“We wished to puzzle out the difference in your character and Bingley’s. I seldom have met a man with a more open temperament, or who is more eager for society than he—you tend to quietness.”
“You surely do not think that a man must always speak, even when he has little to say.”
“Now I anticipated that you would say preciselythat,” Elizabeth replied smiling at him. “And as such I prepared this response: I come not to criticize, but to observe. You often observe.”
Darcy frowned at that. “You have observed me so closely?”
“You are not the only human to whom the Almighty has gifted the organs of perception.”
From the edge of her eye Elizabeth saw her benefactress approaching them.
“What are you all speaking of?”
Elizabeth flinched at Mrs. Bennet’s loud voice. She immediately lowered her eyes and turned away from Mr. Darcy. She oriented herself towards Mrs. Bennet, looking at her face to see what her mood was.
Mr. Darcy said nothing, and Mary said, “We were talking about character and conversation, and the nature of friendship between gentlemen of distinct temperaments.”
“Oh, you’ll bore Mr. Darcy to his very death!” Mrs. Bennet smiled at that gentleman. “Do not bore him with your never-ending quotations—Mr. Darcy, I confess that my dear Mary is a bluestocking, but do not doubt that she is very accomplished and possessed of every female virtue. Mary, go play. Mr. Darcy cannot have heard your excellence at the piano yet—Mary is excellent, Mr. Darcy. Everyone says as much.”
As Elizabeth had not been given the opportunity to develop any facility at the instrument herself, she always liked to hear Mary play.
Mr. Darcy inclined his head, but Elizabeth thought there was a definite air of disapproval in his manner. After a minute of listening to Mrs. Bennet speak over the beginning of Mary’s piece of music, he interrupted her with a bow of his head, and walked to stand against a distant wall, though his gaze was oriented roughly towards where Mary had settled herself on the bench.
“What a rude, disagreeable man. I thoroughly dislike him, and I always shall unless he decides upon Mary. I would not wish him upon Lydia. She is too lively for such a person.”
“I think you misunderstand him,” Elizabeth said. “He is very kind. He always gathers his cup and saucer together so that it is easy for the servants to collect.”
Mrs. Bennet stared at Elizabeth in quite a similar way to how she might look upon a dog walking on its hindlegs, or a female preacher. Then she said, “He acts as though he is better than all of us. And he is not. Not a bit. You do not have my leave to like him.”
Elizabeth made an appearance of subservience.
There was a courtly kindness in how Mr. Darcy treated those who weretrulybeneath him. In her heart Elizabeth identified as much with the teeming servants as with the independent and well dowered daughters of gentry.
Only with those whocouldpretend equality with the great master of Pemberley did he act in such a supercilious manner.
After Mary’s concerto finished, Lydia begged for her to play a reel so that they could all dance. Mrs. Bennet, after seeing four couples form on the hastily opened floor of Lucas Lodge, sent Elizabeth to fetch Mary as soon as the current piece was done. “Make Charlotte play instead. No one will seekherhand to dance, not when she is so very plain. She cannot play near so well as Mary, but a country dance is not beyond her abilities.”
Sent off on this expedition Elizabeth walked past Mr. Darcy and Sir William speaking together. As shewasin fact interested in Mr. Darcy she paused long enough to hear the following snatch of conversation: “There is nothing like dancing, after all. I consider it one of the first refinements of polished societies.”
“Certainly, sir,” Mr. Darcy replied to Sir William. “And it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongst the less polished societies of the world: every savage can dance.”
This line seemed so much like what Mr. Bennet might say that it was impossible for Elizabeth to not smile at hearing it. As Elizabeth stepped past them towards the piano, Sir William paused her course and said, “My dear Miss Eliza, why are not you dancing? Mr. Darcy, you must allow me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. You cannot refuse to dance, I am sure, when so much beauty is before you.”
Sir William took Elizabeth’s hand to present it to Mr. Darcy, but with a start of fear, and full awareness that Mrs. Bennet might be watching, Elizabeth pulled back and said, “I assure you that I have no intention of dancing.”
“You dance so seldom, Miss Eliza,” Sir William said grandly, “but I have seen you sufficient times to know that you will bring no shame to my house if you embark on the effort.”
“I would,” Mr. Darcy said, bowing, “be happy to take your hand.”
“Oh, no—I assure you. Oh, not at all. I never dance. Mrs. Bennet wished me to—I do apologize, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth looked at him, struck with a sudden feeling of longing, and a certainty that there was in fact admiration in the way he looked at her—despite how she always did her best to prevent gentlemen from finding anything in her appearance to admire. “I fear I cannot.”
And with a small, hurried curtsey, and a pretense of not hearing Sir William further attempt at persuasion, Elizabeth went to Mary’s side.
The substitution for Miss Lucas was made, and Elizabeth and Mary returned to Mrs. Bennet.
“Mr. Darcy paid you little attention,” Mrs. Bennet said unhappily. “Oh, why did he dance with you at all, if he would care nothing for your playing? Heavens, these gentlemen will be the death of me. And Mr. Bennet has no compassion for my nerves.”
“Mr. Darcy?” asked Mary with every appearance of shock at hearing that name brought forward. “Idid not anticipate that Mr. Darcy would favor me with any particular attention.”
