Elizabeth was sitting by herself the next morning, and writing to Jane while Mary and William were gone on business into the village, when she was startled by a ring at the door, the certain signal of a visitor. As she had heard no carriage, she thought it not unlikely to be Lady Catherine, and under that apprehension was putting away her half-finished letter that she might escape all impertinent questions, when the door opened, and, to her very great surprise, Mr. Darcy, and Mr. Darcy only, entered the room.
He seemed astonished too on finding her alone, and apologised for his intrusion by letting her know that he had understood all the ladies were to be within.
They then sat down, and when her inquiries after Rosings were made, seemed in danger of sinking into total silence.
Elizabeth was thinking as hard as she could for a topic of conversation, when a sudden thought occurred to her. Why was it her duty to provide conversation, when it was his choice to visit. She could think of all sorts of conversational gambits on his behalf, such as, 'Well Miss Bennet, I find myself alone and unchaperoned, so I should depart', or possibly, 'Well, Miss Bennet, I thought we might discuss my very abrupt departure from Netherfield, and my present inclination to pretend the whole thing never happened', or perhaps, 'I came to visit despite the fact that I really have nothing to say', or her absolute favorite, 'Miss Bennet, I must confess truthfully that I do not have the vaguest idea what I am doing here… do you think you might enlighten me?'
Without being aware, Elizabeth slightly smiled at the last thought. She reckoned that this particular flavor of Silent Mr. Darcy was the best one yet; but she could accomplish just about the same thing without risk to her reputation by asking William to construct a scarecrow that resembled the gentleman that she could just carry from place to place; or perhaps she could work with Mary to create a doll that would serve the same purpose but with less inconvenience. She could just pull it from her reticule any time she wanted a partner who would not inconvenience her with excessive chatter.
Elizabeth was just about to laugh at her own cleverness, singularly unconcerned about whether Mr. Darcy was uncomfortable or not, but thought that would be to rude even by her lax standards, so she simply cleared her throat and waited.
He took the hint, and soon began with, "This seems a very comfortable house. Lady Catherine, I believe, did a great deal to it when Mr. Collins first came to Hunsford."
"I believe she did–and I am sure she could not have bestowed her kindness on a more grateful object. Indeed, Mary was a bit worried before she arrived, but found nearly everything Lady Catherine did to be sensible and practical."
"Mr. Collins appears to be very fortunate in his choice of a wife."
Elizabeth laughed, and said, "Yes, indeed he is. I quite believe he has the very best wife in England. You never knew him before, so you cannot see the transformation. He is the dearest sweetest man in the world, but he was raised by a father that was… let us say… err… less than ideal. He was so nervous when he met us that he acted quite out of character. I fear William probably came off as a pompous fool when he introduced himself to you at that ridiculous ball last winter, but with the love and acceptance and guidance of a good wife, he has… well, I cannot come up with the right term… flowered would be the right sentiment, but too un-masculine…"
She belatedly realized, much to her dismay, that she was quite uncharacteristically blathering on for no particular reason; but she thought she should not compound the injury by stopping in the middle of a sentence.
She finished somewhat meekly, "At any rate, both of them are indeed fortunate, and we could not be happier."
Elizabeth found she did not particularly want to endure any comparisons with her mother, and wondered what in the world would make her give so many unsolicited and unwanted details to Mr. Darcy of all people?
She took a breath, but with a man as taciturn and silent as Mr. Darcy, there was plenty of time to recover.
"I do apologize, Mr. Darcy. I did not intend to rattle on like my mother."
The man looked a bit uncomfortable, but was gentlemanly enough to say, "Actually, Miss Bennet… I find it refreshing. People very rarely say anything real to me, so I suggest thanks are in order, rather than censure."
Elizabeth just raised her eyebrow in confusion, thinking nobody ever said anything true to him because he did not invite such, but instead stumbled with "Well…"
Before she could continue, he carried on in what seemed to be a nervous voice.
"It must be very agreeable for her to be settled within so easy a distance of her own family and friends."
"An easy distance, do you call it? It is nearly fifty miles."
"And what is fifty miles of good road? Little more than half a day's journey. Yes, I call it a very easy distance."
"I should never have considered the distance as one of the advantages of the match," cried Elizabeth. "I should never have said Mrs. Collins was settled near her family."
"It is a proof of your own attachment to Hertfordshire. Anything beyond the very neighbourhood of Longbourn, I suppose, would appear far."
