Chapter 16 #2
That evening, Lady Catherine’s guests arrived with admirable punctuality.
Mr Collins entered bowing and scraping, and apologising profusely for having had the temerity to accept Lady Catherine’s invitation.
His wife appeared to be a woman of sense, if one were to overlook the questionable decision that had made her Mrs Collins, and she greeted Lady Catherine with civil respect and more moderate thanks.
But though Darcy attempted to divide his attention and his greetings equally among the party, such an effort was doomed from the first. One woman held all his attention.
Elizabeth Bennet stood near the centre of the room, next to Charlotte Collins.
Her manner was easy and unreserved, and her expression composed.
There was nothing in her appearance to distinguish this meeting from any other, yet he was conscious, almost immediately, that it did not resemble their former acquaintance so nearly as he had supposed it would.
She saw him, and the recognition was accompanied by a slight alteration in her expression, not of surprise, but of awareness. Though she inclined her head with perfect composure, there was something in the manner of it which suggested that the meeting was not a matter of indifference to her.
Or was he merely seeing what he wished to see? Darcy returned the greeting, then forced himself to attend to the rest of the company.
Lady Catherine had already taken command of the conversation.
“Miss Bennet,” she said, addressing Elizabeth across the room, “I understand that your family resides in Hertfordshire, in the same neighbourhood as Mrs Collins’s parents.
Your father’s estate is Longbourn, is it not?
It is a very small estate, I believe. Not at all comparable to those in this part of the country. ”
Elizabeth received this without the smallest hesitation. “It is a comfortable one, Lady Catherine.”
“A comfortable estate is of very little consequence,” Lady Catherine returned. “What signifies is the extent of it, and the manner in which it is conducted. I suppose your father keeps a proper establishment?”
“He keeps one suited to his situation,” Elizabeth replied calmly.
Lady Catherine appeared dissatisfied, though whether with the answer or with the restraint of it was not entirely clear. “And your younger sisters,” she continued, “are they out in society already?”
Elizabeth met this with equal composure. “Yes, ma’am, all. They enjoy it very much.”
Darcy, who had heard enough to anticipate the direction of the inquiry, observed her more closely.
There was no agitation in her manner, no effort to evade or soften what was asked.
She answered plainly, yet without surrendering the dignity of her position, and though Lady Catherine pressed her with increasing insistence, she appeared neither disconcerted nor inclined to submit.
Fitzwilliam, who had been listening with some amusement, leaned slightly toward Georgiana. “You see how it is done,” he said quietly.
Georgiana followed his glance. “She does not seem afraid.”
“No,” he said. “And that is precisely what makes it so effective.”
Georgiana’s attention remained fixed on Elizabeth, and after a moment she moved nearer to her, as though encouraged by what she saw. Elizabeth turned toward her at once, and whatever reserve had marked their earlier acquaintance appeared to lessen in the ease of their renewed conversation.
Darcy watched this with a degree of satisfaction he refused to examine closely.
Elizabeth spoke to his sister kindly and without display, and Georgiana, in return, answered with a readiness that would have been impossible only a short time before.
Their manner toward each other was so natural and easy that they might have known each other a year.
At length, as the general conversation shifted and Lady Catherine’s attention was claimed elsewhere, Darcy found himself once more in Elizabeth’s immediate company. “I hope you will find your stay at Hunsford agreeable,” he remarked, wishing he might think of something more engaging to say to her.
“I have already found it very instructive,” she replied with a slight smile.
“Instructive?”
“I have learned a great deal,” she said. “Particularly in the management of conversation.”
He returned her look. “That is a skill not easily acquired.”
“No,” she said, “but it may be improved by practice.”
There was a brief pause, in which neither seemed inclined to withdraw.
“I wished,” she said at last, her tone altering slightly, “to thank you.”
Darcy felt the shift immediately. “There is no occasion —”
“There is every occasion,” she said earnestly, though quietly. “You warned me when I had no reason to expect it, and you acted when I could not. I cannot suppose that either required little from you.”
Darcy met her gaze, though it cost him a small effort. “You give me more credit than I deserve.”
“I do not think so.”
“It was only what ought to have been done.”
“And yet,” she said, “it was not done by anyone else.”
He hesitated, though only for a moment. “That does not make it extraordinary.”
“Perhaps not,” she allowed. “Perhaps it was only essential.”
There was something in her manner that rendered further denial unnecessary. Darcy inclined his head slightly. “You are very generous.”
“I am only just,” she said.
Though simply spoken, the words remained with him.
But before he could answer, Lady Catherine’s voice rose again, recalling the attention of the room, and the moment was lost in the general movement of the company.
During supper, he was seated too far from Elizabeth to speak to her.
Fitzwilliam had better luck, and to judge by his smiles and chuckles over supper, he found himself very well amused indeed.
Darcy hoped to speak to Elizabeth again in the interval after the meal, but there, too, he was disappointed.
Lady Catherine held court so forcefully that there was little opportunity for any individual conversation.
The evening concluded with all the ceremony that had attended its beginning. Mr Collins expressed his gratitude at length enough to test the patience of everyone but himself and Lady Catherine, and Mrs Collins bore it with the same composure she had shown throughout.
Darcy spoke little as they took their leave.
His attention, though not visibly withdrawn from the company, had settled on a single point from which it did not easily move.
The conversation he had shared with Elizabeth, brief as it had been, returned to him with a clarity that resisted distraction.
There had been nothing in it to surprise an observer, yet he was conscious of having felt more in those few moments than in many longer exchanges.
He had not expected her gratitude to be so earnest. Nor had he expected to value it so deeply.
Lady Catherine retired early and required her daughter to do likewise.
As the others sat in the drawing room together, Fitzwilliam spoke of the evening with easy animation, commenting on Mr Collins with amusement and on Lady Catherine with a degree of freedom Darcy could not entirely condone, though with so much truth he could not object.
Encouraged by her own success, Georgiana added her impressions with a quiet satisfaction that Darcy was pleased to hear.
“You liked Miss Bennet, then,” Fitzwilliam said at last, turning toward her.
“Very much,” Georgiana replied. “I think she will add greatly to my enjoyment of our visit.”
“And mine as well,” Fitzwilliam agreed.
Darcy did not speak; he did not trust himself not to answer with revealing warmth.
Unfortunately, Fitzwilliam chose that very moment to glance curiously at him. “And you, Darcy? You have been unusually silent. What do you think?”
Darcy cleared his throat. “I agree with you both,” he said. “Miss Bennet was a most engaging acquaintance when we met before. I look forward to deepening our acquaintance, for I have rather known a woman more charming, nor any person of quicker wit.”
Georgiana looked at him quickly. There was something in her face that he could not quite read. She said at last, “That is very high praise, brother.”
Darcy considered this. “Yes,” he said at last. “I suppose it is.” He said it quietly, but he felt the truth of it all the same.
There had been a time when he would have resisted such a conclusion, or examined it until it lost its force. Now he found no inclination to do either. What he had observed in her that evening confirmed what he had begun, however reluctantly, to understand before.
Elizabeth’s judgement was steady. Her manner was unaffected. Her regard, when given, was neither careless nor easily withdrawn.
He had thought himself justified in admiring her. He was no longer certain that admiration was a sufficient word.
As he glanced out the window toward the parsonage, Darcy knew all at once that his regard for her had passed beyond the limits he had once intended to observe.
He could not bring himself to regret it.