“Would you believe me if I said I knew I was mistaken?”
She shrugged. “If you only wish to express regret for speaking of me aloud where others overheard you, then I shall accept it.”
“That is all I am to expect of you?”
“At present, it is all I can offer you. You said such…disagreeable things of me without us ever exchanging a word. My looks you could see, and I cannot fault you for finding them wanting, but believing I was overlooked by other men implies my character is somehow lacking and my company to be avoided, even for the length of a set.”
He attempted to interrupt her and assure her that he did not think she was unattractive; truly, she was rather pretty. Had he failed to notice it at the assembly? She continued at once, however.
“I promise that if the day ever comes when you can genuinely say you regret speaking of me as you did, I shall humbly accept your apology. Good morning, Mr Darcy.” She gave him a cool, polite smile and went to join her father.
CHAPTER FOUR
“What did he say to you?” Mr Bennet demanded.
Elizabeth gave a soft chuckle and smiled, which she hoped would ease her father’s agitation. He was far too bothered by Mr Darcy’s behaviour at the assembly. To be sure, she had felt a momentary pang at being dismissed so easily—not because she had hoped to attract him but because no young lady wants to have their charms dismissed. She remained resolved to forget all about Mr Darcy, as she had told her father, and wished he would do the same.
After explaining the essence of her conversation with the gentleman, she added, “A simpleton would have seen that his apology was not serious, so I did not accept it.”
“You did not?” Her father appeared taken aback.
She shook her head gleefully. “I told him that he ought to learn to apologise properly, and if he ever does, I shall graciously forgive the past. Since I expect he will never lower himself enough to admit he was wrong toinsult me in a crowded room, I need never worry about having to speak to him again!”
She grinned and waited for her father to laugh or smile. She knew how to respond to both; what she did not know was what to do when he scowled. He was looking around the churchyard, she assumed for Mr Darcy.
“Papa—”
“Let us find your mother and sisters. I would like to go home. We shall discuss Mr Darcy anon.” He lightly touched her elbow, leading her first to her mother and younger sisters, then to where Jane stood with Mr Bingley. Both times, he only said, “It is time for us to go.”
Bennet was not fondof Sundays. He grudgingly accepted the necessity of going to church, but what transpired at Longbourn vexed him. Years ago, his wife had decreed that it was a day for family, and thus, he sat in the drawing room with her and their daughters and prayed tedium and frustration would not be the end of him. In the past, Mrs Bennet had complained about his habit of hiding behind a book, but it had been a decade or so since she had given up her attempts to make him speak to them more than occasionally. As far as he was concerned, she managed to say enough for three people, and the girls were probably grateful not to have to listen to him as well.
Mary was in a corner, reading a religious text, which she claimed was the only suitable material for the Sabbath. Jane’s and Elizabeth’s heads were bent overtheir sewing, Elizabeth’s left eyebrow occasionally arching as her mother or one of her sisters said something particularly nonsensical. His two youngest daughters sat with his wife, their animated conversation leaping haphazardly between fashion, gossip, their desire for greater entertainment, and hopes that there would be an endless parade of parties for them to attend in the coming months.
Today, his gaze was drawn to the ladies more than it commonly was; he found himself studying his daughters. It was Mr Darcy’s fault, of course, and he again struggled to comprehend how he had spoken so harshly of Elizabeth. Mostly, he observed the youngest three, becoming lost in his reflections.
Mrs Hill and a maid brought in tea and cake, and glancing at the clock on the mantel, Bennet calculated he had been contemplating his family for above half an hour. As though thick clouds parted before his eyes, he understood that his girls needed him to…teach them. Guide them. Mr Darcy had been wrong to insult Elizabeth and, more to the point, in what he had said of her. But if he—or some other man—had refused to dance with Mary, Kitty, or Lydia, could Bennet have entirely blamed them? More likely, he would have said he had made a sensible choice and that spending the length of a set in company with one of the girls was sure to give even the stoutest of men a headache.
I ought to encourage them to…be better.He was shocked by the notion that his girls were not as admirable as they ought to be, but he knew at once that it was true.
Elizabeth served him a cup of tea and thick wedge of spice cake. “Are you well, Papa?”
He struggled to erase whatever signs of confusion she must have seen in his expression and shook his head. “It is nothing. I simply remembered a letter I meant to write yesterday but forgot. I must attend to it tomorrow.” He tapped his temple.
She smiled and went back to her seat, leaving Bennet to his reveries. He supposed Kitty and Lydia would be the easiest to correct.I shall demand they…do something useful every day. Read a book or cultivate a talent.First, he would have to know them better because, shamefully, he could not name any of their preferred pastimes, other than giggling and gossiping.
He slowly sipped his tea, wishing there was someone he might consult with. His wife would be useless and say that the girls were perfect as they were, immediately followed by complaints that they did not always follow her advice on how to dress or speak to gentlemen, and, the chief cause of her frail nerves, none of them were yet married. No, he was on his own, and he was resolved. He said another prayer, this time that he would not falter.
At length, he decided that the best service he could do Mary would be to build up her confidence. For his darling Elizabeth, he reluctantly admitted that it might be good if she tempered her sarcasm and tendency to cling to first impressions, refusing to accept that they might be mistaken. While it was true thatheshared those habits, he drew on years of experience to form hisportraits of people, thus making them more accurate than hers could be.
And what of Jane?His eldest girl was almost too good, and Bennet worried about her suffering disappointment. Several times, he had heard how much Jane liked Mr Bingley—and that the young man appeared enchanted with her—but what if his interest faded or he was like the arrogant Mr Darcy and they simply had not yet seen that aspect of his character?
Bennet sighed. What Jane most wanted, and what she deserved, was a family of her own—a husband and children she could bestow all her affection on. But what couldhedo about it?
Mrs Bennet laughed loudly, drawing his eye.I might do as she asked when we learnt a young gentleman was moving into Netherfield. I can be welcoming, speak to him, get to know him. In that way, I may decide for myself whether he is worthy of Jane, and if he is, I can encourage their connexion by providing opportunities for them to talk without my wife intruding and scaring him away with her fussing and nonsense.
No doubt, it would be disagreeable work, but what manner of gentleman would he be if he did not do all he could to ensure the happiness and well-being of his ladies? What manner of gentleman was he that he had neglected to do so for years?
Elizabeth had noticedthat her father was behaving oddly all day. Usually, he hid behind a book while the family sat together on Sundays. Instead, whenever shelooked his way, he appeared to be watching them, sometimes scowling, other times with his head tilted to one side as though contemplating a difficult puzzle. At dinner, he said little, even when she spoke directly to him, and continued to observe them; she did not even see him look at the food on his plate before scooping it up with his fork and bringing it to his mouth. Should she be concerned?
