“No, Papa never allowedthat. We were quite wild. It is a wonder that any of us turned out well. I recall that she once slapped Lizzy. I think Lizzy had asked about the meaning of an improper word. When Papa heard of it, he and Mama did not say a civil word to each other for two weeks. But she certainly never did anything of the sort again.”
Miss Bennet’s smile then returned.
Their dance soon finished, but as they walked to the side of the room, Miss Bennet paused them to say, “My mother lives and loves as best she can. She loves as she best can.”
The tale of Elizabeth coming to them with her body beaten black and blue made him sick.
He immediately looked around to find her. She stood next to Mr. Bennet near a balcony door, and both of them had a slump from fatigue. On the opposite side of the room, Mrs. Bennet was cheerful, erect, and she looked as though a ball at two in the morning was her favorite time to be alive.
Elizabeth was well, she was healthy, and she was full grown.
But he wondered now if the deferential treatment with which she always treated Mrs. Bennet may have come from that mostly forgotten childhood. Everything he heard or saw said that Mr. Bennet would protect Elizabeth in any matter of importance where she asked and where she was in the right.
Why then did she so elaborately fear making Mrs. Bennet angry?
But he still did not understand fully. It was not his mystery to solve, and he would soon need to leave, and that made him sad. He would miss his conversations with Elizabeth. He would miss regularly seeing her.
Darcy strode over to where she conversed with Mr. Bennet.
Mr. Bennet ironically asked, “Are you not to dance with Lydia as well?”
“I do apologize,” Elizabeth said, “for puttingsucha task on you. But I thank you very much. Mr. Bennet has insisted to me that it was not necessary. But let us all go to the library to sit a little.Youdo not like to be amongst crowds and noise for so long.”
“Neither do I,” Mr. Bennet said, “and I fear that Mrs. Bennet shall not let us call the carriage until it would be quite awkward for us to remain.”
“You, sir, give your wife the choice of when to leave such gatherings?” Mr. Darcy asked Mr. Bennet.
That gentleman said, “Do I detect judgement? Lizzy, lead on to the library. Through this door if I recall?—Are not balls principally meant for the young and the female? I usually do not attend so my preference on the matter has little meaning. But if Iambrought to attend, it would be hardly kind to curtail the pleasures of others.”
Elizabeth opened the library door, and Mr. Bennet settled onto a plump sofa with a yawn. He put his foot up on the ottoman. Though the candles were all lit, there were no other guests.
“I see,” Mr. Bennet said to Elizabeth, “that your tale of denuded shelves was true. It makes me think better of Sir Alfred to know that he carted the whole collection with him to that small place he took in Bath—It was a fine collection, not quite so good as mine, but by no means to be despised. On occasion we lent books to each other.”
Elizabeth sat down next to Mr. Bennet, and Darcy settled gratefully into a winged chair looking at them.
The banked embers had left the room a little chill, but after the overheated ballroom that was a pleasant change. The quiet was preferable. Darcy felt as though together they created the sort of small domestic circle that he liked best.
“I am afraid,” Darcy said to Elizabeth, “that something made me recollect business that I will need to handle immediately in London. I mean to follow Bingley there on his business, and I do not think I shall return before I go up to Pemberley for Christmas.”
“Oh.” Elizabeth’s voice caught. “This shall be goodbye? But you have already prepared me for the blow, and I shall not be unhappy again to see you go. But I promise you, I shall miss your presence in the neighborhood.”
Mr. Bennet watched their interaction with interest, though the principal object of his study was Elizabeth, not himself. Mr. Bennet then stood and offered his hand for Mr. Darcy to shake. “I hardly have had chance to fully understand your character, but I have found nothing that I do not like, at least a little, in what I have seen.”
“Miss Elizabeth has told me that you mostly study characters to amuse yourself,” Darcy replied dryly, “so I do not know if I ought to feel that as a compliment.”
Mr. Bennet laughed in reply, and Elizabeth grinned, and looked at him again with those sparkling dark eyes.
It was a terrible pity, Darcy thought, perhaps for the first time, that she had not been born a daughter of an earl or some other great gentleman. Despite the modesty of her upbringing, she would shine and sparkle amongst society if allowed.
“But shall we not see you in Bingley’s company some time or another?” Elizabeth asked. Then she sighed a little dolefully. “I suppose you are not likely to visit him at Netherfield for another long stay in the next few years.”
The whole left Darcy with an uncomfortable sensation.
He still meant to advise Bingley to not marry Miss Bennet. Except…after his conversation with her he no longer had the same conviction that Jane herself deserved censure, and her always fixed smile might simply reflect her unwillingness to show her feelings to the general public—a delicacy he could not despise—rather than an indifference to Bingley.
Or maybe it hid indifference.
Darcy could not know without a much closer acquaintance with her.
