The two days of rain were followed by three days of sunshine, so that by the afternoon of Jane and Elizabeth's fifth day at Netherfield Mr. Bingley was handing them into their carriage while the others waved the girls farewell. As the carriage pulled away from the house and down the drive, Elizabeth's thoughts were full of all that had happened and all that was said and left unsaid during that strange stay at Netherfield Park. Upon re-entering the house at the conclusion of their walk in the avenue a few days prior, Elizabeth and Darcy encountered Mrs. Hurst descending the stairs. As Mrs. Hurst was one of those ladies who possess the fashionable habit of never seeing a person without at once casting a critical eye over his entire appearance, she noticed the unrepairable state of her dress almost as soon as she saw the woman who was wearing it. Elizabeth did not delay in extending her sincere apologies and offering to compensate Mrs. Hurst for the dress, though Elizabeth silently feared she could little afford it. Before Mrs. Hurst, whose countenance was by this time quite an exceptional shade of red, could reply, Darcy declared that it was his own carelessness that had occasioned the unsightly tear, and so he would insist upon recompensing Mrs. Hurst himself. Mrs. Hurst, though still apparently vexed, was mollified—or at the very least mollified enough to insist that Darcy owed her nothing and that she would find another dress for Elizabeth to wear. Elizabeth smiled at the memory. Darcy had triumphed in attributing to himself all blame for the offence and, being such an impressive fellow, had managed it without inviting any incensed looks from the offended lady or her sister. Of course, this had not spared Elizabeth from those looks, nor did it prevent her from being asked by those ladies to remain indoors while the grounds continued to be treacherously muddy. But Elizabeth responded to these with admirable forbearance, and none could fault her for her enduring politeness and sweet temper, though some may have attempted it.
There was only one point that Elizabeth could not look back upon with satisfaction. Whatever anxiety Georgiana suffered, Elizabeth did not discover its cause, for Georgiana never mentioned the subject again, and Elizabeth would not introduce it without her friend's willingness. Though Georgiana appeared to be in good spirits in the days and evenings that followed, more than once did Elizabeth think she detected some strain in the cheerful expression of that young lady's countenance, and more than once did Elizabeth glimpse Darcy's attentive look and suspect that her concern was shared by him. She keenly wished to be able to comfort her friend, and yet just as keenly wanted to not trespass further upon Mr. Bingley's kindness. Their parting had left Elizabeth feeling uneasy, and only the familiar scenes of Longbourn passing through the frame of the carriage window could settle her.
At last the carriage halted and the sisters alighted from it. Upon the front steps of their home Mrs. Bennet met them with some surprise and no little displeasure. In place of a cordial greeting, she questioned them on why they had returned so soon, when the roads were still damp enough to extend their visit at Netherfield to a week complete, and perhaps longer if it rained again—but if they had only stayed out the week she was certain one of them would have secured the affections of either of the gentlemen. When informed that the roads were really quite dry and that taking advantage of their host's generosity would perhaps be more likely to hamper than advance his tender feelings, Mrs. Bennet turned from them with some exasperated mutterings about the trouble they had caused her by returning home so close to dinner time. As they crossed the threshold into the house, it was their father who, approaching them with long, energetic strides uncharacteristic to his typically languid manner, supplied the warm welcome the girls had longed for.
"My Jane, my Lizzie," said he, kissing one and then the other. "I am glad you are returned to us. I am sure you will have little difficulty believing me when I tell you I have not heard two sentences of sense spoken together this long while since you went to dinner."
"Papa," laughed Jane, "we were gone only five days."
"Were you really? Well, you must promise your dear papa to never leave him so long again—at least not both at once. Do have some feeling upon my nerves." He winked at them and, as the spirited echoes of his wife heralded her hasty approach, smiled at his daughters once more and withdrew to his study.
"Oh! Girls!" cried Mrs. Bennet as she re-entered the hall. "I was just speaking with Hill about adding a dish or two to tonight's dinner now that there are two more mouths to feed than was initially expected, when I had the most wonderful idea: we shall invite Mr. Bingley and his friends to dinner to thank him for his generosity. What do you say to that, girls? Is that not a marvellous idea?"
