Into Hertfordshire (5 page)

Chapter Five

To Darcy’s misfortune, his hope and his prophecy of never seeing any members of the assembly again, was not to be borne out. Three days after the dance, the ladies of one of the principal families of the neighbourhood came to visit the ladies of Netherfield. This was the Bennet family, and amongst them was Mr. Bingley’s partner from the dance, Miss Jane Bennet; she brought with her her mother and four sisters. Darcy therefore found himself, and with some discomposure, in company again with the young woman whom he had slighted to Bingley. She appeared to even greater advantage in the full light, and her voice was a pleasant, warm contralto. Darcy, however, was able to appreciate neither her looks, her tone, nor her company. As his mood had passed, her pleasing manners, composure, and fine countenance gave him to feel all the discourtesy he had been guilty of at the assembly; this left him awkward in her presence, and, as awkwardness was nearly unknown to him, he unconsciously turned his disapprobation on the person who caused it. The young lady, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, gave no indication that she remembered his behaviour at the dance with any disfavour; indeed, she seemed hardly aware that he had been at the assembly at all. Nor, it seemed, did his presence at this meeting impress her to any degree: she barely glanced at him after the introductions were made. This was a novelty to him; as Darcy of Pemberley he was used to being the cynosure of young women’s attention on first acquaintance; Miss Elizabeth Bennet was no more interested in him than if he had been the baker’s son. He shrugged inwardly and determined to answer her indifference with his own.

Bingley, of course, was delighted to see his dancing partner again. Miss Jane Bennet was the eldest of the Miss Bennets. She, too, appeared to advantage in the daytime, and her smiles were just as prevalent as before, although there was also an undeniable sincerity and sweetness about her. Darcy saw with tolerant amusement that his friend was well on his way to being in love again. Bingley danced attendance on her like the Earth around the Sun. There were three other Bennet daughters, as well: younger, less well-featured, less well-mannered, and a great deal less worthy of notice. The two youngest, especially, seemed scarcely more than children; Darcy wondered at their being out in Society at such a young age. After half-an-hour in their company, he heartily wished that they were not.

But if the youngest were immodest and impertinent, the mother strained the bounds of credulity; surely Darcy had never met any one with such a wonderful lack of understanding. If mention was made of some event of the day, she was sure to be ignorant of it; if some one essayed a witticism, she was sure to miss its meaning; it seemed almost as if she was engaging in an elaborate prank—no one could have an understanding so little developed. Her own conversation was composed of nothing but fulsome compliments for Bingley, his house, and his sisters, and thinly veiled attempts to assess the value of each and every article that passed beneath her eye. She fairly bubbled over with admiration for all that Bingley said and possessed; yet towards Darcy, she was markedly different: strangely abrupt and even cold. Given her conversational skills he felt his good fortune, but it was a curious circumstance. Her entire character was a puzzle, but not one Darcy felt any inclination to delve into.

When the Bennets left, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, as was their habit, proceeded to gleefully and mercilessly shred their new friends’ characters, manners, dress, and wit. When they broached the subject of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, Miss Bingley said laughingly, “I was absolutely
non plus
when she was introduced to me at the assembly, for Sir William Lucas had mentioned her as one of the leading beauties of the neighbourhood. Upon my honour, I believed him to have been making a jest at my expense, and I very nearly said so; but then he is not, perhaps, as we now know, the most discerning of men. What do you think, Mr. Darcy? Would you say Miss Elizabeth Bennet is a beauty worthy of note?”

Darcy, having been ignored by the lady in question, annoyed by her younger sisters, and quite astounded by her mother, revenged himself on them collectively by observing wryly: “She a beauty? I would sooner call her mother a wit.” Miss Bingley laughed immoderately at this, as did her sister; even Hurst gave a chuckle and nod in Darcy’s direction, which for him was unbridled hilarity.