At that point, Elizabeth was both wondering why he was so concerned with the matter, and if it was possible for him to be any more condescending… or…
With a start, Elizabeth thought for the very first time that perhaps he was unaware of how he came off. A man like that no doubt spent his entire life around his social peers and was probably hunted for sport by mothers like hers. Perhaps he had just never learnt, like his aunt. It was a curious thought, and she thought to perform a mild thought experiment. For the last few days of his visit, during the infrequent times she thought about him at all, she would, in her own mind, replace the term 'haughtiness' with 'shy' or 'awkward', and do the same for all synonyms or other words with similar flavors. It would be interesting to see if it changed her views on the perplexing man.
However, practicality reared its ugly head, and she had still not answered him.
"Well, Mr. Darcy… I am not certain I would call it an 'easy distance', though it is certainly not insurmountable. As you say, fifty miles of good road might be a trifle for a man of your wealth. For us of a more Plebian nature, a seat on the post costs 1d/mile, which is quite a bargain, probably less than 1/10 of what you would pay to make the same mile. We would go through London, which is slightly longer than your 50 miles, but not that much. Let us say 60 miles. That would mean a trip to Meryton and back for a couple would be a little over a pound. It is unlikely they would make it in a single day, but for the sake of argument let us assume they could stay with our relatives in London at minimal cost, so we need not add the cost of lodging. Add the cost of a vicar to deliver the sermon, and it would cost approximately £1-2 altogether. As you say, it is an amount that the Collins family can well afford, but not necessarily something they would want to do regularly. With two days travel each direction, you would also consume a week of absence from your duties for each two days of visiting."
Darcy absorbed that, and said, "I find it fascinating that you understand finance and numbers to that level, Miss Bennet. It is most unusual."
Feeling a bit peevish about the condescension in the statement, Elizabeth said somewhat angrily, "Mr. Darcy, when a man praises his dog for flushing game well, or defending his home well, the praise is warranted. If you praise him excessively for getting up from the kennel and refraining from marking your boots as his territory, it is less appropriate."
The man looked perplexed, and he finally said, "I do not understand."
Elizabeth herself did not understand, as she had not intended to say so much, but she was not one to back down from a challenge.
"Mr. Darcy, just in the past four months I have changed several people's lives with mathematics. Everything from cannonball trajectories to compound interest has been put at my disposal. Praising me for simple multiplication is…"
With the thought of trajectories, Elizabeth suddenly realized that the trajectory of this particular conversation was not in an auspicious direction. Too late to stop the cannonball, she decided to at least deflect it.
"My apologies, Mr. Darcy. I assume you did not come here to argue. Please forget that entire exchange."
He leaned forward, and said, "No, I think not. I wish your manners had stayed unengaged enough to finish the sentence. Since your basic goodness prevents such a thing, allow me to try. The most proper finish to what you said would be, 'condescending and rude.'"
Elizabeth stared at him, and he continued, "You need not agree or disagree, Miss Bennet. Truth is truth, even though we have an entire code of propriety and decorum designed to hide it at every turn. Can you at least agree to that?"
Completely off balance, Elizabeth just nodded.
He said more softly, "I do not often get taken to task, Miss Bennet. You were correct… it was condescending, even if you were too polite to say it. May I offer an apology, or more importantly, may I offer a commitment to try to amend my ways. I thought it was a compliment when I said it, and when I explain the conversation to my sister, even at sixteen, she will firmly assert that I am a lunkhead of the worst order and send me to bed without supper."
Elizabeth could not help laughing at that final statement, and said, "Well, well… who would have thought. Mr. Darcy has a sense of humor…"
Then she stopped abruptly and was certain she blushed.
Mr. Darcy, to her surprise laughed, and said, "So, perhaps I am not the only person in Kent to suffer from a surfeit of pride or confusion?"
The smile on his face eliminated any sting that might have come from the assertion, so Elizabeth just said, "Perhaps."
Her next statement was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening, and the entry of the Collins family. Mary was chatting brightly with William, which considering the topic of their short tête-à-tête, probably disconcerted the gentleman… or perhaps, being caught in a potentially compromising situation by one of the highly suspect Bennet women left him fearful for his reputation.
