Page 18 of Undone

"They did say at the assembly he has ten thousand pounds a year," Kitty observed without lifting her head from her plate.

"So they did," Mrs. Bennet replied. "Though if half these stories are true, I dare say he will not be worth ten thousand a year much longer."

Lydia laughed. "Then I am very glad Mr. Darcy did not ask me to dance."

Mr. Bennet, whose eyes had been scanning his newspaper while he ate, folded it and laid it beside his plate.

"It appears I judged Mr. Darcy rather better than I knew."

Mrs. Bennet frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I thought him a man burdened." He glanced towards Elizabeth. "If half these stories have reached his own ears, I daresay he carries rather more than most gentlemen."

Elizabeth felt a slight start. She had not understood the reason for her father's remark about Mr. Darcy beyond one of his whimsical observations, yet hearing Mrs. Bennet repeat the neighbourhood gossip lent it an unexpected significance. She did not believe such nonsense herself, but if society had attached so strange a reputation to Mr. Darcy's name, and if he had heard the whispers, it was little wonder he seemed a man weighed down by something unseen.

Mrs. Bennet gave an impatient shrug. "Burden or no burden, it cost him nothing to behave with common civility."

"Quite true," Mr. Bennet replied. "Still, if people believed ill fortune followed me wherever I went, I might decline a country dance myself."

Kitty giggled. "You decline them often enough already, Papa."

"An excellent observation. And without the benefit of so respectable an excuse."

Everyone smiled at the jest, including Mrs. Bennet.

Then, remembering herself, she huffed. "Well, whatever burdens Mr. Darcy imagines himself to possess, they are no excuse for insulting my Lizzy."

At that, Mr. Bennet's amusement faded, and his attention settled upon Elizabeth.

"Is this true, Lizzy? Mr. Darcy spoke so of you?"

"He did say something of the sort, Papa." Elizabeth kept her attention upon her plate, finding the buttering of a slice of toast unexpectedly absorbing.

"I am surprised you have not mentioned it."

Elizabeth looked up. "I had no wish to make more of it than it deserved."

Mr. Bennet studied her for a moment.

"That is unlike you."

Elizabeth smiled despite herself. "I did not take it very seriously, Papa. I do not believe Mr. Darcy intended quite so much offence as everyone has since supposed."

"Not so much offence!" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. "The man declared you were not handsome enough to tempt him."

"He did," Elizabeth admitted. "But I think he was out of temper and said the first thing that came into his head to end a conversation he did not wish to continue. It was certainly unkind, but I do not believe it was a considered judgment of me."

Even as she spoke, she was conscious of the explanation resting upon knowledge neither of her parents possessed.

She had not told anyone of seeing Mr. Darcy that morning, or his apology.

More than once on her walk home from Oakham Mount she had questioned whether she ought to tell someone, yet each time she reached the same uncertain conclusion. She could not bear the thought of placing her encounter with Mr. Darcy in her mother's hands, only to have it repeated to Mrs. Long and Lady Lucas until every word had been embroidered into something scarcely resembling the truth. Better, for the present at least, to keep it to herself.

"That is a remarkably charitable interpretation of a gentleman you met only yesterday," Mr. Bennet observed.

"Maybe he is proud," Elizabeth replied with a small smile. "But even proud men are not necessarily deliberate in every foolish thing they say."

Mr. Bennet regarded her for a moment.