Miss Mary, on the other hand, although not as pretty, possessed seriousness already formed. She valued instruction. She valued order. She would not likely attract notice that exceeded propriety.
He found himself recalling her expression when she had spoken of music and moral reflection. There had been animation there too – of a quieter kind. And she played the piano.
It was the duty of a prudent man to consider all advantages calmly. Providence, he reflected, frequently presented more than one acceptable path. And he retired persuaded that discernment, when joined to patience, would inevitably secure the proper reward.
***
In the smaller chamber they shared, whispering had not yet ceased.
“If Captain Carter attends, I shall not sit out a single dance,” Lydia declared.
“You said that already,” Kitty protested.
“Yes, and this time I may give my supper dance to Mr. Wickham.”
They dissolved into suppressed laughter. Neither considered consequence. The morrow promised music, officers, admiration, perhaps triumph. That was sufficient. Sleep overtook them mid-speculation.
***
On Monday evening, Mr. Bingley retired to his chamber in a state of uncommon satisfaction.
He had not yet ceased to congratulate himself upon his choice of estate. Netherfield, which at first had been merely a pleasant prospect and a promising arrangement, now appeared a stroke of remarkable good fortune. The house suited him; the country was lively without fatigue; the neighbourhood hospitable; andthe society, most particularly the society, had exceeded his expectations.
He smiled as he undid his cravat.
Saturday’s dinner had been animated. Sunday’s walk had been better still. That Mrs. Bennet had insisted upon their remaining for luncheon did not trouble him in the least. He had been glad of it. Glad of every additional hour.
Miss Bennet’s composure during the meal, her quiet management of her younger sisters, her gentle defence of her family without display – these things had impressed him more than he had admitted aloud. There was nothing artful in her behaviour, nothing of the calculated ease he had often observed in London. Nothing calculated. If she was pleased, she was so without affectation; if she was attentive, it was because she genuinely cared.
He admired that more than brilliance.
He had already secured the second set for the morrow’s ball. The thought returned to him now with fresh pleasure. He thought he might persuade her to walk a turn if the room grew warm.
He was aware – vaguely – that his sisters might not share his enthusiasm for the neighbourhood. That circumstance troubled him less than it once might have done. He felt, perhaps for the first time, that he had chosen something for himself.
Netherfield did not merely suit him; it welcomed him.
And if that welcome were embodied in a pair of steady blue eyes and a smile that never presumed, he could not think the choice ill made.
***
Mr. Darcy did not retire immediately.
He stood for some time before the fire, the events of the weekend arranging themselves in his mind with less order than he preferred. He had long believed himself capable of accurate judgement; yet he had been obliged to revise more than one conclusion. He could not decide if it was according to his taste.
It had not escaped his notice that Mr. Collins had placed himself repeatedly at Miss Elizabeth’s side. The compliments had been of that peculiar sort which carried more intention than elegance. Miss Elizabeth appeared unaware of the direction they tended.
The prospect ought not to have concerned him. Mr. Collins was secure in his living, respectable in station, and well patronised. For a family such as the Bennets, the match would be advantageous. Indeed, it would be prudent.
Yet the thought of it lingered with unwelcome persistence.
Elizabeth Bennet, presiding over the parsonage at Hunsford – receiving Lady Catherine’s direction with cheerful submission – moderating her wit into dutiful acquiescence – the image would not settle. He would meet her there as Mrs. Collins – and find the prospect unexpectedly difficult to reconcile.
He felt, not without a degree of impatience, an uneasiness he could not justify – as though the very idea imposed a limitation he was unwilling to acknowledge.
He attempted to reason with himself. It would be no misfortune. Many intelligent women reconciled themselves to narrower circumstances. Comfort and stability were not negligible considerations. It would take uncommon strength to decline such an offer.
That he should occupy himself with the question at all was, he told himself, wholly unwarranted. It was not jealousy that unsettled him. He would not indulge in so crude a sentiment. It was incredulity, so he told himself.
