacy.
Darcy returned his attention to his breakfast.
"Darcy." Bingley laid aside a letter, his face brightening as if he had just conceived an excellent idea.
"I intend to call at Longbourn this morning.
You ought to accompany me. If for no other reason than to make Mr. Bennet's acquaintance.
He reminds me of you in certain respects.
I am quite persuaded you would like him. "
"Mr. Bennet," Miss Bingley said, with a precision that conveyed her opinion far more effectively than any increase in volume could have done, "has not thought proper to call upon you once since your arrival, Charles.
Nor has he attended a single gathering to which we have been invited.
I cannot imagine what you find so remarkable in a gentleman who cannot be troubled to quit his own house for society. "
"Neither have we called upon them," Bingley replied cheerfully. "I have visited Longbourn several times. You and Louisa declined every invitation to accompany me."
Miss Bingley opened her mouth as if to reply but, apparently finding no satisfactory answer, closed it again.
"I should be very glad to come," Darcy said.
It occurred to him that this was the second occasion upon which Bingley had extended the invitation, and he found himself more inclined to accept than before. In addition, a part of him wished to see Miss Elizabeth again, for Georgiana's sake, or so he told himself.
Bingley’s smile almost reached his ears. "Excellent. Miss Darcy, will you—"
"Miss Darcy is to accompany us into Meryton this morning." Miss Bingley spoke so quickly in her haste that her teacup very nearly struck the saucer.
"I should have liked that very much." Georgiana looked towards Miss Bingley and then back to Bingley.
"But I promised Miss Bingley I would accompany her to the modiste to look at a gown.
I cannot honourably withdraw now." She hesitated.
"Though I confess I am sorry to miss the visit.
I would like very much to see Miss Elizabeth again. "
Miss Bingley's smile did not falter.
"There is really nothing to regret on that account, dear Miss Darcy. I am quite certain Miss Eliza will remain in the neighbourhood for a considerable time yet."
"I enjoy speaking to her," Georgiana said. “I consider her a friend.”
She spoke simply, without emphasis, in the tone of someone stating a fact which ought not to require explanation or defence.
A brief silence settled over the table.
Mrs. Hurst laid down her fork.
"She is an agreeable enough young woman, I shall allow.
And Miss Bennet is certainly handsome, I have no dispute with that.
But the family as a whole..." She shook her head, as if unwilling to grant even that much.
"The mother is insufferable. The younger girls are scarcely out and seem to possess no notion of propriety.
And their connections are hardly distinguished.
A solicitor uncle and another, I believe, engaged in trade somewhere in Cheapside. "
"Gracechurch Street," Miss Bingley supplied, with a satisfaction that suggested she had taken pains to discover the fact.
"Which tells one a great deal about the society to which they are accustomed.
" She turned towards Darcy with an air of confidence.
"And Miss Eliza in particular. I have always found something rather affected in her manner.
The way she is forever observing, forever surveying a room and placing herself to advantage.
It is hardly becoming. There is a degree of presumption in it, as though she imagines herself superior to the company around her, though I cannot conceive what has given her such an opinion of herself. "
Darcy set down his cup with deliberate care.
He had not intended to speak. He had endured the conversation with patience, expecting it to pass as so many similar discussions had done before.
Yet there was something in the ease with which Miss Bingley dismissed Elizabeth, something in the confidence with which she disguised hostility as reasonable observation, that exhausted his patience before he had consciously resolved to answer.
"Miss Elizabeth observes a room," he said carefully, "because she pays genuine attention to it, which is more than may be said of most people within it."
His voice remained perfectly even.
"I consider it one of the more admirable qualities a person may possess."
Miss Bingley stared at him as though he had spoken in a foreign language.
Mrs. Hurst cleared her throat. Twice.
"As for her family's connections," Darcy continued, "I fail to see what bearing they have upon her character.
Indeed, I have never understood why any person should be judged by the occupations of their relations.
Bingley himself derives his fortune from trade.
Would you wish either yourself or Mrs. Hurst to be judged on that account? "
Had a breeze crossed the room at that moment, it would have been plainly audible.
The silence was absolute.
Darcy resisted the urge to close his eyes.
Ordinarily he would not have spoken so directly.
Yet he had done so because Miss Bingley's remarks had called to mind too many similar observations made years ago regarding his mother.
He remembered the careful glances, the thoughtless comments disguised as wit, the assumptions made by those who understood nothing of what they observed.
At the time he had been too young to answer them. He was no longer young.
Bingley appeared suddenly fascinated by his plate.
Mrs. Hurst reached for her coffee.
Mr. Hurst reached for another piece of toast, seemingly indifferent to the entire exchange.
Miss Bingley recovered herself with visible effort and redirected the conversation towards the modiste with a brightness that suggested the previous five minutes had never occurred.
Across the table, Georgiana briefly caught her brother's eye.
She said nothing.
Yet there was unmistakable approval in her look, accompanied by a degree of surprise.
