Chapter Eight Back to Previous Chapter This chapter is dedicated to Rhonda, the Chief Acolyte, on the occasion of her nineteenth birthday. Answering a knock at his bed-chamber door the following morning, Henry was a little startled to find Bingley on the other side. "Did you give my message to Miss Bennet?" he asked anxiously. Henry managed not to smile. "I informed Mrs. Bennet that you intended to call and inquire after Miss Bennet's health sometime this week. She was most gratified." Bingley bit his lip and looked away. "You were correct, of course. It would not have been entirely proper for me to send a private message to Miss Bennet." "I can tell you, however, that Miss Bennet was privy to my conversation with her mother and blushed in a very proper, demure, and ladylike manner," Henry could not resist adding, and was rewarded with his friend's delighted smile. "I shall go today," Bingley declared. "Will you join me?" "Yes, but let us call early," said Henry. "I would not have the Bennets thinking I am there for another dinner." At breakfast, Bingley announced his plans and invited the others to join him. The Hursts and Miss Bingley declined, to no one's surprise, although Miss Bingley sent her best love to Miss Bennet. Darcy considered, and seemed about to decline, but after a moment agreed to accompany his friends. Some time later, the gentlemen accordingly mounted their horses and set off for Longbourn. The road took them through Meryton, where a group of young ladies were gathered on the pavement with three gentleman, one wearing regimentals. As they drew closer, Henry recognized the Miss Bennets, their cousin, and Mr. Denny, the gentleman of the militia. Bingley recognized them as well, and rode toward them wearing a wide smile. "Miss Bennet!" he cried upon gaining the attention of the object of his gallantry. "We were on our way to Longbourn on purpose to inquire after you! I am gratified to see that you are well enough to take exercise outdoors." Miss Bennet smiled up at him sweetly. Henry watched Collins carefully, but he did not seem to be put out by Bingley's rather marked attentions to Miss Bennet. Henry also noticed that Collins was standing rather closer than necessary to Elizabeth, who was clearly not pleased. Oh, no, poor Lizzy, he thought in some amusement. I detect the fine hand of Mrs. Bennet in this. She must have told Collins that Jane had a potential lover, and he transferred his affections to the next sister! Well, one certainly cannot fault his taste. Henry had no worries that Elizabeth would fall prey to Collins' powers of seduction, nor that Mr. Bennet would allow a marriage between them. However, Collins was clearly determined to marry one of the Bennet girls, and Henry could not imagine Mrs. Bennet allowing Longbourn to slip from her control if it was in her power to retain it, even if it would be through the rights of a mother-in-law. Perhaps Miss Mary Bennet could be prevailed upon to accept him, he thought with a barely suppressed smile. She is of a philosophical turn of mind and will make a good wife for an ambitious clergyman. And, should they inherit, she would probably never realize that her mother remained the true mistress of Longbourn. Denny was introducing his companion to Bingley, and as the man turned toward Henry and Darcy, who had remained a little back from the group, Henry was surprised at Darcy's expression; his eyes grew wide and registered surprise and not a little anger; his mouth was tight and his jaw rigid. Then Henry recognized Denny's companion as George Wickham, the son of the former steward of Pemberley. Wickham's reaction was no less strong; his eyes showed a flash of surprise and anger that was quickly quenched; he assumed a bland expression and, after a few moments, touched his hat, a salutation which Darcy just deigned to return. Henry had met Wickham during visits to Pemberley before the death of Darcy's father five years previously, but had not seen or heard of him since, from Darcy or any other source. As Darcy steadfastly avoided Wickham's company whenever possible, Henry did not know him well; however, his own powers of observation had told him that Mr. Wickham's air of gentility and breeding was often given lie by his behaviour. The elder Mr. Darcy had doted on young Wickham, who exerted himself to be engaging to the father while being consistently uncivil and disrespectful to the son. Henry remembered a fishing expedition to the Pemberley lake one hot summer's day while he and Darcy were down from Eton. Wickham accompanied them at the urging of Mr. Darcy, and there was a heated exchange between Darcy and Wickham that nearly turned into a brawl, with Henry and the gillie desperately trying to separate the combatants. 