Over the course of the evening, the enthusiasm of all the Bennet ladies for the scheme grew as steadily as the scheme itself did until the dinner party was no longer to be an intimate affair of two families with a few courses, but rather a prodigious gathering of all the reputable families in that part of the country with a number of courses and dishes that was more likely to be called impressive than elegant. By the next afternoon, all of the invitations were penned, and by the end of the following day, all of the invitations issued. One may wonder at how Mrs. Bennet was able to accomplish this, but it was really not difficult at all because, of all of the invitations to be sent, she chose to deliver only three personally.
The distinction of being the first to receive a personal invitation was bestowed upon those most honoured guests for whom the dinner was being held. Mr. Bingley was delighted to receive Mrs. Bennet and her daughters, and more delighted still to accept the invitation to dinner. As he politely attended Mrs. Bennet's volubility on her gratitude for the munificent hospitality he had shown her two eldest daughters, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst expressed how pleased they were to see Miss Bennet again, called it an age since they had met, and repeatedly asked what she had been doing with herself since their separation. To the rest of the family they paid little attention, avoiding Mrs. Bennet as much as possible, and saying nothing at all to the others, except to inform Elizabeth that Miss Darcy was busy with her lessons and so could not come down.
The call at Netherfield Park was followed by a visit to Lucas Lodge, where Lady Lucas was given the pleasure of receiving the second, personally delivered dinner invitation, along with Mrs. Bennet's triumphant expression when she related to her Jane and Elizabeth's stay at Netherfield and how charmed Mr. Bingley appeared when he saw the former lady again that morning. The final invitation to be delivered by Mrs. Bennet belonged to her sister in Meryton, Mrs. Philips, who was told all that was said to Lady Lucas until she looked as triumphant as her sister, and though they both kindly conceded that Charlotte Lucas was a good, sensible sort of girl, she was nothing to Jane.
The days that followed at Longbourn were filled with activity. Various arrangements for the approaching dinner occupied much of Mrs. Bennet's time, and though there were many particulars to consider and still more tasks to do, the regular assistance of her two eldest daughters in these prevented her from becoming too nervous. Mary applied herself with fierce discipline to her practice at the pianoforte, taking care to learn some pieces that would sufficiently entertain and, she secretly hoped, dazzle the numerous dinner guests. This she did at the expense of offering any practical service to her mother in her preparations. Mrs. Bennet was not at all put out by this, for she was certain that, unlike Jane, Mary would have to rely on her accomplishments to secure herself a husband, but also because whenever Mary's attention was even for a moment directed towards the forthcoming dinner's arrangements, she was likely to volunteer advice in the mode of a lecture on the feminine virtue of maintaining a sober spirit; such lectures did not agree with Mrs. Bennet's nerves. From Kitty and Lydia, Mrs. Bennet obtained neither help nor advice, except to express with some disapprobation that she should have extended the invitation offered to Colonel Forster and his wife to include some of his officers. She did not, however, due to the limited number of places, and so the girls could do nothing but soothe their disappointment by walking into Meryton every fine day and view the officers quartered there.
Though there was much to do, Mrs. Bennet was quite content to excuse Jane and Elizabeth to call at Netherfield and was most gratified when, the following day, the Netherfield ladies returned the call. She was profuse in her salutations and compliments, particularly to Miss Darcy who had the higher claim over Miss Bingley, for she was Elizabeth's good friend and could boast the wealthier brother. Had she been reminded that she once scolded Elizabeth for maintaining correspondence with this girl from Derbyshire when Elizabeth already possessed plenty of friends in Hertfordshire, Mrs. Bennet would surely deny it, for she was so impressed by the Darcy siblings and her daughter's acquaintance with them that she was certain she had always encouraged Elizabeth in the preservation of that acquaintance.
By and by, the evening of interest arrived. The most anxiously expected Netherfield party were in good time and Mrs. Bennet hastened to receive them.
