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The dance concluded, and Colonel Fitzwilliam escorted Jane from the floor with careful attention.

Rather than returning her immediately to her mother’s side, as propriety strictly dictated, he guided her toward the refreshment table, where they continued their conversation with evident mutual pleasure.

This departure from expected protocol, slight though it was, did not go unnoticed.

“Well!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet, rising abruptly from her seat. “I believe I must speak with Lizzy about this.”

Darcy watched as Mrs. Bennet made her way with determined purpose toward Elizabeth, who remained conversing with her father near the west windows.

Mr. Bennet, demonstrating the finely honed survival instincts that had preserved him through decades of marriage, excused himself promptly upon Mrs. Bennet’s approach, retreating to the card room with remarkable alacrity.

From his position, Darcy could not hear the exchange between mother and daughter, but the animated gestures of the former and the composed patience of the latter told their own story.

Elizabeth appeared to be offering reassurances that did little to mollify her mother’s evident distress.

When Mrs. Bennet’s gaze fixed upon Darcy himself with sudden intentness, he recognized with inward resignation that he was about to be drawn into the situation.

Indeed, moments later, Mrs. Bennet approached him with the air of one about to engage in matters of great diplomatic significance. Elizabeth, following in her mother’s wake, cast Darcy an apologetic glance that somehow managed to combine warning with amusement.

“Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Bennet began, dropping into a curtsy more formal than any she had offered him previously. “What a magnificent ball. Mr. Bingley has provided such elegant entertainment, has he not? So very like him to consider everyone’s comfort and pleasure.”

“Indeed,” Darcy agreed, bracing himself for whatever was to follow this transparent preamble.

“Such an excellent host,” Mrs. Bennet continued, her voice lowered to what she evidently considered a confidential tone, though it remained perfectly audible to anyone within several feet.

“And so very attentive to Jane during his stay at Netherfield. They suit each other remarkably well, do they not? Both so handsome, so amiable in disposition.”

Darcy maintained his composure with effort, conscious of Elizabeth’s steady gaze upon him. “Miss Bennet’s excellent qualities are apparent to all who know her,” he replied, choosing his words with diplomatic care. “She is deservedly admired.”

This bland response did not satisfy Mrs. Bennet, whose agitation visibly increased.

“But you are Mr. Bingley’s particular friend, are you not?

He values your opinion most highly, I understand.

Perhaps you might... that is to say, a word from you regarding the particular advantages of a connection with Longbourn. ..”

“Mama,” Elizabeth interjected firmly. “Mr. Darcy cannot possibly involve himself in such matters.”

“Oh, but my dear Lizzy, he already has done so once before,” Mrs. Bennet countered with surprising acumen, causing both Darcy and Elizabeth to momentarily stiffen.

“Mr. Bingley would never have left last autumn without some encouragement from his friends, I am convinced of it. And now that Mr. Darcy is part of our family, surely he might use his influence to promote an attachment that would benefit us all so greatly.”

Darcy regarded his mother-in-law with a mixture of discomfort and reluctant admiration for her perception, flawed though it might be in specifics. “I assure you, madam, that Bingley makes his own decisions regarding matters of the heart. As indeed does your daughter.”

“But Jane does not always know what is best for her,” Mrs. Bennet persisted, her voice taking on a note of genuine maternal concern beneath its usual fluttering anxiety.

“She is too yielding, too easily persuaded. Colonel Fitzwilliam, for all his fine manners and noble connections, does not offer the security that Mr. Bingley could provide. And Netherfield is but three miles from Longbourn! I should see Jane almost daily were she to become its mistress.”

This plainly stated practical consideration revealed more of Mrs. Bennet’s true concerns than perhaps she intended.

Above financial calculation lay a mother’s desire to keep her daughter close, to maintain the familial bonds that marriage might otherwise strain.

Despite the often awkward manner in which Mrs. Bennet expressed her maternal affection, Darcy could not help but acknowledge the genuine feeling beneath it.

“I understand your concerns, Mrs. Bennet,” he said, his tone softening slightly.

