Understanding came swiftly.
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes slightly.
The twins looked up and discovered her watching. They froze.
Then both vanished with extraordinary speed.
Elizabeth nearly laughed aloud.
Of course it had been them.
Her mother’s earlier confusion suddenly became comprehensible, as did the remarkable coincidence that had placed her beside Darcy rather than Mr. Wilson.
Those incorrigible boys.
She could not honestly regret the result.
That realization was deeply inconvenient.
The evening continued.
Bingley eventually persuaded Jane to sing while Mary accompanied her at the pianoforte. He appeared so openly enchanted throughout the performance that his feelings could not possibly be concealed from anyone present. Mary attempted to conceal her disappointment at relinquishing the instrument,but recovered completely when Mr. Hurst, to everyone’s surprise, requested a further discussion regarding historical kings who had lost battles through poor strategy.
Mrs. Bennet maintained graceful command of the room despite Miss Bingley’s periodic sharpness and Mr. Wilson’s relentless enthusiasm.
As for Elizabeth, she spent much of the evening engaged in a delicate balance between civility and evasion.
Whenever Mr. Wilson approached too closely, she directed her attention elsewhere. Whenever he succeeded in monopolizing her, someone else—most often Darcy, and always with great subtlety—created sufficient interruption to break the flow.
Darcy never once attempted any overt claim upon her company.
That very restraint rendered his attentions infinitely more dangerous.
Near the close of the evening, Elizabeth found herself beside the fire once more while the gentlemen discussed horses near the opposite wall. Mr. Wilson stood nearby describing improvements he intended to make to one of his mills.
Darcy listened with impeccable politeness.
Elizabeth strongly suspected inward suffering.
“…and once efficiency improves,” Mr. Wilson declared, “the entire operation will double its output.”
“Remarkable,” Darcy said smoothly.
Elizabeth detected the dryness beneath the word and very nearly smiled.
A glance toward Charlotte revealed that her friend appeared far more engaged by Mr. Wilson’s discourse than anyone else in the room. While Elizabeth struggled to conceal her fatigue, Charlotte listened with an expression of thoughtful interest, as though she found both the subject and the speaker worthy of serious consideration.
Mr. Wilson continued speaking.
And continued.
And continued.
By the time the Netherfield party finally prepared to depart, Elizabeth felt thoroughly exhausted.
The fatigue arose less from society itself than from vigilance and constant maneuvering, from Mr. Wilson’s attentions, and from the effort required to endure them without visible impatience.
At last, the farewells concluded.
