Page 9 of Bitterness of Spirit

All eyes turned to him, and there was silence for several moments. He looked puzzled by their reaction.

“Have I said something improper? If so, please forgive me.”

“No, not at all,” Mr. Bennet intervened. “I believe we are all dumbfounded by the notion that you wish to buy three houses. Nobody in our family can imagine that. Your time in India must have been very successful.”

“I apologise; I did not mean to sound arrogant. And yes, at least from your point of view, my staying abroad so many years could be called successful. I have no reason to worry about my income any longer.”

“You want to buy a house? Perhaps Netherfield is for sale if Mr. Bingley does not return,” Lydia uttered.

Silence fell again; Jane turned pale and gulped some water while Lydia’s face wore a smile of satisfaction that she had such a brilliant idea.

“Oh, do not be silly, child!” her mother tempered her. “Mr. Bingley might well return most anytime. And Netherfield is let for a year at least. But there are several other lovely properties in the neighbourhood, I imagine. It depends on how much you plan to invest in it, Mr. Wilson.”

“The price is not an issue, madam. If it is close enough to your family and my sister and her husband approve of it, I may purchase it right away.” There was no sign of arrogance in his voice, only calmness and a slight indifference as if the matter was of no consequence.

After another long moment of silence and awkward staring, Mr. Bennet said, “Well, let us finish dinner and then retire. I believe we have had enough excitement for one evening; we may talk business after Christmas. Until then, hopefully our house will accommodate us all although I am afraid our guest room is not as large as you might expect, Mr. Wilson. I hope you will rest well enough, though.”

“I need nothing but a bed and perhaps a chair, sir. What matters is the company, which will make my sleep easy and restful,” Mr. Wilson responded with a polite nod of his head.

“Sir, you plan to buy a house in London, too?” Mrs. Bennet suddenly asked, regardless of her husband’s suggestion that they delay talk of business until after the holiday.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“In any particular area? Since you were gone for so long, you may not know that the houses in London are much more expensive than the ones in Meryton. For instance, I know Mr. Bingley has a house on Grosvenor Street. Mr. Darcy might have one around Park Lane, but I am not certain,” Mrs. Bennet continued despite her eldest daughters’ obvious distress.

“I thank you for your kind concern, madam. I shall take everything you have told me into consideration and shall decide together with my sister and my brother-in-law. But you mention a Mr. Darcy: Could he be related to the Darcy family in Derbyshire?”

“Yes, brother,” Mrs. Gardiner replied. “Mr. Darcy—the youngest one—stayed at Netherfield with his friend Mr. Bingley. This was before we arrived. It seems they unexpectedly returned to Town at the end of November, so I have not met them in person.”

“I knew the Darcys quite well—the present master’s father and grandfather. They were extraordinary gentlemen—among the best I have known in my life,” Mr. Wilson said.

Mrs. Bennet had a contrary view. “Well, we are sad to report that the youngest one inherited few of their qualities. He is haughty and arrogant, full of disdain for everyone. He rarely speaks two words together and ignores everyone around him. He first refused to dance with Lizzy; but it seemed he changed his mind later as he danced a set with her at the Netherfield ball. But he is still unpleasant, and we are all happy that he left. Unfortunately, he took Mr. Bingley with him. Mr. Bingley was such a nice, amiable gentleman—and handsome enough. We all thought he would stay at Netherfield for a long time. We hoped he would settle here, actually. But there are still hopes he will return.”

Mr. Wilson listened dumbfounded, making visible efforts to follow the storm of information thrown at him. He nodded from time to time, glancing at his sister and brother-in-law.

“I am sorry young Mr. Darcy does not rise to the expectations of his parents. At least this is what I understand—is that correct? It seems he made a rather poor impression upon you.”

“Indeed he did, sir. Upon everyone in the neighbourhood,” Mrs. Bennet concluded.

“There is no greater flaw in a man than to avoid dancing at a ball when there are many young ladies without a partner,” Mr. Bennet intervened in jest. “To me, he proved to have very poor taste in ladies since he called my Lizzy ’barely tolerable.’”

Mr. Wilson’s disbelief was apparent. “Surely, he did not make such a rude remark in public.”

“He did—right at the Meryton Assembly when we first met him! He intended to whisper to Mr. Bingley, but Lizzy heard him!” Mrs. Bennet said.

“I am sorry to hear that…I surely would not expect George Darcy’s son to offend a young lady, even more so one who surely did not deserve such criticism.”

“Oh, do not worry; Lizzy did not care at all,” Lydia added. “He is very unpleasant. Even when he danced with her at Netherfield, Lizzy was not at all happy.”

“I believe we have talked enough of Mr. Darcy for one evening,” said Elizabeth. “It is not polite to speak ill of someone in his absence, even if that person does not deserve our care. Besides, Mr. Wilson surely would appreciate a more interesting subject of conversation.”

“Indeed. Is it not rewarding to spend twenty-five years away from home then return and listen for half of the evening about Mr. Darcy’s refusal to dance and make easy conversation at a ball? What could be more entertaining?” Mr. Bennet said mockingly.

Mr. Wilson hid his smile behind his napkin. “Indeed. I am sorry to hear that about a gentleman whose family I have known, but he truly has poor taste if he did not appreciate Miss Elizabeth’s witty charm. I only needed a couple of minutes to recognise it. I shall surely hold him accountable for that should I happen to meet him in person.”

A peal of laughter escaped from Elizabeth, and her eyes met the gentleman’s joyful glance. He seemed utterly changed in the last hours, and his comfortable easiness among their family was undeniable.

“As I said, let us speak of something else. It is a gentleman’s privilege to like a lady or dance with her—or not. We cannot force a man’s will and must accept that we have far fewer options.”