Jane coloured slightly. “I shall sit wherever there is room, Mama.”
Mrs Bennet frowned. “That is not the point. This is a valuable opportunity, Jane, do not you see? If Mr Bingley hears that you have been entertaining officers without the least concern for his feelings, he will know he cannot take you for granted. That should hasten matters considerably.”
Elizabeth, who was adjusting a ribbon at the window, could not resist a glance in her mother’s direction. “Or delay them,” she said lightly.
Mrs Bennet turned on her at once. “You do not understand these things, Lizzy. If you had accepted Mr Collins, we would not be in such a precarious situation now.”
Knowing that silence was often the most effective answer to her mother’s more unreasonable observations, Elizabeth said nothing.
Kitty hovered near Lydia, watching her with anxious admiration. Lydia herself was in high spirits, moving from chair to chair and examining her reflection wherever she could find it.
“I hope there will be dancing,” Lydia declared. “There is nothing so disappointing as sitting still when there are officers in the house.”
“There will be no dancing unless someoneplays,” Mary said, looking up from her book. “And I have no intention of indulging such a foolish wish.”
Mrs Bennet waved a hand almost contemptuously. “There is always some way of arranging such things.”
Mary looked distraught to be so summarily dismissed, but said nothing.
Elizabeth moved to stand next to her and placed a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “I shall play, if you really do not wish to,” she said softly. “I hope you will not find the evening too dull, Mary.”
Mary hesitated, then said softly, “It is a pity we did not think to invite Mr Greene.”
Elizabeth looked at her sister with mild surprise. Mary rarely ventured opinions on matters of company, and when she did, they were usually delivered with a seriousness that discouraged further discussion. Her manner now was very different. Mary really seemed to wish that the new rector of Meryton Church had been included in the party. She had sounded so gentle, so vulnerable, with none of the pompous pedantry that sometimes accompanied her sister’s statements.
That pedantry made Mary unpopular with her younger sisters and much of their acquaintance, but such a dismissal was unjust. Mary’s moral reflections, so often received with impatience, were not only the product of vanity. She had also a genuinedesire to understand and to improve. Though her seriousness was sometimes ill timed, it was never insincere.
That Mr Greene should have engaged her interest did not surprise Elizabeth upon reflection. By all accounts, he was a thoughtful man, attentive in his duties and measured in his opinions. Elizabeth had heard little of him beyond what was spoken at church, but what she had heard inclined her to think him sensible and disciplined rather than severe. He was a young man and had only lately received his ordination. Though not handsome, his features were pleasant enough, particularly given his intelligent and kindly expression. If Mary admired him and he returned her feelings, they might be a well-suited match.
She glanced again at her sister, who had resumed her reading with an air of composed resignation. Poor Mary was overlooked only too often. Elizabeth felt a stir of affection, mixed with regret that Mary’s virtues were so often lost amid the louder claims of her younger sisters.
If there were justice in the world, Elizabeth thought, Mary’s seriousness might one day be appreciated by someone who valued steadiness over sparkle. Such an appreciation would be quiet, perhaps even unromantic in its pragmatism, but it would be no less real for that.
“Why, Mr Greene?” Mrs Bennet said,having overheard some of her daughter’s conversation. “Why ever would we invite Mr Greene when the officers are coming? They will not appreciate a sermon at supper.”
“Do you not think we ought to welcome our new parson to the community, Mama?” Mary asked. “Though he has not been in Meryton long, I think very well of Mr Greene. He has been very attentive to the neighbourhood, and his sermons are most insightful. I believe he would have made an agreeable addition to the evening.”
Mrs Bennet frowned. “Perhaps for tea, Mary. A parson is hardly the sort of company to enliven a supper.”
Mary said no more, but her disappointment was obvious.
When the gentlemen arrived, Mrs Bennet received them with effusive cordiality and many protestations of welcome. Mr Wickham entered with an elegance and ease of manner that immediately distinguished him from his companions. He greeted the family warmly, addressing each with the appearance of sincere interest. His good friend Mr Denny followed more quietly, amiable and content to allow his friend to lead the conversation, while their fellow officers fell to talking with Kitty and Lydia almost at once.
Elizabeth observed Mr Wickham withrenewed pleasure. He spoke readily, smiled often, and listened with an attention that suggested he found his company genuinely agreeable. When his eyes met hers, his expression brightened in a manner Elizabeth could not fail to notice.
Supper was soon announced, and the party filed into the dining room, which was only just large enough to seat them all. Lydia seated herself with strategic determination near Mr Wickham, while Kitty followed as closely as she could manage. Mrs Bennet placed Jane where she might be most easily observed, and Elizabeth found herself opposite Mr Wickham, a circumstance she accepted with composure and not a little interest.
Conversation flowed easily at first. Lydia spoke with unrestrained enthusiasm, recounting the latest news of the regiment and expressing opinions with an assurance that would have been impressive had it not been so entirely uninformed. Mr Denny laughed readily, encouraging her with good-natured indulgence.
By contrast, Mr Wickham directed his attention with greater discrimination. He seemed to possess an instinctive understanding of the balance required in such a company. To Mrs Bennet, he spoke with flattering attentiveness, appearing interested in every detail she offered and responding with a warmth that encouraged her to speak still more. Not without amusement, Elizabeth observed how readilyher mother was drawn out by such civility, and how quickly she regarded Mr Wickham as a young man of excellent sense and taste.
With Lydia, his manner was indulgent but controlled. He laughed at her remarks, though never encouraged her to speak overmuch, and redirected her enthusiasm with an ease that suggested long practice. Lydia, who was unused to restraint, seemed at once delighted and slightly vexed by this treatment, and only increased her efforts to command his notice. Kitty, observing this, echoed her sister with anxious eagerness, though with less success.
Sitting quietly beside Elizabeth, Jane remained polite and attentive, though her composure was tinged with an absent air Elizabeth could not mistake. She answered when addressed, smiled when spoken to, and listened with unfailing courtesy, yet there was a hesitation in her manner that suggested her thoughts were elsewhere.
Elizabeth smiled a little to herself. How little interest Jane took now in any company of gentlemen that did not include Mr Bingley! If that gentleman could have observed the supper party, he certainly would not have felt the jealousy that Mrs Bennet seemed to think might spur him on. Far from it. If Mr Bingley could have seen and understood Jane’s manners, they could only have inspired him with the deepest confidence in his own hold on heraffections.
Elizabeth found herself observing all this at once, conscious of the different impressions formed around the table, and of the ease with which Mr Wickham adapted himself to each. His charm did not rely upon novelty, but upon attention. He listened as readily as he spoke, and appeared to take as much interest in the concerns of others as in his own. That such a manner should be so generally successful was hardly surprising.
