A/N: I am not immune to flattery. xD Here is the requested update!
Miss Bingley, unable to bear being within five miles of anyone who had witnessed that scene but her immediate family, left for London with her brother the next morning. Of course, that meant her sister Louisa came with her. Hurst was out of grace with both his wife and sister, meaning Netherfield was left with two men for company. If he was unhappy to arrange the menus with the cook, nothing in his countenance showed it.
Darcy spent the morning first, in riding, second, in letters of business, third, in contemplation, fourth, in shooting with Hurst, and fifth, before Netherfield's magnificent chess set. He moved both his and his imaginary opponents' pieces, replaying the game from the evening before and reviewing what went wrong. He mourned his book on strategy and maneuvers, bought in his youth months before his father died. He had aimed to grow good— a professor told him he had the mind for it, and if there a drive distinctive to Darcy, it was that he desired to be worthy of any true compliment paid to him. But events happened and chess had been pushed aside. He did not regret how he spent his time, precisely. Regarding intellectual sports, he had prioritized debate in university and maintained that it was the sport tailored to expose and rehabilitate his particular weaknesses, weaknesses that then became widely used strengths. But debate was under his belt, now. Chess… that was a skill which he realized he was hardly more than an amateur at. One for which he was determined to develop a respectable level of excellence.
Some people might consider that philosophy exhausting. It that was simply his way.
After an hour and a half going through all the plays he recalled, he had a refreshing meal, dealt with some social correspondence, and finally, took his hat and coat. He could spend the afternoon reading, but… even he desired society sometimes.
He walked to Longbourn.
Mr. Bennet greeted him with a mien more open than he'd ever seen it. "You have come at the perfect time. The women have already gone calling, and Mary shan't find your presence worth repeating. If we are sly about it, we may even sneak you out unnoticed."
"I shall tarry only for as long as you will have me."
"Nonsense! I haven't had sensible male company in ages. If we don't erupt into disagreement over our difference of alma maters, I shan't kick you out ere half an hour."
They were subsequently delighted to discover that they had graduated from the same alma mater, prompting some reminiscing that lasted decidedly more than half an hour.
Thus, they were in very good spirits with one another before Mr. Bennet decided to open another topic.
"I daresay you disagree with my methods of conversing with general acquaintances."
"I do not normally presume to burden others with my opinions on their conduct, sir, but you did provoke me to a defense."
"And I did. I have thought upon it, I assure you, and it yielded some interesting results. It was a service you did me there — shall you mind if I do the same for you?"
After a moment, Darcy said, "If you are sincere, would welcome it. Not enough people feel at liberty to tell me what I ought to hear."
"Very well. Brace yourself. My manner can be offensive; I acknowledge this. I now pose a question: Can we not say the same for your own?"
Quietly, "I am civil."
"In words perhaps. But in manner?"
The other sat upon this for a minute or two before he said, rather angrily, "Why is this material?"
"Only people intelligent enough to take my meaning can feel hurt by how I act. The rest are only confused."
"You mean to say that you do less damage than do I, for my manner is generally offensive. The confused may still puzzle out your meaning at a later time."
"So much the better. My jokes then have a use to them. People take criticism with better grace when it is told through humor."
"You claim a utilitarian purpose. Yet I cannot fully credit that. Confusion itself is a great causer of mischief. I imagine your daughter Mary can hardly know what to make of your satire. If you were more direct, she might be able to attend your instruction."
Mr. Bennet blinked.
More softly, much of the steam gone out of him, the younger man continued, "Miss Elizabeth is lucky enough to have developed her intellect to the point where she understands your implications. Your younger daughters do not."
The clock sat clicking on the mantel, slowly counting the minutes.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
"I hope," said Mr. Bennet, "that you have gotten something out of this conversation."
"Forgive me for reacting poorly. I have too many arguments built up over time defending my manner. I require time to reflect upon your point… please allow that I am slow to accept new ideas. My mind does not work with the quickness you and your daughter possess."
"So young, to know yourself so well."
Darcy shrugged with discomfort. "If you have more observations to add, I would appreciate it if you said them now. I cannot promise my reaction to be devoid of violence, but my future self will thank you for it."
"Well…" Mr. Bennet tapped his book, considering, as if choosing carefully what would be his last contribution. "Even your words are not always civil."
Eyes widened. Into Darcy's cheeks crept red.
"I do not mean to me. You can cross that possibility out."
He stood and walked to the window.
Mr. Bennet had a tray of tea and cakes brought. He was already into his second cake when the younger man sat back down and joined him. With no words but idle murmurs, they cleared the tray.
Darcy was prepared to take his leave when the carriage rolled up into the drive. The master of the house bade him hurry, and he only just managed to shoo him out the side door when Lizzy appeared in the hall.
Her eyebrows were up. "Was that Mr. Darcy?"
"Do not tell anyone but Jane."
"Which is fine by me… but Papa, you were entertaining Mr. Darcy?"
"The very same." Then, a twinkling light entered his eye. "We had a conversation about his manners."
"Papa!"
"Fear not, I didn't set him down so very badly. School that expression, dear, you look like your mother. You know,"— his face took on a look of thoughtful abstraction, and he nodded — "Lizzy, I like him. Do me a favor and snare him for me, will you? It does my heart good to have another Oxford man under my roof."
A/N: As much as I'm susceptible to flattery, I'm even more appreciative of feedback! I hope to live by Darcy's philosophy. Critique is very good!