Thomas Bennet was not certain whether to be relieved, discomposed, or distressed. He settled for a combination of all three, as he gazed at the self-possessed young man he had — apparently in common with the rest of the country — so severely misjudged. Mr Darcy himself did not seem remotely perturbed at the awkward silence his future father-in-law felt so acutely.
"Ah, Mr Darcy," he said pleasantly, "thank you for sparing a few moments of your time." His delight in folly made the interview, uncomfortable as it was, a matter of some anticipation. He knew little of this particular man, but he knew the ways of young lovers, and seeing the grand Fitzwilliam Darcy fallen prey to the little absurdities that plagued those in this position should be vastly amusing. On the other hand, he had no desire to owe the man anything, son-in-law or not.
Darcy said something polite and waited, still to all appearances perfectly content and composed. Of course, he had every reason to be content, given Elizabeth's openly and consistently affectionate manner with him. Any man loved by such a woman must be happy, at least for a time. Mr Bennet sighed.
"It seems, sir," he said deliberately, "that I am greatly indebted to you — indeed, that our entire family owes our current respectability."
Mr Bennet watched as Darcy coloured, looking rather more like the young man he was than the haughty master of Pemberley. "I will not pretend to misunderstand you, Mr Bennet," he said forthrightly. "You speak of your youngest daughter's recent marriage?"
"I do." With a grave expression, he said, "I am a gentleman and must insist upon paying my debt. How much do I owe you? It was no paltry sum, I am certain."
He waited with scarcely concealed delight, only catching a hint of something in the other man's eyes — impatience? annoyance? mere discomfort? — before Mr Darcy began speaking. "You are quite right, sir," he said quietly, much to Mr Bennet's astonishment and dismay, "it was no paltry sum. However, I must insist that you do nothing of the sort." (Mr Bennet breathed again, upon which occurrence he reflected, with some amusement, that happiness had not substantially altered the man's character.) "If my pride had not kept me from making Mr Wickham's character public, the entire affair could not have happened. I am also a gentleman, sir, and I willingly accept culpability for what occurred, and have remedied it as best as I can."
"Mr Darcy," Mr Bennet said, "you, of all people, are not responsible for this event. I do not believe knowledge of Mr Wickham's character would have been likely to deter my daughter from her course."
Darcy's features settled into familiar obstinate lines, strikingly reminiscent of Elizabeth when she was set on something. What a pair they would be! Mr Bennet pitied any who should cross them. Only today a luckless Lucas had professed some controversial opinion or other and had his argument promptly if courteously torn to shreds by the newly-engaged couple. "I know my responsibility, sir," Darcy said stubbornly.
It struck the older man that the entire discussion had passed without a single mention of Elizabeth's name. How singular. "I am persuaded, sir," he said, "that your intervention is not solely the consequence of your sense of culpability. Am I mistaken?"
Darcy blushed faintly. "I will not deny," he said steadily, "that my partiality for Miss Elizabeth added force to my pre-existing motivation for — intervening; but no more than that, I hope."
It was a far cry from ranting and storming, Mr Bennet reflected with a quiet sigh. Darcy still had not ceased calling his fiancée by any but the most formal name. If this was love, it was a very peculiar way of going about it. A peculiar man altogether, but Elizabeth loved him and presumably he loved Elizabeth, and they certainly seemed well-suited enough, against all odds.
"Very well, young man," he said flippantly, "you must answer your conscience, stringent as it may be. We will speak no more on this. I daresay you would much rather be enjoying my Lizzy's smiles than debating with an old man."
Darcy shrugged, refusing to be provoked. Whatever embarrassment he had felt seemed to have passed, and Mr Bennet felt as if he understood the other man even less than he had at the beginning of the interview. Ah, well. Lizzy was content with her choice, and it was not as if they lacked time to become acquainted.
A/N: I've always wondered about this interview, since I find Mr Bennet's reaction to Darcy's "intervention" rather crass. I am quite, quite certain that Darcy could not "rant and storm" to save his life. I think, perhaps, that he also takes a perverse pleasure in being enigmatic and clever and evading expected behaviour. For this scene I have a little cheering squad in the back of my head that bursts into applause whenever Darcy startles Mr Bennet. Good for him, we say.