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The elder Bennet sisters gasped slightly but then turned their rapt attention forward to see what the man had to say.

None of the sisters could think of a single propitious thing a man might say in such a situation, but they could easily produce a dozen possibilities they would not care for.

Like it or not, even though they had lived there and attended that church all their lives; he was a very rich man, and his words would command far more respect than his relative time in the county or his behaviour warranted.

Elizabeth found her foot nervously sitting on its toe and tapping its heel until Mary helpfully kicked her shin and Jane took her hand.

The elder sisters both had garnered improved feelings for Reverend Fordyce with their rapprochement with Mary earlier—but he also had much to say that Elizabeth was considerably less enamoured with.

For example, among other ridiculous things, the good reverend suggested: “…A modest and unassuming deportment; a gentle and obliging temper; a discreet and prudent conduct; a scrupulous regard to truth and sincerity; and a circumspect behaviour in all your deportment.”

As the reverend’s words suddenly appeared in Elizabeth’s head, she had to think bearding the lions in their den at Netherfield, followed by riding a tired old nag home, would probably not be considered the least bit circumspect or modest. That little gem had come at the end of one of many of Fordyce’s diatribes on female virtue, probity, and modesty.

It pointed out one awful fact of English society.

In a contest between Mr Darcy and the Bennet sisters, even in their home county, there was no guarantee they would be the victors.

Mr Darcy had not especially hurt their reputations yet, but if he suffered from implacable resentment, he certainly could.

All those thoughts flew by in a flash leaving Elizabeth nervously anticipating whatever foulness the gentleman might spew, but she managed to keep her foot planted on the floor.

Mr Darcy addressed the congregation. “Thank you, Mr Turner. I will be brief.”

The reverend sat as Mr Darcy looked towards the crowd and continued with only a brief pause. He surveyed the entire room, not singling anyone out (much to the Bennet sisters’ relief). He then spoke in a tone that was deep and carrying like a preacher’s while surprisingly soft, to a rapt audience.

“I have belatedly discovered that I have behaved exceedingly poorly since my introduction, and I offer my sincerest apologies to everyone in this society. From the very beginning—from the first moment, I may almost say—of my attendance, I believe my manners should have impressed anyone of sense with the fullest belief of my arrogance, my conceit, and my selfish disdain of the feelings of others. I have said disparaging or unkind things, to or about people who have done me no wrong; or allowed them to be said in my presence without challenge. I have declined introductions and failed to acknowledge people who have shown our party nothing but the greatest kindness. I have left ladies stranded on the edges of a dance floor due to lack of partners, neglecting a very fundamental duty of any gentleman.”

He continued looking over the hall, while the congregation was quiet enough to hear a pin drop and most of the congregants were either staring with their mouths open or doing the same thing but more decorously.

The elder Bennet sisters were the most shocked of all, but Elizabeth could hardly think, let alone say anything.

Mr Darcy, having only paused for a breath, continued humbly.

“In short, I have not behaved in a gentlemanlike manner. I offer no excuses but simply say that I am truly sorry. It is my fondest hope that you have sufficient kindness in your hearts to allow me to make amends and begin anew.”

Dead silence reigned. It was easy to see the congregation was shocked. Elizabeth would have bet a year’s allowance the man was not capable of such an exhibit, and yet he had done something nobody could assert was anything short of admirable—and extraordinarily brave.

“Thank you,” he said, then he awkwardly returned alone to the Netherfield pew, and stared forward.

“Hear! Hear!” Sir William boomed in his usual jovial manner.

This touched off a general murmur of nervous, surprised appreciation that filled the room; gradually increasing to a low roar as others joined in agreement. Nobody , including the Bennet sisters, had ever seen such a spectacle, and it was impressive, to say the very least.

Mr Turner resumed the pulpit. “Well said, sir. Very well said, indeed.”

He looked around like the excellent showman he was and continued loud enough to silence the murmurs and command everyone’s attention.

“I promise all of you…” he said with a grand gesture to include everyone, then with a laugh and a smile, he continued, “I did not pick the sermon topic as an opening act for the Derbyshire gentleman.”

Everyone burst into laughter as intended, including the Bennet sisters.

None of the elder sisters had the slightest idea what to think of the performance, but think on it long and hard, they would most certainly do at their earliest convenience.