“Pleasant,” Caroline repeated. She poured her chocolate without assistance. “The exertions were considerable.”
Darcy reached for the toast rack. “The dinner was well conducted.”
“How can you say that, Mr. Darcy? What induced Mrs Bennet to seat you beside her, I cannot imagine.”
Bingley and Darcy exchanged a look, but Darcy nonchalantly responded. “She was interested in Derbyshire and my travels.”
Caroline gave a small, incredulous sound.
Mr. Hurst, carving with attention, looked up. “The pheasant was excellent.”
Louisa suppressed a small laugh. “That is not quite what Caroline meant.”
“I mean only,” Caroline continued, “that some people display enthusiasm in ways which are not always… measured.”
Bingley’s brows lifted. “Mrs. Bennet was most attentive to us.”
“Yes,” said Caroline, “one could not mistake it.”
Darcy set down his cup. “She has five daughters.”
Caroline’s spoon paused mid-air. She looked at him. “Indeed.”
“I should prefer enthusiasm to indifference in any case,” he added calmly.
A brief silence followed.
Louisa adjusted her napkin. “Five daughters,” she repeated lightly. “One cannot expect perfect composure in such circumstances. I believe Mr. Darcy is right – one must allow something for a mother’s zeal.”
“Very properly so,” Darcy said.
Bingley, who had been listening more closely than usual, said with quiet warmth, “Miss Bennet conducted herself with perfect composure.”
Caroline stirred her cup. “Miss Bennet is very mild.”
“She is very good,” Bingley answered, almost simply. “And she sings like an angel.”
Mr. Hurst, who had resumed eating, remarked a little late, “I saw nothing amiss. I thought the table exceedingly sufficient. I had heard she was famous in the neighbourhood about the table she kept,” he said, not looking up.
Caroline set down her spoon. “You seldom perceive any defect while the table is well supplied, Mr. Hurst.”
“I attend to what concerns me.”
Darcy hid a faint smile behind his cup – though he suspected Hurst would never forgive him for it.
He did not need to look at Bingley to discern the direction of his thoughts. They were evident in the way he rose before the meal was fully concluded, in the quickness with which he glanced toward the window, as though judging the weather insufficiently cooperative with his impatience.
“We ought not to keep the neighbourhood waiting,” Bingley said, though no such danger existed.
Caroline stood at once. “Indeed not.”
Darcy rose more slowly.
Such marked attention to a young lady in a country parish was unlikely to escape notice. Whether Bingley understood the full consequence of it remained uncertain.
The Netherfield carriage was brought round sooner than necessary. Bingley was ready at once; Caroline less so, though she made no complaint beyond remarking that the morning air would do her no kindness.
Darcy descended the steps with the others but paused before entering.
