Miss Mary, on the other hand, seemed precisely the sort of young woman who would listen with gratitude to such guidance.
These reflections gradually settled the matter.
Miss Elizabeth remained, he allowed, a very agreeable young lady; but upon mature consideration, Miss Mary Bennet appeared the more suitable companion for a gentleman situated as he was.
Having arrived at this conclusion with considerable satisfaction, Mr. Collins composed himself to rest, feeling that he had acted with the prudence and foresight expected of a man entrusted with both a parish and the patronage of so distinguished a lady.
***
The morning at Netherfield was already well advanced when Mr. Darcy entered the breakfast room.
The house retained the languor that often follows a large entertainment. The servants moved quietly, and the air of the place suggested that most of its inhabitants were not yet inclined to exert themselves very early.
Darcy, however, had been awake for some time.
A letter lay beside his plate, which he unfolded once more as he took his seat. The hand was instantly recognisable.
Georgiana.
Her letter was affectionate, gentle, and filled with the small concerns of her life at Pemberley. Yet there was one passage that had drawn his attention more than once.
She spoke of Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
Darcy had mentioned her in his last letter from Netherfield – only briefly, and with what he believed at the time to be perfect composure. Yet Georgiana, with the quick perception that often surprised him, had not overlooked the mention.
You speak of Miss Elizabeth Bennet with such warmth,she had written,that I begin to wish very much to know her. I think she must be quite an extraordinary young lady.
Darcy folded the letter slowly.Extraordinary.
The word returned to his thoughts with unexpected persistence.
He had not intended to give such an impression. Indeed, when he first came to Hertfordshire, Miss Elizabeth Bennet had appeared to him merely a lively young woman whose manners were somewhat too free for his taste. Yet the recollection of her as he had last seen her was far less easily dismissed.
Her countenance, animated by wit and intelligence… the spirit with which she spoke… and, most vivid of all, the moment in the library when her eyes had flashed with indignation.
Darcy leaned back in his chair, thoughtful.
It was an odd circumstance that he should now find himself reflecting so frequently upon a young lady whom he had known only a short time.
His gaze fell absently upon the window.
Bingley would likely marry soon.
The thought came to him with unexpected clarity. His friend’s attachment to Miss Bennet had become too evident to be mistaken. Darcy had watched it grow with increasing certainty throughout the evening, and the scene he had witnessed at supper had left him with little doubt as to its direction.
Bingley was younger than he was. Yet the possibility of marriage had clearly entered his friend’s mind without hesitation.
Darcy’s own situation was rather different. Since his father’s death, nearly all his attention had been devoted to Pemberley. The estate had demanded care and judgement, and he had given it both willingly. The responsibility had seemed natural to him, almost inevitable. In fulfilling it, he had scarcely paused to consider what might be absent from his own life.
Many of the gentlemen he had once counted among his closest companions were now married. He had attended more weddings in the last three years than he cared to count. Each had been conducted with the proper degree of festivity and good wishes. Yet, he had always returned from such occasions with a vague sense of relief, as though he had escaped an expectation not entirely his own.
Marriage had never seemed an immediate necessity. His position, his responsibilities, and the scale of Pemberley itself had required prudence above all things. It was natural, therefore, that any future mistress of the estate must possess qualities suited to the situation – elegance, composure, and an understanding of the society in which he moved.
Several ladies of thetoncame to his mind in succession.
Miss Ashbourne, whose beauty had been much admired the previous season; Lady Margaret Elliston, whose fortune and family connections had made her the object of considerableattention; Miss Davenport, whose manners were so perfectly regulated that she had scarcely ever been known to betray a spontaneous thought.
Each possessed advantages which the world would readily acknowledge. Yet as Darcy considered them, he found the recollection of their faces strangely indistinct. It was another countenance that intruded upon his thoughts with inconvenient clarity.
