A dinner party at Longbourn was always a grand affair, but, on this particular occasion, Mrs. Bennet had exhausted her nerves – and that of Hill – to define a guest list extensive enough and to dress a dinner better than she ever had before. All her neighbours and a group of militia officers – Kitty’s and Lydia’s favourites, enough to even the number of gentlemen with the ladies – had been invited and, none had dared refuse. She still gritted her teeth at the fact that, by Mr. Bingley’s special request, she had omitted Mr. Wickham’s name in the militia officers’ list, but, as likeable as the red-coated gentleman was, she would not dream of displeasing her future son.

Jane was too ecstatic to mind her mother’s behaviour; she usually bore it very well, but, after her visit at Netherfield, she had become totally oblivious of her surroundings. During their nightly talk, Elizabeth had only managed to make her sigh profusely and say incoherently and very evasively, the words ‘Charles, potatoes, love, wonderful, Charles, looking forward, delicious, love, wedding’, &c. &c. Not that Jane had not tried to be less nonsensical, Lizzy had to say, but, obviously, what had happened had led her beyond herself – and pleasurably, it appeared. Jane was also very distracted since Mr. Bingley and she had unhappily agreed that he would not call before the dinner; indeed, his sisters and his friend had just arrived.

The remainder of the Bennet household had done their best to avoid the whirlwind created by Mrs. Bennet during most of the day, but, as the hour grew closer to the event, Lydia, Kitty, Elizabeth and even Mary found themselves objects of their mother’s attentions. Now that the marriage fairy had entered Longbourn, she could be inspired in making prosperous matches for the other girls. Mrs. Bennet didn’t really expect anything of the evening – no unknown gentleman in attendance – yet, no occasion was to be missed. Each of them was therefore fussed over; and, in addition to Hill’s, she almost wiped out the upper maid’s sanity.

Charles had firmly announced during tea that he wouldn’t arrive fashionably late that eve; Hurst had sighed boringly, Caroline had sighed resignedly, and Louisa and Darcy had only nodded. Not unexpectedly, Hurst had joined Darcy and him in the library to have a comforting glass of port before leaving; Louisa, with Caroline in tow, had surprised the gentlemen by appearing at the door even before the appointed time of their departure. They settled in two carriages, Caroline choosing to sit with her sister and her husband, and departed for the three miles trip.

"Are you anxious?" asked Bingley to his friend.

"Anxious?" Darcy started, "Why would I be anxious? Are you anxious?"

"I? Anxious? Why would I be anxious?" he replied, frowning, genuinely surprised. "We’re going to a dinner to celebrate my engagement to the most perfect creature in the world; I’ve no reason to be anxious!"

"And I have?" answered his friend. "We entertained often in the same company last autumn; even if it’s not my favourite, I see no reason to fret!"

Charles looked at him expectantly. He had seen his friend toy with his signet ring earlier in the day, and he could still see it at this moment. He wondered briefly if Darcy faked confidence for his sake or if he was genuinely oblivious of his uneasiness. Since that evening in Hurst’s library, Darcy had not confided in him anew; and he was at a loss to understand his friend. Trying to decipher his stern behaviour, he decided then and there that he would suggest such another evening; Miss Elizabeth’s opinion of Darcy had obviously improved in the few days before his sudden departure to Derbyshire; whether it came from his advice or not, after all. But although they were in a carriage, already almost at Longbourn, and it was certainly neither the place nor the time, he prodded somewhat.

"You know, Darcy? I see a few reasons for you to fret. These dinner parties were almost two months ago and I never saw you very talkative in them. You and I know that your feelings towards some persons in this company have changed," the piercing and almost threatening stare he was shot with didn’t deter him from going on, "and Miss Elizabeth will be here, tonight, surrounded by her relatives. I know you don’t care about them and I’m not blind to her mother’s flaws even though she’s always been very kind to me…"

"Oh certainly she has been," Darcy smirked, "you’re a single man in a possession of a good fortune and she has five unmarried daughters… It must have been a hard time for her to start liking you!"