'Tis strange, mused Henry to himself. One would think that two boys, brought up together as were Darcy and Wickham, would get along as brothers. Then he recalled his relationship with his own brother, Frederick, and understood his friend a little better. The ladies professed their intention to visit their aunt Philips, so Bingley, satisfied with seeing Miss Bennet well and glad to see him, was ready to return to Netherfield Park. They took their leave and turned their horses about. Bingley was in high spirits, and his conversation with Henry kept the latter from noticing that Darcy had fallen back and did not join in their conversation or even appear to be listening. Finally, Bingley lapsed into silent contemplation, and Henry reined in his mount and fell back abreast of Darcy. He noted the tightness of his friend's jaw and the whiteness around his lips, and said quietly, "The appearance of Wickham in Hertfordshire has disturbed you, Darcy?" "It has indeed." "I know you two have never really gotten on well, but there will be little chance of meeting him except as a single member of a large group. I dare say you may avoid him easily." Henry studied his friend's face more closely and added, "Darcy, what is it? This is not a mere manifestation of boyhood antagonism. What injury has Wickham given you?" "I cannot speak of it," said Darcy, his strong emotions obvious though tightly controlled. "Even to you, Tilney. Suffice to say that he has importuned my family in the most infamous way possible." He slapped the horse's rump with his crop and galloped ahead. Henry was all astonishment. It must have something to do with Mr. Darcy's estate, he thought. Wickham probably wanted more than he was given, or perhaps was given more than he deserved. Henry knew how much regard Darcy had had for his late father; it was Wickham's offhand, disrespectful remark about the squire that had begun the altercation all those years ago. If Wickham had somehow importuned Darcy in reference to the disposition of his father's estate, that would indeed explain Darcy's anger. Henry sighed and clucked to the horse, increasing its speed so that he could catch up to his friends. He must take care to keep Darcy and Wickham apart as much as possible; but what would happen when he returned to Woodston in a week's time? "I have been thinking," mused Bingley at dinner that evening. "Now that Miss Bennet is well, it is time that I set a date for the ball. I promised Miss Lydia Bennet that she should name the date of the ball, and when I saw her today, we agreed that one evening next week would do very well." "I must return to Woodston on Wednesday," Henry reminded his friend. "Of course. I have business in London on Wednesday as well, and must stay some two or three days. Will Tuesday night be acceptable? Or will you find it impossible to drive that fancy curricle of yours after an evening of wine and dancing?" Bingley's eyes twinkled at Henry. "I can out-drive you after a week of such dissipation, my friend," Henry retorted, laughing. "Then Tuesday it is," Bingley declared with a grin. "What say you, Darcy?" "I dare say one day will do as well as another." "Caroline? May I depend upon you to act as hostess?" "Of course, Charles, if you are really determined upon having this ball." Miss Bingley's disinterest so matched Darcy's that she could almost be a puppet, miming the words that came from Darcy's mouth. "Tilney, you will be returning to Netherfield when your business is completed?" "Yes, I expect to return the Monday following." "Excellent. I should hate to see our merry party broken up." Bingley beamed at them all and applied himself to his roasted fowl. The evening of the ball finally arrived. Netherfield Park had been plunged into a flurry of activity for several days, but at last all was ready; the drawing-room, dining-room, and ballroom were festooned with flowers and greenery and banks of candles, which twinkled and reflected from the mirrors and gilt. The guests began to arrive, and they too shimmered in the candlelight, the jewels of the ladies glittering and the eyes of the young people shining. In the middle of all of them was Bingley, seemingly everywhere at once, smiling and welcoming, completely in his element. Henry watched Darcy nervously pacing the perimeter of the drawing-room and sighed. He had been dreading the moment when Wickham entered the house ever since he had learned that Bingley had issued an invitation to the militia officers. He knew he could trust Darcy not to make a scene in Bingley's home, but he did not know Wickham well enough to form an opinion on that gentleman's behaviour. It would be best to keep them apart, but how would that be possible in a crowded ballroom? He saw Elizabeth Bennet in the drawing-room, looking about her anxiously, as if waiting for someone. She was wearing a particularly lovely gown and her hair was dressed in a becoming style, festooned with flowers and ribbons. He walked over to join her and was rewarded