"You asked to see me, Papa?"
Mr. Bennet looked carefully at his daughter and found the examination somewhat perplexing. He thought he knew his offspring well, or at least he had before her holiday the previous summer, but he was having a difficult tome establishing her current feelings. Elizabeth was standing just inside the door, looking for all the world like a calm and collected young lady should, but her father knew her better than that. She was tense, very tense, and far more distressed than this situation seemed to call for.
As a father, Mr. Bennet knew that appearance was important to women. Right or wrong, they were judged on it by the world, and in this house, Mrs. Bennet seemed bent on commenting about it constantly. Elizabeth's mother, who was in truth just a frightened woman worried about losing her place in the world when her husband died, had made it her life's work to get all her daughters well settled. There was little danger of Mrs. Bennet truly starving in the hedgerows if Mr. Bennet died unexpectedly, as between her portion and some money that had been saved, the mother had enough to live comfortably with any unmarried daughters, but she did not have enough money to live well. She feared loss of consequence, which to the lady would be nearly as bad as actually starving.
The tools at Mrs. Bennet's disposal in such a society as hers should have been extensive, or at least adequate, but she was a woman of mean understanding, little information, and uncertain temper. Mrs. Bennet spent all her time preoccupied with beauty, whilst not worrying about the things that might truly make a real difference in marriageability, such as education, deportment and dowries. As such, Mrs. Bennet had been criticizing all her daughters except the eldest and youngest over their appearance for as long as Mr. Bennet could remember. All his attempts to curb the practice had been ineffective at best, and at worst just moved the comments out of his earshot and made them even more vicious.
Keeping this in mind, Mr. Bennet knew Elizabeth was well familiar with criticism, and generally not bothered by it. According to his further discussions with Mr. Darcy over chess, she had been nothing but amused by the gentleman's slight in the beginning. That was in exact agreement with what the father expected, and he presumed the apology would either give his daughter yet more amusement or give her a chance for retaliation. However, here she was, with as calm and collected an appearance as you please, but internally tense enough to break a tooth or maybe say something impertinent, or dare he think it, even rude. The set of her jaw, the look in her eyes and her general posture would tell someone that knew her well that she was tense as a bowstring.
Mr. Bennet of course would be glad to have her take Mr. Darcy down a peg or two just for his own amusement, but more importantly, he was hoping to see a trace of the impertinent fireball Lizzy he remembered, so he simply decided to enjoy the show and see what happened. Elizabeth, when fully employing her considerable wit, was like a force of nature. Mr. Darcy was likely to get more of a lesson in humility than he bargained for, but he seemed resilient enough, and today was probably as good a day as any to improve his character. Mr. Bennet was a big believer in the power of a good setdown, well placed and specific, from just the right person, just as Lizzy may be.
Standing up along with his guest, he made the introductions.
"Elizabeth, may I present Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire. Mr. Darcy, my second‑eldest daughter, Miss Elizabeth Bennet."
Elizabeth curtsied quite properly, and replied, "Mr. Darcy."
Darcy made a deep bow, noticeably longer and more respectful than propriety strictly called for, and said, "Miss Elizabeth, it is a privilege to meet you."
At that point, conversation stopped for a full count of five. Elizabeth, stood in the same position she had started out in, mostly looking an imaginary spot halfway between the two gentlemen in the room.
Darcy, somewhat expecting some of the extra words that went along with an introduction, did not want to talk over the lady, so he gave her a few seconds to say something if she liked. She apparently had nothing to say, so he decided he should get on with his task.
"Miss Elizabeth, I have come to offer you an overdue apology. Last night, I did not act the gentleman. In fact, I acted like an absolute cretin. I slighted your appearance, in a way that was in violation of all rules of politeness and civil discourse, as well as being factually incorrect. Furthermore, I added the ridiculous assertion that I might give you consequence in a neighborhood where you have plenty already, and I have none. I spoke disparagingly about you without even gaining an introduction or giving you the opportunity to defend yourself. I offer no excuses, just my sincerest and humblest apologies."
George Darcy had taught his son that an apology must be short, to the point, specific and sincere. Sincerity was the most essential ingredient, as it was not even an apology without that. Right in that moment, Fitzwilliam Darcy, perhaps for the first time, truly understood what his father had tried to teach him. In fact, he felt the worst he ever had, and he very much wanted to make this right. Elizabeth Bennet was not the first young lady he had ever gotten on the bad side of, but she was the first one he could remember, who he truly wanted to make amends to. It was important to him, simple as that.
His father had also told him to give the object of his apology leave to have their say, and his acceptance of their reaction was likely to have as much or more effect as the original apology. Make the best apology in the world, and then disregard the reply, or worse yet, argue with what the offended says, and you may as well not even speak in the first place. He expected his comeuppance, and was well prepared to accept it, if that would make things right.
True to the sincere nature of the apology, he gave a deep and slow bow. As his eyes went to the floor, he listened to the first bits of whatever the lady had to say, expecting to discuss the matter in some detail, and accept whatever censure she thought to be his due. Her father asserted the lady was quite capable of it. He had thought of so many things he might say but needed to see her reaction to know how to proceed.