Nevertheless, the ladies declared the two elder Bennet sisters to be worthy of a closer acquaintance, and therefore returned the visit two days later, on a dark, overcast Saturday morning. Longbourn, the estate of Mr. Bennet, was three miles distant on the other side of Meryton. The ladies were attended on this visit by their brother, who, as Darcy had foreseen almost from their first dance together, was much smitten by Miss Bennet. The excuse given by Bingley for his accompanying the ladies was the need to see how his coach performed in the weather after receiving some slight repairs in the village. To this Darcy offered no challenge, though the repairs had been complete for a week without Bingley expressing any interest in them; he knew full well why his friend wished to visit the Bennets. Darcy was unconcerned by this display of partiality, however, having seen it run its course in his friend before; he was also mindful of his trespass on Bingley’s privileges only a fortnight prior, and therefore spoke no word of caution to his friend.

During the ensuing days, Darcy and Miss Elizabeth Bennet were thrown into each other’s company several times. They dined together in company the Monday following their introduction at Netherfield, and now were met again on Wednesday evening at a large party. He had begun his observations of her when he was in a mood to be pleased by no one, and on a second viewing he yet remained proof against her charms, but by the third he found himself following her every where with his eyes. He was forced to admit to himself that, while not at all fashionable, her clothes were well-suited to her figure; and that, even though he had withstood the allures of women whose features were unquestionably superior to hers, the expressiveness of her eyes and the pleasing curve of her mouth when she smiled caught his attention to an unprecedented degree. He admitted this to himself, however, only to the degree of congratulating himself on having found at least
one
point of moderate interest amongst his new acquaintance in Hertfordshire.

Their host of the evening on this, their fourth rencontre, Sir William Lucas, was a man whose fortune had been made in trade and whose elevation to rank had occurred some ten years prior. As a result of his late acquisition of a courtly title, Sir William was perhaps overly scrupulous in his observation of those courtesies he felt to be attendant on rank, from the desire to appear that he had held that privilege throughout the entirety of his life. Aside from this tendency he was an unassuming man, good-natured and desirous of seeing all around him comfortable and easy. He was therefore fond of entertainments, and, being as well pleased to give them as to attend them, was known throughout the neighbourhood as an excellent host.

The general conversation at Sir William’s party was, to Darcy’s mind, no more than what one would expect in the country: weather, roads, and stale gossip from London. With such a limited field for discourse of interest to himself, Darcy several times found opportunity to position himself at vantage points where he might hear Miss Elizabeth Bennet when she was speaking with others. It was a method he had used before to discover the true thoughts and nature of a lady of his acquaintance. He had often found their conversations with himself to be contrived and artificial, intended solely to elicit his approbation, and little reflected the speaker’s true character; but that by observation of them while they were engaged with others he would come to a more complete understanding of them. Not that he was given to prying into the secret affairs of others: only that, while not engaged in conversation himself, he would attend to those around him.

This brought him his first insight into Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s character, for she observed his attention and quickly gave him notice of it. He had listened to her while she attempted to persuade Colonel Forster of the ––shire Militia, which was then quartered in Meryton, to hold a ball for his officers and the families of the neighbourhood. Her own wit was rather quicker than that of the Colonel, and Darcy smiled once or twice when she managed to outflank his more slowly moving thoughts; she was considerate enough, however, to release him from the trap into which she had put him without ever letting him know he was caught. Caroline Bingley, Darcy observed to himself, would not have been so generous; she would have enjoyed her victory too much to let it go unacknowledged.

She had then turned away from Colonel Forster to speak to her intimate friend, Miss Charlotte Lucas, Sir William’s eldest daughter. Darcy had already discovered that the conversation of these two was of particular use in revealing her thoughts and opinions. He therefore moved in the direction they were standing, only to be thus addressed by the lady as he drew near: “Did not you think, Mr. Darcy, that I expressed myself uncommonly well just now, when I was teazing Colonel Forster to give us a ball at Meryton?”

