“That is interesting, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth. “What do you suppose provoked such a significant alteration in her behavior?”
“Darcy’s verbal flaying of her might have had something to do with it,” said Colonel Fitzwilliamsotto voce.
Anne giggled and Mr. Darcy shook his head. As Elizabeth remembered the gentleman saying something of their confrontation, she looked across the room to Miss Bingley, noting that she now sat close to Jane and appeared to be speaking earnestly with her, Mrs. Hurst close by her side. Mr. Bingley, though he regarded all with a genial smile, watched the interaction, his vigilance clear to anyone who cared to look. It appeared Mr. Darcy’s assertions were correct, for Elizabeth had been in Miss Bingley’s company enough to witness her constant looks to the gentleman, whether in seeking approval or to measure his interest in her doings. Yet that morning she did not so much as glance at Mr. Darcy.
“Even after that confrontation,” said Mr. Darcy, “she clung to some vestige of her hopes. It was only after the dinner you attended at Netherfield that I saw a change in her.”
“Or the conversation thereafter,” said Anne. At Elizabeth’s interested look, Anne clarified: “The discussion concernedDarcy’s invitation to your aunt and uncle and how he saw them as no different from his friendship with Mr. Bingley.”
“Once she heard that,” said Darcy, “I can only assume she finally understood that nothing of your situation gave me the slightest pause.”
“I suspect it was the knowledge that Miss Elizabeth would soon visit your estate,” said Fitzwilliam.
“Whatever it was,” said Mr. Darcy with a nod at his cousin, “she appears to have given up any pretense of trying to gain my approval. I hope she uses this knowledge to attract some gentleman to propose, for if she does not, Bingley will remain responsible for her.”
“Given what has passed between them,” said Elizabeth, understanding the dilemma, “I cannot imagine Jane will be comfortable with Miss Bingley living in her house forever, even if she makes amends.”
“And Miss Bingley will be loath to relinquish her place as the mistress of her brother’s house, a position she has held since she was old enough to assume the position.” Mr. Darcy shook his head. “I doubt she would be so crass as to challenge your sister’s authority, but I would not put it beyond her to give orders as if she were still in control of the house.”
“Then I must hope for her success,” murmured Elizabeth.
“You have not heard the best of our news yet,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, hilarity staining her voice.
“You speak of something particular?” asked Elizabeth.
“What my overly jocose cousin is trying to jest,” said Anne, “is that my mother intends to go north with us when Darcy returns to Pemberley.”
A shade of dread fell over Elizabeth’s mind. “Can I suppose she has a purpose for this decision?”
“If you expect she means to examine your aunt and uncle and ensure you will all do Darcy credit, you are not far from thetruth.”
Elizabeth looked at Colonel Fitzwilliam with dismay, noting his barely restrained glee at the notion of his aunt sticking her overly enormous nose into matters that did not concern her. Darcy was shaking his head, not in denial, but in resignation at his aunt’s officiousness, while Anne’s feelings appeared to be in the middle somewhere. At that moment, Lady Catherine sat close to Mrs. Bennet, and as was her custom, she had assumed most of the burden of conversation, relegating Mrs. Bennet to the position of supplicant. Not that her mother appeared unhappy—Elizabeth knew from her mother’s lips that Mrs. Bennet now regarded Lady Catherine as a most erudite woman, one from whom she could learn much. It was not unlike Mr. Collins’s reverence for the lady, as nauseating a notion as that was.
“Do not concern yourself, Elizabeth,” said Anne, reaching out to pat Elizabeth’s hand. “I shall also go and do my utmost to curb my mother’s behavior.”
Elizabeth looked at her, dubious as to Anne’s ability to do anything about her mother.
“Miss Elizabeth does not appear to trust you, Annie,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam.
“That is enough from you,” was Anne’s prim response. “My mother is not nearly so much of a dragon as all this.”
“Yes, she is,” said Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam in tandem, provoking them all to mirth.
“Oh, fiddlesticks!” said Anne. “Elizabeth, you have spoken of your aunt and uncle in such terms as to suggest they are excellent people.”
“They are,” replied Elizabeth. “My aunt and uncle are the finest of my acquaintances. Were I to introduce you to them and you had no foreknowledge of my uncle’s profession, you would assume they were gentlefolk.”
“Then that guarantees my mother’s approval.” Anne smiled at her. “Mama drones on about the barriers between the classes, but what she truly cannot abide is poor behavior and those who attempt to portray themselves as something they are not.”
“Which is why she disdains Miss Bingley,” said Mr. Darcy, while Colonel Fitzwilliam drawled: “The notion of your mother accusing another of poor behavior is rather droll.”
Anne nodded to the former and glared at the latter. Colonel Fitzwilliam put his hands out in surrender.
“I believe I shall speak with Mr. Bennet, for it seems my little cousin does not appreciate my wit.”
“The problem is, Cousin,” said Mr. Darcy, “that you consider them witticisms at all. The rest of us do not find you nearly so entertaining.”
“That is simply because you lack the requisite sense of humor, Darcy,” retorted Colonel Fitzwilliam.
