Mrs Bennet resumed her lamentations, but Elizabeth heard little of what followed. Her thoughts had already turned elsewhere, gathering force with each repetition.
Her mother was right about one thing — empty civility did cost nothing, and it was just like Miss Bingley to practise it. Elizabeth had never doubted Caroline Bingley’s desire to separate her brother from any attachment that did not meet her approval, and she could not believe this sudden departure unconnected to that wish. Nor could she exclude another influence, one she found still less excusable.
Mr Darcy.
It would be just like the man. He made no secret of the fact that he regarded her family with disapproval, that he considered Jane’s connection to Mr Bingley anything but desirable. That he should exerthis influence to prevent it now seemed entirely consistent with his character. Pride and consequence governed his actions. The happiness of others, she suspected, did not.
She rose and crossed to the window, needing the excuse of movement to steady herself. The December air lay cold and pale beyond the glass, and the familiar grounds of Longbourn offered little comfort. Jane’s distress weighed upon her, and Elizabeth felt the injustice of it keenly. Jane had done nothing to deserve such uncertainty, not to mention having to endure such public lamentation.
As she looked out, Elizabeth breathed out a long, slow breath, hoping, though not believing, that it might settle her disordered emotions. The morning had begun by being dull but peaceful and was now neither. She could not shake the sense that matters were being decided elsewhere, without her knowledge and without her consent. That Mr Bingley should be removed so suddenly, that Jane should be made to suffer for it, and that all should be accomplished under the guise of prudence, seemed deeply unfair.
Still more so if Mr Darcy had a hand in it, as she suspected he did. Who was Mr Darcy to make a decision of such weight for his friend? Such interference would be unforgivable.
The thought had scarcely settled when the door opened, and their housekeeper entered theroom.
“There is a gentleman to see you, ma’am,” Hill said.
Mrs Bennet started to her feet at once. “A gentleman? It must be Mr Bingley. I knew he would not leave without speaking to Jane.”
Elizabeth turned, her surprise sharpened by the certainty in her mother’s tone.
Hill hesitated. “No, ma’am. It is Mr Darcy.”
Mrs Bennet’s astonishment was so complete that it rendered her silent. Kitty’s eyes widened. Lydia, who had been midway through another complaint about the weather and the dullness of country life, stopped at once, as if uncertain whether she ought to laugh or to be offended. Jane’s needle paused above her work, and though she did not look up, the slight stillness of her posture told Elizabeth that she had heard every syllable.
Elizabeth rose with a composure she did not entirely feel. That Mr Darcy should call at Longbourn at all was unexpected. That he should do so on the very morning they were told of the Bingleys’ departure struck her as a pointed circumstance, and one she could not yet interpret to her satisfaction.
“Mr Darcy,” Mrs Bennet said at last, recovering herself with a sudden flutter of agitation. “How very odd! What can he possibly want? Upon my word,Mrs Hill, you might have told us at once. Pray, show him in. Well, perhaps there may yet be some advantage in it. Jane, my love, come forward. You must not sit so far back.”
Jane coloured faintly and shifted her chair a little, though she did not meet her mother’s eye. Elizabeth, who knew perfectly well that Jane would rather have remained where she was, felt her irritation stir. She held herself back, knowing it was better to say nothing. There were times when it was useless to oppose Mrs Bennet, for the attempt only provided her with fresh opportunities for hysterics.
Mr Darcy entered a moment later. The effect of his presence was immediate. He was grave, as Elizabeth expected, and his manner was formal almost to the point of coldness. He bowed gracefully in the exchange of greetings, his attention resting upon each of them with careful correctness.
“Mr Darcy,” Mrs Bennet said civilly, as though she had not been railing against him to all the neighbourhood since their first meeting, “how very good of you to call. We had thought you all at Netherfield in the midst of preparations. I am sure we are vastly obliged. I hope you find our poor little drawing room tolerable.”
Mr Darcy replied politely, expressing his thanks for being received, and making a remark on the weather that satisfied civility without inviting anything more. Elizabeth watched him curiously.Mr Darcy generally seemed as though he would rather say little. Today, she had the sense that he had something he very much wished to say, though he would say it with his usual quiet restraint.
Mrs Bennet, however, was not inclined to allow anything to proceed quietly.
“You have come, I suppose,” she continued with a meaningful smile, “to tell us that Mr Bingley does not mean to leave us after all. Jane has received a most provoking note, and I declare I have been quite put out by it.”
Mr Darcy’s expression did not change, though Elizabeth fancied that something in his attention sharpened at the mention of the letter. He offered no direct answer, only a polite acknowledgment that the Netherfield party did indeed intend to leave soon.
Mrs Bennet clasped her hands. “Soon. Well, that is a shame. It would be much better for him to remain through Christmas. Such friendships cannot be treated as though they were nothing. Jane, my dear, you must speak for yourself. A young lady must not be silent when her happiness is in question. Surely Mr Bingley’s good friend ought to know what the neighbourhood thinks of so abrupt a departure.”
Jane’s fingers tightened around her work. “Mama, I have nothing to say.”
Elizabeth’s patience, already strained, threatened to fail her entirely. She felt as though she must say something to redirect her mother, but was utterly at a loss for what it could be. When Mr Darcy cleared his throat, redirecting the attention of the room towards himself, Elizabeth felt considerable relief.
Only moments later, that relief turned to astonished disbelief.
“Mrs Bennet,” Mr Darcy said austerely, “you must excuse me. I am afraid I have not come to speak about Bingley’s departure from Netherfield, but about an entirely different matter. If Miss Elizabeth would grant me the honour, and if you would permit me, I should like to speak to her in confidence.”
For a moment, the room was entirely silent.
Mrs Bennet’s face altered at once. Surprise, delight, and triumphant certainty chased one another so rapidly across her features that Elizabeth could scarcely follow them. “In confidence?” Mrs Bennet said faintly in astonishment. “You wish to speak to my Lizzy in confidence?”
Jane looked up at last, her expression startled and uncertain. Kitty stared openly. Mary, always curious about the workings of the human heart in the abstract, now appeared deeply alarmed to encounter it in the particular.
