Darcy shook his head, a faint smirk appearing at last. “No. That is not it at all. We were companions once. As boys, we played together.”
“Then what?”
Darcy looked at him.
“You would not say.”
“Had we not been guests here this evening, I should scarcely acknowledge him.”
“That is harsh… Is there something I should know?”
“With fivebeautifuldaughters? Maybe you do, although I believe Mr. Wickham needs something more substantial.”
Mr. Bennet smiled at the word ‘beautiful’ but then thought of what Mr. Darcy must have meant. “Money?”
“Indeed. The inheritance he received from my father, and the compensation he accepted when he declined the living that had been intended for him, were sufficient to secure his independence,” Darcy said.
“For a time.”
Mr. Bennet glanced at him. “I take it that the time was not long.”
Darcy’s expression did not change. “He did not choose a course that demanded perseverance.”
Mr. Bennet nodded once. “That explains much – without explaining everything.”
“It explains as much as I am willing to say. I will only add that wasting his money alone would not have severed my regard,” Darcy replied quietly.
“I see. That is quite enough,” Mr. Bennet agreed. “I thank you for the confidence.”
Mr. Collins, who had remained silent with difficulty, now seized his opportunity.
“I cannot but observe,” said he solemnly, “that it is most gratifying to witness such frank discourse among gentlemen of consequence. Lady Catherine herself has often remarked…”
Mr. Bennet raised a hand. “Mr. Collins, I beg you. Spare us.”
There was a brief pause, in which Mr. Collins appeared uncertain whether he had been checked or encouraged. Darcy, who had endured the interruption with an expression of patient restraint, allowed himself a quiet sigh.
It was not irritation that prompted it but resolve. Turning toward Mr. Collins, he inclined his head with deliberate civility. “You reside at Hunsford, I believe? It is a quaint little cottage.”
“Oh, you have no idea what you have done. Well, now you have to bear the consequences,” the older gentleman murmured. With that, Mr. Bennet left the table.
Mr. Collins brightened at once. “Indeed, sir! Most happily situated within the immediate sphere of Rosings Park, under the most attentive patronage…”
“Yes,” Darcy interrupted gently. “And how long have you held the living there?”
“Oh, these last few months only,” Mr. Collins replied eagerly. “Though I may say, with all humility, that my conduct has met with the fullest approbation of my noble benefactress, who has been most particular in advising me on the proper arrangement of my shelves, my garden, and my sermons…”
Darcy nodded gravely. “I am glad to hear it.”
Encouraged beyond measure, Mr. Collins continued without the slightest regard for conversational balance.
“Lady Catherine has often observed that a clergyman must be foremost in every domestic virtue, and I endeavour, sir, to follow her counsel in all things…”
For a moment, Darcy wondered at himself.
Miss Elizabeth was no longer present – no amused glance, no silent challenge compelling him to choose civility over impatience. And yet he had done so all the same. The courtesy had been offered not for her sake, nor even for Mr. Bennet’s, but from some inward impulse he did not entirely recognise.
The reflection did not please him. For the first time that evening, Darcy questioned the wisdom of choosing kindness over silence.