by a smile and a warm if somewhat distracted greeting, while she continued to peek over his shoulder toward a cluster of red coats there assembled. Henry was very much amused. Lizzy must have formed a tendre for one of the officers! I wonder which one? And I wonder what Collins thinks of it? He did not question her, however, but merely made small talk about the weather and the state of the roads, which were still quite dirty from the rain they had received over the past several days. Lydia Bennet flounced toward them and rather rudely interrupted their tête-à-tête. "Lizzy," she demanded, "have you seen Mr. Wickham? I had hoped to dance with him, and Mr. Denny and Mr. Carter and the other officers are here, but Mr. Wickham has never arrived!" "I have not seen him," said Elizabeth quietly. She glanced rather pointedly at Henry and added, "Perhaps he was not included in Mr. Bingley's invitation." "Come with me. We shall ask Mr. Denny." Lydia seized her sister's wrist and dragged her toward the group of officers. Elizabeth shrugged and glanced apologetically at Henry, who trailed behind them, as interested in Wickham's whereabouts as the young ladies, although for an entirely different reason. Lydia eagerly applied to Denny, who told them that Wickham had been obliged to go to town on business the day before, and was not yet returned. Lydia's lower lip protruded and she turned away, thus missing Denny's next words, which he delivered to Elizabeth with a significant smile. "I do not imagine his business would have called him away just now, if he had not wished to avoid a certain gentleman here." Henry saw the flash of anger in Elizabeth's eyes with a sinking heart. Oh, no, she cannot have developed an affection for Wickham! Of all the officers, she would choose him! At the same time he experienced gratitude for Wickham's forbearance in staying away from the ball, which a less charitable part of him labeled cowardice. Before he could say anything to her, Elizabeth turned to walk away and was confronted by Darcy, who addressed her with great civility. "Good evening, Miss Bennet," he said politely. "You are well, I trust?" "I thank you, yes," she said, rather more shortly than was normal for her. Henry frowned; surely she does not blame Darcy for Wickham's absence! She cannot even know their relationship...or can she? What can he have told her? "And your family, they are all in health? Your sister seems to be quite recovered from her illness." "Yes, Jane is well, as is my family. I thank you for your concern, sir." She pushed past him and walked away while Darcy was opening his mouth for his next question. His face registered bewilderment and not a little injury; Henry was no less bewildered, and he followed Elizabeth into the ballroom, where she stood with Charlotte Lucas. "Miss Lucas," he greeted her. "Do forgive my interruption, but I must have a word with Miss Bennet." Elizabeth glared at him. "Anything you have to say to me, Mr. Tilney, you may certainly say in front of Charlotte." "Very well, madam. I was simply wondering if my friend Darcy has offered you some kind of insult." "What do you mean?" "Well, your recent behaviour toward Darcy was of such an uncharacteristically uncivil tone that I assumed that he must have importuned you in some disgraceful manner. If you will acquaint me with the particulars, I shall confront him directly, and you shall have his apology." He watched her face carefully. Elizabeth raised her eyes to Henry's, and he saw impatience in them, bordering on anger. "It is not I who has been importuned by Mr. Darcy, nor I who is owed an apology. Much more than an apology." "I see. You have been speaking with Mr. Wickham." "I have indeed." "And you took his word as to his relationship with Darcy." "And why should I not?" Henry chose his words carefully. "You should be cautious in your dealings with Mr. Wickham. His character is not consistent with his appearance." Elizabeth tilted her head to one side and looked at Henry curiously. "Do you know Mr. Wickham very well?" "No, I am not very well acquainted with him, but--" Her dark eyes flashed. "Then you have your information from Mr. Darcy! I at least make my judgments from what I have observed with my own eyes!" Henry clamped down his growing impatience. "Miss Bennet, I am not well acquainted with Mr. Wickham, but I have been in company with him, and I have observed him with my own eyes as well. And I can tell you that he is able to present himself however he wishes you to perceive him. However, this facade is as false as--as a coat of whitewash on a crumbling building. The exterior is clean and perfect, but underneath there is rot and decay." "You have observed Mr. Wickham in company, and I have observed Mr. Darcy in company. You tell me that Mr. Darcy is perfectly amiable amongst his friends, but I have experienced no such amiability, even