Miss Bennet placed her hand over her mouth, as though in thought. Darcy saw the smile in the way her eyes crinkled. “And, Mr. Darcy, are such the chief points you seek out in a future wife, and mother to your child?”
“I do not intend to marry again.”
Miss Bingley replied,. “Of course you do not mean to, given the difficulty of finding such a woman.”
The purpose of this speech was clear enough.Miss Bingleywas elaborately educated, and a master of music, singing, drawing, dancing and the modern languages.
The deuce.
Why would any of that matter in amother?“Any mother, to any child, ought to add something more substantial to all that.”
“And what would that be?” Miss Bingley asked, intently.
“A genuine affection for the child, and a modicum of good sense.”
Miss Bingley seemed startled by that reply, while Miss Bennet looked to the floor, in a manner that Darcy believed was to hide another smile.
“Oh, yes,” Miss Bingley agreed after a pause. “That is necessary — and good sense is rarer than is often thought. It can only be taught in the best schools.”
Darcy pursed his lips. Now he had to hide his own smile.
Miss Bennet caught his eyes, and Darcy nearly laughed at her expression. She understood exactly how ridiculous he found the way that Miss Bingley had attempted to turn that requirement into a compliment upon herself.
Having mastered his smile, Darcy did make a further, futile attempt to be heard by Bingley’s sister. “I must emphasize that I speak in generalities. Emily not only does not need a mother, and beyond the caring spectres who look over her, she shall not have one. As I havesaidmanytimes, I shall not marry again.”
“You grieve over Mrs. Darcy to such excess.” Miss Bingley wiped at her eyes to brush away tears that were not there. “She was such a fine lady, and she had so many accomplishments, because she had been raised so excellently by Lady Catherine.”
Anne had few accomplishments. She had not been splendidly educated. And she had not been a “fine lady”. She only… had been a dear person. A person he still missed. That sense of the absence, of someone not being there who ought to be there, had mostly faded. But Darcy hoped it would never be completely gone. The absence of his mother and father still haunted him at dark times, and when he was particularly uncertain.
Another woman who Darcy recognized as the oldest Lucas daughter came up to Miss Bennet and said, “Eliza, the time hascome. I am just going to open the instrument, and you know what follows.”
Welcoming the interruption from their conversation that had become too intense, Darcy nodded to the newcomer, and asked Miss Bennet, “Do you play?”
Miss Bennet blushed. “Not well! Charlotte is a strange creature by way of a friend. She always wants me to play and sing before anybody and everybody! If my vanity had taken a musical turn, she would have been invaluable, but as it is, I would really rather not sit down before those who must be in the habit of hearing the very best performers.”
In reply to that Darcy said, “I promise to not judge you by standards beyond those you have claimed for yourself.”
Miss Bennet made a small laugh and nodded her head to Miss Bingley. “Oh, it is Mr. Bingley’s sisters who frightenme.”
“Come, Eliza, come,” the other woman insisted, grinning at Miss Bennet. “You’ve no choice.” The woman turned to Darcy and added, “Whatever she says, she has a fine singing voice, and she looks very much to her advantage when she sings.”
“Then I must hear,” Darcy replied.
“If it must be so, it must,” Miss Bennet said at last. She smiled at him, and then made a little curtsey to Emily, who giggled in reply, and turned to the instrument.
Darcy found that he enjoyed her performance enormously, though it was by no means comparable to his sister’s play or to that of anyone who was truly proficient. Miss Bennet had an easy and unaffected air to her play that gave Darcy a great deal of pleasure. But his attention to the performance was distracted by keeping an eye on his daughter. One time Emily began to shriek as she ran around one side of the room, and he had to pick her up and bounce her till she quieted.
After her second song, another woman replaced Miss Bennet at the instrument and with an excess of poise begana concerto, but Darcy found very little of interest in listening to her. His mind wandered to recalling evenings spent with Anne encouraging Georgiana to play, while they all sat together. They’d read books to each other afterwards and talk, and Anne would work on her embroidery.
Would she have become friends with Miss Bennet?
He kept half an eye on Miss Bennet, thinking of joining the group of persons around her, all talking eagerly. However, he was approached by the mother of the young woman.
Mrs. Bennet said to him, “Do you not think that my girls play with such fine taste? Especially Lizzy.”
“Miss Bennet’s taste is excellent,” Darcy replied rather annoyed. He had never favoured those women who wished to push their children forward to his august, wealthy, and well connected notice. No matter how well he liked the child in question, such behaviour always made him think worse of all involved.
“I have only recently received the information that my eldest daughter, who is the wife of your respected aunt’s rector, is in a delicate condition. All of my children show an excellent maternal instinct, much like I have myself.”