Whatever the motive, Mr. Darcy jumped from the chair as if he had suddenly found Mrs. Bennet sitting a foot to his left and Lady Catherine a foot on his right, made a deep bow and started for the door. When he reached the Collins family, he paused long enough to take his leave with brief but proper civility and walked away at a brisk clip.
Mary wandered over to her sister, and said, "What in the world have you done to our poor Mr. Darcy."
Elizabeth laughed, and said, "I have no idea!"
Mary laughed, and said, "You must shift your thinking Elizabeth. You are no longer talking to a lunkhead. You cannot fool me, so do not even try."
Elizabeth laughed, reached over and kissed her sister on the cheek, and replied, "You have caught me out, Mary. I was talking about you."
"How so?"
"I told the gentleman the shocking news that a good wife can be the making of a man. I think I may have overloaded his mind."
Mary just shook her head, and said, "He must be in love with you, or he would never have called us in this familiar way. It sounds like you either made him even more in live with you or drove him away. It is hard to say which."
"I think not. I believe he is like the Colonel… bored at Rosings and looking for diversion. When he entered, he was surprised to find me alone, and then I think he just could not think of a good way to escape."
"If you say so, Lizzy… but you must admit, it is… peculiar."
Elizabeth said, "Perhaps, but think on this. All field sports are over. Within doors there is Lady Catherine, books, and a billiard-table, but gentlemen cannot always be within doors. I suppose he finds the two of us amusing, so thought to use up a few hours of his duty visit being entertained by us."
Mary stared at her a moment, and said, "Lizzy, I know you are the mistress of uncomfortable conversations, but, allow me my share of the duty for just a bit."
Elizabeth tried to laugh, but it came out somewhat strangled. She finally said, "Go on."
Mary said, "No matter how much I tease you Elizabeth, I would never wish you to be unhappy. You know how much I love my husband, but you also must admit that such would have to be the most fortunate fluke in history. When you did your magic on him, I was only looking for a roof over my head and a man that was not entirely disagreeable."
Elizabeth just nodded.
Mary said, "Now think on this rationally. I sometimes like to boil complex problems down to one simple true or false question, with many variations and sub-variations. Do you agree?"
Elizabeth nodded.
"All right… True or False… Mr. Darcy is in love with you."
Elizabeth laughed, and said, "All the evidence is false, Mary."
Mary said, "Not all the evidence, but most of it I will agree. There is no harm in assuming it is false and living your life accordingly. But suppose… well just suppose Lizzy that the answer was true. When you found out, what would you do?"
Elizabeth said, "I have no idea. I suppose it would depend on how I found out."
"But think on it. Suppose such an awkward man offered for you. We can assume it would be at least as bad as William's proposal. How would you react?"
Exasperated, Elizabeth said, "I may as well conjecture on what I would do if I were a man, or a sudden heiress, or struck by lightning. It is so far fetched it is not worth the effort of thinking about it."
"Me doth think…"
Elizabeth snapped, "Do not even finish that sentence, Mary."
Mary gently took her sister's hand and said, "Well, then indulge me, Lizzy. Suppose he did. What would happen?"
Elizabeth said, "My head would explode, I think."
"And what happens when your head explodes, Lizzy?"
Elizabeth stared at the ground and said, "I lash out."
Mary smiled and nodded, saying, "Exactly! Prepare yourself, Lizzy. Think about how you would react in the unlikely event it happens. It is no different from what you did to protect all of us in the unlikely event our father ever left his library long enough to get himself killed. You need not have the answer, but you do need to be prepared to react with kindness, if nothing else. I do not say you have to be Jane… remember that she needed you to say what had to be said to Mr. Jameson and remember that it was up to you to set my husband on the straight and narrow path. Just give yourself the opportunity to ensure that your next awkward conversation does not do any more damage than necessary."
Elizabeth sighed, and said, "How much is necessary?"
Mary shrugged, and said, "Who can say, but if you have to, stop in the middle of whatever you are doing and perform some arithmetic. It does not matter what it is, but you need your logical mind in all its glory if this extremely unlikely event ever occurs.
Elizabeth sighed, and said, "When did you get so wise, Sister."
Mary just hugged her, and said, "Remember this, Lizzy. I was just plain old Mary until you made me Mrs. Collins. Whatever wisdom I have is as much your responsibility as mine.
Elizabeth slapped her playfully on the shoulder, and said, "Not really, Mary… but I will take your advice. I will think deeply about the proper way to react if I am ever struck by lightning."