when among those whom he calls his friends; on the contrary, my family and I have been on the receiving end of his incivilities. You tell me that Mr. Wickham is not to be trusted, when I have spoken with him at length and found him to be a perfectly unexceptionable young man. I beg your pardon, Mr. Tilney, but considering our past differences of opinion, I am having a difficult time trusting your powers of observation over my own, which are uncoloured by the bonds of friendship and are based on unbiased and disinterested perception." "Unbiased? Disinterested? On the contrary, madam! Come, confess! You are interested in Wickham, and will entertain no advice from truly unbiased parties, who have only your best interests in mind!" Elizabeth flushed angrily. "How dare you! You are not my father, or my brother, and have no right to speak to me so!" "I hoped that I had the right as your friend. I see I was wrong." Two pair of identical brown eyes glared at each other until they were interrupted by the gentle voice of Miss Lucas, who endeavoured to point out to Elizabeth that Collins was hovering nearby, waiting to claim his cousin's hand for the first two dances. Elizabeth placed her hand on Collins' arm and walked away, her head high and her cheeks burning, without looking back at Henry. He sighed and turned to Miss Lucas, who was smiling faintly. "I beg your pardon, madam. I would not have had you witness that." She laughed gently. "You only said the things that I would say to Eliza, although perhaps not quite so forcefully. She is foolish, in my opinion, to throw away the regard of Mr. Darcy for a man of such little consequence as Mr. Wickham." Henry stared at her. "Regard? Of Darcy? I am afraid that you are mistaken, Miss Lucas. I believe Darcy's heart to be engaged elsewhere." He pushed away his distaste yet again at the thought of Darcy marrying Caroline Bingley. Her eyebrow raised. "Am I mistaken? I am beginning to agree with Eliza's assessment of your powers of observation, Mr. Tilney." She pointed across the room with her fan. "Look at him now." Darcy was standing in a corner, watching Elizabeth dancing with Collins, a smile softening his handsome features. At first Henry thought he was amused by her partner, who was certainly a potential object of ridicule; awkward and solemn, apologizing instead of attending, and often moving wrong without being aware of it, giving Elizabeth all the shame and misery which a disagreeable partner for a couple of dances can give. Henry's ire melted away at the sight of her mortification. Then he glanced back at Darcy and realized that Miss Lucas was correct. Darcy was not laughing at Collins; indeed he was not even aware of him. He had eyes only for Elizabeth. There was affection in Darcy's gaze, and his smile was more wistful than mocking. Good God, Henry thought in utter astonishment. Darcy is in love with Lizzy! His mind reeled as it played back all the events of the past weeks. Darcy's incivility to the Bennets, then his attentions to Elizabeth during her stay at Netherfield--they were more than just polite. Henry's face flushed as he remembered his private conversation with Darcy by the pianoforte. I thought he was speaking of Caroline Bingley when he said that he had been bewitched, he thought in mortification. He was speaking of Lizzy. And his censure of my conduct with her! Of course, he was jealous of my friendship with Lizzy! How could I not have realized this? I, his oldest friend, who boasted of my deep knowledge of Darcy's character and heart! Perhaps Lizzy is right; perhaps my perceptions cannot be trusted, of Wickham or anyone else. He sighed and turned back to Charlotte, who watched him with the same faint smile. "Miss Lucas, would you care to dance with the greatest fool in the kingdom?" "No, Mr. Tilney," she laughed. "But I should very much like to dance with you." Henry smiled and bowed, accepting her gentle compliment. He offered her his arm and they joined the set. His thoughts were distracted, but he did his best to be charming to his partner, and she responded with smiles and laughter. Her rather plain features were graced with a becoming blush, which Henry attributed to the exertions of the dance; his vanity did not extend to thinking his company the cause of her heightened colour, being more accustomed to the openly worshipful regard of his own Catherine. At the close of the set, Henry delivered her back to her friend, whose eyes met his and then glanced away coldly. He had been going to ask Elizabeth to be his partner for the next two dances, but instead he turned on his heel and left them, and his reawakened anger did not allow him to look back. If he had, he would have seen an expression on Miss Lucas' face similar to that he had seen not long before on the face of his friend Darcy. Henry joined Darcy, who was still hidden away in a