Elizabeth closed the door behind her. “I do not know that we are wiser,” she replied. “Only better informed.”
“Which answers much the same purpose in this instance,” he said. “You have heard the news.”
“I have.”
“And you are not surprised.”
It was not a question. “I cannot say that I am,” Elizabeth said.
Mr Bennet considered her for a moment, his gaze steady but not severe. “You warned me of thisgentleman.”
Elizabeth did not attempt to soften it. “I tried to.”
“And I chose not to be warned.”
She remained silent. It would be dishonest to protest, and there was nothing to be gained by pressing the point. Her father might acknowledge his fault if he wished; she would not urge the admission.
Mr Bennet leaned back slightly in his chair. “I begin to suspect that I was wrong,” he said at last. His tone was light, but not careless. It carried none of the easy dismissal with which he was accustomed to treat subjects that did not interest him.
“I wished only that you might prevent what could be prevented,” Elizabeth said.
“And I wished to avoid the trouble of prevention,” he returned. “A natural inclination, though not, it appears, a prudent one.” He paused, then added, with a faint alteration in his manner, “The business has been conducted without my assistance, which is fortunate, as I am not certain I should have conducted it at all.”
Elizabeth inclined her head slightly. “It has been conducted effectively.”
“So it seems.”
There was another pause, not uncomfortable,but thoughtful. Mr Bennet regarded her again, as though something in her expression had invited a second consideration. “Do you know how it has come about, Lizzy?”
Elizabeth looked at her father, considering. In one sense, she did. In another, she did not. She had once told her father as much as she honourably could, trusting him to take action, and had been disappointed. If she had certain knowledge, she would owe it to her father, but it was not so. “I do not,” Elizabeth said. “I have certain speculations, but little evidence. And I should prefer not to air guesses that may amount to very little in the end.”
Mr Bennet absorbed this. For a moment, sadness came over his face, as though he knew and regretted that she had chosen not to be entirely open with him. But he did not protest.
“You are going to Kent,” he said at last, letting the last topic lapse. Elizabeth, too, thought it for the best.
“Yes, sir.”
“To visit your friend and our cousin.”
“Yes.”
He looked at her with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. “You have a curious taste in company.”
Elizabeth smiled. “I go for Charlotte’s sake, notfor Mr Collins’s.”
“That is something in your favour,” he said.
He was silent again for a moment, then continued in a quieter tone, “You will not find much entertainment there, I think.”
“I do not expect to.”
“Then you are better prepared than most of those who visit him.”
Elizabeth answered only with a chuckle and a shake of her head.
Mr Bennet’s expression softened, though only slightly. “I shall miss you.”
The simplicity of it struck her more than any elaboration could have done. “And I shall miss you, sir,” Elizabeth told her father.
