“My nephew Mr. Darcy,” she continued, “has always understood the value of discretion in such matters. He has never allowed novelty to outweigh judgment.”
Darcy inclined his head, neither affirming nor denying the compliment.
“It is for this reason,” Lady Catherine went on, “that I consider him well qualified to advise others, when occasion demands it.”
James Bennet, listening attentively, understood the implication clearly enough, and felt the faint pressure of it settle upon him, not as invitation but as classification.
Lady Catherine then shifted her attention decisively to her own family, as though the examination of others had merely been a prelude to matters of greater consequence.
“Anne,” she said, without turning her head or altering her posture, “you have not spoken yet.”
Mrs. Darcy’s smile was slight and carefully composed, the expression of a woman long accustomed to answering without disputing. “There is little to add, Mama,” she said gently. “Everything appears to be proceeding precisely as you intended.”
“Indeed,” Lady Catherine replied, with evident satisfaction, as though the confirmation were not merely welcome but expected. “It is always preferable when one’s intentions are properly understood, and when those concerned are sensible enough to recognise them.”
Only then did she turn her gaze toward Georgiana, her scrutiny sharpening rather than softening.
“My niece,” she said, “you have been silent as well.”
Georgiana raised her eyes slowly, meeting her aunt’s look with composed steadiness rather than haste. “I did not wish to interrupt, Aunt,” she replied, her voice quiet and respectful, yet measured, as though silence, in this instance, had been chosen rather than imposed.
“A young woman’s silence may be graceful,” Lady Catherine said, “but it must never be mistaken for indifference. You are expected to take an interest in the arrangements that concern you.”
“I am attentive to them,” Georgiana answered, her voice calm, “though I do not believe attention requires commentary.”
Lady Catherine regarded her niece closely, her brows drawing together.
“That is a distinction,” she said at last, “which must be applied with caution.”
Georgiana inclined her head, neither yielding nor retreating.
At this moment, Mr. Collins bowed slowly, eager to reassert what he perceived as proper alignment.
“I have no doubt, your ladyship,” he said, “that Miss Darcy’s conduct will reflect the utmost credit upon your generous guidance, just as the arrangements for the assembly themselves demonstrate your unparalleled discernment in matters of society.”
Lady Catherine nodded approvingly.
“It is gratifying,” she said, “to see gratitude expressed with such clarity, Mr. Collins.”
She then addressed the room once more.
“I should add,” Lady Catherine said, “that the assembly will include not only those already mentioned, but also Professor Alderton of Cambridge, whose lectures on moral philosophy are much esteemed, and the Hawkridge family, whose daughters are well instructed in music and comportment. The quartet I have engaged will perform selections suitable for dancing, though I expect restraint to be observed. This is not a public ball.”
Lady Catherine's gaze rested pointedly upon James, her eyes narrowing slightly with the imperious scrutiny that brooked no evasion.
“Dancing,” she continued, her voice carrying the weight of unquestioned authority, “is a form of expression that reveals much about a person’s character. Excessive enthusiasm betrays a lack of judgment.”
James met her gaze evenly, his expression composed though a faint, ironic smile touched the corners of his mouth as he inclined his head in courteous acknowledgment. “I shall endeavour not to betray myself, your ladyship,” he replied, histone mild yet laced with quiet wit that drew a subtle flicker of approval from Elias across the room.
Lady Catherine accepted this reply with a brief nod, though without evident pleasure, her lips pressing together in a manner that suggested the response had been noted but not entirely approved.
“And you, Mr. Bennet,” she said, turning her attention to Elias with deliberate emphasis, her posture straightening as she awaited his answer.
“I am adequate, I daresay, your ladyship,” Elias replied modestly, his voice calm and unassuming as he met her gaze with respectful steadiness, a gentle warmth in his eyes betraying no discomfort under her scrutiny.
“Adequacy,” Lady Catherine said, her tone conveying a rare note of reluctant approbation as she regarded him with renewed interest, “is sometimes preferable to brilliance—for it speaks of discipline rather than display.”
Mr. Collins smiled broadly at this, his countenance beaming with sycophantic delight as though it were a maxim worthy of inscription, his eager nod and murmured “Most wisely observed, your ladyship” drawing a faint, suppressed smile from Elias and a subtle roll of James’s eyes.
