“The pleasure is entirely ours, madam. We have looked forward to this evening with the greatest anticipation, and the warmth of your reception more than justifies it.”
Mr. Darcy inclined his head with grave politeness, his manner correct yet reserved.
Mr. Darcy inclined his head with grave politeness, his manner correct yet reserved—though his eyes, in their brief survey of the room, rested with particular attention upon the paintings.
They left hats to the maid in the hall and advanced to the drawing-room, where introductions followed with due ceremony. Mrs. Bennet, her voice trembling with maternal pride and scarcely concealed triumph, presented her daughters in turn, gesturing with a flourish that invited admiration.
“My eldest, Miss Bennet—Jane, whose gentleness I am sure Mr. Collins has often mentioned. Then Miss Elizabeth—Lizzy, we call her at home, and the cleverest girl, though I should not say it myself. Miss Mary, who is excessively fond of her studies and plays most beautifully. And my younger girls, Miss Catherine and Miss Lydia—the liveliest creatures imaginable.”
Jane curtseyed with gentle serenity, her fair countenance softened by a modest blush as Mr. Bingley’s gaze lingered upon her with undisguised admiration. Elizabeth followed with a lively grace that rendered her movements particularly engaging, her fine eyes sparkling with intelligent curiosity as she regarded the newcomers—though when they rested briefly upon Mr. Darcy, they did so with a composure that bordered upon deliberate indifference, as if his presence required no particular acknowledgment.
Mary inclined her head with solemn gravity, Kitty with shy eagerness that caused her to color faintly, and Lydia with scarcely suppressed excitement, her eyes wide and her posture betraying an impatient desire to speak.
Mr. Bingley, ever ready to please and conscious of the honor of being thus presented, addressed himself immediately to the company with his customary openness.
“You have a most charming home, madam. The prospect from the carriage as we approached was particularly agreeable, and the warmth within exceeds even the beauty without. I forgot to mention that yesterday.”
Mrs. Bennet beamed, pressing her hands together in delight.
“Oh, Mr. Bingley—you are too kind! Though nothing, I am sure, to what Netherfield will be under your care. We are all excessively pleased—excessively—that you have taken it.”
The party seated themselves with due attention to precedence—Mr. Bingley placed beside Jane with evident satisfaction on both sides, Mr. Darcy upon a chair somewhat apart yet commanding a clear view of the room, and Mr. Collins near his cousins with affectionate solicitude. Conversation began upon those safe and customary topics which ease the first moments of an acquaintance: the fineness of the evening, the excellence of the roads from Kent, the prospects of the harvest, and the mildness of the season.
Elizabeth, perceiving an opportunity to direct the discourse and conscious of a resolve—formed perhaps in playful experiment, perhaps in subtle defiance—to treat one gentleman with particular indifference, addressed Mr. Bingley with lively animation that effectively commanded the attention of the room.
“You have chosen a most pleasant season for removing to Hertfordshire, sir. The walks about Meryton and the surrounding country are particularly delightful at this time of year—though I fear the society may appear rather limited afterthe diversions of town, which I understand you are accustomed to enjoy.”
Mr. Bingley replied with eager warmth, leaning forward slightly in his chair as though reluctant to miss a syllable.
“Limited society, Miss Elizabeth? I assure you, I have seldom found greater pleasure than in the quiet enjoyments of the country, and from what little I have seen, the neighborhood promises to be most agreeable—particularly when graced by such company as I find here this evening.”
Mr. Darcy, who had been listening with silent attention and perhaps anticipating an opportunity to contribute, ventured to speak, his voice low yet distinct as he fixed his gaze upon Elizabeth with a gravity that sought engagement.
“The country does indeed offer advantages of tranquility that town cannot match—though much depends, as Miss Elizabeth observes, upon the discernment with which one selects one’s companions.”
Elizabeth turned toward Mr. Bingley with a smile that effectively excluded the previous speaker, as though the remark had passed unheard, and continued with undiminished animation.
“And the assemblies at Meryton are absolutely gorgeous I must say. Mr. Bingley—are you fond of dancing? We have one fixed for mid-October, and the company is generally very spirited, with music enough to satisfy the most pretentious tastes.”
Mr. Bingley’s countenance brightened further, his reply immediate and enthusiastic.
“Excessively fond, Miss Elizabeth. I shall look forward to it with the greatest pleasure—and hope to secure partners among so agreeable a circle.”
Lydia could no longer contain herself, bouncing slightly upon the sofa with impatient delight.
“Oh, yes! The assemblies are famous! There will be officers in their red coats—and dancing till two in the morning, and cards, and everything delightful!”
Mrs. Bennet fluttered with delight, though she cast a momentary repressive glance at her youngest.
“Lydia! But indeed, Mr. Bingley, the young people are excessively fond of dancing. Though nothing, I am sure, to the balls in town, with all their elegance and fashion.”
Mr. Darcy, observing Elizabeth’s deliberate slight with a faint contraction of his brow—perplexed, perhaps, by her apparent indifference, and yet conscious that it stirred within him a curiosity he had not anticipated—attempted once more to contribute, his tone measured and reflective.
“Dancing is an accomplishment that reveals much of character, particularly in the choice of partners and the grace with which—”
But Elizabeth, with a graceful turn of the conversation that betrayed neither haste nor rudeness, addressed Mr. Collins with affectionate raillery.
“And you, Cousin—do you intend to join the assembly? Your presence would add consequence to the evening, and we should all be excessively gratified by your presence upon the dance floor as much as your parishioners enjoy your sermons on Sunday.”
