They walked in silence for a time before Georgiana spoke again.
"May I ask you something?"
"You may."
"Do you think very ill of him?"
Elizabeth considered the question carefully. "No," she said at last. "I think he is a very good man who occasionally becomes the worst version of himself in my company."
Georgiana looked thoughtful. Then she shook her head. "I am not entirely certain that is how it works."
Before Elizabeth could ask what she meant, Mrs Bennet's voice floated towards them from some distance behind.
"There you both are! If Mr Bingley explains drainage to Jane for one moment longer, I shall be obliged to develop opinions ondrainage myself, and I consider that an unreasonable burden for any woman."
Georgiana laughed and Elizabeth found herself laughing too. But as they turned back towards the house she felt no clearer than before. If anything, she was considerably less so. Darcy remained absent, his proposal remained refused, and her heart remained determinedly unwilling to behave in a sensible manner. Which, she reflected, was becoming an increasingly common problem in Lyme.
Chapter Eighteen
Mr Bennet arrived at the King’s Arms shortly before dusk, having spent the better part of two days discovering that a journey to Dorset was an excellent thing to undertake in theory and a considerably less excellent thing to experience in practice. When he had ordered the carriage at Longbourn it had been with all the calm authority of a man acting from principle. By the time the inn came into view, with its creaking sign and glow of firelight behind uneven windows, principle had given way to a strong desire for supper and a chair that did not move.
The inn stood some ten miles from Lyme, which was near enough to be convenient and far enough to delay arrival until morning. Mr Bennet had not admitted this as a reason for stopping there. He had told the driver that the horses required rest, which was true enough. He had told himself that no sensible man arrived in an unfamiliar seaside town after dark, which was also true. He had not told himself that he preferred one more night before seeing his wife. That would have been anuncomfortable thought, and Mr Bennet disliked uncomfortable thoughts unless they belonged to somebody else.
He was shown to a private room upstairs, where he washed, changed his coat and looked for several minutes at his own reflection in a small spotted glass. He saw nothing very remarkable there. A gentleman somewhat fatigued by travel. A little older than he had been. A little less amused than usual perhaps, but that could be attributed to the roads. Almost anything could be attributed to the roads if a man had spent sufficient time upon them.
He went downstairs to supper in a mood of determined moderation.
The dining room was over warm and smelt like damp wool. A fire burned low at one end, and several men had gathered near it. Mr Bennet took a table near the wall, ordered supper and had just begun to feel restored when the conversation beside him left the subject of a lame horse and passed to local scandal.
"I tell you, I saw it plain as I see you now," said a thickset man with a weathered face and a nasal intonation. "There was no mistake in it."
"You saw what you wished to see," said another. "You always do. Last Michaelmas you had Mrs Hadley’s niece married to thecurate before either of them had so much as borrowed a book from the other."
"They would have suited," said the first man peevishly.
This opinion was received with laughter, and Mr Bennet, who had every intention of being entertained, listened closely applied himself to his beef with slightly increased leisure.
"It was at Mrs Purvis’ card party," the first man continued. "A respectable evening by all accounts, or as respectable as such things can be when half the room is young bucks who can’t hold their drink. There was a gentleman there from Derbyshire. Very above his company. Name of Derby."
"I have heard of him," interjected a younger man. "Rich as anything."
"Then he can afford better manners."
Mr Bennet took a sip of ale and smiled faintly. A rich gentleman with defective manners did not seem anything out of the commonplace, but it seemed there was more to this tale.
"And the young lady?" asked another.
"Miss Bucket."
"Benton," said the younger man.
"Bucket."
"I am certain it was Benton."
"And I am certain it was Bucket."
"Then one of you is certainly wrong," shouted a florid faced farmer from across the bar.
