Mr. Darcy hesitated, and finally said, “I assist him with certain of his business matters.” It was not an outright lie, but it was certainly not the full truth.
Mr. Bennet, aware of his guest’s discomfort, rescued him. “You promised me a game, Mr. Darcy, and I shall not let you leave before you make good on that promise.”
The two men rose with alacrity. Mr. Darcy thanked his hostess for her hospitality, bowed to the ladies, and followed Mr. Bennet from the room. As he walked away, he heard Mrs. Bennet upbraiding Miss Mary for not having been more forthcoming.
“You escaped unscathed,” Mr. Bennet observed, opening the door to his study. He stepped aside and motioned for Mr. Darcy to enter the room.
He did so and then stopped. Every wall was lined with books, and there were more books in piles around the room. He was enchanted. “If I promise to return tomorrow for the chess game, might I instead look through your books?”
“I would rather discuss books than almost anything else in the world, Mr. Darcy,” his host assured him, taking his accustomed chair behind the desk.
“Have you anything by Mr. Descartes?”
“Of course; is he a favourite of yours?”
“I was raised on his precepts. ‘I think, therefore I am.’ I pride myself on being a rational man, Mr. Bennet.”
Mr. Bennet steepled his hands. “Indeed! And you give no attention to emotion?”
“None whatsoever. The lower classes may be ruled by emotion, but an educated man knows better, and may order his life by rational principles.”
“You give our poets short shrift, then?”
“Poetry is appealing in the same manner that music is appealing, or art. Such things certainly add to one’s enjoyment of life, but one does not govern one’s life according to tender emotions.”
“Then you have never felt an immediate and irresistible attraction to a young lady, I take it.”
“No, nor do I ever expect to. Such a thing would be entirely irrational and therefore impossible for someone of my character and training.” But Mr. Bennet’s question had answered one of Mr. Darcy’s own; doubtless this was how this erudite man had come to be married to Mrs. Bennet.
Mr. Bennet did not reply to Mr. Darcy’s claim of immunity; instead, he drew Mr. Darcy’s attention to some of his rarer volumes. But he was mentally rubbing his hands together, picturing this man arguing his ideas with Lizzy. What a show that will be!
Chapter Six
And you did nothing whatever to entice the man, Mary! Are you determined to remain an old maid?”
“Mama, you know that I am no good at conversation,” Mary replied, quietly.
“Then how do you expect to catch a husband? You will not do so on your looks, that much is certain.”
“Mama, this is unfair,” Jane put in. “We are, each of us, who we are, for better or for worse.”
“Cold comfort your philosophy will be, Jane, when we are living in squalor somewhere!” Mrs. Bennet’s voice was laced with bitterness.
“Come away, Mary,” her elder sister said, putting an arm around her and leading her upstairs.
“I do not know what she expects of me,” poor Mary said, sniffling as she sat on her bed. “She sat me next to Mr. Darcy even thoughshe knows how shy I am, and then she had me play for him, though he is doubtless accustomed to far finer performances than mine. I felt completely mortified the entire night. But she is right, Jane! What will become of me? Of all of us?”
“You are not to worry, Mary. One of us will marry well; I am certain of it.”
“It is likely to be you, Jane.”
“And in that case, you have nothing to fear, for I will always take care of you.”
“Oh, Jane, you are everything that is good! But I would so like to have a home and children of my own!”
“Of course you would, and I have every faith that you shall, Mary.”
Mary turned to face her sister. “Did you think him handsome, Jane?”
