“Mr. Bennet. Miss Bennet. Mr. Collins.” His eyes, though they rested upon each in turn, returned more than once to Elizabeth with a degree of attention which, in any other company, might scarcely have been remarked, but which, in the presence of her father and cousin, could not be wholly without significance. “I did not expect the pleasure of meeting you here.”
“We are at the inn, as you perceive,” said Mr. Bennet. “Having no claim to Rosings beyond a dinner and a sermon, we judged retreat the safer policy.”
A faint, involuntary expression of amusement passed over Darcy’s countenance, and was as quickly subdued.
“It was, I imagine, the proper one.”
“Properness,” returned Mr. Bennet, “is a word that follows us about with uncommon perseverance in Kent. Pray, will you sit, sir, or are you only collecting more clergy for Lady Catherine?”
Mr. Collins let out a little sound which was intended for approbation of the pleasantry, though accompanied by uneasiness lest it had been too bold.
Darcy accepted the offered chair, though not, Elizabeth observed, until Mr. Bennet’s tone had made refusal more pointed than acquiescence. When seated, he appeared at once composed and attentive, yet there remained in his manner something less guarded than she had before seen in him, perhaps because neither Lady Catherine nor the church was now between them and ordinary speech.
“I had gone out to see something of the neighbourhood,” Mr. Darcy said, “and did not expect to find acquaintances at the close of my ride.”
“The neighbourhood,” said Elizabeth, who could not forbear smiling a little, “must be singularly fortunate in being thought worth inspection by a gentleman just arrived from London.”
Darcy turned toward her fully now. “It is not every neighbourhood, Miss Bennet,” he said, “that offers equal inducements.”
There was nothing in the words which could justly be called particular; yet, from the way in which he said them, they seemed less general than they ought to have been. Elizabeth feltthis, and, because she felt it, became rather more playful than prudence advised.
“Then Hunsford must congratulate itself, and so, perhaps, must the inn.”
“Indeed, Miss Bennet,” interposed Mr. Collins eagerly, “our present accommodation, though necessarily inferior to Rosings in point of consequence, has yet been found exceedingly decent; and I flatter myself that the landlord, having become sensible of the distinction of his guests, has omitted nothing which could render our stay respectable.”
“I have no doubt of it,” said Darcy, with gravity enough to spare Mr. Collins the pain of suspecting ridicule.
Mr. Bennet, however, whose eyes had wandered from one to the other with a quiet interest not wholly lazy, said, “Respectability is well; but I am more curious to know whether Hunsford, in your judgment, Mr. Darcy, improves upon acquaintance. My daughter has this morning professed herself agreeably surprised by its society.”
Elizabeth cast him a look which was meant to restrain her father, but arrived too late.
Mr. Darcy, instead of appearing embarrassed, seemed rather to consider the question. “I know few places,” he said at last, “which can be fairly judged in a day, Mr. Bennet.”
“Then I must suspend my judgement a little longer,” Elizabeth concluded.
Mr. Darcy met her glance with a seriousness which checked, for a moment, the ease of her own.
“No,” he said, “you need not suspend it on my account, Miss Bennet. I only meant that mine must remain incomplete.”
Mr. Collins, who had listened to this exchange with the air of one conscious that something was passing which ought perhaps to be admired, though he could not have explained in what the merit consisted, thought it necessary to restore the conversation to safer ground.
“We have been speaking,” said he, “of the service, Mr. Darcy, and I was venturing to observe that, despite certain slight interruptions, the sermon, considered as a first effort, did great credit to Mr. Wickham’s powers.”
Darcy’s expression altered, though only enough to be seen by eyes already fixed upon him.
“I did not remain to form a full judgment of it.”
“No,” said Elizabeth, before she had quite decided to speak. “But you remained long enough to produce one.”
As soon as the words were uttered, she wished them recalled; not because they were unjust, but because they implied a degree of observation she had not meant to betray. Mr. Bennet looked pleased. Mr. Collins looked perplexed.
Mr. Darcy, after the briefest pause, answered with more gentleness than she had expected. “If I had that effect,” said he, “it was very unwillingly. I was not expecting to see that particular vicar in Kent.”
There was enough in his tone to make levity improper. Elizabeth coloured slightly, and for the first time since he had joined them, did not immediately trust herself to reply.
Mr. Bennet came to her relief.
“Then we must acquit you, sir, of clerical ambition. Collins, you may be easy; Mr. Darcy does not come into Kent to preach.”
