“You are not to be teased?” Elizabeth asked.
“I must always maintain my dignity, my position… what I owe to my family name, and my proud ancestors. I am out of practice. I have been very little in company of late.”
“Perhaps you are lonely?” Elizabeth rather spoke of herself, she realized, though that was not in her tone.
“No, not that… perhaps? — it is so odd. I think I have never been so happy as this past year, and yet at the same time I am often anxious, stressed, and frequently without sufficient sleep when she is sick or teething.”
That unthinking declaration of happiness did not correspond with the general belief in the room that he wore the black armband because he could not forget the love he hadalways held for his now dead wife. “Do you take so much joy in being a father?”
“It is the most wonderful thing I have ever done — the most important. I experience an endless fascination, a delight, in watching how she gains abilities, how she advances in terms of capacities, in terms of knowledge and understanding of the world, her ability to use speech. Every fortnight she gains new capabilities, can walk more capably, can utilize more sounds. She understands additional things. And her curiosity! The insistence on doing things herself. I can watch her for hours without becoming bored. And she does always wish to be held and carried — but I will soon tire you. I speak too easily on the topic of my child.”
“I do not believe I have ever encountered a father who was so dedicated to his child, especially at the young age your Emily must be.” Elizabeth smiled warmly at him. Her sense that she liked him was strengthening.
And what he said made her think warmly about her own father.
“She was only born during the previous summer — and since then… I do not wish to bore you with tales of my child. You said your father died recently. I am sorry to hear that.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “Not so recently that I have much excuse for sudden bursts of tears.”
“There is not a time when you should wholly forget the man who shaped you.”
His serious tone made Elizabeth swallow back near tears once more. She nodded quietly. “My mother wished us to attend this ball, and so we perhaps are a little premature.” Elizabeth smiled slyly. “My mother had heard that a single gentleman of fortune had settled in the neighbourhood, and she wished us to have our fair opportunity to meet him — our fair shot, she said — though her worry upon our fates was somewhat assuaged whenmy sister married Papa’s heir when he came to Longbourn to take possession.”
“The estate was entailed?” Darcy asked. “It was fortunate for you that the heir was happy to marry a daughter of the house. Is he present? I do not believe we have met.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “He kept his position as a clergyman. He had only been bestowed the rectory shortly before my father’s death, and my cousin is desperately devoted to his patroness. I think…” Elizabeth said slowly, “It speaks a little well of his character that even after his fortune was made, he wished to maintain his profession and his attachment to one who had favoured him when he required employment and patronage.”
“You do not like him,” Darcy surmised.
“Am I so transparent?” Elizabeth laughed. “Do not say that aloud! Especially not where my mother might hear. She is wholly devoted to him — though she wishes he would settle here, as the allowance we are given to maintain the estate is far inferior to what she was used to in my father’s life.”
“She ought to feel gratitude that she can maintain her position and continue to live in her house. Many widows enjoy far less,” he replied in a solemn voice.
Elizabeth grinned at him. “Well spoken. I see you are a man who has never needed to worry upon the matter of seeing his consequence lowered.”
Mr. Darcy nodded his head to acknowledge her point.
With a smile, Elizabeth added, “It is the general nature of people to have reasons for dissatisfaction. You shall always be dissatisfied if you expect them to not find sources for dissatisfaction in their own lives.”
Her quip made Mr. Darcy smile. He then said, “I prefer to be amongst those who endeavour to look for the good and pleasant — do not tell me again that this is a matter easily saidby one such as me who has simply enjoyed an easy life. I have suffered from the deaths of those I love. And no one in this room lives a life really cursed by poverty.”
“Do you complain?” Elizabeth asked, “Even to yourself?”
“Seldom. And do you?”
“At times. It would be unreasonable to expect myself to never complain, even to myself. But I try not to do so to an excess. Jane never complains, and I worry for her. I worry more because I know she will not complain — she is the sister who married Mr. Collins. I know my circumstances are not difficult… sometimes I am melancholy. It is because I miss my father.”
“You try to remember him with happiness.” Mr. Darcy’s voice was serious.
What an odd conversation this had become. “Whenever I laugh, I am honouring his memory.”
“I have already deduced that you like to laugh.” He then flushed. “Though I cannot be glad that it was my foibles which offered you ample opportunity this evening.”
“You ought to become a philosopher about the matter. When one creates a chance for another to laugh, one earns the right to laugh themselves. And a world with more laughter is better than one with less.”
Mr. Darcy frowned. It was a profoundly serious and thoughtful expression. He at last slowly said, “That cannot be the only consideration in such a case.”
“When the matter is not serious, when it is not a question of fundamental character or honour, or a matter of the utmost importance, I think in those cases what creates the greatest happiness should be paramount.”
