Page 103 of A Question of Character

“That is very generous of you.”

“I strive for Christian charity.”

Mr. Bennet coughed into his hand. Jane bent over her sewing. Mrs. Bennet sighed audibly, whether from satisfaction or impatience with delayed engagements, Elizabeth could not determine.

Lydia’s color remained high for the rest of the visit.

Elizabeth found herself pleased as well, though for a different reason. Wickham’s refusal had been gently given; his attention to Lydia had not lapsed into possessiveness; and the mention of business, far from diminishing him, made his situation appear more respectable. He was building a future by practical means. That he would sacrifice an assembly for legal work would have been impossible to imagine in most young men Mrs. Bennet thought charming.

Later, when the guests had gone and Mrs. Bennet began issuing declarations concerning gowns, ribbons, and what might be done to improve the girls’ appearance before Michaelmas, Elizabeth escaped to the window.

Across the lawn, the late afternoon light lay warm upon the grass.

Netherfield was let.

This Mr. Bingley was coming. If this was Mr. Darcy’s friend, perhaps he would not be far behind.

Elizabeth pressed her needle through the linen in her hand and discovered she had made three stitches in the wrong direction.

Jane, sitting beside her, said very softly, “Lizzy.”

“I know.”

“You do not know what I was going to say.”

“No,” Elizabeth admitted, pulling the thread loose with more force than necessary. “But I suspect I should be embarrassed by it.”

Jane smiled and resumed to her sewing, leaving Elizabeth to imagine the assembly, the crowd, the music, and a tall gentleman entering a room in Hertfordshire as if the summer had not been very long indeed.

By the second week of September, Netherfield Park was occupied, its windows opened, its stables busy, and every household within visiting distance alive with speculation concerning Mr. Bingley and his guests.

The Meryton assembly rooms had never looked so important.

Every candle appeared to have been lit with unusual ambition, every ribbon hung with more consequence than it deserved, and every family in the neighborhood had come prepared to inspect Mr. Bingley from collar to shoe-buckle. Mrs. Bennet, having spent the afternoon in a state of agitation that rendered the house nearly uninhabitable, was now engaged in adjusting Jane’s gown for the third time since their arrival.

“My dear Jane, stand still. The lace has gone crooked.”

“It has not, Mama.”

“It has. Lizzy, tell her.”

Elizabeth, who had been fastening one of her gloves, glanced over. “Jane’s lace is innocent.”

Mrs. Bennet made a disbelieving sound. “You are no help. A young lady’s appearance at an assembly is a matter of consequence.”

“Then Jane is safe. She looks beautiful.”

Jane blushed and gave Elizabeth a grateful look. “There, Mama.”

“She does look beautiful,” Mrs. Bennet conceded, immediately recovering her spirits. “So beautiful that Mr. Bingley must be blind if he does not ask her to dance. Though gentlemen are often blind when one most requires them to see.”

Mr. Bennet, who had escorted them as far as the door and then withdrawn home with an excellent display of paternal sacrifice, had left his wife without any proper object for teasing. She therefore divided her attention among Jane’s gown, Mary’s expression, and the whereabouts of her two youngest daughters.

“Where are Lydia and Kitty?”

“Over there,” Elizabeth said.

Across the room, Lydia stood beside Kitty with the air of a general arranging troops. Her disappointment in Mr. Wickham’s absence had lasted until the first fiddler began tuning. Since she had no inclination to dance merely for her own pleasure, she had directed her energies toward securing partners for every other young lady in the room. Kitty had already been delivered to Mr. Goulding’s nephew with firm instruction not to waste the set by talking of ribbons. Mary, to everyone’s astonishment, had been introduced to a serious young man from Lucas Lodge who liked sacred music and possessed the patience to hear about it. Mrs. Long’s nieces were next.