That such a mind might be confined to the perpetual admiration of Lady Catherine’s poultry and chimneypieces struck him as an injustice – though he could not claim the right to protest it.
An image of her appeared – Miss Elizabeth in the rose garden at Pemberley. Then another placed her at the long dinner table with the silver candle holder reflecting in her eyes.
He closed his eyes, as though the effort might dismiss the images
He tried one more time.
Why should it matter to him where she bestowed her hand?
He knew the answer – or rather, he recognised its outline – and chose not to examine it too closely. To do so would oblige him to confront a preference he had no right to entertain.
***
Caroline dismissed her maid earlier than usual, pleading fatigue, though she felt none.
When the door had closed, she remained seated before the mirror, studying her reflection not with vanity but with scrutiny. What was wrong withhereyes?What is there in Eliza’s eyes to command such notice?She could discover nothing so very remarkable in them.
Miss Eliza possessed animation. That much was undeniable. She spoke readily; she moved with confidence; she appeared wholly at ease in company. Such qualities amused gentlemen in the country. They suggested novelty.
But novelty was rarely to be mistaken for permanence.
Caroline adjusted a curl near her temple and considered the darker silk laid across the chair. Candlelight rewarded restraint: depth of colour conferred distinction where mere gaiety drew attention. One must never compete in the wrong field.
Mr. Darcy’s recent attentions – if attentions they could be called – had not escaped her notice. He had listened too closely. He had looked too long. It was not gallantry; it was interest. That difference she understood very well.
Yet interest was often a passing indulgence. At least that used to be the case with her brother. Once away from this place, she was sure, Mr. Darcy would cease to think of Eliza. It was time for him to noticeher.
He had always valued discernment, elegance, breeding. He had been formed within a world far removed from Longbourn’s irregularities. He required only reminding of that world – of its expectations, its refinements, its proper alliances.
Surely, he would notice all she had done for this ball. If not to impress him, she would not have put so much effort into it. He must notice the elegance, the effectiveness with which such a task was done. He must notice. He could not fail to.
She brushed her curly hair.
Charles presented a more immediate concern. His enthusiasm was genuine, and genuineness, in him, had a troublesome habit of becoming attachment. Left uninterrupted, it might harden into resolution.
London would correct that. Engagements, obligations, society – these would restore proportion to his judgement. Distance clarified sentiment. It always had.
She rose at last and smoothed the darker gown with measured composure. Tomorrow would require finesse, not resentment.
Caroline extinguished the candle calmly, persuaded that misdirection, when addressed in time, need not become defeat.
***
Mrs. Bennet declared she should not sleep a wink – and was almost correct. There was too much to consider.
Mr. Bingley had walked with Jane. He had remained for luncheon. He had smiled in a manner no attentive mother could mistake. Jane, sweet child, would never encourage him openly, but modesty was often more persuasive than eagerness.
Netherfield had been let at precisely the right moment. She had always said so.
Elizabeth, too, was not without her prospects. Mr. Collins – well. A most advantageous connection. Secure. Respectable. A comfort in every worldly sense.
If even one understanding were reached tomorrow…
Mrs. Bennet adjusted her pillow with determined satisfaction. Other people might leave such matters to chance. She preferred preparation. And she slept persuaded that events were finally moving in the proper direction.
Chapter 10
Steps and Stratagems
