“Mr. Bingley danced with Jane twice,” Lydia announced, buttering her toast. “Everyone noticed.”
“And with Miss King and Miss Goulding,” Kitty added. “But he watched Jane during every set he didn’t dance with her.”
Jane’s cheeks colored prettily. “You exaggerate. Mr. Bingley was merely being polite.”
“Polite?” Lydia laughed. “Is that what we’re calling it? He couldn’t take his eyes off you!”
“His manners were all that is proper,” Jane insisted, though her blush deepened.
Elizabeth took her seat, accepting a cup of tea from Hill. “Hisfriend, however, seemed to find our country gathering beneath his dignity.”
“Mr. Darcy?” Kitty wrinkled her nose. “He looked as if he’d swallowed something sour.”
“Yet he danced with Charlotte Lucas,” Mary observed, glancing up from her book of sermons. “And Mrs. Hurst. He exhibits selective disdain.”
Mrs. Bennet swept into the room in a flurry of lace with her morning cap askew. “Did I hear you mention Mr. Bingley? Such a charming young man. How particularly attentive he was to Jane.”
Elizabeth exchanged an amused glance with Jane as their mother settled herself at the table, immediately commanding the conversation.
“I made certain to mention to Lady Lucas that he danced with Jane twice,” Mrs. Bennet continued, helping herself to tea. “Sir William was most impressed by the attention.”
“Lady Lucas can hardly object,” Kitty pointed out, “since Mr. Darcy chose Charlotte for the first set.”
Elizabeth studied her buttered toast, demurring to mention that she had suggested he stand up to Miss Lucas. It would have been befitting for Sir William’s enthusiastic introductions.
“Although Mr. Darcy has ten thousand a year and an estate in Derbyshire,” Mrs. Bennet replied dismissively. “I would not trade Mr. Bingley’s amiable temper for Mr. Darcy’s fortune if he scowled so dreadfully at everyone.”
The arrival of Charlotte Lucas and her mother provided fresh fodder for the morning’s dissection. They were welcomed with enthusiasm, Lady Lucas accepting a cup of tea while Charlotte took a seat beside Elizabeth.
“We were just discussing last night’s assembly,” Mrs. Bennet said. “Were you not struck by Mr. Bingley’s particular attention to my Jane?”
“Indeed,” Lady Lucas replied diplomatically. “Though I believeall the young ladies received some notice. Charlotte herself opened the ball with Mr. Darcy.”
“Yes.” Mrs. Bennet latched onto this new topic. “Tell us, Charlotte, what was he like as a partner? He looked so severe from across the room.”
Charlotte’s composure remained intact, though Elizabeth noticed a slight flush touch her friend’s cheeks. “Mr. Darcy dances well. His conversation was limited but perfectly civil.”
“Did he speak at all?” Lydia asked. “He looked incapable of normal human interaction.”
“Lydia,” Jane gently admonished.
“He inquired about local landmarks,” Charlotte answered. “And whether I found country assemblies enjoyable. Nothing of particular significance.”
“Yet he selected you for the first set,” Lady Lucas couldn’t help adding with maternal pride. “A gentleman of such consequence noticing Charlotte immediately.”
“Well, he certainly didn’t dance with our Lizzy,” Mrs. Bennet observed with peculiar emphasis. “Though I saw you speaking with him at length, Lizzy. What could he possibly have said to you?”
The question was more rhetorical than meant to be answered. Elizabeth was accustomed to her mother’s criticism of her over the years.
Charlotte leaned forward, intervening. “Their conversation appeared quite engaging. I’m sure he was vastly entertained with what our Eliza had to say.”
Multiple pairs of inquiring eyes turned her way.
“Oh, it was pure politeness,” Elizabeth demurred. “I merely inquired whether he was enjoying his stay at Netherfield and whether he found Hertfordshire educational.”
“Well, I found Mr. Darcy to be particularly interesting,” Lydia crowed. “I do not believe a man could scowl deeper than our Lizzy. Those dark eyebrows of his appeared connected. Lizzy, whatever did you say to make him so dreadful?”
Mr. Bennet, hidden behind his newspaper at the head of the table, made a noncommittal grunt. Her father had been unusually quiet since the assembly, contributing none of his typical sardonic observations.
