“It gives,” said Mrs. Gardiner, “no impression at all that I have not myself formed.”
Mr. Bennet reached for the decanter. Collins had his uses after all. An engaged man was a neutralised man, and a neutralised man was not a complication. The only remaining question was how long his sister intended to linger, and that was a matter easily managed. He allowed himself a small, private measure of relief along with his port and said nothing at all, which was one of the things he did best.
After dinner, when the ladies had withdrawn and the tea things were brought in, they expected Mr. Bennet to remain where he usually remained, which was in the dining room with his port and his own reflections. He did not. He followed them into the drawing room with his book under his arm and settled into his accustomed chair, because he had decided that Mrs. Gardiner's intentions required clarification and he preferred to do his clarifying in person, where he could observe the effect.
“How long does my sister intend to honour us with her company?” he said, without looking up from his page.
Mrs. Gardiner accepted a cup of tea before replying. “A few days, if it is convenient. I have been away from my own house rather longer than I intended, and there are obligations in town that will not wait indefinitely. But I should not like to leave Elizabeth without first satisfying myself that all is well.”
“All is perfectly well,” said Mr. Bennet. “Longbourn is exactly as Elizabeth left it, which is to say in rather better order than she found it. She is very thorough.” He looked at Elizabeth over the top of his spectacles. “We have missed her industry, if not her conversation.”
“I am sure you have,” said Mrs. Gardiner, stirring her tea. “A few days more can hardly make a material difference to the harvest tallies, I think.”
“As to the harvest,” said Mr. Bennet, turning a page, “the numbers want tallying, and—”
“Those numbers,” said Elizabeth, “will not be ready for collection for another fortnight, sir, and you know it.”
Mr. Bennet looked at her. She looked at him. It was a look they had exchanged before, in one form or another, across twenty years of these kinds of conversations, and it contained nothing comfortable on either side.
“Indeed,” he said at last. “Well. You are home now, and that is the main thing.” He opened his book. “Good night, my dears.”
He excused himself shortly after. Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner sat together in the quiet of the drawing room and said nothing for a little while, which was its own kind of conversation.
In his book room, Mr. Bennet poured himself a final glass The engagement report had been useful. Madeline would leave within the week. Collins knew his business. The plan was orderly and it would hold. He picked up his book. For once, he read it.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The following morning Mr. Bennet was in the book room when the knock came.
Mr. Bennet rose. "Mr. Darcy. What can I do for you, sir?"
"Sir, I am here to request permission to pay my addresses to your daughter."
Mr. Bennet regarded him for a moment, as though Darcy were an unexpected inconvenience that might yet proveentertaining. "My daughter. You must be more particular. I have five."
"Miss Elizabeth."
"Indeed," said Mr. Bennet, settling back into his chair. "And upon what grounds do you form so decided a preference?"
Darcy met his look steadily. He began with the facts, because facts were what he could manage; the length of their acquaintance, the circumstances under which it had formed, the quality of the understanding they had reached. He spoke with measured precision, and then, because precision was not quite sufficient and he found, unexpectedly, that it could not be, he said what he meant rather than what he had prepared.
"I esteem her," he said. "More than I have ever esteemed anyone. She has more sense and steadiness and genuine worth than I have encountered in any other woman of my acquaintance. I am aware that I have not your experience of her character, but I have the evidence of six weeks' close observation, and I have never found that evidence wanting. I should count it the greatest honour of my life to be permitted to make her happy."He stopped, having said rather more than he had intended. He was not certain he regretted it.
Mr. Bennet looked at him for a moment. "Six weeks," he said. "And in six weeks you have formed a regard sufficient to bring you to my door at eight in the morning. I confess I am impressed by the efficiency, if not the judgement."
"My regard is neither slight nor hastily formed."
"So you say. Gentlemen are often very well satisfied with their own judgement in such matters." He picked up his pen and set it down again. "Tell me, Mr. Darcy, is it common practice among men of your acquaintance to pay addresses to a young woman while remaining engaged to another?"
Darcy went very still."I beg your pardon."
"My cousin was good enough to inform us last evening that you are engaged to your cousin, Miss de Bourgh, by the express design of your respective mothers. A long-standing arrangement, by his account, and very particularly stated." Mr. Bennet glanced at the papers before him. "I mention it only because a man in your position seeking an alliance with a young woman of modest fortune while already contracted elsewhere is a thing that wants some explanation."
"There is no such engagement," said Darcy. "It exists only in Lady Catherine's imagination, and I am sorry that her imagination has been permitted to travel so far."
"Is that so." Mr. Bennet looked up. "How very convenient for you."
"It is the truth."
