“Oh,” Bingley all but whispered. “I-I pray everyone is well.”
Darcy hastened to nod and swallowed, hoping to clear the lump in his throat. “We are all healthy, and there is no reason we shall not forget about it in time.”
“I am very glad to hear that. If there is anything I can do, any way I might be of assistance…”
Darcy nodded again. “You are a good friend, Bingley.”Perhaps better than I deserve.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
At the end of the month, the Bennets went to an evening party at Lucas Lodge. True to his recent behaviour, Mr Bennet went with them; he did not even grumble that it meant leaving his comfortable armchair in the parlour, so snugly placed near the fire, which was sure proof of his desire to ensure his daughters were properly chaperoned and protected from gentlemen who would not hesitate to treat them poorly.
Mr Darcy was one of the guests, as were the other residents of Netherfield Park, but Elizabeth easily disregarded him. She noticed him looking in her direction several times—once it seemed his gaze went from her to her father and back again—but he did not try to approach her; thus she was not required to put any effort into rebuffing him. Fortunately, the Bests had taken whatever her father had said to them to heart, as Mr Edward Best and his mother avoided her company. Some members of the militia were there—the colonel of the regiment and about half a dozen of his officers.
At one point, Lydia loudly whined that she wanted to dance, Kitty joining her chorus, and they demanded that Mary, who stood next to the pianoforte chatting with Maria Lucas, play appropriate music. Elizabeth, too, was nearby, and to her delight, her father was with them in an instant.
“Lower your voices and cease your complaints,” he ordered. “If Lady Lucas intended for her guests to dance?—”
“But she will not care, Papa,” Lydia interjected.
“And the officers said they would like it,” Kitty added.
Mr Bennet fixed his hard gaze on first one and then the other of his young daughters. “There will be no dancing tonight, but even if there were, you arenotto stand up with any officer unless I give my express permission. Both of you will remember that you are gently-bred young ladies and act accordingly, or we shall return to Longbourn where you will go to your rooms at once and remain there until I no longer feel the need to severely reprimand you. Am I understood?”
Lydia opened her mouth—no doubt to argue—but Kitty stopped her by shaking her arm and telling her to be quiet, “…lest Papa drag us to the carriage. It would be so humiliating!”
Elizabeth was surprised by Kitty’s actions, and her father evidently was as well. He regarded her, his brow arched, and she shrugged in a silent agreement that it was unlike Kitty, who was prone to follow Lydia’s lead in all things.
Not long after, Elizabeth sat at the instrument atLady Lucas’s request and played several songs. Mary was also asked to perform, albeit with less enthusiasm. Elizabeth had done as her father had asked and had attempted to discuss music with her sister. They had had a mild row when Elizabeth had tried to explain to Mary that there were some pieces only the most talented and trained person should perform; that would never include either of them, given they had only sporadically had access to masters. Eventually, and after Mr Bennet had also spoken to her—apparently kindly and encouragingly, from what Elizabeth had been told by her sister—Mary had agreed to learn several simpler songs.
Elizabeth was beginning to wonder whether there was something amiss with her father—an illness that could account for the alteration she saw in him. Surely Mr Darcy’s silly insult was not enough to bring about this much change! But she should be glad not suspicious; if he kept it up, it might make a material difference to the comfort of their family and the well-being of her sisters. He had ceased teasing her mother as often, which meant Mrs Bennet complained of his cruelty less, and Elizabeth found she rather liked the result. It had been years since her parents had seemed to do more than merely tolerate each other, and she had forgotten how pleasant it was to live in a relatively peaceful home.
Late in the evening, she was standing with Charlotte when the strident, nasal voice of Mrs Best caught their attention. Elizabeth had not realised she and her son stood not half a dozen feet away, although she was aware that Mr Darcy was even closer. She did not believe he knew she was there, however; his back was to herand had remained thus since she had spied Charlotte and come to speak to her.
“You must stop acting as though someone has died, Edward,” Mrs Best insisted. “What does it matter if Mr Bennet has said you must forget that daughter of his? I dare say he has done us a favour. You will find a more appropriate, agreeable girl upon whom to bestow your affections. One who is moretolerable.” She sniggered, and Elizabeth felt her back stiffen. “Miss King, for instance. You ought to make the effort to know her better.”
“She is not pretty,” Mr Best said in a manner that reminded Elizabeth of her four-year-old cousin when he was told to do something he did not want to. “Miss Elizabeth is exceedingly pretty.”
“Yes, well, Miss King has a rich uncle who is a bachelor and is old and ill. He will certainly leave her a nice bit of money. A decent dowry will make up for her lack of other attractions. And unlike Miss Elizabeth, she does not think herself better than everyone else. The whole family thinks they are superior, though I have never understood why.”
Charlotte grasped Elizabeth’s hand; she tilted her head, silently asking whether they should step aside to avoid hearing more. Elizabeth indicated a wish to remain where she was; if the woman was going to disparage her family, she wanted to know exactly what she said. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mr Darcy beginning to move away; evidently Mrs Best noticed as well, as demonstrated by her next words.
“Mr Darcy, how are you this evening? I was tellingmy son and husband earlier how glad I am that you and Mr Bingley have come to the neighbourhood. Was I not saying just that, Edward?” In what was presumably supposed to be a whisper but was too loud, she added, “Tell Mr Darcy how happy you are to make his acquaintance.”
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” Mr Best said dutifully but not eagerly.
“This is a pleasant evening, I suppose,” Mrs Best said. “Lady Lucas does like to entertain us. A few too many invitations, in my opinion, which I have always felt indicates a rather unbecoming arrogance. Why should we always be coming to Lucas Lodge?”
You need not accept,Elizabeth thought, exchanging an incredulous look with Charlotte.
“But I cannot fault them for trying. You know Sir William had a shop before he was given his honours for making some trifling speech. I am afraid the man makes far too much of it, but he is a good sort, I suppose, and this has been a…pleasantparty. We cannot all provide quite the same level of amusement to our guests, can we?”
She giggled, clearly implying she was a better hostess than Lady Lucas, which—in Elizabeth’s opinion—she was not. Her parties were not as diverting as she seemed to believe, and Elizabeth had long considered Mrs Best mean-spirited. She must now add vindictive. Lady Lucas and Elizabeth’s own mother also loved to gossip, but neither of them was deliberately cruel.
“I find myself well amused,” Mr Darcy said with a level of civility she had not expected. Charlotte archedher brow as though asking Elizabeth what she thought of his remark.
“I am sure I am happy to hear it, but I flatter myself that you enjoyed yourself a little bit more when you were at Lane Park. Unfortunately, my husband is not here this evening. I know he would like to speak to you more. He told me how much he valued the conversation you had the other evening, and at that meeting you gentlemen had to talk about roads and what have you. I know that you will now say you found his company agreeable, for he is a fine man, if I am permitted to say as much about my husband. I congratulate myself for choosing my spouse wisely. To be sure, few who were being honest would say that my husband is less agreeable company than Sir William. And Mr Bennet prefers his witticisms to actual conversation. Both men could use a little more…refinement, shall we say? Mr Bennet is a gentleman and can have no excuse, but I blame a lack of education for Sir William’s deficiencies.”
Elizabeth’s ire was near to boiling point, and the bright pink spots on Charlotte’s cheeks suggested she felt the same. Yet, neither of them was willing to make their presence known. To her other inducements to remain where she was, Elizabeth added yet another: she wanted to know what Mr Darcy would say to such uncharitable statements, if anything.