"You’re right, Darcy, I am a single man in possession of a good fortune and she has five un-married daughters. But how comes she doesn’t like you when you’re a single gentleman in possession of a greater fortune and a grand estate and she still have four un-spoken for daughters?" Bingley paused to let his words weigh into Darcy’s thoughts, then he carried on, "All the same, I’m sorry I brought this up. I just wanted to offer my sympathies if you needed them; I would understand if you were anxious. Hopefully, Jane and I will be the focus of attention and you’ll be safe!" He ended with a happy smile.

Darcy smiled back and nodded his gratitude. He recognised he had never thought about Mrs. Bennet’s behaviour in this light. She was a loud matchmaking mother but, she was not so mercenary as to pretend feelings she didn’t feel; indeed, he knew ladies in Ton who were slyer. Though I’m sure that if I fulfil my dream and Elizabeth and I become engaged, her dislike of me will vanish… This opened up a whole new realm of possibilities, I could make my interest obvious, she would certainly promote the match and help me win Elizabeth… How could she resist both her mother’s and my wills? Yet would I be happy knowing that Elizabeth married me because her mother made her? Of course I would be happy; being married to Elizabeth would make me happy, whatever the circumstances. Bingley told me once, that it didn’t really matter that Jane loved him or not, if she cared enough; I now understand what he meant. But would Elizabeth follow the dictates of society and agree to marry me if she didn’t wish to? She evidently favoured Wickham over me, he cringed at the thought, when one is nothing and the other so much; she refused to dance with me, twice; she’s never behaved like she should have; would she agree if I were to propose to her, now? He sighed; indeed, he had reasons to be anxious, not only for the dinner party, but for his future happiness. And Mrs. Bennet was a potential ally he would have to think about.

The stopping of the carriage startled him and he alighted from it still slightly in a daze. He resolved in staying out of the mistress of Longbourn’s prying eyes for the time, not totally giving up the idea of using her motherly instincts if he felt he were on the verge of failing to win her daughter.

All the Bennet girls were assembled in the drawing-room when the Netherfield party entered. Nevertheless, Mrs. Bennet didn’t give her daughters leave to welcome any of them. She fussed around Mr. Bingley, who, blissfully lost in an eye-lock with Jane, was utterly oblivious of it; complimented, then made her younger daughters compliment Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley about the elegance of their dresses, the ladies barely smiled their gratitude; and, as uncivilly as she was allowed, she ignored Mr. Darcy and Mr. Hurst, both being quite content with her behaviour.

None of the other guests had yet arrived and Caroline’s disgust climaxed upon witnessing it. Even if she had admitted that being in the Bennets’ presence was now unavoidable, she was far from welcoming the idea. Socialising with Mrs. Bennet and the likes seemed to be even more sickening in small company; and since she had no hope whatsoever that her brother would regain his sanity; since her sister, herself, had betrayed her and fallen into the clutches of the nauseatingly angelic Miss Bennet and her appallingly country-mannered sister; since she had resolved a mere week ago that she would stop pursuing the fine-eye admirer Mr. Darcy, she was left alone to endure and loath the vulgarity of this gathering.

Elizabeth gratefully observed her favourite Bingley sister repair to an isolated part of the room; gratefully since she gave her a good reason not to stare at Mr. Darcy. She had ventured only one glance at the gentleman. He looked serious, as usual; and, she thought, more as he had been used to look in Hertfordshire, than as she had seen him in London. But, perhaps he could not in her mother's presence be what he was before her uncle and aunt. It was a painful, but not an improbable, conjecture.

Darcy, after enquiring of her how Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner did, a question which she could not answer without confusion, said scarcely anything. He was not seated by her; perhaps that was the reason of his silence; but it had not been so in London. There he had talked to her relatives, when he could not to herself. But now several minutes elapsed without bringing the sound of his voice; and when occasionally, unable to resist the impulse of curiosity, she raised her eyes to his face, she as often found him looking at her mother as at herself, and frequently on no object but the ground. More thoughtfulness and less anxiety to please, than when they last met, were plainly expressed. She was disappointed, and angry with herself for being so.