"Oh! Mr. Bingley," cried she, "how delightful it is to see you again! I must thank you for your gracious generosity to my dear Jane and Lizzie." She indicated to those two daughters who were standing beside her. "I do not dare think what might have become of them if you had not shown them such true friendship!"
"Please, do not feel you owe me any more thanks, madam, for it was entirely my pleasure." Bingley gave an easy bow.
"You are very good, sir! Is he not an excellent neighbour, Jane? Thank the gentleman." Jane, blushing, did as her mother bade her. "Does not my eldest daughter look especially well tonight, Mr. Bingley? I am sure you can agree with me that her sisters are nothing to her, both in looks and temper."
Elizabeth and Jane blushed more deeply; Bingley's smile faltered.
"Well," continued Mrs. Bennet in happy ignorance of her daughters' feelings, "you are most welcome—and your friends too, of course. But I see Miss Darcy is not with you."
"No, madam," answered Mr. Darcy, who was by now looking rather cool.
"Miss Darcy is not yet out, mama," explained Elizabeth.
"Oh! Well, that is unlucky!" exclaimed Mrs. Bennet. Then, turning to Darcy, she continued, "But surely you could have allowed her to attend, for we here in the country are not so fastidious as to stand on ceremony, especially among friends."
Darcy bristled.
"Mama," interjected Elizabeth, "you will give Mr. Darcy the impression that the country is very uncivilised, when you yourself would not let any of us attend dinner parties held even by our Aunt Philips until we were out. And I know that Georgiana is not so sorry that she will miss our party, for she told me yesterday that she was looking forward to a quiet evening alone."
"Ah, yes," sighed Mrs. Bennet, "I understand her feelings. I, too, would be grateful for a silent, peaceful evening every now and again, for, what with my nerves, I cannot abide too much noise."
She concluded this speech by loudly hallooing to a group of guests that had just arrived. Only compassion for Jane and Elizabeth could allow Bingley to keep his countenance; his sister, however, was not so discreet, for she shared a look of horrified amusement with Mrs. Hurst before smiling meaningfully at Darcy. They left the Bennet sisters standing by the door and entered further into the room, and Elizabeth was not sure if she felt relief or regret at being spared further conversation with them.
"Dear Jane," whispered Elizabeth to her sister, "I fear that when we approved and encouraged our mother's scheme for this evening, so charmed were we by the delightful prospect of it we both neglected serious contemplation of the disadvantages that may consequently arise."
"You may be right, Lizzie," returned Jane in like hushed tones, "but let us be grateful that it is from the excesses of her affection that her speech originates, rather than of her dislike. I am sure you would agree that it is preferable that our mother be too attentive in fulfilling her role as hostess than negligent."
"Yes, I would; but is it preferable that she be too familiar, and to practical strangers? Did you not see the turn of Mr. Darcy's countenance at our mother's impertinence? Oh, Jane! How will we make it through dinner?"
Jane gave her sister's hand a commiserating squeeze in lieu of an answer, but it did, nonetheless, do something to fortify Elizabeth. Elizabeth squeezed her hand back, for she could see some apprehension in the expression of Jane's eyes that glanced momentarily at Mr. Bingley, then at her mother.
When, at last, all the guests had arrived and they proceeded to the dining room as one, pleasantly murmuring and occasionally chortling procession, Elizabeth consoled herself with the assurance that of all the guests gathered, it would be Mr. Bingley who would be offered the seat to her mother's right. She would have greatly preferred for the seat to be given instead to Sir William, for he was not only amicable, but also familiar with Mrs. Bennet's conversation, and so Elizabeth would need not fear a lowering of her family in that gentleman's estimation as a result of an evening spent at her mother's elbow. But that could not be, for the dinner was in Bingley's honour and so the honoured seat would surely be his. Elizabeth could only hope that the affability of Mr. Bingley and the goodness of Jane's character would be sufficient to overcome any of her family's defects that should threaten to expose themselves and impede the lovers' progress.
In the dining room, Elizabeth chose a seat toward the centre of the table, but she had hardly been stationed by it for a moment when she felt a firm hand grip her arm and pull her towards the table's head.
"You sit here, Lizzie," pronounced Mrs. Bennet.
