Chapter 13 #3
“And I wished to avoid the trouble of prevention,” he returned.
“A natural inclination, though not, it appears, a prudent one.” He paused, then added, with a faint alteration in his manner, “The business has been conducted without my assistance, which is fortunate, as I am not certain I should have conducted it at all.”
Elizabeth inclined her head slightly. “It has been conducted effectively.”
“So it seems.”
There was another pause, not uncomfortable, but thoughtful. Mr Bennet regarded her again, as though something in her expression had invited a second consideration. “Do you know how it has come about, Lizzy?”
Elizabeth looked at her father, considering.
In one sense, she did. In another, she did not.
She had once told her father as much as she honourably could, trusting him to take action, and had been disappointed.
If she had certain knowledge, she would owe it to her father, but it was not so.
“I do not,” Elizabeth said. “I have certain speculations, but little evidence. And I should prefer not to air guesses that may amount to very little in the end.”
Mr Bennet absorbed this. For a moment, sadness came over his face, as though he knew and regretted that she had chosen not to be entirely open with him. But he did not protest.
“You are going to Kent,” he said at last, letting the last topic lapse. Elizabeth, too, thought it for the best.
“Yes, sir.”
“To visit your friend and our cousin.”
“Yes.”
He looked at her with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. “You have a curious taste in company.”
Elizabeth smiled. “I go for Charlotte’s sake, not for Mr Collins’s.”
“That is something in your favour,” he said.
He was silent again for a moment, then continued in a quieter tone, “You will not find much entertainment there, I think.”
“I do not expect to.”
“Then you are better prepared than most of those who visit him.”
Elizabeth answered only with a chuckle and a shake of her head.
Mr Bennet’s expression softened, though only slightly. “I shall miss you.”
The simplicity of it struck her more than any elaboration could have done. “And I shall miss you, sir,” Elizabeth told her father.
“I do not doubt it, in such company,” he said, with the faintest return of his usual dryness. “As for Longbourn, my library will suffer the greatest loss. No one else has sufficient patience to sit in it without improving it.”
Elizabeth laughed softly. “I always endeavour to leave it as I found it.”
“And I am glad of it.” He regarded her again more keenly, as though something further had occurred to him. “Lizzy,” he said thoughtfully, “what is all this I hear about Mary and the new parson?”
Elizabeth paused. “Little enough for the moment. They have spoken together several times. It does seem to me that Mary admires him.”
“Indeed,” Mr Bennet said, with a seriousness unusual for him. “And what is your opinion of the man?”
“I think him a sensible man,” Elizabeth said. “And an excellent speaker. Though the latter quality, you may judge for yourself.”
“Indeed, I have found his sermons to befit both a man of good sense and a scholar,” Mr Bennet agreed. “Only imagine if my cousin could say as much.”
Elizabeth smiled more easily then. “I do not think Mr Greene is in danger of being mistaken for Mr Collins.”
“That is much in his favour,” he said. “If I must have another parson in the family, I should prefer one who can read a book without misunderstanding it. My cousin has done quite enough to diminish my regard for the profession.”
Elizabeth could not help but laugh. “I believe you would find Mr Greene very much to your liking.”
“Then I shall hope to improve our acquaintance before I am required to admire him as a son-in-law.”
Elizabeth felt a small warmth at this, not only for Mary’s sake, but for the ease with which her father had accepted the possibility. “I think you would not be disappointed.”
Mr Bennet inclined his head. “I shall reserve my judgement until I have evidence,” he said. “It is a principle I have not always adhered to, but I begin to see its advantages.”
Elizabeth met his eye. “It is one I should recommend.”
He smiled at that, though there was something more reflective than usual in his expression. “You have already done so,” he said.
Elizabeth inclined her head and said nothing.
After a short pause, Mr Bennet turned slightly back toward his table. “You may go, Lizzy,” he said. “And take care not to reform the rest of us too suddenly. We are not all prepared for it.”
“I shall try to proceed with caution,” she replied.
“That is all I ask.”
Elizabeth left him and closed the door quietly behind her. Almost as soon as she had left her father’s study, her thoughts went to another gentleman, one much less disinclined to take action.
Odd indeed, to know how very much she owed Mr Darcy, and to know that she might never have the chance to thank him. Elizabeth suspected he was too generous to wish any expression of her gratitude, but that was simply too bad for Mr Darcy.
If they ever met again, she intended to thank him regardless.