Could I expect it to be otherwise! she thought, Yet why did he come back so hurriedly from Derbyshire?

Fortunately, soon enough, Mrs. Long and her nieces arrived and Sir William Lucas and his family followed closely. She greeted them with an eagerness they were not used to, then she lost herself in the not-so-enticing conversation of Miss Long, Miss Julia and Miss Lucas – as Maria now had to be called. It was only when the militia officers arrived that she looked up again at Mr. Darcy. All of the Bennet daughters had heard about Mr. Bingley’s wish to not have Mr. Wickham as a guest – indeed, she thought that the entire neighbourhood had heard about it – and, considering what Mr. Bingley had told Jane all those months ago, she had the strongest suspicions that he had only forwarded his friend’s wish. She wanted to be proven right, she wanted to witness Mr. Darcy’s rejoicing at his success, she wanted to see a mean contentment invading his face, she wanted to cast a shadow over her ever-growing good opinion of him. Truthfully, she wouldn’t miss Mr. Wickham. They had come back from London only two days ago – and those had been very busy days –, she had yet to see the officer and she didn’t particularly look forward to it. Telling her sister about his behaviour had made her even uneasier than she had been when witnessing it. She was now at a loss to understand the relationship he had with Mr. Darcy. The Mr. Darcy she had come to know in London could not behave as the one Mr. Wickham had described; yet the Mr. Darcy who had left Hertfordshire after the Netherfield ball could. And, although she had tried, time and again, to convince herself it was none of her concern, and she had neither reason nor means to understand the rift that now existed between the two gentlemen, she still did wish to make sense of it and get, at last, a sensible opinion of both of them, based on irrefutable facts. Such an inner fight could not be battled easily or without clouding her judgement, all the more since there was this voice in her heart, whose whisper was utterly in favour of the taller gentleman and was becoming more and more insistent. Thus, when she looked up and watched, first his stern scanning of the cluster of red coats that was entering the drawing-room, then the grim satisfaction which hardened his stare and, in her eyes, spitefully curled his full lips upward, when he noticed that the son of his father’s steward was not amongst them, she flushed and felt anger burst into her. Unwilling to risk being as improper as her younger sisters could be, she looked away quickly and tried to re-enter Maria’s, Julia’s and Cassandra’s chit-chat.

Although deeply contented by the evening so far, Jane and Charles felt slightly frustrated. Where, previously, they had been left on their own when in a private conversation, today, everyone was searching them out. The motive of the gathering being their engagement, it made sense to have every new guest come and greet them; being Jane and Charles, it made sense to welcome warmly and jovially those who would come to see them. Yet, and although neither would have confessed it to the other, both felt it could become bothersome; and the more it went, the less they enjoyed seeing new guests enter the drawing-room. When the officers arrived, both expelled relieved sighs; at last there would be some occupation for the numerous unmarried ladies and for their matchmaking mothers. They looked at each other, she blushed at the realisation that he had heard her, he impishly smiled at the realisation that her thoughts had been likewise engaged. They greeted the newly arrived company with unexpected cheerfulness, every officer replying in kind.

While Charles was good humouredly answering some of Captain Carter’s banter, Jane scanned the crowd in search of her sister. Catching her eyes, they silently exchanged thoughts on Mr. Wickham’s absence. Indeed, he was not here, for which Jane was happy; whether Lizzy was happy was more difficult to ascertain. Jane frowned slightly, but the order her sister wordlessly and teasingly gave her made her return her attention to her betrothed, her smile more luminous than ever.

Bingley was not waiting for any answer from her, though. The officers had invaded the room, and he was, as silently and as happily, receiving Darcy’s thanks for Wickham’s absence. His look darted across upon Elizabeth and, although she was amongst other ladies, she was curiously withdrawn. He whispered his surprise to Jane who looked back at her sister. She acknowledged that something was amiss; Lizzy’s shoulders were too tense, her smile too forced. Bingley looked back at his friend and frowned, discreetly pointing at Elizabeth.

