He set down his knife with careful precision, as if preparing to deliver a considered verdict. “I found him exactly as reported: amiable, modest, eager to please. He laughed at my jokes—proof either of excellent breeding or hopeless gullibility. In either case, he seems determined to be liked, and I see no reason anyone should resist obliging him.”
Mr. Bennet turned his gaze deliberately toward Jane, his eyes glinting with teasing warmth.
Jane coloured delicately, but her smile was soft and unguarded. “He sounds...very pleasant indeed.”
“Well, if you have given him your approval, Papa, I suppose we shall all have to be on our very best behaviour when he calls,” Elizabeth said with a playful smile. “We would not want to frighten away the only eligible bachelor in the county.”
She watched her father fondly, her heart-warming at his rare praise. It was not often he spoke so kindly of a young man, and the fact that he did now filled her with quiet hope. If even Papa thought well of Mr. Bingley, then perhaps there was truly something promising in him—for Jane’s happiness most of all.
Mrs. Bennet shot her a dark look. “Do not be impertinent, Lizzy. This is no laughing matter.”
Mr. Bennet ignored the interruption, turning to the rest of the table. “I also had the pleasure of meeting his friend, Mr. Darcy of Derbyshire.”
At this, Mrs. Bennet went very still. “Darcy? I do not believe I have heard that name. With my usual luck, he is surely some man over forty, married already, with three children—and therefore of no possible interest whatsoever.”
“No,” Mr. Bennet corrected, with deliberate mildness, enjoying the moment. “Another bachelor, though of a sterner sort.”
Mrs. Bennet’s eyes narrowed in sudden calculation. “Is he not very rich?”
“Aye,” Mr. Bennet confirmed with a wry tilt of his head. “Darcy’s driver was very obliging on the matter—ten thousand a year and Pemberley besides. He has a reputation for sense, and perhaps for pride. But I found him civil enough once you coax a word or two from him. Quiet. Observant. Not one for idle flattery.”
Elizabeth tilted her head, thoughtful. “Did you like him?”
Mr. Bennet tapped his fingers against the table. “I liked him well enough. He seems the sort who chooses his words carefully, which I prefer to endless babble. A serious man, but no fool.”
At this Kitty and Lydia stilled, eyes wide.
Mrs. Bennet sniffed, curiosity piqued despite herself. “Derbyshire? That is a long way to come for a dance! And what sort of man is he?”
Mr. Bennet leaned back, fingers steepled. “Tall. Reserved. Careful with his words. Very polite once one bothers to talk to him properly, but not one to chatter idly. He watched more than he spoke.”
Mrs. Bennet’s eyes gleamed with calculation. “Ten thousand a year,” she breathed. “Why, he is twice as rich as Mr. Bingley! And if he is Bingley’s friend—he will come to Longbourn, too?”
Mr. Bennet gave her a bland look. “I invited them both, my dear.”
Kitty squeaked in excitement, while Lydia clapped her hands.
Jane’s quiet voice ventured, “He sounds…very reserved.”
Mr. Bennet shrugged. “Reserved, yes. But not unkind. I imagine he will speak when he has something to say.”
Elizabeth smiled slowly. “Perhaps that is no bad trait.”
At this point Mr. Collins, who had been listening with badly concealed impatience, straightened in his chair and cleared his throat portentously.
“If I may, Cousin Bennet,” he began, in his sonorous clergyman’s voice, “I could not help but overhear this discussion of Mr. Darcy of Pemberley. While I have not, alas, had the privilege of meeting him myself, I am well acquainted with his consequence. Lady Catherine de Bourgh has often spoken of her nephew with the greatest approbation.”
The daughters exchanged glances, preparing themselves for another of Mr. Collins’s earnest pronouncements, while Mrs. Bennet was all eager attention.
Collins beamed on, oblivious. “Indeed, she has praised his estate at Pemberley as one of the finest in all England. The grounds are said to be most extensive. The house itself is builtof stone of excellent quality. And he, I am told, is a man of strict morals and great dignity—a model for all young men of fortune.”
“Truly, I am overwhelmed,” Elizabeth said dryly, resting her chin in her hand with deliberate unconcern.
Kitty gave an exaggerated wrinkle of her nose. “He sounds dreadfully stiff.”
With an airy sniff, Lydia tossed her head. “Strict morals. How tiresome.”
Jane only frowned slightly, unwilling to contradict them but clearly uneasy with the tone.
