“Then you understand my eagerness to correspond with him. It is an excellent solution—I may read his inanities rather than enduring him in my home.”
Mr. Darcy laughed, but he did not reply, instead turning back to Elizabeth, who was regarding him with some discontent. “As I recall, you did not answer my question, Mr. Darcy.”
Mr. Bennet snorted but said nothing.
“I think, Miss Elizabeth, that I am equal to withstanding your mother. The question is, can you endure her officiousness when she learns the truth?”
“I have had twenty years to accustom myself to my mother’s ways, Mr. Darcy.”
“Then we may proceed.”
MR. DARCY WAS AS GOODas his word, showing Elizabeth a side of him that she never thought existed. The gentleman was somehow tender, treating her as if her opinion were of utmost importance, her feelings as if they were worthy of the most careful consideration. Elizabeth found herself responding to his overtures in ways she could not have imagined.
The days turned into weeks, and the Christmas season came and went, yet the gentleman stayed true to his intentions. In time, Elizabeth began to feel that she could like him very well.
The only fly in the apothecary’s ointment was Mrs. Bennet. Though her father found the situation vastly entertaining, Elizabeth found herself exasperated more often than not. Elizabeth could not understand it—her mother was usually so attuned to any gentleman who even glanced at one of her daughters. Yet Mrs. Bennet persisted in this determination to push Lydia toward Mr. Darcy at every opportunity. Elizabeth did not know who resented the situation more—Lydia, who thought Mr. Darcy was dull, or Mr. Darcy, who thought she was a child who had no business being treated as a woman.
Within a fortnight, matters reached a breaking point. On a day when the Bennet family dined at Netherfield Park—Mr. Bingley had prevailed upon Georgiana, supported by Mrs. Annesley, her companion, to serve as his hostess. Before dinner, Mrs. Bennet was up to her antics again.
“Mr. Darcy, do you not think Lydia looks well today?”
Though the gentleman betrayed not a hint of his true feelings, Elizabeth understood them nonetheless—any amusement he might once have felt had been almost entirelydisplaced by exasperation. Had Elizabeth not been immersed in the same, she might have thought it was hilarious.
“Well enough, for a young girl,” replied Mr. Darcy, a deliberate reference to the difference between himself and Lydia.
As usual, it meant nothing at all to Mrs. Bennet. “Indeed? I always think youth gives a countenance its greatest charm. Do you not agree, Mr. Darcy?”
“Charm, Mrs. Bennet, depends upon the beholder. What one may take as charm, another may find contrived.”
“Oh, I assure you that my Lydia isneverartificial,” simpered Mrs. Bennet.
Elizabeth could almost hear Mr. Darcy grinding his teeth. “No, madam, I would agree she is not. She is far too bold for that.”
Mrs. Bennet appeared to equate “bold” with “vivacious.” “I could not have said it better myself.”
Though Elizabeth sat next to Mr. Darcy, their conversation suffered interruption every few moments, preventing them from exchanging anything beyond the most superficial pleasantries. For a time, Elizabeth considered the merits of rebuking her mother for her stupidity. Mrs. Bennet was indefatigable—she praised, cajoled, demanded, and plotted, and when none of it replaced Elizabeth with Lydia, she began directing pointed looks at Elizabeth. Perhaps it is not laudable to ignore one’s mother, but Elizabeth found herself equal to the task.
The moment the housekeeper entered to announce dinner, Mr. Darcy sprang to his feet, before Mrs. Bennet could speak a word. “Come, Miss Elizabeth, I shall escort you to dinner.”
Stifling a laugh at the absurdity, Elizabeth agreed. Mrs. Bennet, however, was not about to be defeated without a fight.
“What gentlemanly behavior to escort Lizzy into the dining-room. But you must also escort Lydia, for she is without a partner.”
Taking Lydia’s hand, Mrs. Bennet guided her to Mr. Darcy, and the gentleman, having no choice, extended his free arm to Lydia. Nor was that the end of it, for the moment they entered the dining-room, Mrs. Bennet acted.
“Lydia, you will sit next to Mr. Darcy. Let me recommend my Lydia as an excellent partner, Mr. Darcy. She is lively, unlike her sisters, who have grown quite bookish as they grew older.”
Then she grasped Elizabeth’s arm to pull her away. “Come, Lizzy, you must sit next to Georgiana, for she is shy and will need encouragement.”
“I am highly offended by your lack of trust in me, Mrs. Bennet,” said Mr. Bennet, nearly quivering with laughter. “Do you not supposeIcan provide encouragement to Miss Darcy?”
“Nonsense, Mr. Bennet. Lizzy and Georgiana are of age—what canyouhave to say to a young girl?”
“Conversation of much more sense than we have been witness to tonight, to be certain.”
Mrs. Bennet was not to be gainsaid as she ordered things the way they ought to be. That no one else was happy with the arrangement completely escaped her attention—Mrs. Bennet spooned her soup, her self-satisfied smirk offensive to more than just Lydia. For perhaps the first time, even Lydia appeared quite put out with her mother.
Elizabeth thought to take her mother aside that night to explain a few pertinent facts, but Mrs. Bennet was little inclined to endure what she considered Elizabeth’s interference. Thus, when Elizabeth was preparing for bed, her mother stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. Based on the dark expression she sported, Elizabeth knew she had earned Mrs. Bennet’s ire again.