corner, thus avoiding the attentions of the mammas and allowing him to watch Elizabeth's movements. "You are not dancing, Tilney?" he asked in some surprise. "I would like to dance, but I have no partner at present," he responded shortly. Darcy looked at his friend with raised eyebrows. "I expected you would ask Miss Elizabeth Bennet," he said, then glanced away and added, "You always seem to favour her." Henry smiled to himself and said, "Why do you not ask her to be your partner, Darcy?" Elizabeth's hand was claimed at that moment by one of the officers, who led her to the set. "She certainly seems inclined to dance tonight." "Why should I set myself up for disappointment?" his friend said quietly. "You saw how she behaved when I attempted to speak with her earlier. I am sure that if I ask her to dance she will decline." "Well, if you do not ask her, she cannot accept, either," said Henry archly, and left to join Lady Lucas' party, where he was introduced to Mrs. Long's nieces, the eldest of whom he promptly asked to dance. When those dances were over he requested the hand of her sister, and thus it was not until the music began that he noticed Darcy had taken a place in the set, and stood opposite Elizabeth. He wondered briefly what had made Elizabeth change her manner toward Darcy so completely; then he realized that he was dancing to the same music with which he had first danced with Catherine, all those months ago at the Lower Rooms in Bath. His thoughts were necessarily drawn to her, but he had at last conquered melancholy at the thought of his lady, and he was able to conduct himself in such a way that Mrs. Long's nieces later told their aunt that Mr. Tilney was a most agreeable gentleman indeed. At the close of the dances, Henry delivered Miss Franklin back to her aunt with a gallant bow that made her smile and blush. He turned away and saw Darcy walk away from Elizabeth, his face sternly set. He tried to catch Elizabeth's eye, but she was accosted by Miss Bingley. Their exchange was not a pleasant one, judging by Elizabeth's angry expression and Caroline's disdainful sneer; Henry stood by rather stupidly, debating whether he should interfere, when Miss Bingley turned away, her expression haughtier than ever. Elizabeth, looking around, caught Henry's eye; he smiled, but she frowned and glanced away. He would have joined her in an attempt to re-establish their former good will, when his elbow was seized by Bingley. "Tilney," his friend said in a low voice, "Miss Bennet has been asking me questions about Wickham! What do you know about him?" "I know that his father was Mr. Darcy's steward," said Henry. "And I know he has importuned Darcy's family in some way." "Yes, Darcy has told me that much," his friend replied. "Do you know the particulars?" "I do not. Does Miss Bennet require particulars?" "I believe that Miss Elizabeth Bennet is interested in Wickham. I warned Miss Bennet that she should caution her sister that Wickham's character is not what it should be." Bingley frowned and watched Jane, who stood talking to Elizabeth. Henry sighed. "I have already cautioned her, Bingley. She is convinced that Darcy is engaged in a campaign to sully Wickham's reputation, little realizing that Wickham needs no assistance in that endeavour." "Perhaps I should ask Darcy," Bingley mused. "If I was able to give the exact particulars--" "No," said Henry immediately. "Do not mention Wickham's name to Darcy. Not now, not here. I would not have your ball disrupted." Bingley smiled. "You are a good friend, Tilney. Very well, I will follow your advice. Hopefully Miss Bennet will be able to convince her sister without our interference." Henry watched as Elizabeth shook her head impatiently and grasped Jane's hand. "I share your hope, Bingley, although the signs are not promising." "I must speak to the servants about the supper. Excuse me, Tilney." "Of course." Henry went to stand by Darcy, who was gazing thoughtfully at Elizabeth and Jane. "Are you enjoying the ball, Darcy?" Henry asked him brightly. Darcy lifted and eyebrow and said in tones of high irony, "Oh, yes. It has been a delightful evening." Henry could not help but laugh. "I am glad to see that you have retained your sense of humor, sir! My tutelage has not been a complete waste." "Tell me, Tilney," said Darcy, ignoring his banter, "do you think that Bingley likes Miss Bennet?" "I do indeed, and I applaud his taste. She is a lovely young lady." "Yes, but does she return his regard, do you think?" Henry was not sure how to respond. "She seems to enjoy his attentions." "Of course she enjoys his attentions. What young lady would not? But do you think she has very deep feelings for him?" "Why do you ask?" Darcy's frown grew deeper. "It has come to my attention that all of Meryton expects our friend to announce his engagement to Miss Bennet at any time." "I must