Chapter 4 #2
Miss Bennet coloured slightly at that. Rather than joining her mother in flattering Bingley, she turned the conversation.
“We are so glad that you have come into the neighbourhood, Mr Bingley,” she said softly.
“Netherfield Park has sat vacant for these three years now. It will be very good to have a neighbour there again.”
Mr Bingley regarded her with open admiration. “Then I am doubly glad to have taken the lease.”
Elizabeth turned her head a fraction, the movement small and controlled, and Darcy observed the faintest suggestion of a smile that she did not quite allow to form.
“Quite right, Jane,” Mrs Bennet said happily. “We are quite fortunate in our neighbours, and it is all the better to have gained another agreeable family. Why, I believe we may now dine with four-and-twenty families!”
It took all of Darcy’s composure not to smile upon hearing so small a circle of acquaintance spoken of as large and desirable, and even Bingley could not keep his countenance perfectly even.
Hurst did, for he had not been attending to anything that passed, but Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley did not so much as make the attempt, and hardly even troubled themselves to hide their smiles behind their fans.
“Ah, four-and-twenty families?” Miss Bingley inquired with mock sweetness. “So many, for a country neighbourhood! But is it not rather inconvenient to host when Mr Bennet is away?”
The effect was immediate, if subtle.
The room did not fall silent, yet something in its ease was interrupted. Miss Bennet’s composure held, though her colour deepened. Miss Mary bit her lip, while her younger sisters whispered to each other.
And though Elizabeth said nothing, her face took on an expression that made Darcy’s heart sink with dread. He knew that look, for he had seen it in the mirror in the last weeks of his father’s life, and again when his sister’s shame and despair were at their worst.
It was the look of someone who fears that disaster looms for those they love most, and that they can do nothing to avert it.
Mrs Bennet, who never seemed to suffer from a lack of something to say, rallied quickly. “Indeed, it is most inconvenient that my husband is from home at present,” she said. “He has been away for some time, but I expect him back very soon. He is fond of his comforts and cannot remain absent long.”
“We hope for his return every day,” Miss Bennet said quietly.
“I trust there is nothing to give you uneasiness,” Bingley said, looking from the eldest Miss Bennet to her mother as though he meant to fetch Mr Bennet home for them at once.
“None at all,” Mrs Bennet replied. “He is only attending to business and has always done as he pleases.”
Darcy might have even believed her, if he had not seen the expression on her second daughter’s face.
Miss Mary Bennet, who had remained silent thus far, chose that moment to speak with careful gravity. “It is always desirable,” she began, “that duties should be attended to with regularity, and that conduct should reflect a proper sense of responsibility.”
Miss Lydia laughed immediately. “La, Mary, you are always so serious.”
“And quite correct,” Darcy said, surprising even himself. “Indeed, what are we without a sense of responsibility for our actions?”
Miss Mary looked almost painfully grateful for the support, although she said nothing aloud. Though telling himself he should not, Darcy could not stop himself from glancing at her older sister. Elizabeth was looking at him steadily, with a mixture of surprise and approval.
Darcy looked away. Her approval ought not to mean anything to him, but he was very much afraid that it did.
“Perhaps we ought to sit down to dinner, Mama?” Miss Bennet suggested gently, and her mother eagerly agreed.
The guests then moved to the dining room, where Mrs Bennet had carefully arranged them all to best advantage. Mr Bingley was placed where she might most easily address him, and every effort was made to secure his comfort, though the same attention was not equally extended to the rest of the table.
Bingley received it all with cheerful readiness, submitting to her attentions with a good humour that rendered them less obtrusive than they might otherwise have been.
Mrs Bennet, encouraged by his manner, pressed him to partake of every dish, and spoke of each with an enthusiasm that suggested the success of the meal depended upon his approval.
“You must try this, Mr Bingley. I insist on it. We do not often dine so late, but such occasions must be properly observed, and I would not have you think us wanting.”
“I could not think so,” he replied. “Everything is excellent, I assure you.”
Mrs Bennet accepted this with visible satisfaction and perfect credulity.
The conversation at the dining table was anything but orderly.
The youngest Bennet sister spoke often and without restraint, her remarks turning to the officers she hoped might attend future gatherings, and Catherine Bennet followed her lead with equal eagerness.
Their voices rose above the rest more than once, and their laughter carried easily across the table.
Mr Hurst showed interest only in the dishes before him, and contributed little beyond an occasional remark when directly addressed. Mrs Hurst spoke sparingly and seldom extended herself beyond agreement with her sister.
Miss Bingley, for her part, observed the scene with composed attention. Her remarks, when she chose to make them, were directed with precision, and if they did not openly censure, they left no doubt as to her opinion.
Darcy observed all of it while speaking as little as possible. The want of propriety in some, and of restraint in others, left him disinclined to join the conservation beyond what basic civility demanded.
All the while his attention returned, despite himself, to Elizabeth.
To judge by her glances, she saw the folly and discourtesy around her as clearly as he did, but she did not seem equally oppressed by it.
He would rather say that she bore it with patience, and perhaps not without amusement.
Her manner was calm, and there was a quiet ease in her conversation that drew attention without seeking it.
Miss Bingley addressed her after a time, with what pretended to be civility. “Do you not grow dreadfully bored in the countryside, Miss Eliza? I cannot think what I would do if I were forced to rusticate away from Town all my days.”
Elizabeth met her with composure. “It has its advantages, as I am sure London must as well. When I have had the privilege of visiting my aunt and uncle in Town, I have greatly enjoyed the theatre, but I missed the clean air and walking paths of the countryside rather badly.”
“Ah, yes,” Miss Bingley returned. “I had heard that you were often to be found out in the field, and doubtless walking for hours on end.”
Elizabeth inclined her head slightly. “I should not like to pretend to more industry than I possess, but I own I do enjoy a good walk.”
“That is the mark of a true countrywoman, to be sure.” Miss Bingley’s smile was all edges. “I confess I cannot bear to grow so unkempt and muddy as one must if one intends to stride across the fields.” Her glance shifted, not to Elizabeth, but to Darcy.
Elizabeth chuckled at that. “You are quite right, Miss Bingley,” she allowed pleasantly. “Indeed, anyone setting out on a long countryside ramble must accept the possibility of some disarrangement of their hair — or indeed, in a very desperate case, of a little mud on their hem.”
Not knowing how to fence with someone who refused to be wounded, Miss Bingley did not attempt another strike, and the exchange ended there.
Darcy could not entirely keep a smile from his face.
Having spent so much time in outmanoeuvring Miss Bingley himself, it was strangely satisfying to watch her doing it so effortlessly.
Bingley, meanwhile, had turned again to Miss Bennet. “I hope you will allow me the pleasure of another dance,” he said, “should we meet again before long at any occasion where dancing is offered.”
Jane Bennet inclined her head gracefully. “I shall be very glad of it.”
“But it will be an age,” Miss Lydia complained. “I do not think there is to be a dance, not a proper one, until the next public assembly. If only someone would have a ball!”