Elizabeth had an excellent eye when shooting, and after she’d gotten sufficient practice, she hit her bird far more consistently than Mr. Bennet himself did.
Shooting was in fact the only gentlemanly sport that Mr. Bennet really enjoyed, not having the temperament for leaping fences while chasing foxes, nor for pugilism or fencing. He was decent, but not good with billiards.
But he liked to shoot, and he still usually hit his bird, though he complained that his eyes were not so good as they were when younger. Naturally then he would teach Elizabeth when he gained the notion to do so.
But he had not taught this to any of his daughters. If Mr. Bennet really thought that it was a good thing to always have a gun available, why had he only considered it important forherand not for his daughters?
She suspected, though, that he would have taught them all to shoot if not for the fuss that Mrs. Bennet would have made.
Being an excellent shot was, in fact, somewhat unladylike.
While waiting for Mr. Bennet to tell her whatever he wished to say before she went to Netherfield, Elizabeth studied the titles of the books upon Mr. Bennet’s desk.De Officiis.Metamorphoses.A volume from Gibbon’s work on the fall of the Roman Empire, a collection of theSpectator, and?στορ?αι by Herodotus.
At last Mr. Bennet said, “You are determined then to go to Netherfield?”
“Why such seriousness?—I very much doubt that Jane’s illness is both serious and catching.”
Mr. Bennet smiled and waved that away. “That is not what concernsme. No, I am thinking about a completely different matter. Ah, well. You are a sensible girl. Not so silly as most—or if you are so silly, you have some cleverness to go with it. Be cautious around Mr. Darcy.”
“What?” That was not at all what Elizabeth had anticipated. “Whatever do you mean?”
He groaned and pulled his spectacles off. He pressed a hand against his face. “Lizzy, I do not mean to… He looks at you with a great deal of admiration. You are understood to be a poor relation, my ward. It is possible he might wish to convince you to, ah…”
Mr. Bennet sighed instead of continuing. He looked exceedingly uncomfortable.
Despite the cleverness that Mr. Bennet attributed to her, and despite the fact that she had wondered the same thing herself, it took Elizabeth a full half minute to decipher what he hinted towards, so astonishing was this suggestion coming from this quarter.
“Oh, no, no, no. I do not think you have any need to worry uponthatscore,” Elizabeth said at last. “I do not think he is the sort of man who would take advantage of a servant girl, or someone otherwise vulnerable. And even if he were—that is why you insist upon me going by carriage?”
Mr. Bennet’s serious expression was the whole answer.
“I have nothing to fear from Mr. Darcy.”Or hope.
In truth, Mr. Darcy could be nothing but an interesting object for her to observe.
After giving her a hard stare, he said, “No?”
“No?” was Elizabeth’s response.
He sighed. “Just keep your senses about you.”
This was the most exceedingly awkward conversation of Elizabeth’s whole life.
She was quite surprised both by Mr. Bennet suspecting Mr. Darcy, and by his apparent belief that he needed to warnher. There was nothing that Elizabeth could think of in her past behavior that would give Mr. Bennet just cause to suspect her of being the sort of person who would engage in any form of immorality.
Suddenly, and without considering what might be the consequences of saying so much, Elizabeth said, “It is because of my mother’s sins that you doubt me, is it not?”
Mr. Bennet looked far graver than before.
“I know what she did,” Elizabeth said when the silence became terrible. “You do not need to pretend that I do not know the truth.”
“You remember that much?” Mr. Bennet sighed. “You were so very young, and you have never spoken of this. But I do not see why you would have. So, you remember that? I suppose that is part of why. That your mother had such a susceptibility suggests that you have the potential to behave in a like manner in a like situation. But your mother had been placed in anunpleasant situation, and when I heard of her actions, I was saddened to know of her fall, but not shocked.”
It was true.
Underneath her certainty she had still hoped that she had misunderstood something. But it was true. She was the product of an unsanctified union. Worse, much worse in fact, the way that Mr. Bennet had said “when I heard of her actions” dashed Elizabeth’s other forlorn hope—that she was secretly his daughter in truth.
Mr. Bennet took and pressed her hand. “Do not feel it so strongly. Your mother was in fundamentals a good woman. And I do not even thinkthatwas the greatest of her mistakes.”