Darcy finished the remainder of his breakfast with greater haste than usual, pushed back his chair, and rose in search of his coat.
He suspected the morning ahead would prove unusually interesting.
? ? ?
Longbourn
Elizabeth
It was not unusual for Longbourn to receive Mr. Bingley, with notice or without.
The gentleman was paying his addresses to the eldest Bennet daughter and had long since ceased to occasion surprise.
What was surprising, however, was his arriving in company with the very man Meryton had unanimously declared the proudest gentleman in the neighbourhood.
Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth was walking in the garden, a book in hand, when two horses came through the gate. A stable lad appeared to take them. She closed her book the instant she recognised the riders.
What was Mr. Darcy doing here?
It had been three days since their meeting at Oakham Mount, and she had scarcely thought of him since. Or so she had assured herself.
The sight of him now suggested otherwise.
Mr. Bingley saw her first. He raised his hat with a smile that demanded nothing of anyone. Mr. Darcy noticed her a moment later. He touched the brim of his hat and offered something that bore a distant resemblance to a smile.
Elizabeth composed herself, curtseyed, and went to meet them.
"Miss Elizabeth." Bingley bowed. "I hope we do not intrude. I had looked forward to another visit so much that I could not persuade myself to wait for a formal invitation."
"You are very welcome, Mr. Bingley," she replied with a smile before turning to his companion. "Mr. Darcy."
"Miss Elizabeth." He inclined his head. "Good morning."
The housekeeper, Mrs. Hill, had already departed to inform the family of their arrival. Elizabeth led the gentlemen into the house, and by the time they reached the drawing room, most of the family had assembled.
Mrs. Bennet received Mr. Bingley with the warmth and flattery that had become customary during his visits.
She received Mr. Darcy with a degree of civility that did not quite approach the enthusiasm she reserved for his friend, but neither did it amount to a snub.
Elizabeth considered it a marked improvement. Following the assemblies, her mother's opinion of Mr. Darcy had seldom been expressed with such restraint. His presence in her drawing room appeared, at the very least, to have encouraged greater courtesy.
Tea was ordered, and the company settled itself. Bingley and Jane soon found themselves upon the same side of the room, as though by long-established habit. Mrs. Bennet devoted her attention to them immediately.
Mr. Darcy took the chair beside Elizabeth.
On her left.
She noticed it and said nothing.
"Your garden is very pleasant," said Mr. Darcy.
"It is more deserving of the compliment in spring." Elizabeth cast a warning glance towards Lydia and Kitty, who were amusing themselves at her expense with expressions they believed subtle. "At present it consists chiefly of stubbornness."
He appeared on the verge of replying when the drawing-room door opened.
The gentlemen rose as Mr. Bennet entered, spectacles in hand and curiosity evident upon his countenance.
"Mr. Bingley." He nodded towards him. "And you must be Mr. Darcy."
His gaze settled upon Darcy with frank interest before extending a hand to him. "I have heard a great deal about you, sir."
"I hope it has been favourable." Darcy accepted the offered hand.
Mr. Bennet considered the matter.
"Whatever I may have heard," he replied, "Mr. Bingley's description of you persuades me that I shall find you worth knowing. Come, sir. Sit with me a while."
He led Darcy towards the chairs by the window.
The conversation that followed concerned Hertfordshire at first, then Derbyshire, books and then some subject Elizabeth entirely lost when Lydia and Kitty began disputing the relative merits of various militia officers and Mary undertook to correct them both for their want of decorum before guests.
Elizabeth continued to direct her attention towards the window, careful not to make her interest too obvious, and watched Darcy converse with her father.
She could make out only portions of what was said, for both gentlemen spoke too quickly for easy reading, but she was quite certain he was enjoying himself.
She had never seen him quite like this before.
Removed from assemblies and crowded gatherings, there was something different about him.
Not less observant.
The quality of the observation had merely altered.
It seemed less guarded. More settled.
Elizabeth was so absorbed in watching him that she did not notice her mother sit beside her upon the sofa.
"Is there something I ought to know, Lizzy?" Mrs. Bennet leaned closer and lowered her voice.
"Mama?"
Elizabeth followed the direction of her mother's gaze and immediately understood the implication.
"He is looking at you again," Mrs. Bennet continued. "In much the same manner he did at the Meryton assembly. And do not imagine I failed to notice you speaking together at Sir William's gathering."
Elizabeth shook her head.
The absurdity of her mother's conclusions was almost impressive.
"Mr. Darcy merely wished me to make his sister's better acquaintance. Nothing more."
Mrs. Bennet's mouth curved with playful scepticism.
"I am merely observing."
"You are always merely observing," Elizabeth replied. "It is your greatest talent."
Mrs. Bennet pursed her lips and withdrew.
Elizabeth looked back towards the window.
Mr. Darcy was not looking at her.
He was listening to something her father had said, his expression open and genuinely interested, entirely lacking the reserve she had come to associate with him in company.
She picked up her book.
She did not read a single word for the remainder of the visit.