“In that case,” Bingley returned laughing, “I am fortunate already in having received instructions to prolong my education.”
“And who instructed you, sir?” Lydia Bennet demanded immediately, with a freedom somewhat beyond strict politeness.
“Mr. Bennet has kindly undertaken to preserve me from bidding more than I should have, and has already spoken to me about some county habits.”
“Then you are entirely safe,” Elizabeth replied. “For my father has spent many years avoiding every species of unnecessary exertion and therefore knows perfectly well where dangers generally begin.”
“My experience has indeed been acquired at considerable personal sacrifice,”Mr. Bennet said, inclining his head gravely.
Even Darcy smiled at this; and Elizabeth, catching the expression before it entirely disappeared, felt again that curious alteration in his manners which Longbourn seemed gradually to encourage.
Mrs. Bennet, meanwhile, found herself increasingly unable to decide whether Mr. Bingley’s good humour or Mr. Darcy’s consequence ought properly to command the larger portion of her satisfaction.
“And has Mr. Collins already departed for Kympton?” she inquired at last, turning toward Mr. Darcy with eager curiosity. “Our poor cousin must be in a state of prodigious happiness.”
“Mr. Collins left London yesterday morning,” Darcy replied. “All necessary documents respecting the living had been completed before his departure. I believe he intended to reach Kympton by this evening. I am sure he will be very welcome.”
Mrs. Bennet clasped her hands together in joy.
“Well! Who could ever have imagined such a change in his fortunes? Only two weeks ago the poor man scarcely possessed certainty enough to plan a dinner, and now he is established with a living of his own.”
“And a very respectable one,” Mr. Bennet added. “Though I confess I still await with interest the first letter in which Mr. Collins attempts to describe Kympton without exhausting half the English language in gratitude.”
“I should think gratitude perfectly natural under such circumstances,” Mary observed seriously.
“So should I,” Mr. Bennet replied. “But in your cousin’s case gratitude possesses unusual stamina. Most sentiments grow tired after several pages; Mr. Collins’s generally appear stronger by the seventh.”
Bingley laughed so openly at this that even Mary seemed uncertain whether offence were entirely proper.
“I am persuaded,” Darcy said with quiet composure, “that Mr. Collins feels the obligations very sincerely.”
“Oh, sincerely enough!” Mr. Bennet returned. “Indeed, I have never doubted either his sincerity or his vocabulary. My concern lies chiefly for the endurance of his future parishioners.”
Elizabeth lowered her eyes toward her plate, though not before Darcy perceived the effort she made to suppress amusement.
“Mr. Collins always means to improve those around him,” Jane said gently, anxious as usual to preserve justice in every direction.
“Then Kympton must prepare itself for rapid advancement, I am afraid,” Lydia declared with a smirk.
“At the very least,” Elizabeth added, “the parish may expect sermons of uncommon length and gratitude of uncommon durability.”
Darcy’s expression altered again—very slightly, yet enough to convince Elizabeth that he was listening less to the conversation generally than to her particular share in it.
Mrs. Bennet, delighted equally by the ease of the table and by the visible harmony developing amongst her guests, now renewed the discussion of Netherfield with increasing confidence.
“You must not attempt too many alterations immediately, Mr. Bingley,” she advised. “Gentlemen always begin by pulling down perfectly good rooms merely because they have newly acquired them.”
“I assure you I possess no violent passion for destruction,” Bingley answered. “Indeed, I begin already to suspect that the safest method of managing an estate is to leave half of it alone.”
“A philosophy,” Mr. Bennet observed, “which has preserved Longbourn tolerably well for more than twenty years.”
“My father’s improvements,” Elizabeth said, “have generally consisted in postponing other people’s.”
“A system both economical and peaceful,” Mr. Bennet replied with evident self-satisfaction. “You perceive before you, Mr. Bingley, a gentleman who has survived domestic life principally through strategic inaction.”
The warmth of the room, the brightness of the candles, and the uninterrupted flow of easy conversation gradually dissolved whatever restraint had attended the beginning of the evening.
Even Darcy, though still far quieter than his friend, no longer appeared merely a formal guest fulfilling the obligations of civility. More than once Elizabeth surprised him looking toward her with an attention at once thoughtful and composed; and though little passed between them openly, she became increasingly conscious that Longbourn itself seemed already to have altered something in their understanding.
