Chapter 4
Fitzwilliam Darcy
The normal breakfast hour had long passed before the party at Netherfield assembled, and the effects of the previous evening showed plainly in the subdued air of the room.
Mrs Hurst complained of a headache and requested that the curtains remain half drawn, while Miss Bingley complained at length of her fatigue and declared the air oppressive.
Mr Hurst did not appear at all; unsurprisingly so, given how heavily he was given to indulge.
Bingley alone seemed untouched by any fatigue or lowness. He entered the room with his customary energetic stride, greeted his sisters with unaffected warmth, and took his seat with evident satisfaction, as though his pleasure in the previous evening had carried forward undiminished.
“I declare,” he said, “I do not remember a more agreeable evening. The assembly exceeded every expectation.”
Miss Bingley gave a little smirk. “It certainly did — every expectation of coarseness, noise, and nuisance, that is.”
“Oh, come now, Sister!” Bingley protested. “It was everything pleasant.”
“It was tolerable,” Miss Bingley allowed.
“Tolerable?” Bingley laughed. “You are determined to be displeased.”
“I prefer to be accurate,” she replied. “Country society rarely offers anything of real distinction, and one must judge accordingly.”
“There was distinction enough for me,” he said, still smiling. “I found the company very pleasing.”
Mrs Hurst, who had been stirring her tea with slow deliberation, glanced up. “The company was numerous,” she observed. “That is not the same thing.”
Bingley accepted the remark without resistance. “You must allow me my own opinion. I was fortunate in my partners, and I have no wish to think otherwise.”
Miss Bingley looked at him with surprising sharpness for a woman who had so recently made a point of her weariness. “You refer to Miss Bennet, I suppose.”
“I do,” he said without hesitation. “She is exactly what one hopes to meet in such a place. There is ease in her manner, and sweetness without affectation. I was much pleased.”
Mrs Hurst gave a disinterested nod. “She is certainly very pretty.”
“More than pretty,” Bingley insisted. “Truly beautiful, and by nature as much as in her looks. She has a gentle disposition. One sees it at once, and it recommends her beyond any mere appearance.”
Miss Bingley set down her cup with great concentration. “Her manners are agreeable, I will not dispute that. But the poor girl! One cannot say as much for her connections. They cannot recommend her.”
Bingley shook his head. “I cannot think what you mean. Her family is very respectable.”
“Respectable,” Miss Bingley repeated, with a faint emphasis that altered the word considerably.
“If one is not inclined to look too closely. The mother speaks far too freely, and the younger sisters are forward in a way that cannot be overlooked. And where is Mr Bennet? I cannot think the situation entirely comfortable.”
Bingley leaned back in his chair, untroubled. “You expect too much of a first acquaintance. I consider myself well satisfied.”
Mrs Hurst smiled faintly. “You are easily satisfied. But what of you, Mr Darcy? We have not yet heard your thoughts.”
Darcy suppressed a sigh, for he could not relish the thought of being drawn into the debate. But having been called on directly, he could only speak as he found.
“Miss Bennet’s manners are pleasing,” Darcy said evenly.
Miss Bingley turned toward him at once, her attention sharpened. “Ah, yes, but what of her sister? What of Miss Eliza Bennet?”
Darcy paused before answering. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s manners are proper.”
“Proper,” Miss Bingley repeated. “That is a measured commendation.”
“It is a just one.”
“I cannot agree,” she said. “Not after what you and my brother have told us! A young lady who chooses to wander about the fields in such a manner must be deficient in some part of her conduct. Surely you would not wish your own sister to do any such thing.”
Darcy looked at her levelly. “You are quite right, Miss Bingley. Indeed, I should not wish Georgiana to go out into the fields and consult on what was to be done with them.”
Miss Bingley smiled in quiet satisfaction. “Just so.”
“But if she did so,” Darcy continued, his tone even and unaltered, “I should not regret her actions half so much as I regretted the circumstances that had required them. It would be my failure, not hers, if Georgiana were ever called upon to act so.”
Miss Bingley blinked in surprise to receive something that was so nearly a reproof, but Bingley looked between them with open curiosity. “Circumstances?” he inquired.
“I do not believe Miss Elizabeth was in those fields for her own amusement,” Darcy said, with a degree of finality that discouraged further inquiry.
