Conversation at the table soon became general, yet Bingley’s attention returned to Jane with a readiness that was unmistakable, though never obtrusive. He spoke to her of trifles at first – the pleasantness of the weather, the neatness of the table, the cheerful appearance of the room – all subjects which required no effort and invited no embarrassment.
Yet even in these light remarks, there was a tone of preference which Jane could not mistake.
“You must think us quite efficient,” she said, after a moment, “to contrive such an evening at so short a notice.”
He replied warmly, “I admire it exceedingly. You make it seem effortless. There is something particularly pleasant in feeling that one is welcome without ceremony.”
Jane met his look then, and something in his expression – open, grateful, and unguarded – made her answer with a sincerity equal to his own. “We are glad you are here.”
Bingley seemed struck by the simplicity of the words. “So am I,” he said, after a pause. “Very glad.”
There was no necessity for more.
Throughout the meal, he addressed her often – never so frequently as to attract notice, and never with a warmth that could be thought improper – yet always with a consideration that placed her at ease. When she spoke, he listened as if she had said something of consequence; when she hesitated, he supplied encouragement rather than interruption.
Jane, for her part, found herself speaking with an ease she rarely enjoyed in company. His manner asked nothing of her beyond what she was already inclined to give: kindness, attention, andgood humour. There was no need for wit, no fear of being misunderstood.
Once, as the conversation at their end of the table paused, Bingley leaned a little closer and said in a lower voice, “I am glad we shall meet again before long – at the ball, I mean.”
Jane smiled. “It will be a lively evening, I am sure.”
“I hope so,” he said and – then, after a moment’s reflection, added, “Yet I confess I am already quite content with this one.”
Jane felt her colour rise again, but she did not look away.
***
The ladies, having withdrawn under Mrs. Bennet’s direction, the gentlemen remained at the table. Legs were stretched after the long seating, chairs were drawn closer, the decanters passed with greater freedom, and conversation – freed from ceremony – took on a looser, more speculative turn.
Mr. Bennet resumed his seat with visible contentment. “Well, gentlemen,” said he, “I congratulate you. My wife is persuaded that the dinner has been a triumph, which ensures that it shall be remembered as such.”
Bingley laughed readily. “It was excellent indeed. I have not dined so comfortably as a guest for some time.”
“I am glad. My wife will be happy to hear it,” Mr. Bennet replied. “Comfort is an undervalued virtue. I am devoted to it.” He seemed pleased with his own observation.
Darcy smiled faintly and inclined his head. “Your table was most generous, sir.”
“Ah,” said Mr. Bennet, “you are fortunate to be seated where you were. My wife is rarely content unless she believes she hassecured the admiration of her most consequential guest. Though I would have thought you would have been better placed where conversation was more to your liking, perhaps.”
Darcy suspected as much – and suspected also whose hand had placed him there.
Mr. Bingley, whose spirits had risen with the dinner, poured out a glass of port for Darcy with cheerful readiness and sat down next to his friend. “Well,” said he, smiling as he did so, “I must congratulate you, my friend. Few men can boast of having been placed in a position so… strategic.”
Darcy raised his brow slightly. “I am not certain I follow you.”
“Oh, come,” Bingley laughed. “Miss Elizabeth must not like you very much to punish you so ingeniously. Seated beside her mother, opposite her own watchful eye – why, it was an arrangement worthy of a general.”
Darcy allowed himself a short breath of amusement. “If it was intended as a punishment, it was at least executed with elegance.”
Mr. Bennet, who had been listening with one ear while examining his glass, looked up at this. “My daughter,” said he dryly, “has always been fond of conducting quiet experiments. I am glad to see you survived it.”
Darcy inclined his head. “With no lasting injury, I assure you.”
“So, she was the culprit.” Mr. Bennet smiled faintly. “You bore it with great fortitude. My wife’s conversational talents are not universally appreciated.”
Bingley laughed outright at this, while Colonel Forster murmured his agreement.
“She was a most gracious hostess and dinner partner, Mr. Bennet.”