say, Darcy, that such an announcement would not surprise me in the least. You do not approve?" "No. I cannot approve. She has no fortune, and her family is objectionable." Henry began to grow angry. "Her family is perfectly unexceptionable! Bingley is a gentleman, and Miss Bennet is a gentleman's daughter! How can you object on those grounds?" "If there were mutual affection in the case, I could not object. Bingley is fortunately in a position to marry without regard to fortune. But if he is to make a marriage with a young woman who does not return his affection, I would see him at least make a connection that will not expose him to the censure of society." "You do not think that Miss Bennet returns Bingley's affection?" Henry turned back to look at Elizabeth and Jane, who had been joined by Bingley. "No, I do not. Watch her, Tilney. She smiles, but her countenance is serene. I see no symptoms of love in her expression." Henry watched Jane, who was smiling up at Bingley. "I am sorry, Darcy, I cannot agree. Every young lady expresses her affection differently." Darcy glanced at his friend. "How certain were you of Miss Morland's affection when you offered her your hand?" Henry smiled widely. "Quite sure. But I was afraid that my father's behaviour had set her against me irrevocably." "Yes, but before your father put her from the Abbey, were you sure of her affection?" "I was indeed." Darcy's gaze returned to Bingley and Miss Bennet. "And yet you cannot read such signs of affection in Miss Bennet's expression?" Henry had to admit that he could not. Darcy nodded to himself thoughtfully, and then his attention was claimed by Collins, who had suddenly appeared before him. "Mr. Darcy," he greeted with an obsequious bow. "I could not let the opportunity pass to pay my respects to you. Indeed, I consider it a solemn point of duty." Darcy was staring at him as if he were a wild beast on display in a zoo. "I beg your pardon, sir. I do not believe that we have been introduced." Collins gave Henry a significant glance and cleared his throat. Henry said reluctantly, "Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, may I present Mr. William Collins?" Henry would have said more, but Collins began to babble. "I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, sir! I hold the living of Hunsford by the obliging condescension of the Right Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh. You may imagine my joy when I learned that the nephew of my esteemed patroness was in the same neighbourhood as my cousins, the Bennets. And it is my very great pleasure to pass to you the intelligence that Lady Catherine was quite well yesterday se'nnight." "That is very good news," said Darcy in tones of cold civility. "Please accept my most sincere apology for failing to pay my respects to you previously, but I have been much engaged with my cousins." To Henry's mingled amusement and horror, he glanced back tellingly toward Elizabeth. Collins paused, and Darcy saw that he should say something. "I am so well convinced of Lady Catherine's discernment as to be certain she could never bestow a favour unworthily." Henry nearly laughed aloud at the irony in Darcy's tone, which was fortunately lost on Collins. "Oh, indeed, Mr. Darcy! I assure you, sir, that I am fully aware of my very good fortune. The condescension I have enjoyed from your aunt, so much beyond what one could reasonably expect! And Miss de Bourgh, your cousin, such a delightful young lady! It is so unfortunate that her health does not allow her to go into society. I have told Lady Catherine that Miss de Bourgh's delicate health has deprived the British court of one of its brightest ornaments!" Collins paused for breath, and Darcy, weary of his obsequious attentions, made a slight bow and turned away. He muttered to Henry, "Ridiculous toad-eater! It is no wonder that Lady Catherine gave him the living. He is just the sort of man whose attentions she would entertain. How do you know him?" "He was in my college at Oxford, and was every bit as much of a toad-eater then." "My condolences, and my thanks for your forbearance in not performing the introduction at that time." "You are quite welcome." The call soon came for supper, and the guests all trooped into the dining-room. Henry took a seat next to Darcy and opposite Elizabeth; however, she would not meet his eye, let alone speak to him. Mrs. Bennet, seated next to Elizabeth, was speaking to Lady Lucas in a half-whisper that was nonetheless perfectly intelligible to the gentlemen. "Mr. Bingley is such a charming young man, and so rich! And you must agree, Lady Lucas, that it is very fortunate that he lives only three miles from us. And it is such a comfort to think how fond the two sisters are of Jane! I am certain that they must desire the connection as much as I could do. It is, moreover, such a promising thing for my younger daughters, as Jane's marrying so greatly must throw them in the way of other rich men. And I tell you, Lady Lucas, that it is so pleasant at my time of life to be able to consign my single daughters to the care of their sister, that I might not be obliged to go into company more than I like. I sincerely wish you such good fortune as I am enjoying, Lady Lucas." Henry heard Lizzy urging her mother in low tones to speak more quietly, as she was sure that Mr. Darcy and Mr. Tilney could hear them. "Oh, stop being so nonsensical, Lizzy! 