Perhaps I shall discuss it with Jane, though I am sure she will tell me I am being fanciful or grow anxious for him unnecessarily.
“I shall prepare the invitations at once!” Mrs Bennet said.
Her mother’s voice was loud, and it was either that or what she said that appeared to shake Mr Bennet out of his distraction. Elizabeth noticed his head jerk up and his eyes fix on her mother; she turned to regard her as well.
Mrs Bennet’s expression was gleeful, and she patted Jane’s hand as she said, “You will wear your?—”
“Do pardon the interruption, my dear,” Mr Bennet said. “I know it is none of my concern, I am only here to pay the bills and smile prettily to our guests when you insist upon it, but invitations to whom and for what purpose?”
It seemed incredible that he had missed everything that had been discussed throughout the meal—on a subject that had first arisen earlier in the drawing room—and it only proved to Elizabeth that he had been contemplating very serious matters.
Colour bloomed in her mother’s cheeks, and shetook a large sip of her wine before responding. “If you had paid any attention to me earlier, Mr Bennet, you would already know what we are speaking of. The dinner party!”
He waited a brief moment as though expecting further explanation, but when none was forthcoming, he asked, “Whatdinner party?”
Mrs Bennet exhaled forcefully before replying. These signs of exasperation between her parents were a game to them, Elizabeth supposed. At times she found it amusing, but at others, it was fatiguing, and she wished her mother and father liked each other more.
“We must have Mr Bingley to dinner to welcome him and his family to the neighbourhood. He was so taken with Jane, and it will give him an opportunity to know her better. Youwillbe kind to him.”
The last sounded more like an order than a request, and Elizabeth expected her father to say something sarcastic or laugh. Instead, his response shocked her. “I should like to spend time with him. But let me be clear. While I accept the wisdom in having Mr Bingley to Longbourn, I shall not stand for that friend of his entering this house.”
“Papa,” Elizabeth said before her mother could speak; she was wary of an argument resulting if her parents began debating the matter, as they surely would. “We cannotnotinvite him. He is Mr Bingley’s guest, and it would be very rude to ask everyone but him.”
“No, Lizzy, I do not agre?—”
“I would not dare insult Mr Bingley by excluding hisfriend!” Mrs Bennet cried. “For Jane’s sake, it isvitallyimportant that Mr Bingley thinks well of us.”
Mr Bennet regarded Jane; she was blushing, and her eyes were lowered. After a brief silence, he asked, “Do you particularly want Mr Bingley to think well of you, Jane?”
After glancing at him, she nodded.
Elizabeth rested a hand on his arm and, speaking more for his ear than the others, said, “He is unobjectionable, and Janedoeslike him. And consider this. Being here, amongst a smaller party, will force Mr Darcy to practise good manners. He must have been taught them, and he will know that everyone is watching him, waiting for him to make a fool of himself yet again. I need not talk to him. Indeed, I have no desire to. For Jane.” She fixed him with a look that was meant to hint that he was at risk of being curmudgeonly. Of all her sisters, she was the only one who would dare to suggest he was not behaving reasonably.
He sighed. “Very well. But you are to have nothing to do with the man, Lizzy. Other than greeting him politely, none of you girls are to speak to him, and if I hear so much as a hint that he has said anything even slightly disagreeable to or about you or your sisters?—”
“He will not dare to because he knows you will not tolerate it.” She smiled, imbuing her expression with warm affection.
Her father patted her hand. “You are a good girl. One day, you will meet a man worthy of you, and I shall endeavour not to hate him for taking you away from me.”
She chuckled, and they both resumed eating, while Mrs Bennet spoke in detail about her arrangements for the party.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Thank God we are away from those people and shall not have to see any of them again today!” Miss Bingley exclaimed as she entered the drawing room at Netherfield. She sat on one of the silk-covered sofas, Mrs Hurst taking a place beside her and nodding in agreement.
“Why did you make us go to that church?” Mrs Hurst asked. “Surely there was no need to go at all, or we might have found a more…acceptable one in a nearby town. What is the largest town hereabouts?”
“As I have told you,” Bingley said, “we are in the country, and it is expected that we attend on Sundays. Besides, it is an excellent way to become part of the community. I met ever so many people in the short time we spent in the churchyard. I liked being there, and I shall be glad to go again.”
Darcy just caught sight of Miss Bingley’s eyes flickering upwards as he passed by her to go to the window. Hurst was sitting in a chair by the fire, a newspaperhiding his face, and Bingley had taken a place across from his sisters. Darcy found the conversation pointless, and it would surely only lead to the Bingleys and Mrs Hurst squabbling. They had already done so several times in his hearing, all because the ladies did not like the county in which their brother had taken a house.
If anyone should feel fatigued, it is me. Darcy’s tendency to be unsociable had worsened since Ramsgate. He knew it, yet there was nothing he could do about it—nor did he want to, truth be told. He had every right to be in a foul mood, given the way his once-friend George Wickham had attempted to ruin his and his sister’s happiness forever. Georgiana remained much affected, and Darcy prayed she would improve under the care of their aunt Lady Romsley and her new companion, Mrs Annesley.
I shall return to my former self in time. There is no need to force myself to more cheerfulness than I feel. Anyone who is a true friend will not care.When they were lately in town, Bingley had enquired whether he and his family were well, afterwards expanding this to include other matters that might be concerning Darcy. His questions were posed in a manner that suggested he recognised something more than his usual responsibilities was weighing on him. Naturally, Darcy had denied all suggestion that there was anything amiss.
“Darcy,” Bingley called, “do you not agree that the parson was excellent and the church is charming?”
He turned from the window where he had been mindlessly watching the wind rustle through the treesand shrubs, and said, “It is a perfectly acceptable country church. I have been in worse.”
