Chapter 2

Two

"That was an excellent dinner, my dear. Rather more elaborate than I had expected," Mr Bennet said.

He, Mr Bingley, and Mr Darcy had just joined the ladies in the drawing room. Mrs Bennet was pleased with the compliment but less so with his expression. She knew that quirked eyebrow of his all too well. He was laughing at her for taking pains with the menu, but she did not want Mr Bingley to realise the ‘family dinner' was more than what the Bennets would usually have. She could not offer him just soup, a ragout, and another dish or two. She would make him understand Jane's quality, and that meant demonstrating that her dear girl came from a family who knew how to host their neighbours correctly.

"I am sure you know best, but do be careful not to…do too much." Mr Bennet awkwardly patted her shoulder. She scowled at his retreating form as he went to his favourite chair. What did he know about seeing their daughters suitably settled? It was not as though he would do anything about it.

Mrs Bennet forced her thoughts away from him and regarded her eldest daughter and her gentleman suitor with a fond smile. Mr Bingley was as caught up in Jane as he had been the previous year. That had been obvious when he had called on Saturday and from the moment they had met this evening. She anticipated them being engaged within the fortnight. Mr Bingley did not have the air of someone willing to wait long for what they wanted.

Thank God the Lydia… affair had been successfully resolved. What a disaster it might have been!

What would have happened to my other girls if Lydia had been ruined? Stupid girl! Certainly, Mr Bingley would not have come back.

Mrs Bennet adjusted her cap and soothed herself. Mr Wickham was not as bad as they had reason to fear. He was nothing to Mr Bingley, to be sure, but he had married Lydia. If Mrs Bennet was deliberately ignorant of his true character, if she hid the truth of how the union had come about, what did it matter? It helped her sleep at night, and she would not blame herself. She had responsibilities to fulfil, and if she were forever moping and anxious about how Lydia was, what good would she be to anyone, especially her dear daughters?

I allowed Lydia too much freedom. Lydia had been her last baby, and it had been unexpectedly difficult to admit she was growing up and no longer the playful, innocent little darling who loved nothing quite so much as entertaining her mama. Lydia was terribly stubborn—more so than even Elizabeth—and Mrs Bennet prayed it would not land her in trouble with her husband. He did not seem like the kind of man who would be endlessly indulgent or respond kindly to being told what to do by his much younger wife.

I shall keep a closer watch on Kitty, even if Mr Bennet forgets his resolution to ensure she improves her mind. Kitty would find her mother a much more careful chaperon than she had been in the past.

At the moment, Mr Bennet was barely hiding his ennui. He yawned, only patting his hand over his mouth at the end of it. If he sat closer to his daughters or either of the other gentlemen, he would have someone to talk to, but he insisted on taking the horrid old armchair in the corner.

One of these days, I shall have it tossed onto the rubbish heap when he is not looking. I will set fire to it so that it is destroyed, and he cannot demand we keep it. The other chairs and sofas are comfortable enough.

"Mama, do you think the weather will continue to be as pleasant as it has been?" Kitty asked.

"I cannot say. Do you suppose I have become a witch of some sort who can predict the future?" Mrs Bennet's brow furrowed.

Kitty's visage turned pink. "N-no, it is just that you always say your left knee aches when?—"

"Yes, well, I am sure I hope it remains fine. Rain would make it more difficult for Mr Bingley to enjoy his sport, and we would not want that, would we, Jane?" Mrs Bennet spoke before Kitty shared her ailments with Mr Bingley. And Mr Darcy—she must not forget he was there, even though he said so little that it was easy to overlook him.

"Oh, I would not mind if it did, Mrs Bennet," the affable gentleman said, hardly able to tear his eyes away from Jane to look at his hostess.

"Why?" Kitty said, evidently responding to Mr Bingley's statement.

This time, it was his face that took on colour. Since he was gazing at Jane with affection that practically screamed out to the entire county, Mrs Bennet did not judge him for it.

"I would not find it in the least bit difficult to amuse myself on even the rainiest of days, not when there is such excellent company to be had," he said.

You very well might if there was so much of it that you could not leave Netherfield and had only Mr Darcy's disagreeable company!

As Mrs Bennet covered a dismissive huff with a quiet cough, her sight landed on Mr Darcy, and she saw the most curious thing ever. He was watching someone with an expression you would use for a dearly loved child…or wife ! There was no one in the room upon whom he might bestow a paternal feeling; thus, it could only mean he liked one of her girls. Shock robbed her of her breath. Surely, it could not be! But she was not mistaken. There was a softness about his eyes, and his smile, although slight, was somehow powerful—even more so than one of Mr Bingley's grins—because Mr Darcy rarely wore such a gesture of approbation. The gentleman quickly schooled his features and turned away from the object of his scrutiny.

