“Do you think the two of them ill-matched?” His tone was unexpectedly frank—perhaps even too frank, for she answered with some haste.
“I should not presume to make so bold a judgement. I do not know Lady Catherine well enough—”
“Although you have attended her dinners on more than one occasion, and have no doubt observed the tenor of conversation. You must, by now, have formed some impression.”
“Dinners are rarely the occasion for essential subjects. It is difficult to form a just opinion of anyone from what is uttered in the dining-room.”
“Not invariably so. I am quite certain you discerned at once that Mr Clinton is a man of learning—a scholar—even without my introduction.”
“I should very much like to know more of him.”
To her surprise, the gentleman in question was at that moment looking directly at her, just as they were taking their seats at the table.
In that instant, all around her assumed a strange hue, becoming even vaguely unsettling. Between the attentions of Mr Darcy and the gaze of Mr Clinton, she felt herself stepping into an unfamiliar world whose laws she suspected but did not yet command. The gentlemen of her native neighbourhood were boys turned into men she had known from childhood. It remained difficult to perceive them in any other light, even when the sons of Sir William, for instance, had made clumsy attempts to pay her court. The previous autumn had marked the first time she had encountered and conversed with men of another kind—mature, refined, and elegant: Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley on onehand, and the officers of the militia on the other, who, though likewise men, sought only amusement.
Although none might have suspected it, she remained uncertain within this new realm of men. She found it difficult to interpret their intentions or discern the true nature of their interest towards her. The glances Mr Clinton had cast towards her had, in truth, disturbed her deeply, shaking even the modest confidence she had lately acquired in judging the attentions of gentlemen. She could not comprehend what this man desired of her—he who so resembled her father that she could not help but consign him, instinctively and without reflection, to that distant category reserved for parents.
When Mr Clinton remarked to Mr Darcy, with a shade of reproach beneath his benevolent tone, “You have monopolised Miss Bennet entirely,” Elizabeth perceived in the old gentleman’s voice an intention she neither wished nor was happy to acknowledge. She glanced towards Charlotte and even towards Mr Collins; yet upon their countenances there appeared nothing but the habitual admiration they bore Lady Catherine, whom they regarded with patient expectation until she should commence her repast—precisely as, at the table of a sovereign, all awaited the signal to begin.
Without much deliberation, Elizabeth resolved to be remarkably amiable towards Mr Darcy, hoping Mr Clinton might interpret this as proof that her interest was already bestowed upon the gentleman seated at her right. Yet her stratagem failed, for whenever opportunity offered, Mr Clinton addressed her with some inquiry or observation, making no attempt to conceal the interest he plainly entertained.
“Why do you believe the education of ladies to be necessary?” The question concluded a lengthy discussion on household matters, during which Lady Catherine had dispensed counsel to all present.
Though addressed to Elizabeth, it was Lady Catherine who replied, with a faint note of irritation, “Mr Clinton, a young lady ought to think of marriage, of her duties as mistress of a household, and of her future obligations as a mother. She requires no further education than that which her own mother may impart.”
“Lady Catherine, you are the last lady at this table who should make such a declaration,” returned Mr Clinton with good humour.
“I do not understand!” The hostess looked genuinely displeased, yet made no attempt to change the subject—a sign that she held for Mr Clinton a degree of regard she seldom extended to others.
“And yet the matter is simple,” he continued. “You are the very embodiment of the accomplished woman, who has assumed the management of so vast and intricate an estate as Rosings. Without profound knowledge in several branches, you could never have been so successful. I observed you earlier today with your solicitor, proving to him that his calculation of the land’s surface, which you intend to purchase, was erroneous.”
“Experience has taught me,” Lady Catherine returned rather tartly.
“It may be so, yet that implies you required knowledge beyond what your mother could impart. I am persuaded some of it was derived from Lord Matlock.”
Lady Catherine inclined her head in acknowledgement, though she offered no reply.
“And I have seen that you are well acquainted with the laws relating to property and inheritance—”
“I was obliged to read a few of them. Otherwise, anyone might have deceived me—”
“Which is precisely my argument. Education is essential to independence, to the power of judging for oneself, whether man or woman.”
“Then you are an advocate for education regardless of gender, race, or station?” Elizabeth’s tone betrayed surprise.
“Most assuredly. We have formed a society of philanthropists and reformers, inspired by Mr Jeremy Bentham’s utilitarian philosophy, and we hope soon to lay the foundations of a university in London.”
“But this would be a radical departure from the exclusivity of Oxford and Cambridge.” Mr Darcy’s interest was plain.
“That is indeed our intention.”
“And do you contemplate admitting young ladies also?” Elizabeth ventured.
Here, Mr Clinton hesitated, but at length replied, “Not at present. The university shall be for young men only; yet, in parallel, we shall endeavour to reorganise the existing academies for young ladies, such as that founded by my late wife, to which I attach greater value than to any other mission I may pursue.”
“An excellent academy indeed!” Lord Ashcombe interjected. “Both our daughters attended for three years, and I was fully satisfied with their education. Lady Catherine may say that a woman—”
“Enough of this!” cried Lady Catherine.