The seat to which Mrs. Bennet had dragged Elizabeth was that two places down from her own—the place that would be to the right of Mr. Bingley's seat. Elizabeth was rather nonplussed by this contrivance of her mother; she could not comprehend it. Of all her daughters to position beside Mr. Bingley, would not Jane have been the clearer choice? But why give the seat to one of her daughters at all, when Mrs. Bennet well knew that Lady Lucas would have been coveting the seat for herself? The matter was impenetrable to Elizabeth, but that was only because her presuppositions were erroneous. Her mother had no intention of inviting Bingley to sit by her. This Elizabeth soon discovered when she heard her mother's affectedly genial voice calling out to Mr. Darcy. He answered her summons by solemnly and wordlessly striding towards that place and accepting the seat with a stiff bow, never casting an eye at anyone around him. Elizabeth regarded her mother; Mrs. Bennet could barely restrain the self-congratulatory grin she wore as she glanced up at Darcy, which grew wider and more complacent still as she shifted her attention to her eldest daughter. Bingley appeared hesitant about where he should sit, but one smile from Jane settled the matter. He seized the vacant seat beside her before another gentleman could and appeared more content with his choice than any other person at the table—any other person, that is, excepting Mrs. Bennet, for she was more content than he concerning his choice of seat. Once she had sufficiently relished the satisfying results of her machinations, she turned her attention once more to the great gentleman beside her.
"So, Mr. Darcy, I hear from my daughter that you have a charming estate in Derbyshire."
Darcy inclined his head. This was not a promising beginning to dinner. It was apparent to Elizabeth that the coolness of Darcy's manner had little warmed since his previous interaction with her mother that evening. At another time, she might have resented his ostensibly unforgiving temper, for it was directed towards her mother, but she had witnessed her mother's presumptuous words to Darcy herself, and so could not entirely blame him for being aloof. Hoping to thaw him, Elizabeth spoke:
"You did hear it from me, mama, and from at least ten other people, I would wager. I am sure that you, Mr. Darcy, had not been at the assembly in Meryton above half an hour before every person in attendance had received the report of the location and attractiveness of your property, along with an estimate of its size and the number of servants. I hope you do not have any secrets, sir, for they are not likely to remain hidden very long in the country."
"What nonsense you talk!" scolded her mother. "Whoever heard of a gentleman's property being a great secret? Do forgive my daughter, Mr. Darcy; she is usually a very good girl."
Elizabeth's eyes widened at her mother and her face flushed. She knew not how to respond. She darted her gaze up to the face of the gentleman beside her. His mouth was a thin, disapproving line, his stern brow furrowed, and his eyes as wide as her own in disbelieving offence. It pained her to behold the expression and know that her mother had been the cause. She could scarcely bear to look at him a moment longer, especially if he should turn those eyes upon herself. Before she could look away, he met her gaze. Humiliation still throbbed in her chest, but the corners of his eyes softened as he looked at her, which made his still furrowed brow appear kinder, more sympathetic. Elizabeth felt certain that Darcy was not merely offended by her mother's words but offended for her sake, and that did some little to ease her discomfiture.
The silence stretched between them, but though it was unpleasant Elizabeth was not convinced that the conversation that followed between her mother and Darcy was preferable to it. Mrs. Bennet, insensible of the offence she had given, posed more questions to Darcy about his estate and that part of the country wherein it lay. Her questions were simple but numerous, and required nothing but laconic answers from Darcy, if they required verbal answers at all. And the shorter the answers from Darcy were, the longer the questions from Mrs. Bennet became, until she had quite taken over both sides of the conversation. Elizabeth often endeavoured but invariably failed to enter into the discussion, for, between her mother's loquaciousness and Darcy's growing impatience, there never arose a pause long enough for her to speak.
By and by, the first course was laid out. Lady Lucas, who had taken the seat on the other side of Mrs. Bennet, took the arrival of the food to engage the hostess in conversation. Elizabeth felt a surge of gratitude towards Lady Lucas. The positive feeling was to be short-lived. For several minutes neither Darcy nor Elizabeth uttered a word. Elizabeth's mind desperately attempted to grasp at some suitable subject or some interesting remark to dispel the tense quiet gathering around them. In the end, Darcy was the first to speak again:
"Miss Elizabeth, you advised me that my secrets, if indeed I have any, would not long be safe in the country. Is that not so?"