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." "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!" But Mrs. Bennet continued to speak in the same intelligible half-whisper, and Henry saw Elizabeth blush with shame and vexation. She still would not meet his eye. He glanced at Darcy, whose face had shown contempt when Mrs. Bennet's speech began; he now wore a grave expression that did not alter all through her recitation. Finally Mrs. Bennet lapsed into silence, and they all applied themselves to the cold ham and chicken. When supper was over, singing was talked of, and Miss Mary Bennet, after very little entreaty, prepared to oblige the company. However, Mary's powers were by no means fitted for such a display; her voice was weak, and her manner affected. She progressed through several stanzas and received polite applause, enough to encourage her to begin another song. Henry glanced at Darcy, who continued imperturbably grave; Bingley was deep in conversation with Jane and oblivious to anything else, although his sisters made signs of derision at one another. Elizabeth's face, however, showed severe mortification, and she looked pleadingly at Mr. Bennet; he took the hint, and when Mary had finished her second song, said aloud, "That will do extremely well, child. You have delighted us long enough. Let the other young ladies have time to exhibit." Although Henry felt the necessity of Mr. Bennet's interference, he could regret his method, and he glanced down at his plate, embarrassed for Elizabeth and for her family. Mary looked disconcerted, but left the pianoforte, and other members of the company were applied to. "If I," said Collins, "were so fortunate as to be able to sing, I should have great pleasure, I am sure, in obliging the company with an air; for I consider music as a very innocent diversion, and perfectly compatible with the profession of a clergyman. I do not mean, however, to assert that we can be justified in devoting too much of our time to music, for there are certainly other things to be attended to. The rector of a parish has much to do. In the first place, he must make such an agreement for tithes as a may be beneficial to himself and not offensive to his patron. He must write his own sermons; and the time that remains will not be too much for his parish duties, and the care and improvement of his dwelling, which he cannot be excused from making as a comfortable as a possible. And I do not think it of light importance that he should have attentive and conciliatory manner towards everybody, especially towards those to whom he owes his preferment. I cannot acquit him of that duty; nor could I think well of the man who should omit an occasion of testifying his respect towards anybody connected with the family." And with a bow to Mr. Darcy, he concluded his speech, which had been spoken so loud as to be heard by half the room. Many stared -- many smiled; Henry himself was very much entertained by Collins' speech, and longed to give him some sort of rejoinder, but genuine concern for Elizabeth, whose misery was obvious, kept his expression solemn. He glanced at Mr. Bennet, who did not share Henry's delicacy, and whose countenance showed his great amusement. Once again Henry felt regret at that gentleman's actions; he esteemed Mr. Bennet, but could not like his behaviour that evening. Across the table, Mrs. Bennet observed in a half-whisper to Lady Lucas, "Mr. Collins is a remarkably clever, good kind of young man." At last the supper was over, and Henry sought out Elizabeth. Collins was hovering, but Miss Lucas had engaged him in conversation, and Henry took advantage of his fellow clergyman's inattention to address Elizabeth. "Miss Bennet, please accept my sincere apology for my behaviour this evening. I would not quarrel with you over Wickham." Elizabeth smiled wearily. "Nor I with you, Mr. Tilney." "I am very glad to hear that, madam, although I could not be perfectly comfortable if I did not give you a last warning to take very good care in your dealings with him. Will you promise me that?" "Be assured that I respect your opinion and will take what you have told me to heart." "Very well. I cannot hope for more in regard to Wickham, but dare I hope that you will agree to be my partner for the next two dances?" "I am afraid that