Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
“Our cousin, Mr. Collins,” Kitty supplied, without appearing to think the omission of much consequence.
Mr. Collins, perhaps gratified to have been noticed at all, immediately offered his civilities and lost very little time in informing the gentlemen of his patroness's opinion of a respectable militia, together with several observations she had made upon the conduct proper to officers.
Mr. Denny and his companions could do little more than stare while Mr. Collins continued, apparently unconscious that none of them had asked for his patroness’s opinion upon the subject.
Lydia, possessing neither their patience nor their civility, interrupted him before he could proceed much further and demanded that Mr. Denny continue his introduction.
Wickham bowed to the ladies with considerable grace. His gaze passed over the sisters and returned, Elizabeth thought, with a moment's particular attention to her when her name was spoken.
“Mr. Wickham is newly come from London,” Denny continued, “and has been foolish enough to exchange its pleasures for our humble society.”
“I have seen enough of London to believe the exchange may be very much in my favour,” Wickham replied. “Though I confess I had not expected Meryton to recommend itself quite so quickly.”
Lydia laughed at once. Kitty followed her example, and even Elizabeth smiled. Mr. Wickham possessed that ease of manner which made his compliments appear less studied than they probably were.
“You must not praise Meryton too soon, Mr. Wickham,” Elizabeth said. “We shall expect you to maintain the opinion after you have been here a fortnight.”
“Then I must take care to discover sufficient reasons for doing so.”
His answer was accompanied by a smile directed towards her, and Elizabeth acknowledged it with good humour. He was certainly agreeable, and she could readily understand why Lydia had already begun regarding Mr. Denny's new acquaintance as the most interesting object in Meryton.
Upon learning that the Bennets were bound for Mrs. Phillips's house, Denny declared that they might accompany them part of the way, as he had intended to call there himself.
Mrs. Phillips was well acquainted with several of the officers, and Lydia received this addition to their party with such enthusiasm that no further agreement seemed necessary.
They had proceeded only a short distance together when the sound of approaching horses drew Elizabeth's attention towards the road.
Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy were riding towards them.
Elizabeth's pleasure at seeing the latter was immediate.
Darcy noticed the party almost at the same moment, and his gaze found her readily amongst them.
Even at a distance she saw recognition brighten his expression, followed by a warmth which brought back, with uncomfortable vividness, everything that had passed between them upon Oakham Mount.
Elizabeth smiled.
Then Darcy’s eyes met Wickham.
The change was so sudden that her smile faded.
Darcy checked his horse. Whatever pleasure had been in his countenance vanished, replaced by a severity Elizabeth had never before seen in him. For several seconds he appeared almost motionless, his attention fixed entirely upon the gentleman standing beside Mr. Denny.
Elizabeth turned instinctively towards Wickham.
His alteration was scarcely less remarkable. The easy smile with which he had been speaking to Lydia disappeared, and the colour left his face. He and Darcy regarded one another across the short distance between them with expressions which made any ordinary greeting seem impossible.
Neither offered one.
Bingley looked first towards the party and then at his friend. “Darcy?”
Darcy seemed scarcely to hear him. His hand tightened visibly upon the reins, and his gaze remained upon Wickham. Elizabeth could not determine what had passed between them, but she knew enough of Darcy by now to understand that such anger could have no trivial cause.
At last his eyes came to her.
For one moment she thought he meant to approach. Something in his expression altered when their eyes met, though not enough to restore the warmth which had been there before.
He inclined his head. “Miss Elizabeth.”
“Mr. Darcy.”
His gaze moved once more towards Wickham.
Then, without another word, Darcy turned his horse and rode away.
Elizabeth stared after him.
“Darcy!” Bingley called.
Darcy did not stop.
Bingley remained where he was for a moment, looking after his friend with evident surprise. He glanced towards Wickham, then back at the assembled party.
“I beg your pardon,” he said. “We have just come from the Long’s Lodge, where we paid a visit to Mr. Long. Perhaps Darcy is suddenly unwell, or has remembered some pressing business. I had better go after him.”
With another hurried apology, he turned his horse and followed his friend down the road.
For several moments no one spoke.
Lydia recovered first. “Well! What on earth was that?”
Elizabeth had no answer. Her attention remained upon the road down which the two gentlemen had disappeared, though her thoughts were fixed almost entirely upon Darcy's face at the moment he had recognised Wickham.
She had never seen him truly displeased before, and certainly had never imagined his anger could approach what she had just witnessed.
Beside her, Mr. Collins made a small sound of astonishment. “Forgive me, cousins, but the gentleman you called Mr. Bingley, did he address his companion as Darcy?”
Elizabeth turned towards him. “He did.”
“That was Mr. Bingley and his friend, Mr. Darcy,” Mary explained. “They have been at Netherfield since early last month and are now well acquainted with our family.”
“Mr. Darcy?” Mr. Collins repeated, his interest visibly increasing. “Can it be Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley?”
“The very same,” Lydia said. “Do you know him?”
Mr. Collins's whole manner altered. “Good heavens! Mr. Darcy of Pemberley? The nephew of my most noble patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh?”
Elizabeth nodded, having expected some such reaction from the moment Mr. Collins learnt Darcy's identity. Ordinarily she might have taken considerable pleasure in witnessing it. At present, however, her thoughts were too much occupied elsewhere.
Mr. Collins stared down the road as though Darcy might be persuaded to return merely by the strength of his admiration.
“This is most extraordinary. Most extraordinary indeed! To think that I have been within speaking distance of Mr. Darcy himself and was not afforded the opportunity of paying my respects. Lady Catherine has spoken of her nephew upon several occasions, and Miss de Bourgh, of course...”
Elizabeth's attention returned to him. “Miss de Bourgh?”
“Her ladyship's daughter. A young lady of the most superior accomplishments and delicate constitution.” Mr. Collins assumed an expression of considerable importance.
“Indeed, it has long been understood within the family that Miss de Bourgh and Mr. Darcy are intended for one another. Their union was, I believe, the particular wish of their mothers from infancy.”
Elizabeth regarded him steadily.