Chapter Seventeen
Longbourn
Elizabeth
Later that evening, the Bennet ladies returned to Longbourn to find their father still awake. They gathered in the drawing room to recount the assembly to Mr. Bennet, who had spent the hours of their absence in considerably greater peace with his books.
“Our girls were the finest at the assembly tonight, Mr. Bennet, and I will not hear otherwise.” Mrs. Bennet entered ahead of her daughters and had scarcely taken her seat before beginning.
“Mr. Bingley danced the first with Jane and another later in the evening. I declare, he scarcely looked anywhere else when she was near him. And Mr. Darcy! Three sets with Lizzy, Mr. Bennet. Three! He did not dance with another woman all evening.”
Mr. Bennet lowered his book. “Three sets? Then I fear the gentleman has begun his career in Hertfordshire by disregarding its customs. Was no one charitable enough to inform him that a lady may acquire expectations from considerably less?”
“Do not tease, Mr. Bennet. You were not there to see it. Mrs. Long noticed it as well. From the moment Sir William introduced them, Mr. Darcy could scarcely take his eyes from Lizzy.”
Elizabeth settled herself near Jane and smoothed her gown, deciding to support her father in his teasing.
“Mama, I thought Mr. Sotherton was your chosen gentleman for me. Two thousand a year and excellent connections, if I remember correctly. It seems very faithless to abandon him after one evening merely because a richer gentleman has appeared.”
“Mr. Sotherton is well enough,” Mrs. Bennet conceded, “but I begin to think you were right about him, Lizzy. He is very dry, and I cannot understand what he was about tonight. If he wished to dance with you, why did he not ask before Mr. Darcy did?”
Elizabeth exchanged a glance with Jane. Her mother’s conversion had been even more complete than she had anticipated.
“And Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Bennet continued, “has ten thousand a year and Pemberley besides. Lady Lucas says the estate is one of the finest in Derbyshire. Ten thousand! And he chose to dance three times with my Lizzy.”
“I begin to understand his chief recommendation,” Mr. Bennet observed. “His conversation, character, and appearance appear to have been unnecessary.”
“Lord, Mr. Bennet, how you do vex me! I said nothing of the sort. He is exceedingly handsome too.”
“That completes him.”
Kitty laughed, earning a reproving look from her mother, while Lydia declared that she could not see what anyone found so remarkable in Mr. Darcy. “He hardly spoke. I would rather dance with an officer who knows how to be amusing.”
“He spoke to Lizzy,” Kitty said. “Indeed, he scarcely spoke to anybody else.”
“He spoke when there was something to say,” Elizabeth replied, more quickly than she intended.
Mr. Bennet looked over the top of his book at her. Elizabeth noticed and lowered her eyes.
Mrs. Bennet, fortunately, was too occupied with Jane to observe anything.
For the next quarter of an hour she reconstructed every exchange between her eldest daughter and Mr. Bingley, assigning significance to looks Jane had not noticed and sentiments Mr. Bingley had certainly never expressed.
By the time she allowed the subject to rest, Elizabeth suspected an engagement could not be far behind if only the two persons concerned would consent to keep pace with her imagination.
One by one, the family eventually retired. Elizabeth had risen to follow Jane when her father’s voice detained her.
“Lizzy.”
She turned. “Papa?”
Mr. Bennet closed his book upon one finger. “Your mother has disposed of you very advantageously tonight, and yet amidst all her admiration of Mr. Darcy’s ten thousand a year, she neglected to ask what you thought of the man who possesses it.”
Elizabeth returned slowly to her chair. “I have known him for one evening. I should hope I am not required to decide so quickly.”
“Your mother required considerably less time.”
“That is because Mama had the advantage of knowing his income before she knew him.”
Mr. Bennet smiled. “A deficiency you were forced to share, I understand. Still, three dances ought to have supplied you with something beyond ten thousand a year. What did you make of him?”
Elizabeth considered before answering. “He is not easy in company. Not as Mr. Bingley is. Mr. Bingley seems prepared to like everyone before they have given him any particular reason to do so. Mr. Darcy appears determined to understand a person before deciding anything at all.”
“And did he understand you?”
The question caught her. “I do not know.”
Mr. Bennet waited.
Elizabeth looked down at her hands. “That was the strange part of it. There were moments when I had the impression that he knew what I meant before I had properly said it. When Mr. Sotherton approached me for the first dance, for instance, Mr. Darcy seemed to understand immediately that I wished to escape him.”
Mr. Bennet raised a brow. “He saved you from an unwanted dance partner? Perhaps your face was particularly eloquent.”
“I thought of that. But it was not only then.” Elizabeth frowned slightly, trying to put into words what had troubled her throughout the evening.
“When we talked, he would sometimes answer as though he knew where an opinion of mine was tending before I had finished expressing it. Once or twice I caught him looking at me as though something I had said confirmed what he already believed.”
“That is curious.”
“It was exceedingly curious.” She gave a small laugh. “And now I hear myself describing it, I sound vain enough to suppose a gentleman I met this evening somehow knows my character.”
“Hmm.”
“Papa.” Elizabeth shook her head, unsurprised. She knew that particular sound well enough to recognise his teasing.
Mr. Bennet smiled, but his expression became more thoughtful. “Did it make you uncomfortable?”
Elizabeth considered that more seriously.
“No,” she admitted. “That is perhaps the strangest part.”
Her father regarded her for another moment before retrieving his place in his book. “Then I shall reserve my judgement until I meet this mysterious Mr. Darcy myself. Any gentleman who dances three times with my Lizzy and leaves her with more questions than answers may prove worth knowing.”
With that declaration, Elizabeth rose and kissed his cheek. “Good night, Papa.”
“Good night, Lizzy. Do endeavour not to become engaged before breakfast. Your mother has had excitement enough for one day.”
She laughed and left him.
Yet once upstairs and Longbourn had grown quiet, Elizabeth discovered that her father’s teasing had not entirely dismissed the question. She could understand Mr. Darcy observing her closely. She had observed him in return.
What she could not understand was the persistent impression that he had not been discovering her at all.
At moments, it had seemed almost as though he were recognising her.