There was a hint of challenge in her tone but her smile was completely charming, and Darcy was pleased by her notice. He stopt politely and responded in a manner that he hoped would draw her into further exchange: “With great energy,” he replied, and, matching the tone of her challenge with his own, he added, “but it is a subject which always makes a lady energetic.”

“You are severe on us.” She met his eye with an arched brow and drew breath to speak further, but her thoughts remained unsaid. “It will be
her
turn soon to be teazed,” Miss Lucas intervened quickly, for she sensed a contentious spirit in her friend and did not wish her to dispute with a man of Mr. Darcy’s standing. “I am going to open the instrument, Eliza, and you know what follows.”

“You are a very strange creature by way of a friend!” Miss Elizabeth Bennet cried. “Always wanting me to play and sing before any body and every body! If my vanity had taken a musical turn, you would have been invaluable; but as it is, I would really rather not sit down before those who must be in the habit of hearing the very best performers.” Darcy was captivated and delighted by her half-jesting, half-serious manner as she protested to her friend, as well as by her well-mannered diffidence towards her own performance.

“But, Lizzy—please? Every one
so
loves to hear you play,” Miss Lucas said persuasively. Turning to Darcy she said, “Miss Elizabeth Bennet is a capital performer, for all she protests. I am sure you would rather listen to her play than to discuss the merits of a ball.”

Darcy certainly was not inclined to argue that point, and looked at Miss Elizabeth Bennet with polite expectation. The lady relented. “Very well; if it must be so, it must,” said she. Assuming an air of resignation and turning to Mr. Darcy, she told him: “There is a fine old saying, which every body here is of course familiar with: ‘Keep your breath to cool your porridge’; and I shall keep mine to swell my song.”

Her playing was unaffected and pleasing, her voice warm and true, though perhaps the partiality of her friend had somewhat overstated her abilities. But still, Darcy was well pleased to listen to her and even better pleased to have the opportunity to observe her attentively without discourtesy. The face and figure that he had slighted on first sight were now become the only things he could see in a crowded room. And as of this evening he knew her pet name: Lizzy. He liked it: quick and darting on the tongue, it suited her; but he liked her full Christian name better still.

He also reflected with pleasure on the manner in which she had begun their first real exchange: she had fairly accosted him for having listened in on her conversation with Colonel Forster. It had been little less than that; yet there was an adorable allure to the manner in which she had confronted him, rather like being attacked by a kitten. No, not a kitten; there was nothing kittenish about Miss Elizabeth Bennet; she had less coquetry about her than any other woman he knew. Darcy was also persuaded that she was possessed of a strong intelligence, which, appearing most often as a display of playful wit, could easily be passed over by the unobservant. He found her conversation enchanting, and began to think what he might do to direct it towards himself. These and other similarly pleasant thoughts occupied him while she continued her song, and, after a gracious protestation in favour of the other ladies present, acquiesced to playing another. After her second piece one of her sisters sat down to play, and all pleasure ended. Where Miss Elizabeth Bennet had made music, even if in a simple style, her sister merely strung notes together; though hers was a more complex piece, her playing had no more spirit than a metronome. Her first selection was plodding and pedantic, and she thereafter gave in to the request of her youngest sister to play dances and reels. This ended all conversation in the room; Darcy could do no more than glare at the Bennet girl playing.

While standing apart and silently castigating the stomping and laughing young people who were dancing, amongst whom he was pained to see his friend Bingley, Darcy was approached by Sir William. That gentleman greeted him with a bow of great deference, and opened a conversation with him by making a pleasant observation on the civilised nature of dance. This did little to soothe Darcy’s injured sensibilities: the topic was one he abhorred, and he found Sir William’s conversation in general tame and tinged with absurdity, centred as it was around the rights and responsibilities of rank, and his own introduction to that set. Darcy met his conversational sorties with desultory replies until the moment that Miss Elizabeth Bennet happened to walk past them.