“Is it not wholly usual for every young person to have at least one parent with whom they must act very differently? The parent around whom they must be more quiet, more respectful? Does not every child have a parent they are frightened of? Perhaps the oddness is that it is the female guardian that I fear. I understand it to be more usual for the discipline that the father must provide to make him the object of awe.”
“Though I respected them both deeply, I never saw either of my parents as an object of fear. And what is more, Mrs. Bennet is not your mother.”
“Thatonly signifies that one must judge her kindly. She has raised me out of kindness. My gratitude demands that I never judgeherwith harshness.”
Harsh, tall, there was the look of a hawk about Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth saw that Darcy’s judgement of Mrs. Bennet had in no way been softened.
This made her glow deep inside.
“Gratitude has a place,” Darcy said. “But it must be bounded and limited, and above all, the object of gratitude must have done something which is actually worthy.”
Elizabeth shooed that notion away with her hand. “You do not understand. You do not knowwhy—But it is correct for me to feel as Ido! It is my place to serve Mrs. Bennet, I amgladI have such an opportunity.”
“You are everything that your conscience demands. But I cannot approve. A woman such as you should not pretend to be less than she is to spare the jealous feelings of that woman who you call your ‘benefactress.’ I can see how you have constructed your mode of life, your way of talking, your habits of dress and hair, for the sake of appearing as she would have you. You cannot wish to do this forever.”
“You have no sense of what it is like to be dependent. You have no constraints upon yourself. You are free, you are proud, you can look any man in the eye and know that you are their equal or their superior—in any room, youknow‘here I belong, here I have a right to be.’”
Mr. Darcy’s expression at this speech was rather odd, at first as though he had tasted too much lemon, and then thoughtful. “Is that how you imagine it must be for me?—I hardlyfeelas though I belong in every room. Frequently I find myself in rooms that I am unhappy to be in. When I meet many new persons at once, it is difficult. I cannot catch the tone of their conversation or appear interested in their concerns.”
He ran his hand through his hair in a rare gesture of seeming to be unsettled. Mr. Darcy wore very little of the pomade that slicked back Mr. Hurst’s hair.
Mr. Darcy dressed in solid colors, fine fabrics, and conservative cuts. He was not a flashy gentleman, a dandy or a macaroni as Mr. Bennet sometimes called them. But he had a proper concern for his appearance, and how the world perceived him.
Mr. Darcy was the sort of gentleman to whom a servant or other dependent would be happy to belong to. Perhaps an unsociable neighbor, but that was of less importance than his virtues.
“You know that that is not what I meant,” Elizabeth replied with a smile, rather happy that she had givenhimfodder for thought in return for that which he had given her. “No one will ever think that you are beneath them. Except I suppose at St. James. I often imagine that Sir William must have felt very inferior when he was presented to the king, and that is why he must tell the tale twice to everyone he meets.”
Darcy laughed. “I have on occasion been in the company of a duke, or a gentleman with a truly famous fortune. But… not equality. I am not their equal. But they show me respect. That is what you mean—there is no one in England, not even the king, though I am always his happy and humble servant, upon whom either my consequence, or my daily necessities, comforts and luxuries depend.”
Elizabeth was glad that the tone of their conversation was brightening. “The bounds thatpolitenessplace upon a man of great independent fortune cannot be compared to those placed on me by my position of absolute dependence.”
“I do not like to see it. You are of great worth, anyone who has been fortunate enough to enjoy your conversation must see that.”
Elizabeth was sure her cheeks burned at the praise.
Mr. Darcy likewise seemed to have some consciousness of what he said, and they did not say anything else for another minute.
The quiet walking together, her arm supported by the tall gentleman, was another joy that Elizabeth was not used to.
So far as she could remember, she had never had such an arm in arm stroll with a gentleman who she found handsome and interesting.
Netherfield park was picturesque. Falling leaves in big, raked piles, the occasional squirrel chittering about, the grasses and the hedges. A variety of ruins, grottos, and many benches. The scope of the park was not huge, lands that did not belong to the baronet who owned the estate could always be seen, and the whole could be compassed about, with all of the chief points seen and appreciated within half an hour.
It was quite odd, Elizabeth considered with a smile to herself, that she could speak so naturally and easily with this great gentleman.
Mr. Darcy’s abrupt and taciturn manner chiefly amused her rather than offended her. And she knew that she need not fear her own manners offending him.
He was the one who had sought out her company, and because he enjoyed her conversation. She felt nearly at her ease with Mr. Darcy, rather like with Mr. Bennet.
There were two chief points of difference:
First, Mr. Darcy was a stunningly handsome man, and the more that Elizabeth was in his company, the more she liked the look of him.
Second, Mr. Bennet knew that she was a bastard, illegitimate, the natural child ofsomebody. There was an inability on her part to really credit the good opinion Mr. Darcy expressed of her, as he did not know.
As though thinking about this brought it also into Mr. Darcy’s mind, he asked suddenly, “Tell me of your childhood. What do you remember from before you came to the Bennets.”
A fist falling. Screams. Another boy watching, a boy she knew very well. He had terror in his eyes.
