Chapter Text
Mrs. Bennet’s very focused attitude towards marrying off her daughters may give her many faults, but she does tend to be perceptive when it counts. Which is why, the day after Lady Catherine de Bourg comes to visit, she spends quite a bit more time than usual studying her second eldest daughter. It’s not like Elizabeth to be so affected by any one person, and yet she has spent the better part of the day bent intently over her needlework without making more than three dozen stitches. Elizabeth had not said a word more than necessary about their meeting in the garden, but Mrs. Bennet knows it must somehow be connected to her daughter’s sudden lack of spirit. Whatever that connection may be, however, Mrs. Bennet cannot grasp it.
The sound of a horse upon the drive, then, is a welcome distraction. Trust Mr. Bingley to arrive so promptly for dinner.
“Why it’s Mr. Darcy!” says Kitty from the window, “whatever can he be doing here at this time of day?”
“Is he alone?” This was his greatest affront yet – Mrs. Bennet is sure of it. “The nerve of that man, arriving uninvited to a family dinner, without Mr. Bingley no less! Why it is simply unaccountable!”
Mr. Darcy himself is then shown into the room, and Mrs. Bennet has to end her tirade in order to greet the man. His simple bow in response does nothing to ease her temper. But then, “Good evening, madam. I do beg your pardon for calling at such an hour. I hope all your family is in good health?”
“Indeed sir, we are all quite well since you saw us last week.” He inclines his head in response, and Mrs. Bennet remembers her anger. “Is poor Mr. Bingley unwell? I cannot imagine what could keep him away and make him send you in his stead.” Elizabeth is sending her an alarmed look, but Mr. Darcy’s face has gone red, and that’s all Mrs. Bennet could ask for really. He hasn’t had the decency to look her in the eye since he entered the room, so she ought to be allowed a little bit of fun with him. In fact, he seems to be gazing quite intently to her left… at Elizabeth?
“I admit, madam, I have not yet stopped at Netherfield. I am here directly from London.” And now her daughter is staring back at Mr. Darcy just as intently, but with no small amount of surprise. Mrs. Bennet thinks she may have been handed the answer to all of her questions at once, but she must be sure.
“Perhaps you will be surprised to hear, Mr. Darcy, that your aunt called here yesterday morning. What a fine lady she was!” Both Mr. Darcy and her daughter flinch. Mrs. Bennet is delighted. Though Elizabeth has turned her face to look out the window and decidedly away from any of the room’s occupants, Mr. Darcy’s eyes do not waver from her face. Yes, Lady Catherine’s visit is suddenly much less out of the blue.
“I did hear of it.” Here, Mr. Darcy takes a hesitant step forward. “In fact, I must apologize for the manner of her visit.” Elizabeth stays turned away, and Mrs. Bennet, despite her recent revelations, is surprised by the sadness on Mr. Darcy’s face. Perhaps it is time to stop teasing the couple and help them along as she does best. Or, almost time.
“It really is quite a fine day outside,” she starts, and even Jane looks discomforted at this sudden and less than smooth change in conversation. But Mrs. Bennet will not be deterred, “why I’m sure that is exactly why you’ve returned early from London! The weather there must be dreary at this time of year. Nothing compares to fine Hertfordshire afternoons, you know.” Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Elizabeth coloring at these remarks. Mrs. Bennet’s jabs at the city were never very subtle, but that is all soon to be forgotten. She finishes with no little satisfaction, “In fact, I think a nice walk would be just the thing on an afternoon like this, wouldn’t you agree Mr. Darcy? I’m sure the girls would be happy to join you, or at least my Lizzy. She has always been so fond of walking, you know.”
The room is silent for a moment, then for two. Mr. Darcy has finally looked away from Elizabeth to stare at Mrs. Bennet instead. And then, to the surprise of everyone in the room—including the man himself—he laughs. Mr. Darcy stands in the middle of a room filled with Bennet females and laughs. This, as nothing before could, brings Elizabeth’s gaze back to him. And Mrs. Bennet sits back to watch as his laughter brings a grin to her face, and as her smile softens his into such a gentle expression no one knew he could wear.
Mr. Darcy takes another step to the sofa, much more confident this time, and extends his hand. “If you would do me the honor, Miss Elizabeth?” Her daughter—her brilliant, lovely daughter (ten thousand a year!)—hesitates only a moment before taking his hand. She says not a word as they quit the room, but Mrs. Bennet sees how tight Elizabeth’s grip was on his hand. She knows she has surmised correctly.
“Should they–” Jane starts and pauses, still somewhat bewildered by the conversation. “Should they not have a chaperone?”
“Oh no my dear, let’s leave that until after he proposes.”
“Why would he propose?” says Kitty.
“Again?” says Jane.
“Again?” says Mrs. Bennet. Perhaps she has not surmised everything.