“Indeed,” Mr. Collins continued, warming to his theme, “her ladyship has further impressed upon me the importance of matrimony in securing both respectability and influence within one’s parish. A clergyman, she assures me, ought not to remain single.”
Darcy’s attention sharpened.
“She was good enough to suggest,” Mr. Collins went on, lowering his voice with an air of confidence, “that I look among my cousins, should circumstances permit, particularly where estates are concerned.”
Darcy paused.
“I see.”
“That,” said Mr. Collins, with growing satisfaction, “is precisely why I am here.”
Darcy felt a sensation very like foreboding. He did not immediately respond.
“And,” Mr. Collins added, unable to restrain himself, “as Miss Bennet appears likely to be otherwise engaged, I have resolved upon Miss Elizabeth.”
Darcy sat very still.
Before he could command either voice or expression, Mr. Bennet’s voice was heard from the doorway.
“I believe, gentlemen, that we have indulged ourselves long enough. The ladies may now be supposed to require our society – if only as a contrast.”
Mr. Collins bowed repeatedly to Darcy, murmuring assurances of gratitude, and hastened after his host.
Darcy remained where he was.
He did not speak. He did not move. This time, he found himself quite at a loss – not for words, but for comprehension.
Chapter 6
Shifting Impressions
The gentlemen had scarcely withdrawn when the atmosphere of the drawing-room altered at once. Chairs were drawn closer, voices softened, and the conversation – freed from masculine observation – took a turn at once more animated and more discerning.
Mrs. Bennet, who had borne the dinner with admirable composure and no small sense of triumph, seated herself near the centre and fanned briskly.
Lady Lucas, who had taken a chair a little apart, inclined her head in agreement, her expression attentive rather than enthusiastic. She was well accustomed to Mrs. Bennet’s triumphs, and had learnt to receive them with civility, if not conviction. Still, she allowed herself a glance about the room – at the Bingley sisters’ composed elegance, at the younger girls’ restless energy – and wondered, not for the first time, how different an evening might appear to those who counted daughters as prospects, and those who observed them as they were.
“Well,” said Mrs. Bennet, “I think we may congratulate ourselves: such a table, such company – and everything conducted with the greatest propriety. I dare say the officers were vastly impressed. Colonel Forster looked quite struck by the elegance of it all.”
Lydia laughed. “I am sure Mr. Denny was. He scarcely took his eyes from the sideboard.”
Mrs. Bennet waved this aside. “Young men will be young men. But it is the ball I am thinking of now. There is so little time, and so much to be done. Gowns must be examined, ribbons chosen, shoes tried again – I declare, it is quite enough to distract a sensible woman.”
Charlotte Lucas smiled. “The ball will be talked of for weeks. Preparation is half the pleasure.”
“Quite so,” Mrs. Bennet agreed eagerly. “And quite half the anxiety. Jane, my dear, you must be certain your gown is properly aired. Nothing is worse than arriving with a crease that might have been prevented.”
Jane smiled. “I believe it is in very good order, Mama.”
Elizabeth, who had taken up a piece of needlework with little intention of advancing it, glanced up. “Jane’s gown could not fail her. It succeeds without effort.”
“That is because Jane succeeds without effort,” Lydia said, with mock solemnity. “Some of us must work harder for admiration.”
Miss Bingley, who had been listening with polite attention, now spoke.
“I confess,” she said, “I find the anticipation of a ball infinitely more diverting than the event itself. The choice of a gown, the deliberation over colours – these are matters of realconsequence. Do I understand correctly that you intend to wear an old dress?”
All the local ladies, young and old, paused at the question. Poor Jane hardly knew what to say to a question like that, laden with meaning.
