***
The carriage ride home erupted into the customary post-assembly analysis, with each sister eager to share her evening’s experiences. Lydia held forth about her conquest of Lieutenant Denny’s affections, while Kitty provided breathless commentary on the latest fashion observations. Mary’s disappointment at being limited to a single performance dominated her contribution, though Elizabeth detected wounded pride beneath the philosophical resignation.
“Such a shame about Mr Darcy’s disagreeable nature,” Mrs Bennet declared as they settled into Longbourn’s familiar comfort. “With such a fortune, one might overlook a multitude of character flaws, but his manners are beyond redemption.”
“Perhaps he suffers from some personal tragedy,” Jane suggested with her characteristic charity. “Wealth cannot shield one from grief or loss.”
Mrs Bennet’s eyes brightened with speculative interest. “A widow, perhaps? That would explain his sombre disposition and reluctance to engage socially. Poor man, still mourning his departed wife!”
Elizabeth doubted this romantic interpretation, though she acknowledged its possibility. “More likely he considers himselfsuperior to country society and makes no effort to disguise his disdain.”
“But what of his guardianship of that sweet child?” Lydia interjected with unusual thoughtfulness. “Surely a truly heartless man would not assume such responsibility?”
“Perhaps he delegates the boy’s care entirely to servants,” Elizabeth replied, her opinion of Mr Darcy’s character remaining decidedly unfavourable. “Duty and affection need not coincide, particularly among those who consider emotion beneath their dignity.”
“Or perhaps,” Lydia continued with growing confidence in her theory, “Mr Darcy is one of those gentlemen who reserve their true selves for a select few while presenting coldness to the world. Some men guard their hearts so carefully that they appear unfeeling to casual observers.”
This observation, surprisingly perceptive from someone Elizabeth had always considered frivolous, gave her pause. Could there be truth in Lydia’s assessment? Yet even if Mr Darcy possessed hidden depths, his public conduct remained inexcusable.
“Such speculation serves little purpose,” Mr Bennet interjected with gentle authority. “We know nothing of the gentleman’s circumstances or character beyond tonight’s brief encounter. Perhaps we might direct our energies towards more productive subjects?”
Mrs Bennet bristled at this implied criticism. “I was merely attempting to understand his peculiar behaviour, Mr Bennet. A mother must consider all aspects of potential suitors for her daughters.”
“Potential suitors?” Elizabeth laughed despite her lingering irritation. “I assure you, Mama, Mr Darcy and I areunlikely to progress beyond mutual antipathy. He has made his opinion of local society abundantly clear.”
“Still,” Mrs Bennet persisted with the determination that made her formidable in pursuit of advantageous matches, “ten thousand a year forgives many character defects. Perhaps with proper encouragement—”
“Jane showed to great advantage tonight,” Mr Bennet observed, clearly hoping to redirect his wife’s matrimonial schemes. “Mr Bingley appeared quite taken with our Jane.”
This strategic intervention succeeded admirably. Mrs Bennet immediately launched into rapturous praise of Mr Bingley’s evident admiration, Jane’s modest beauty, and the promising future such an attachment might secure. Elizabeth watched her eldest sister’s pleased blushes with satisfaction, grateful that at least one member of their party had enjoyed unqualified success.
As the family gradually dispersed to their chambers, Elizabeth lingered in the sitting room with thoughts that refused settling. The evening had begun with such promise—music, dancing, the pleasure of renewing her friendship with Georgiana—yet it concluded with her spirits dampened by one man’s insufferable pride.
Mr Darcy’s casual dismissal of Marcella rankled most, though his equally casual assessment of Elizabeth herself had struck deeper than she cared to admit. “Tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt him”—the words echoed in her memory with painful precision.
She had never considered herself a beauty like Jane, but neither had she thought herself so thoroughly unremarkable. The criticism stung precisely because it came from someone whose opinion should have mattered not at all, yet somehow did.
Rising from her chair with determined resolution, Elizabeth reminded herself that Mr Darcy’s good opinion was neither sought nor valued. A man capable of such callous behaviour towards innocent country ladies deserved nothing but contempt, regardless of his fortune or connection to dear Georgiana.
Still, as she climbed the stairs towards her bedchamber, she could not shake the image of his austere face or forget Georgiana’s surprising defence of his hidden kindness. Perhaps another day would bring clearer perspective on the contradictions that surrounded Mr Darcy, though tonight she remained thoroughly convinced of his disagreeable nature.
The candle flickered as she prepared for bed, casting dancing shadows that seemed to mirror her unsettled thoughts about the enigmatic gentleman who had so thoroughly disrupted her evening’s peace.
Chapter Three
Four days later
“One, two, three…” Ambrose’s voice carried across Netherfield’s morning room, though his counting grew increasingly muffled as he burrowed deeper behind the burgundy velvet curtains. “Ready or not!”
Elizabeth pressed herself against the carved mahogany bookshelf, stifling laughter as Georgiana crouched behind a delicate writing desk with all the dignity her seventeen years could muster. The sight of the elegant Miss Darcy attempting to fold her tall frame into such an undignified position proved nearly as entertaining as Ambrose’s earnest search.
“I shall discover you both!” the little boy declared with the confidence of a seasoned hunter. His small boots clicked against the polished floor as he investigated each potential hiding spot with methodical determination.
The invitation to spend the morning at Netherfield had arrived with Georgiana’s characteristic thoughtfulness—a brief note expressing her hope that Elizabeth might find time for tea and conversation. What she had not anticipated was being swept immediately into Ambrose’s elaborate campaign of morning entertainment.
“Miss Bennet must be here somewhere,” Ambrose muttered, his voice growing closer to Elizabeth’s position. “Georgiana said she was very clever, but I am cleverer still!”
A warm hand suddenly grasped Elizabeth’s wrist, and she looked down to meet Ambrose’s triumphant blue eyes. “Victory!” he announced, pulling her from her refuge with surprising strength for such a small person.