Miss Bingley regarded him for a moment longer, as if weighing the remark, before thankfully letting the subject drop.
Bingley, who was not inclined to dwell on any discomfort, soon resumed speaking of the assembly with unaffected pleasure, recounting its particulars with the same cheerful spirit as before.
He spoke of the music, the arrangements, and the promise of future acquaintance, and if the rest of the party found less interest in the topic than he did, it was at least one unlikely to lead to any further discomfort.
Darcy listened without much engagement. He had not intended to speak in Elizabeth Bennet’s defence.
The remark had escaped him before he chose it, a circumstance he could neither regret nor entirely welcome.
There was nothing to be gained from examining the impulse too closely, and he declined to do so.
Though he had found her striking even at a first glance, and though he had found much more to admire in her courage and determination than to disapprove in her performing so unexpected a task for a lady, he would do best to forget her as soon as possible.
He had formed his opinion. Her situation was not one he could approve, and her family presented obvious difficulties that no degree of admiration could reasonably outweigh.
Whatever impression she had made must therefore be set aside, and he resolved to do so.
It was therefore rather inconvenient that the Bennets seemed to find Bingley as pleasant as he found them.
A dinner invitation for the coming Thursday arrived later that morning and was accepted without delay, for Bingley saw no reason to deny himself the continuation of an acquaintance that had already afforded him so much pleasure.
Though telling himself he ought to find a polite excuse not to attend, Darcy did no such thing, and instead set out with the others.
Their arrival had clearly been eagerly anticipated, for the door opened before the carriage had fully come to a stop.
They were received by the housekeeper, an older woman with a kindly expression that made Darcy think of Mrs Reyolds, and led into the drawing room almost before Bingley could give his name.
The Bennet family was assembled there and rose as their guests entered.
They all exchanged bows. Then all quietness was at an end for a time, for Mrs Bennet did not seem to feel she had made them welcome until she had said so three times, and Bingley was as inexhaustible in his civilities as always.
Miss Bennet’s manner was elegant and unstudied as she welcomed them — quite unlike her mother’s noisy protestations of regard. There was an effortless gentleness in her address, and her presence seemed to steady the room.
Elizabeth Bennet, too, had a presence quite unlike her mother’s. Though Darcy suspected he saw a trace of wry humour in her smile as she bowed to him, her manners were quiet and correct, no less elegant than her sister’s.
Darcy found his eyes going to her without his intention, and almost without his knowledge.
Standing in her own drawing room, she was as easy and unembarrassed as she had been in the fields, doing work that should never have been demanded of a gentlewoman, or in the Meryton assembly rooms, facing down an utter buffoon who insulted her a second time by exclaiming that she should not be there.
Elizabeth Bennet, in fact, was the sort of woman who made her own place and could be at home anywhere. Even as Darcy had the thought, she caught his eye, and gave him a smile that seemed half an acknowledgement of mutual understanding and half the next blow struck in some strange competition.
Darcy bowed his head in acknowledgement of the hit and felt his heart skip a beat as her smile changed. Had he ever known a woman with so easy a combination of sardonic humour and sweetness?
As soon as everyone had seated themselves, the conversation began at once, without settling into any particular order.
Mrs Bennet spoke frequently and with no restraint, directing most of her remarks to Mr Bingley, who received them with good humour.
Kitty and Lydia whispered together at intervals, though their whispers rarely remained private, and what began in confidence was often repeated aloud.
Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst observed with polite attention that did not conceal their judgment, and their silence conveyed as much as their words.
Darcy listened without much engagement. What he heard did nothing to alter his first impressions. It was not the kind of company he preferred. There was no order and too much eagerness, and while nothing could properly be called uncivil, the difference from his usual society was marked.
Worse still, Mrs Bennet soon returned to the subject that seemed to occupy all her thoughts.
“We were all quite pleased with the assembly,” she said, addressing Mr Bingley with renewed animation.
“Though we were sadly lacking in gentlemen, as is often the case in this neighbourhood. Thank goodness you are one for dancing, sir.”
“The pleasure was all mine,” he replied. “I was fortunate in my partners.”
Mrs Bennet’s expression softened at once. “My Jane thought the same, I am sure.”