Elizabeth blushed; she was not sure she wished to resume that conversation which had ended so disagreeably. Nonetheless she answered, looking up at him:
"That is so."
"Then, pray, please explain yourself, for earlier this evening you assured me that the country was a civilised place."
Elizabeth smiled archly. "I shall, since you request it. The presence of gossip in a place does not by any means disqualify it from being civilised, or at least from being called so. On the contrary, wherever there is polished society, there too is gossip, and likely much of it."
"It is true that idle talk exists within polished societies, and though I would agree with you that this fact does not exclude those societies from being regarded as polished, do you not think that it does lessen their claims to the word?"
"Indeed not. In fact, I am more inclined to think that 'idle talk,' as you call it, gives a place a better claim to refinement than a lesser. I see you are about to object, but consider: If I were to assert, 'London is a most refined place and certainly more so than the country,' you would raise no protestation, I am sure. Do not the ballrooms, sitting rooms and parks of that great city contain abundantly more gossip than those in the country, at the very least for the bare fact that the former is vastly more peopled? Would you contend that London has a lesser claim to civility than the country?"
"No—" Darcy took a sip of wine, "I would not. But now I do wonder why you chose to warn me against the country when I have arrived here from London, which is, according to your reckoning, the place of greater danger. Based on your various assertions across the course of this evening, I know not whether I ought to feel secure in the country or at unparalleled risk of exposure."
"Ah, I see how it is. You wish to demonstrate to me the great changeability of my mind and tremendous inconsistency of my thoughts, and so hope to triumph over me with your coherent arguments and impeccable reason, or worse, provoke me into a quarrel. Well, sir, I am sorry to disappoint your hopes, but you will find that, excellent as your reason is, it will never do to defeat my humorous absurdities; and as to goading me into a quarrel, let me assure you that I am as unmoveable as your lovely Derbyshire peaks. Now, triumph if you dare."
Through the progress of this speech, Darcy listened in patient silence. Any at the table who chanced to look at him in that attitude may well have thought him bored. But if any had been near enough to examine his countenance, they would have noticed that his eyes, which carefully watched the playful dignity articulated by Elizabeth's intelligent features and beautiful, dark eyes, had betrayed a diverted gleam.
"Indeed," answered he calmly, "I do not dare."
Even as she spoke, Elizabeth had, in some measure, expected to affront him with her manner of talking, particularly by her jesting accusations of his ungallant designs, and so she was a little amazed at his gracious reply. More than amazed, however, she was glad, for she was persuaded that the advancement of their friendship would have been seriously hindered or prevented altogether if he had been offended. She would have been more delighted still if she knew that, so far from being offended, he was actually rather enchanted by her, and had for the present quite forgotten her mother.
Mrs. Bennet eyed the pair where they sat absorbed in conversation. On another occasion, she would have, after all the guests had departed, likely admonished Elizabeth for so neglecting one of her dinner partners in favour of the other, but she would not tonight. Indeed, Mrs. Bennet was rather more inclined to lavish Elizabeth with praise for the singular attention she paid to Darcy, while sparing some congratulations for herself for being the orchestrator of the seating arrangements. So pleased was she by the happy outcome of these arrangements she scarcely spoke a word to either of them for the remainder of dinner, which in turn greatly pleased them.
After dinner had ended and the ladies had withdrawn to the drawing room, Elizabeth and Charlotte stood together in a corner of the room that was close enough to the other ladies to not be remarkable, but far enough away to not be overheard. This was preferable to each, given the question Charlotte asked:
"So, Lizzie, how do you like Mr. Darcy?"
Elizabeth shrugged and attempted a nonchalant smile. "I like him as well as I like anyone."
Charlotte gave her friend a knowing look. "If that were true you would have given Colonel Forster as much of your time as Mr. Darcy. As it was, I was obliged to entertain the colonel as well as Mr. Philips to keep him from feeling injured by you."
