Elizabeth was sitting by herself the next morning, and writing to Jane while Mrs Collins and Maria 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.
Elizabeth was not particularly surprised to find the gentleman both present and discomfited. While she had felt entirely justified that Mr Darcy's two sentences had given her a much better understanding, she doubted the two sentences she used to repay the favour did any more than confuse the poor man. Naturally, that made her wonder how she could use 'poor man' and Mr Darcy in the same sentence, but that thought was for later reflection.
"Shall I ring for tea?" she asked, more out of habit than politeness.
He looked confused, then allowed that he might be grateful for some refreshment, which she promptly rang for.
"I am writing to my sister, Jane. I believe what I have learned will go a long way toward mending her broken heart, so I thank you for the insight."
Elizabeth surmised that if her intention had been to make him squirm, her words had hit their mark. He was not sweating, but it was a near thing.
Darcy stared at her, and tried to start speaking several times, but finally gave up in temporary defeat when the Collins' maid bustled in with the tea.
Elizabeth went through the ceremony of pouring, which gave him several minutes to order his thoughts.
With the tea finally half-consumed, Darcy cleared his throat. "Broken heart?"
"Yes sir," she said, declining to be more explicit with Jane's personal business. She had said too much already.
"Does this relate to your two sentences of last evening?"
"It does."
"I chewed on them all night, and whilst I can possibly make some sense of your first thesis, I cannot make hide nor hair of the second. I would submit that the Bingleys have dramatic differences. I am only actually friends with one member of the family—and even he is sometimes trying."
Elizabeth chuckled. "I imagine you cannot see the forest for the trees. Shall I explain?"
"I would be obliged."
"Perhaps—but before I explain my assertion about the Bingleys, you might relay what you came up with vis-à-vis my sister?"
Darcy looked uncomfortable. "Since you assert that she has a broken heart, I would assume you mean she guards her privacy jealously—as do I. When Sir William interrupted our dance, I spent the rest of the evening observing her quite closely and concluded that the serenity of your sister's countenance and air was such as might have given the most acute observer a conviction that, however amiable her temper, her heart was not likely to be easily touched."
"Yes," she replied with a look a governess might give a particularly dull student who had stumbled upon the correct answer to a simple problem by chance. "She wears a mask of complaisance while you wear one of haughty, arrogant, disapproving, ill-humour—but they serve much the same purpose. That said, the similarities go much deeper if you care to dig."
Darcy frowned at the mention of arrogant ill-humour but seemed to have little to say on the subject. Instead, he drank a few sips of tea, and really thought about it for a few minutes.
Elizabeth sat in silence, apparently letting him chew over the problem.
She was gratified to see a look of enlightenment come over his face, which admittedly made him look somewhat handsome.
"I see… great beauty is the rough female equivalent of great wealth."
She smiled indulgently. "Exactly! She has been chased like a fox to the hounds for seven years, mostly by men who are attracted to a pretty face and fine figure. Not a single one of those lunkheads—including your inconstant friend—took the time to really know her. I suspect none of your huntresses have done so either. Miss Bingley is the one I am most familiar with, but I doubt very much she could state even your favourite genre, let alone your favourite book. I would happily bet that even I—barely acquainted with you—could predict your tastes with better precision."
Darcy grunted. "It is nearly impossible to really get to know someone of the opposite sex without raising expectations."
She scoffed. "Nonsense… it is just a matter of effort. I know more about Colonel Fitzwilliam after one night than Mr Bingley knows about Jane after six weeks of concerted attention. On the other hand, you and I know almost nothing about each other, but it is not for lack of exposure. We could both know considerably more if you had not poisoned my good opinion the first night of our acquaintance. My resentment is not nearly as implacable as yours, but it is difficult for even my very resilient good humour to recover from being publicly called not handsome enough to tempt you."
Darcy gasped and turned red in embarrassment, having forgotten the slight entirely.
"I have to say that somewhat goes against your argument that I resemble your sister. I could not on my worst day imagine Miss Bennet saying something so unkind, so untrue, and so ungentlemanly! Even if she violated her essential character long enough to do so, she would apologise most profusely within minutes or hours… not months… or never, as appears to be the case with me."
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, and simply waited patiently.
"Miss Bennet… I must apologise profusely for those words. I suppose now that I remember them, I can understand your antipathy for me, which I was too lunkheaded to notice all this time. I truly offer my most sincere and unreserved apology without excuse."
"You strengthen my case! Jane would apologise within moments of learning she had been heard. You learned two minutes ago —"
He chuckled, then laughed a little bit louder. "Do you always win arguments?"
"No, but I usually have the last word," she said with a smile. "Jane would forgive you immediately, so I suppose I am obliged to do so as well, since I aspire to some small part of her essential goodness."
"I am obliged to accept your forgiveness but will feel quite guilty about the exchange for some time."
"As would Jane," Elizabeth said with a laugh.
Darcy laughed along with her, and they tucked into their tea and biscuits for a few minutes.