“But I must emphasize that your daughter’s happiness should be the primary consideration in any attachment she might form.

And happiness springs from mutual affection and compatibility, not merely from practical advantages. ”

“Happiness!” Mrs. Bennet repeated, as though the concept represented a luxury rather than a necessity.

“Of course Jane’s happiness matters. But can she truly be happy with a gentleman of limited means, however distinguished his lineage?

A second son must make his own way in the world, and military service offers such dreadful uncertainties. ”

“Colonel Fitzwilliam’s circumstances have recently improved considerably,” Elizabeth interjected, exchanging a brief glance with Darcy. “He has inherited property that provides him with independence and security, and is in the process of selling his commission, to retire from the army.”

“Has he indeed?” Mrs. Bennet’s expression underwent a subtle recalculation. “What sort of property? Where is it situated? How much does it yield annually?”

“Those details are Colonel Fitzwilliam’s to share when he deems appropriate,” Darcy said firmly, recognizing the need to curtail this line of questioning before Mrs. Bennet’s naturally indiscreet nature could compromise his cousin’s privacy.

“I can assure you, however, that his circumstances are now entirely respectable.”

Elizabeth skilfully redirected the conversation then, praising Mary’s very creditable performance at the pianoforte during the supper interval, which had received polite attention from several guests.

As Mrs. Bennet’s maternal pride in one daughter momentarily displaced her concerns regarding another, Darcy caught Elizabeth’s eye with a look of grateful acknowledgment.

Across the room, Jane and Colonel Fitzwilliam continued their conversation, their mutual absorption evident in their posture, their expressions, the subtle leaning toward each other that spoke of growing intimacy.

Observing them, Darcy could not doubt the genuineness of their attachment, nor question its basis in true understanding and affection rather than mere social or financial calculation.

Mrs. Bennet might lament the loss of a connection to Netherfield and Bingley’s five thousand a year, but Jane’s quiet radiance as she laughed at something Colonel Fitzwilliam had said suggested she had found something far more valuable.

Having himself discovered the incomparable worth of a marriage based on genuine love and respect, Darcy could only wish the same happiness for Jane, regardless of any temporary disruption it might cause to maternal expectations.

The evening had advanced considerably, shifting from the bright energy of early festivities to the slightly loosened atmosphere that typically accompanied the latter hours of a country ball.

Darcy, returning from a brief conversation with Mr. Bennet in the library, immediately noted the change in Bingley’s comportment.

His friend stood near the refreshment table, a glass of brandy in hand, the emptiness of which suggested it was not his first. Though Bingley maintained his smile, responded appropriately to those who approached him, and continued to perform his duties as host with superficial correctness, there was a glassiness to his eyes that spoke of internal distress medicated by alcohol.

His laugh, when it came, carried a hollow quality that caused Darcy a pang of genuine concern.

As Darcy watched, Bingley drained his glass and immediately signalled to a footman for another, his movements betraying a slight unsteadiness that would likely go unnoticed by anyone less familiar with his usual precise mannerisms. The footman hesitated briefly, perhaps questioning the wisdom of providing more spirits to his already affected master, but Bingley’s expression brooked no denial.

A fresh glass of amber liquid appeared, and Bingley accepted it with the slightly exaggerated care of a man conscious of his own impairment.

Despite this concerning development, Bingley remained remarkably successful in projecting the image of the jovial, attentive host. He circulated among his guests with apparent enthusiasm, inquired after their comfort, and directed the servants with appropriate authority.

Only in unguarded moments, when he believed himself unobserved, did his expression lapse into a bleakness that revealed the true state of his spirits.

Darcy’s attention was divided between concern for his friend and awareness of Elizabeth, who danced a lively country dance with Colonel Fitzwilliam.

His wife and cousin moved through the figures with matching expressions of enjoyment, their conversation animated though necessarily broken by the requirements of the dance.

Jane, having ceded her partner to Elizabeth, stood conversing with her younger sisters near the pianoforte.

Even at this distance, the heightened colour in her cheeks and the unusual animation of her typically serene countenance provided clear evidence of her emotional state.