"How careless of me!" Elizabeth's casual appearance fell and she blushed. Charlotte was not sure if Elizabeth's apparent embarrassment was caused by the realization that she had been remiss towards Colonel Forster or that she had shown a clear preference for the other gentleman. Elizabeth was not so very sure on this point herself.
"I am only teasing you, Lizzie. It was really no trouble; the colonel is a friendly, sensible gentleman, and quite interesting. Indeed, the colonel's conversation was so engaging that he quite easily entertained me, and Mr. Philips also when he was not engaged in other conversation."
"Thank you, Charlotte. You are a very good friend, and probably more than I deserve."
"Well, my friend, you can repay my pains by telling me more than that you like Mr. Darcy as well as you like anyone."
"If a friend has taken pains for me, then I should, of course, take like pains to share with her the secret stirrings of my heart, if she asked it. But since you yourself confessed that 'it was really no trouble,' and that, in fact, you were rather more entertained by the colonel than were required to entertain him, I must maintain that I am under no obligation to tell you anything."
Charlotte laughed and continued to prod Elizabeth for answers, but Elizabeth only teased her friend that she would disclose nothing.
In time, the gentlemen joined the ladies. As Darcy entered the room his eyes unconsciously sought for a particular, familiar face—the selfsame face that had so captivated him during dinner. He soon found it. Beside where Jane was making the tea, Elizabeth was pouring the coffee. For a moment, Darcy considered directing his steps towards her, but noting the great number of people that crowded around the tea table dissuaded him from such action. Instead, he stationed himself in a deserted place at the edge of the room and wordlessly watched her progress with the coffee. After some moments, Miss Bingley approached him.
"What a tedious evening!" sighed she with a sharp note of frustration. "Did you see my neighbours at table? Sir William Lucas on one side and Mr. Bennet on the other. The first gentleman spoke incessantly but about seldom other than St. James's and his presentation there, while the other said almost nothing at all, except whenever I managed to contrive a change of subject in Sir William's conversation, for then Mr. Bennet would address a question or remark to Sir William deliberately, I believe, to return that man's attention to the hateful St. James's! And, after sending Sir William rambling contentedly once more on his favourite subject and successfully frustrating my designs, Mr. Bennet would, without exception, sit back in his chair with his hands clasped over his stomach and a look on his face which conveyed that he was very pleased with himself. It was intolerable!"
Miss Bingley sighed again, but with greater exasperation. Once she had sufficiently calmed herself, she turned once more to Darcy and continued:
"Still, I wager my dinner companions were exceedingly more preferable to yours."
Darcy, who had heretofore been listening to her in indifferent silence, turned his head towards Miss Bingley somewhat sharply at this.
"Whatever do you mean?" enquired he.
"Why, the mother, of course."
With understanding, Darcy nodded stiffly and resumed his air of indifference as he said, "Mrs. Bennet's conversation was rather frivolous and her manners considerably deficient, but she mostly spoke to her other companion so I did not have much to endure."
Miss Bingley smiled at this but waited to hear him say something regarding his other companion at dinner. He said nothing, however, and she smiled to herself more broadly. During the course of the Bennet girls' stay at Netherfield, Miss Bingley had begun to suspect enough between Darcy and Elizabeth to make herself rather jealous, but now, seeing his look of utter uninterested detachment on the subject of Miss Eliza and her family, Miss Bingley hoped this signified a calming of Darcy's feelings towards that one, particular woman. And all it had taken was an evening spent in their home and company. Miss Bingley was most satisfied and, for the first time since she had made the acquaintance of the Bennets, felt quite secure. So secure did she feel, in fact, that it emboldened her to tease Darcy about Miss Eliza and the potential of him forming an alliance with her, and the domestic felicity he could anticipate with such relations as Mrs. Bennet and Mr. Philips, the country attorney. She teased him not only because she felt secure, but also because she wished to provoke him from indifference into positive dislike for Elizabeth. Darcy's careless expression did not once waver, and Miss Bingley took this as a favourable sign.