“We all shall regret his absence at the assembly if there are not enough gentlemen yet again. Whomever shall we dance with?” She giggled when Jane pinched her arm.
“Lizzy, be serious. That is not the only reason you miss him.”
“No, it is not.” Elizabeth smiled, and her eyes swept over the surroundings. “But we must all be patient and remind ourselves his staying away is in service of a greater good. He will be home within the month.”
* * *
By the end of the week, the Bennets had learnt more about Netherfield’s new tenant. Soon after news of his arrival in the neighbourhood reached them, Mr Bennet went to call on him. Elizabeth, her mother, and sisters questioned him about the gentleman at dinner.
“His name is Mr Bingley—”
“We already knew that, Papa,” Elizabeth said.
Her mother waved a hand, almost as though calling for attention. “Is he single, Mr Bennet? Has he come alone? Has he any family?”
“I want to know if he is handsome.” Lydia giggled, and Kitty echoed both her question and her action.
“I could hardly say.” He kept his eyes on his plate, using his fork to poke at the ragout.
Her father was teasing them. It was obvious to Elizabeth, likely to Jane, and perhaps to Mary. He did little to hide it, and Elizabeth wanted to laugh at her youngest two sisters and mother for failing to recognise what he was doing. They often made the same mistake, which only encouraged his jokes. After spending some minutes with them asking questions and him failing to give clear answers, he relented.
“He told me he must return to town for a few days. He goes soon, and if I understood correctly, when he returns, he will have his sister with him. I know no more than that, other than he promised to call before he leaves.”
Mr Bingley was as good as his word. Unfortunately for the ladies, the morning he came to Longbourn, they were away from the house, paying calls of their own.
“Oh, that is too bad!” Mrs Bennet dropped onto the sofa. They had just returned to Longbourn and learnt of the missed meeting. “Why did he have to come today? We were only gone two hours.”
“Mr Bingley is hardly to blame, Mama,” Mary said, seating herself beside their mother and resting a hand on her arm.
Mary was not quite as pretty as her sisters, although she was still very attractive, and their mother had never understood Mary’s serious, somewhat sombre demeanour. However, it was Elizabeth’s quick wit and refusal to always conform to expectations which truly drew Mrs Bennet’s disapprobation. What her mother most seemed to like about her was her friendship with their cousin, William Collins. William had come to live at Longbourn upon the death of his father thirteen years ago. Before long, Elizabeth had taken him under her wing, as strange as it was, given she was five years his junior. He had needed a friend to guide him, and she had believed she was the one to do it. Recalling what he had been like at the time, Elizabeth shuddered a little. He was nervous, seeming to jump at even the slightest sound, and always quick to submit to anyone he saw as his superior and believe—or profess to believe—whatever they did. Fortunately, he had lost most of his tendency to be obsequious, although he continued to be diffident, always wanting Elizabeth’s or Mr Bennet’s reassurance that his opinion was the right one.
“But I so wanted to see him!” her mother said, her voice nearly a whine.
“So did we, did we not, Kitty?” Lydia said.
Kitty nodded and added, “What does he look like, Papa?”
Mr Bennet teased them for a few minutes, claiming he remembered nothing about the man, even twice pretending he was on the verge of leaving the room, before relenting.
“I knew you would be wanting to learn more about him, and I shall try to give satisfaction. Jane, you are quiet, my dear. What would you like to know about Mr Bingley?”
Jane considered for a moment, her cheeks taking on a dusting of colour as everyone watched her. To Elizabeth, it was evident that Lydia was finding it difficult not to leap into the conversation, and that, if she did, the result would be a deluge of questions and comments. Mrs Bennet and Kitty were only slightly less anxious. Elizabeth was as curious as her mother and sisters about their new neighbour, but she trusted her father would tell them everything he knew soon enough.
“I suppose I would like to know whether he is a good man, Papa,” Jane said.
His head bobbed up and down. “A very sensible enquiry. He is affable. As to his goodness, it is too soon to tell, but I would say, from my observations thus far, he is as likely to be good as any man I know.”
Mrs Bennet again asked, “Is he engaged or is he truly single?” and Lydia repeated her demand for a description of his person.
Turning first to Elizabeth then Mary, her father said, “What would you like to know? I must have all the questions I am to face at once. I will sort them and answer the most pressing.”
Mary said, “I am content to wait until I meet him myself to relieve any curiosity I feel, which, I assure you, is nothing out of the ordinary.”
“How can you not want to know everything about him?” Kitty said. “Nothing half so exciting has happened in—”
“In ages and ages,” Lydia interjected, bouncing in her seat.
Mary offered an indifferent shrug, which led to Mrs Bennet saying, “Oh, Mary! A fine young gentleman comes to the neighbourhood, and you do not even want to know the colour of his hair?” To her husband, she continued, “Is he fair or dark? And is he single or not?”
