“Exceptwhat?”
“All he would suggest was that a proper mirror should be about 5½ feet high.”
Elizabeth coughed a few times, but could not help joining her father in laughter. Exasperation now joined the list of emotions the Derbyshire gentleman inspired.
Bennet’s mirth slowly faded. “Is there anything I should know about your gentleman, aside from the likelihood of being dragged to an assembly in October?”
“No, Papa… there is nothing more at present.”
Bennet noticed the softening of her language and the hedge ofat present; more than either, his daughter’s face had turned thoughtful and wistful.
There was unlikely to be any profit in more discussion of Mr Darcy, but perhaps other topics might suffice.
A Woman Grown
Turning from the subject of Darcy for the moment, Bennet asked, “Elizabeth, how shall we comport ourselves now that you are a woman grown?”
The conversation had shifted beneath her feet before she was aware of it, and she doubted she liked the new direction. However, she would not back down. “What do you mean?”
He fetched a bottle of claret and twoglasses, then poured for both.
He tipped his glass towards her; she followed suit. They clinked glasses, said, “Salut,” and took small sips. It was not Elizabeth’s first taste of claret, but it was the first time her father shared liquor with her as if she were an adult.
“Let us start with the obvious. You have single-handedly upended the life of the Bennet family since that ball at Netherfield.Almost nothing is the same as it was.”
“You overly generalise by saying I have done so.”
“All right,Miss Logic and Reason. Tell me one significant change that you have hadno hand in,and I shall concede your point.”
Elizabeth snapped, “You are as bad as Mr Darcy. He made a similar demand, though on a different question.”
“I see… I see… And so, you have conversations with the gentleman atthatlevel of discourse, yet you are still—what did you call it? Ah, yes…friends.”
“Yes, Father. We are friends, and I am no more inclined to predict any potential future state than I was earlier.”
Bennet leaned forward. “So let me show myself to be as occasionally implacable as your Mr Darcy. Can you give me anyevidencethat contradicts my emerging theory thatyouarenow more the head of this family than I am—at least vis-à-vis measurable effect?”
Elizabeth fumed, and at last admitted, “I cannot.”
“Thank you for acknowledging that I havesomeunderstanding. Let me continue to expound on that point. You, your sisters, and your new brother all hold the opinion that your mother and I have made a poor business of raising you—correct?”
Elizabeth fought the desire either to lash out or collapse, but she rallied, dipped her head, and considered the question.
“You are correct that the opinion is widespread, though not universal. I can see Jane’s point, I can see the… ah… well, our family’s obvious defects, but I am—”
Forced to speak before she was fully prepared, she bought time with another sip of claret.
Her father broke the silence. “Not universal, but near enough. Let me ask you this, but first may I preface it with the disclaimer that I may well be one of those who agree with the sentiment, if I were to look at it objectively.”
“Agree! What can you possibly mean?”
“Keep in mind the qualifier. I said Imightagree. That is not the same as a firm declaration, simply an admission of flexibility in the matter.”
“How likely?”
“Ah, you and your mathematics. I cannot say with any precision. Let us discuss it rationally. No need to put the cart before the horse, or the conclusion before the discussion.”
“All right, I will accept your qualification if you accept the caveat that I am the most likely holdout. I am not convinced I share the nearly universal disapproval. I believe it is more complicated. I also suspect Lydia and Kitty will come aroundsooner or later, since they have enjoyed a tremendously easy childhood, but are now being taken in hand.”