is not within my power, sir. I do not intend to dance any more this evening." Henry was all astonishment. "The night is still young, Miss Bennet! Has our disagreement wearied you so much?" "No, I am not tired." She leaned closer and dropped her voice. "Mr. Collins is very eager to dance with me, and he has been extremely importunate. As much as I would like to dance with you, I cannot, since I have refused him." "Of course." Henry was disappointed, but understood and applauded her sense of propriety. "Are you enjoying the ball otherwise?" Elizabeth laughed shortly. "Oh, yes, I am enjoying it mightily! I tell you, Mr. Tilney, had my family made an agreement to expose themselves as much as they could during the evening, it would have been impossible for them to play their parts with more spirit or finer success." Henry could not disagree with her, but he did not wish to embarrass her further by remaining on the subject. "Even though you cannot dance, will you accept my company? Between us, perhaps Miss Lucas and I can deflect Collins' attention from you for the rest of the evening." "No, sir!" she declared, laughing. "You shall not deprive the other young ladies on my account! Go and dance with them, and enjoy yourself. Tomorrow you return to your parish, and I would not keep you from enjoying your last night of dissipation." He laughed and bowed, and did as he had been bid. The Longbourn party were the last of all the company to depart, and, by a manoeuvre of Mrs. Bennet, had to wait for their carriage a quarter of an hour after everybody else was gone, which gave Mrs. Hurst and her sister the opportunity to show how heartily they wished the Bennets away; they scarcely opened their mouths, except to complain of fatigue, and were evidently impatient to have the house to themselves. They repulsed every attempt of Mrs. Bennet at conversation, and by so doing threw a languor over the whole party, which was very little relieved by the long speeches of Collins, who was complimenting Bingley and his sisters on the elegance of their entertainment, and the hospitality and politeness which had marked their behaviour to their guests. Darcy said nothing at all. Mr. Bennet, in equal silence, was enjoying the scene. Bingley and Jane were standing together, a little detached from the rest, and talked only to each other. Henry attempted to engage Elizabeth in conversation, but she seemed out of spirits, and preserved as steady a silence as either Mrs. Hurst or Miss Bingley; and even Lydia was too much fatigued to utter more than the occasional exclamation of "Lord, how tired I am!" accompanied by a violent yawn. When at length they arose to take leave, Mrs. Bennet was most pressingly civil in her hope of seeing the whole family soon at Longbourn. "Mr. Bingley, I assure you that we would be very happy to have you eat a family dinner with us at any time." She glanced over at Henry and added, "Your friend Mr. Tilney will tell you that a formal invitation is not required." Bingley was all grateful pleasure. "I thank you, madam. I am obliged to go to London tomorrow, and must stay for a short time, but I assure you that I shall wait upon you--" he glanced over at Jane, who smiled shyly at him "--at the earliest opportunity." Mrs. Bennet was perfectly satisfied, and at last the carriage arrived and the Longbourn family quitted the house. Henry went outside with them. "I am very glad that we are friends again," he said to Elizabeth. "I will take care that we remain so." "As will I, Mr. Tilney. Will you shake hands with me?" asked Elizabeth, holding out her right hand. Henry took it and they exchanged smiles, their mutual trust rebuilt and their dark eyes reflecting their true regard for one another, deep and meaningful however recent in date. When he turned back to the house, he noticed Darcy watching him with a frown. Henry said in a low voice, "You may cease your detestable behaviour, sir. I am not your rival." "I know that, Tilney," said Darcy, his face grave. "But at least she accepts your friendship. She accepts nothing from me." He turned around hastily and began to ascend the wide stairway two steps at a time. Henry watched him, his face concerned; then a footman emerged from the drawing-room supporting the stumbling Hurst on one shoulder, trailed by Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley, and deep contemplation was no longer possible in the face of such an absurd display. Henry stood back to let them ascend the stairs, and when they were all gone he followed them, although he suspected that the tangled affairs of his friends--and not least of all his own--would prevent him from achieving sleep for some hours yet. Continued in Next Chapter ~ Table of Contents By A Lady Comment on this story Home ~ Site Map ~ Contact Original Images and Content Copyright © 2002 by Margaret C. Sullivan. All Rights Reserved.