Which of her daughters had he been observing? Based on where Jane sat, it was not her, thank goodness. Despite it being a romantic notion, Mrs Bennet knew it would, in actuality, be terrible if the two gentlemen fought over her most beautiful daughter.

To call such a man my son-in-law would be something! But did it even matter that Mr Darcy harboured such an affection? None of the girls takes any notice of him. I doubt they have thought of him since he left Hertfordshire last November, and Lizzy positively despises him. Yet he is so rich and high-born.

Mrs Bennet then recalled thinking that he was observing Elizabeth the other morning. But that was a look of disapproval, surely! The pair had never liked each other, and— Mrs Bennet forced her jaw closed to avoid gaping at her daughter. Elizabeth— Elizabeth! —had glanced at Mr Darcy, her countenance showing what appeared to be sadness and regret!

Suddenly overcome by these startling events, Mrs Bennet excused herself from the room for several minutes to regain her composure in private. When she returned, she ignored Jane and Mr Bingley to study Mr Darcy and Elizabeth. Sure enough, throughout the remaining hour that the gentlemen were at Longbourn, the pair often stole peeks at each other, although their eyes never seemed to meet.

Could there be more to their connexion than she, Elizabeth's own mother, knew? Had Elizabeth's feelings for him changed that much?

Mr Bennet stood at her side as they said their goodbyes to their guests.

"Thank you, madam," Mr Darcy said, as solemn as a vicar at a funeral—not that she had ever been to one—before he turned to Mr Bennet and then the girls.

"I had an awfully good time. It was very kind of you to have us," Mr Bingley said.

"Yes, yes. You are very welcome, I am sure." Mrs Bennet had little time for him. Mr Darcy was about to speak to Elizabeth, and even if it was just to wish her a good night, she wanted to observe their interaction!

Once the gentlemen were gone, Mr Bennet asked, "Are you quite well, my dear? You were…unusually quiet after dinner."

"Oh, quite, quite well. Pray, excuse me, I must have a word with Mary before she retires."

She fluttered her handkerchief and hurried away. Mrs Bennet only recalled that Mr Darcy was from the north when he was politely bowing. Elizabeth had been on a northern tour with the Gardiners. Where exactly was Mr Darcy's estate, and had her brother's route taken them anywhere near it? Was it possible Elizabeth and the gentleman had met that summer and somehow become friends?

It became a matter of some urgency to ascertain the location of Mr Darcy's home. When Mary murmured that she was going to her room, Mrs Bennet decided her third daughter was just whom she needed. Mary hoarded facts like they were precious jewels.

Chasing up the stairs after her daughter, Mrs Bennet hissed, "Mary. Mary!"

Mary paused and looked at her. She said nothing but quirked an eyebrow, an irritating habit she had inherited from Mr Bennet.

"I must talk to you."

Mrs Bennet continued walking, soon reaching Mary, taking hold of her arm, and tugging her until they were in the first room at the top of the stairs. It was Kitty's, but that hardly mattered.

"Yes, Mama?"

"From where is Mr Darcy? What is his estate called?"

"Derbyshire and Pemberley." Mary gave her a puzzled expression.

"Do we not know someone from the north? Not Mr Darcy, but another person?"

There was no mistaking Mary's disapproving sigh. "Aunt Gardiner lived in Derbyshire for some years as a child."

"Did she? Oh, yes, of course. I wonder if it was near Mr Darcy's estate."

"Why are you curious about him all of a sudden?"

"Never you mind." Mrs Bennet nibbled on her lower lip, trying to remember what she had been told of the Gardiners' travels. Derbyshire sounded familiar, but that might simply be because she had heard it talked of as Mr Darcy's home county or her sister Gardiner's old one. Nevertheless, the coincidence was very interesting.

"Very well. I am going to bed. Good night."

It took Mrs Bennet a moment to realise Mary had left the bedchamber. She looked heavenward and shook her head. Of all her girls, Mary tried her patience the most. Elizabeth might think she was cleverer than other people—and she might be, though Mrs Bennet would never admit it out loud—but she hid her sense of superiority with smiles and laughs. Mary just went about looking dour and disdainful.

Speaking to her reflection in the dressing table mirror, she said, "I simply must have more information, and there is no time to waste. If Mr Darcy has tender feelings for Lizzy, I shall see them married. Lizzy must have discovered something to like about him, and he is Mr Bingley's friend. Everyone has some redeeming quality, do they not? Even Wickham does, though it might only be his good looks and ability to charm people." She shook her head and forced her thoughts back to Mr Darcy. "There is surely something about him to admire. I shall find it and use it to convince Lizzy she loves him—if she does not already. To think of my daughter married to such a man! Ten thousand a year!"