Elizabeth, watched for the man to start his bow, and as soon as his eyes left her, she replied.
"You are forgiven, Mr. Darcy. Good day."
By the time Darcy came back from his deep bow, he was looking at the empty space in front of the door where Miss Elizabeth had been standing. A quick glance farther to the left showed the door just closing.
Somewhat shocked at the dismissal, he just started at the empty spot, then glanced over at her father for some clue as to what he should do.
Mr. Bennet was looking somewhat… well, he actually looked amused when you got right down to it, so Darcy was in a bit of a muddle about what should come next.
Taking pity on the young man, Mr. Bennet gestured to the chair, reached for the claret still sitting on the desk from earlier in their meeting, then changed his mind and pulled out a bottle of brandy.
Drawing two glasses, he handed one to the younger man, and showing that he was not quite as fastidious a practitioner of propriety as his daughter, quickly downed his entire glass. Somewhat at a loss, Darcy followed his example, and looked on in bewilderment.
After a few moments, Darcy asked, "Was that check, or checkmate?"
Mr. Bennet decided he liked this young man and chortled a bit, then answered, "I did mention it might take some time to work out what she said."
"Yes, I can see that, but it is hard to truly understand a move that consisted of only a handful of words. Whatever the meaning, it was too subtle for me."
Bennet looked carefully at the young man for a bit, then replied, "Well, young man. Are you saying you do not understand what just occurred?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Well, Mr. Darcy, let us examine the chessboard. May I presume you had the rules of propriety drilled into your head relentlessly from an early age?"
"Yes, Sir."
"So, think of this as a game, propriety as the rules, and Elizabeth as a master."
The elder just sat patiently as the younger thought about it for a while, and he could see the exact moment when it all made sense.
Darcy finally said, "Your daughter is exceedingly polite, correct?"
"Yes. Unfailingly."
Darcy just huffed a breath and said, "Well, Sir. She answered me politely, did she not? From the first to the last, she gave me everything propriety required, in exacting detail, but not a single thing more. Not a single glance, not a single extra word, not a single quarter inch in her curtsy, not a single second longer in my company than required."
Bennet laughed a bit, as that was entirely as he saw that situation, and asked, "So young man, what do you conclude about the state of play?"
"It is obvious, Sir. She does not like me. If I had to hazard a guess, I would say she does not know me, does not wish to know me, and would be much obliged were I to disappear entirely. She could not have been any clearer without resorting to ill manners."
The father chuckled good naturedly, and replied, "Exactly… precisely."
Both men sat in thought for a moment, and Bennet poured another half-shot of brandy, for sipping this time. They used a few minutes in this manner, and Darcy finally asked, "What do you recommend, Sir? You are her father. I assume you know her best. I will abide by your suggestion."
Bennet looked at the man for a moment, and suggested, "The simplest thing for you, would be to knock over your king and withdraw from the field, Sir. You have done your duty. Honor is satisfied, as apparently is your victim. You owe nothing more."
Darcy thought a few minutes, and asked, "What if I desire a rematch?"
Bennet thought about that for a few minutes, and finally replied, "What is the ultimate goal of the game, Sir?"
Darcy quickly replied, "I will make no promises at this point beyond the basics. I will act honorably, and with perfect decorum, but cannot otherwise say how a potential game might play out. Her friendship seems worth the winning, but I am already down a queen and two bishops."
Bennet laughed a bit, then thought about it a moment more, and finally said, "Well, Son. Elizabeth is stubborn and tenacious, and unless I completely misread the signs, she wants nothing to do with you. That is unlikely to change any time soon, if ever. For the most part, I have found she is overly reliant on first impressions. Most of the time, I fear that her good opinion once lost, is lost forever. She is skilled at ridding herself of pests. Are you certain this is a challenge you wish to undertake? There is no shame in withdrawing with a stalemate."
Darcy nodded a few times, and said, "I should like to at least move a pawn out of the front rank, Sir."
Bennet chuckled a bit, wondered how much hurt he was setting himself up for from his second eldest, and replied with a chuckle.
"Well then Sir, I suggest you come for supper tomorrow. Bring your friend, Mr. Bingley, and if you can manage it, leave his sisters. Instruct him to escort my eldest into supper, which should not be all that difficult. You escort Elizabeth and try to talk with her. She is incredibly bright, and I dare say well educated, so do not shy from any topic. The farther outside of the normal bounds of lady's discourse, the better. Engaging her mind is your only hope. She is clearly unimpressed with your demeanor or your fortune."
Both men nodded a bit, and Mr. Darcy left the study to be introduced to the rest of the family, before returning to Netherfield. Bennet had considered having him stay to dinner that very day instead of supper on the morrow, but he thought it might be useful to talk to his daughter before he threw her to the wolves.
Just before they left the study, he gave one final warning.
"Be careful, Mr. Darcy. Even her pawns have teeth. She can be tough as leather, but there is also vulnerability to her. I will not insist you accede to her wish to have nothing to do with you, but I will ask you to be careful, for your own sake as well as hers."
Darcy felt that it might be the most important conversation of his life, although quite why he felt that way after just seven words was quite beyond him. This was important, as if his destiny was not entirely his own anymore.