After a time, Elizabeth took pity on the man. "I suppose you wish to know why I think all Bingleys are alike?"
"I would be grateful."
"Before I enlighten you, may I ask why you care so much?"
"You have no doubt observed that I am not the most congenial man who ever lived. Women seem to find me handsome, but I always asserted that I would not be quite so handsome if I were not so rich. I have had a hard time making friends who seem true. There have been a number of betrayals, but Bingley, Richard, and a half-dozen others have always been true to the end. I care for both like brothers."
"That is to your credit… or at least it would be if your care for your friend had not damaged my sister. I must admit I am still somewhat angry, but in the end, I believe Jane will be better off, so I suppose I must get over it."
"Better off… how?" Darcy blurted out, but then looked chagrined and tried to apologise.
Before he could get it out, Elizabeth laughed. "Keep in mind that Jane would apologise profusely after such a statement."
Darcy chuckled, and he apparently decided to quit while he was ahead (or at least not too far behind).
"Do not fear… Jane will find the comparison to you disconcerting for a few minutes as well," she said with another laugh.
"But we were talking about Bingley."
"Right… Mr Bingley. Before I continue, might I assume you talked him out of continuing his nascent courtship with Jane?"
Darcy looked embarrassed, but nodded, wondering how to continue in such a manner as to ensure his continued good health.
"Do not look so vexed. You are perfectly aware my mother and half the neighbourhood considered them practically engaged, or at least found it politic not to argue with her. Allow me to directly quote something I am fully aware we both heard."
Elizabeth raised her voice to a squeak emulating her mother. "What is Mr Darcy to me, pray, that I should be afraid of him? I am sure we owe him no such particular civility as to be obliged to say nothing he may not like to hear."
She dropped it back to a whisper in her own voice. "For heaven's sake, madam, speak lower. What advantage can it be for you to offend Mr Darcy? You will never recommend yourself to his friend by so doing!"
She looked to the gentleman. "Do I presume correctly?"
Darcy shrugged. "Sir William indicated the general expectation, which I rightly or wrongly assumed was the work of Mrs Bennet. She is not my first trap-laying matchmaker. In some neighbourhoods, simply repeating such an assertion often enough without challenge makes a man feel obliged if he is not careful."
"And her blathering on at supper, coupled with Jane's apparent lack of enthusiasm, convinced you your friend was in for a lopsided wedding."
"Precisely."
Elizabeth sighed. "Before last night, I would most likely have argued vigorously with you. She was half in love with the lunkhead, and still suffers all these months later."
"But now you will not …" he asked incredulously, "… argue, that is?"
"No, I will not. Since all Bingleys are alike, I am no more enamoured with the idea of Jane attaching herself to the so-called gentleman than you would be of attaching yourself to his sister."
Darcy shuddered as if the cold hand of death had touched his heart, and Elizabeth smirked in sympathy (which surprised her).
"I applaud your practicality and reasonableness, and yet I cannot condone my part in the debacle. I knew she was in town and did not tell Bingley."
Elizabeth frowned ferociously, and finally asked, "Did you think she was continuing her pursuit?"
His sheepish look and tongue-tied expression were enough to verify both the assertion and his feelings of guilt.
She rather boldly reached across the table and touched the back of his hand—their first contact since the dance at Netherfield. "I forgive you… as will Jane."
He smiled ruefully. "Forgiven or not, I will need to make amends."
"As would Jane," she laughed.
He chuckled along with her. "Perhaps, I can introduce Miss Bennet to …"
He seemed to realize he was skating on thin ice, so Elizabeth helpfully added, "… gentlemen who are not inconstant lunkheads."
He shrugged. "Bingley is not so bad, but I do think Miss Bennet can do better."
"Of course she can… as can you. Both of you need to break out of your shells."
He laughed again. "Are you certain you are not taking your first thesis too far?"
"I will abandon it the first time we find a discrepancy."
Darcy stared at his hand shyly. She had moved her hand back off of his, but still had it on the table.
"In that vein, may I ask who your best friend in the world is?"
"Jane, of course," Elizabeth replied confusedly.
Darcy chuckled again, then boldly tapped the back of her hand before removing his. "Well then… you must —"
Whatever he was going to say was interrupted when the door burst open and Maria entered practically shouting, "Lizzy, you will not believe what —"
She stopped abruptly, staring at Mr Darcy in consternation.
Darcy, much to Charlotte's surprise took some effort to put Maria at ease and related the mistake which had occasioned his intruding on Miss Bennet. Naturally, he had come there very specifically to speak to her, but propriety demanded he make some ridiculous excuse to preserve her reputation.
After a few minutes general conversation, he saw that Maria was still quite nervous around him, and apparently decided that was a problem for another day. He politely went away, giving Elizabeth a look indicating that their conversation was not finished.
Charlotte asked, "What in the world have you done to poor Mr Darcy?"
Elizabeth laughed. "You would not believe me."
"Try me!"
"I think I befriended him."