Lady Catherine received this without displeasure.
“It is sufficient,” she replied, “that all should proceed with propriety, sir. You are a gentlemen of sound judgement.”
A short pause followed, in which the composure of the room appeared fully restored. What had earlier threatened disorder had been adjusted, not by concession, but by a re-establishment of terms more suited to the occasion.
Lady Catherine then rose.
“Dinner will be served shortly,” she said. “You will, I trust, join me.”
The invitation, though expressed as expectation, carried with it a degree of consideration not previously extended.
The company assented; and as they prepared to remove to the dining-room, it was evident to all that the disturbances of the day had yielded to a more settled understanding, though nothing had been explicitly declared.
***
Lady Catherine led, as was proper, her manner composed and entirely mistress of itself; and if any memory of the morning lingered, it was not permitted to intrude upon the dignity of the present hour.
The dining-room displayed all the consequence for which Rosings was so justly remarked; yet its splendour, though undeniable, now harmonised more easily with the temper of the company. The candles were already lighted, though the last of the evening sun still lingered faintly upon the higher panes; and the table, extended with care and symmetry, offered abundance and elegance without ostentation. It was, in every respect, a setting in which form might govern feeling without extinguishing it.
Lady Catherine placed her guests with deliberate attention. Mr. Bennet was seated within her immediate notice, a distinction he received with a gravity not wholly devoid of curiosity; Mr. Darcy sat opposite with that composed gravity which naturally drew attention; while Elizabeth, by a disposition neither accidental nor conspicuous, found herself at a remove which allowed her both observation and composure. Anne remained near her mother, her manner still reserved, yet touched now with a steadiness which had not earlier imposed upon its guests.
Mr. Collins took his place near his cousin and Mr. Darcy with an expression of solemn satisfaction, as though each movement of the evening confirmed his restoration to favour. His spirits, far from exhausted by the agitation of the day, seemed rather elevated by it; and though he checked himself more than once, his inclination toward gratitude was too strong to be entirely suppressed.
For some minutes, the progress of dining proceeded with propriety and little speech. The servants moved with practised exactness; Lady Catherine’s eye directed without seeming to direct; and the company, released from the necessity of immediate explanation, settled gradually into a composure more natural than that of the afternoon.
It was Lady Catherine who first broke the silence of the meal.
“You have had a long day of it, Mr. Bennet,” she observed, her voice carrying a resonance that, while not entirely softened, was at least stripped of the absolute severity that had governed her during the morning’s trials. “I trust you do not find the air of Kent less agreeable for the disturbances which have so unexpectedly occupied our attention.”
Mr. Bennet inclined his head with a practiced, easy grace, his manner perfectly poised between the respect due to his hostess and the quiet independence of his own mind.
“On the contrary, madam,” he replied, choosing his words with a thoughtful deliberation that commanded the table’s interest. “I should be inclined to think my visit the more valuable for them. A day which passes in mere comfort is easily forgotten; but one which offers the mind both rigorous instruction and a true diversity of character is not so readily dismissed from the memory.”
Lady Catherine considered this sentiment, her gaze resting upon him with a new species of curiosity, as if recognizing for the first time the genuine intellectual weight of the man before her.
“It is well,” she returned at last, “that such matters should be regarded with a sense of utility. There is indeed little advantage in dwelling upon what cannot be altered by regret.”
“Or,” Mr. Bennet added, his tone remaining impeccably diplomatic while striking a profound note of resolution, “in lamenting a temporary disorder when it has produced a far more permanent and beneficial arrangement.”
He accompanied this with a slight, graceful inclination of the head, leaving his meaning sufficiently open to be received with dignity, yet pointed enough to signal the restoration of their mutual peace.
Elizabeth, who had been attending to this exchange with a quiet, mounting interest, could not entirely resist a glance across the table. Mr. Darcy, though seemingly occupied with the duties of the service, appeared not at all insensible to the weight of her father's words; and there was, in the brief and silent meeting of their eyes, something far less guarded than before—a quietunderstanding that the disorder of the day had not been without consequence.
Mr. Collins, whose gratitude had by this time become too considerable to remain entirely silent, turned first toward Lady Catherine and then toward Mr. Darcy with an earnestness which threatened to overcome both prudence and coherence.
“I am sure,” he began, “that I can never sufficiently express my sense of your ladyship’s continued goodness, nor of the generosity which Mr. Darcy has this day shown toward my future establishment. Such consideration, extended under circumstances so unexpectedly delicate, demands not merely gratitude, but the most serious improvement of conduct on my part.”
Here, finding himself unequal for a moment to the dignity of his own feelings, Mr. Collins paused, arranged his napkin unnecessarily, and resumed with renewed solemnity.
“I shall endeavour, in every situation to which Providence may call me, to remember that confidence has been placed where it might very properly have been withheld.”
“That is as it should be,” Lady Catherine replied. “A clergyman’s usefulness depends much upon the propriety of his views.”
“Most assuredly, your ladyship,” returned Mr. Collins, with renewed animation; “and I shall endeavour, in every situation, to render myself not unworthy of the confidence so generously extended to me.”
Mr. Bennet, who had resumed his attention to the table, allowed himself the smallest turn toward Elizabeth.
“I begin to suspect,” he murmured, “that gratitude, when properly cultivated, may prove the most inexhaustible of all sentiments.”
