Mrs Hill hesitated for a moment, her eyes lingering on Elizabeth with concern, but then she bobbed a quick curtsey and quietly excused herself, leaving them alone in the dimly lit hallway.
Elizabeth leaned heavily on her father’s arm as he guided her into the drawing room, wincing with each step. Instead of leading her to the usual hard-backed chair in his study, Mr Bennet directed her toward the comfortable sofa by the window. With a soft groan of relief, Elizabeth sank into the cushions, easing her aching ankle onto a pillow.
“Thank you, Papa,” she said with a teasing smirk as she adjusted the pillow. “You take great care to hide how considerate you can be when you choose.”
Mr Bennet scoffed lightly. “Considerate? Lizzy, you mistake me. I have never found but that good, considerate people are taken advantage of. Put out and inconvenienced and occasionally even truly disadvantaged. No, no, I prefer to remain careless and indifferent, and I must say it has worked rather well these past twenty years.”
Elizabeth sighed and shifted on the sofa, shaking her head. “You have not fooled as many people as you think you have.”
“Hmm.” He moved toward the fireplace, his movements slower than usual, and took up the poker to stoke the dying embers. The faint glow brightened under his efforts, sending a warm light flickering through the dim room. Elizabeth watched him, her eyes softening. Beneath his gruff exterior, her father had always been more caring than he let on.
But then, as he straightened and set the poker aside, she noticed the weariness in his expression. He sighed deeply, sinking into the chair opposite her, his shoulders sagging as he rubbed his forehead.
“I may have to reconsider that strategy,” he murmured.
She shifted again, wincing as a sharp pain shot through her ankle. “Why do you say that? What happened at dinner?”
“Well, Sir Anthony Mortimer is a clever man, I will give him that. He answered all my questions with a certain eloquence, but...”
“But what?” Elizabeth pressed, her curiosity piqued. “What questions did you ask him?”
Mr Bennet sighed again. “I asked Sir Anthony about the allocation of funds for rural development, specifically for Meryton. I wanted to see if he was genuinely invested in our town’s interests or if he would be more inclined to divert funds to the cities for larger, more prestigious projects.”
Elizabeth nodded. “And how did he respond?”
Mr Bennet leaned back, his gaze growing distant as he recounted the conversation. “He said that rural development was indeed important and that he would make sure it was given due consideration. But he also emphasized the need to support urban growth, claiming it was essential for the overall prosperity of the nation. He talked a great deal about balance, about making sure that all regions benefited from government support, but... well, he provided no specifics.”
Elizabeth frowned. “Did you ask him about how he plans to protect agricultural communities from the encroaching influence of industrialisation? Our tenants, and the farms—”
“I did,” Mr Bennet confirmed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “His answer was similar. He spoke at length about the need to harmonise the old with the new, to ensure that traditional farming practices were not entirely overshadowed by industrial advances. He mentioned something about promoting technological innovation that could benefit agriculture. He went on for a long while about it. All very clever, naturally.”
“What about your question regarding the upcoming legislation on land enclosures? The farmers are all deeply invested in the outcome of that.”
Mr Bennet nodded slowly. “Ah, yes, I did ask about that. He gave what I suppose was a reassuring answer, saying he understood the concerns and that any legislation would be carefully considered to protect the interests of landowners and tenants alike. But when Ipressed him on how he intended to vote on the issue, he said he would consult with his colleagues and weigh all perspectives before making a decision.”
Elizabeth pursed her lips, absorbing the details. “It all sounds rather positive on the surface,” she began slowly. “He sounds a… a prudent man. But, Papa, did he really answer your questions? It seems to me that he said a lot of words without actually giving you any clear answers.”
Mr Bennet thinned his lips and nodded, a glimmer of approval in his eyes. “There, you have hit the nail on the head, Lizzy. Indeed, he had a great many fine words, but the more he spoke, the less he actually said.”
Elizabeth snorted. “Well, surely, someone must think to make him commit to an answer. You cannot be the only one asking questions.”
“No, in fact, it seems I am. The rest of the room was filled with nothing but praise for the man.”
“But that is preposterous! He is not a pretty statue to be admired, but a man who proposes to represent us in Parliament! We must know how the man will act when he is not sitting at table with the community, when he is in London reading bills and voting on measures. Surely, someone else heard the conspicuous lack of any sort of decisiveness.”
Her father crossed his legs. You would be the only other person to notice that. You, and I think, Mr Darcy, who looked rather nonplussed at dinner.”
Elizabeth started, her heart flipping in her chest as she shifted too quickly on the sofa, sending a fresh wave of pain through her ankle. “Mr Darcy? What has he to do with this?”
Mr Bennet grunted, leaning forward slightly. “Darcy arrived while we were having drinks in the drawing room. He is breaking his journey at Netherfield on his way north.”
Elizabeth blinked, trying to process this unexpected information. “How long does he intend to stay?” she asked, her voice wobbling just a little.
“I could not say. Darcy did not appear to be in a very conversational mood. I would not expect him to stay long.”
Elizabeth’s thoughts swirled. Her father was right about one thing—Mr Darcy was no admirer of Mr Wickham’s, and that cynicism extended to Mr Wickham’s “great friend” Sir Anthony. “Did you speak to him privately at all?” she asked, trying to sound casual.
Mr Bennet shook his head. “No, he was seated at the opposite end of the table and did not stay long for drinks after dinner. A pity, really. I think he would have asked Sir Anthony some pointed questions of his own, had he been soinclined. The man is intelligent, with a rather logical edge to his thinking that might have cut through Sir Anthony’s smooth talk. I wonder if he plays chess,” he mused.
