“Georgiana could do with a little more liveliness,” opined Lydia on one occasion, “but I am pleased to have made her acquaintance.”
“She is unlike any other girl I ever met,” said Kitty, a hint of astonishment hovering about her.
Sensing an opportunity to point a few truths out to her sisters, Elizabeth asked: “What do you mean, Kitty?”
Kitty started as if she had not expected such a question. At Elizabeth’s encouraging look, the girl ducked her head in embarrassment.
“I am not certain I can explain. There appears to be an airabout her, something of dignity I have never seen in another girl her age.”
“Well, of course, there is!” cried Mrs. Bennet. “To be a member of such a family, shemustpossess sterling attributes that are the envy of many!”
Elizabeth stifled a laugh at her mother’s words, for they reminded her of a certain parson of her acquaintance, one who might have made exactly the same comment.
“And yet, I would remind you, Mrs. Bennet,” said Mr. Bennet, who was with his family, “that she is naught but a girl. The behavior of those of higher society is often much worse than you might expect. I attribute Miss Darcy’s excellent bearing as evidence of her guardians’ efforts rather than her birth.”
“It is the age-old question, is it not?” said Elizabeth. “Nature versus nurture?”
“Yes, I suppose you must be correct, Lizzy,” replied her father. “Both influence a person’s character. Nurture can lead a person to character faults or an elevated opinion of oneself, but nature is attributable entirely to the sort of person we are. That might come from a certain extent to our descent but is largely an individual quality.”
“Perhaps you are correct, Mr. Bennet,” said Mrs. Bennet, looking at her husband strangely. “Then what about our girls?”
“What about them?” asked Mr. Bennet. “They are what they are, Mrs. Bennet. The younger girls will alter as they age and maturity takes hold of them, I am sure.”
This did not fit Mrs. Bennet’s feelings on the occasion, not with Lady Catherine’s comments still ringing in her ears. Mr. Bennet, however, took no notice of her, and Mrs. Bennet was not yet ready to press her point.
“I too esteemed Georgiana very much,” said Mary to Elizabeth a little later in the evening.
Why Mary had spoken so softly to avoid being overheard,Elizabeth could not say. If she had to guess, she might suppose it was to avoid Lydia’s notice, who lost no opportunity to tease and insult her elder sister. That Mary usually ignored her did not mean she wished to hear mean-spirited attacks from so heedless a girl.
“We spoke of our preferences in music,” continued Mary, introspection settling over her. “I hope to persuade her to play for me when the opportunity presents itself.”
“She does not wish it?” asked Elizabeth.
“It seems she rarely plays in front of anyone other than her brother, and occasionally her uncle’s family.”
Elizabeth nodded, for it was what she might have expected from so reticent a girl. “I wonder if we should feel slighted. Miss Bingley spoke of her appreciation for her performance.”
Mary rolled her eyes. “I must think that Miss Bingley’s account is suspect.”
“Yes, Mary, I expect you are correct.”
“Where did she make such a statement?” asked Mary, regarding Elizabeth with no little curiosity.
“As I recall, it was when I stayed at Netherfield last year when Jane was ill.”
“Then perhaps she was attempting to project intimacy that does not exist,” said Mary. “Georgiana did not speak openly, but I had the distinct impression she does not like Miss Bingley much.”
“For that, I cannot blame her,” replied Elizabeth. “There are few ladies I like less than Miss Bingley.”
Mary nodded but appeared distracted. Elizabeth watched her, wondering what she was about. Of all the Bennet sisters, Mary was the most taciturn, and she was also the only sister without a natural companion among the five, for Kitty and Lydia were always together, while Jane and Elizabeth were each other’s closest confidantes. Mary had always been alone in their littlefamily, though Elizabeth and Jane had often attempted to include her as much as they could. Mary, unfortunately, was not one to accept such inclusion easily, for her quirks often pushed others away.
“Do you suppose you will marry Mr. Darcy?”
Much as the question surprised Elizabeth—to say nothing of Mary’s insight—she supposed most of her family had noticed the gentleman’s interest by now. There was no reason to push back and claim ignorance, especially with Mary; as the quietest sister, Mary was observant, having had many occasions to hone her ability.
“That is premature, Mary,” said Elizabeth. “The gentleman has just come back after a long absence, and his demeanor was not the most welcoming when he was here before.”
“Did you not see him in Kent?” asked Mary shrewdly. “The gentleman speaks to you as if your acquaintance is well developed.”