Darcy had been vastly relieved at Wickham’s absence. He had expected it – indeed, Bingley had assured him that he had made himself perfectly clear to his future mother in law, yet he had dreaded his appearance since learning that quite a few officers would be there. Ever since he had decided to win Elizabeth, he had known that he would have to come back to Hertfordshire and try to participate more in its social life. Ever since he had learnt, on arriving at Netherfield, that there would be a dinner to celebrate Bingley’s engagement the next day, he had resolved on being more outgoing. It had not been that difficult in London, with Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner; he could probably do as well in Meryton. With hope, he had gone as far as thinking that he had, somehow, overstated the Bennets’ faults. Yet, he had not been in the drawing-room for long before derisively acknowledging that the good sense of the Londoner branch of the family had, indeed, not made the half-day trip to the country. And the more it went, the more he hoped that he wouldn’t have to apply for Mrs. Bennet’s help to have Elizabeth as his wife. It had been eight long days since he had last seen her, and he had only had the memory of her nape and the curl that had escaped her simple yet enticing hair-dress in the dim light of the theatre to live with during the numerous hours he had spent in his carriage. He had longed to behold her once again; yet greeting her, in her father’s house, with her family witnessing it all, had not been easy. He feared he had not been as courteous as he had been in Gracechurch Street, but he had been at a loss to act another way. He feared he had not been able to remain sedate when the small red-dressed troop had entered, but he had still been berating himself for his remaining silent and had not been able to hide his needless anguish to have Wickham around. He feared his relief had been far too obvious, but it had overwhelmed him for a short while. Hopefully Elizabeth wasn’t looking my way when they entered, he thought. Yet I’d rather she was watching me than hopefully looking for Wickham. How angy I was when I witnessed her disappointment due to his absence at Bingley’s ball! If only she knew… What if she were to also miss him here? Following Bingley’s look and observing Elizabeth’s unusual behaviour, he sadly concluded that his apprehensions had proven right. He saw her reluctantly smile at one of her companion’s words, and anger flared once again in his eyes. She could not, she would not be made unhappy by this scoundrel; it was his own reserve, his own want of proper consideration, which had allowed Wickham to dupe the Hertfordshire company. As awkward as it would be, he had to tell her, at least, how despicable the villain was.

When it was time for the party to repair to the dining-room, Elizabeth had been able to put on a braver face. The sight of her sister’s happiness was enough to give her her smile back, the teasing words of her father, when he went by her on his way to collect her mother, enough to make her giggle. Her laugh was suddenly cut off when Mr. Darcy bowed in front of her, requesting the honour to lead her to the table. She had been able to avoid the sight of him since the officers’ arrival and was highly taken by surprise in his application for her hand. At a loss to find any reason to refuse him, she agreed and felt numerous inquisitive stares while covering the small distance to the table. His addressing her thus amazed her even further:

"Miss Bennet, I see my offering my hand may have surprised you."

"Indeed, Sir," she replied, unable to find anything more clever to say and fretting over her want of presence of mind. Why was it that his sheer closeness was enough to unsettle her so?

He gulped; her tone was not engaging, yet he had to make his message clear. His voice drifted lower, "Miss Bennet, there is a matter I wish to discuss with you. It concerns a common acquaintance," he took a deep breath in, "it’s about Mr. Wickham."

"Mr. Wickham?" she cried, her voice fortunately covered by the ambiant noise of Mrs. Bennet’s guests moving to the dining-room.

His tone went further down, "I’m afraid I cannot do so this instant. If you would be so kind as to bestow on me some moments of your time after the dinner, I should be happy to tell you what I should have told you months ago. No one is to blame for the misunderstanding of this … man’s character but myself," now that he had managed to start, he felt the words rush, "and I cannot bear any longer the thought of your unhappiness over that scoundrel." He looked intently in her eyes; they had lingered and were now one of the last couples in the line. "I’m a very selfish human being; please, allow me to relieve my mind. Hopefully, it will also somehow relieve your sufferings."

She was enfolded in his gaze as she would have been enfolded in his arms. Had she been willing to, she wouldn’t have been able to deny him his wish; as it was, she had, at last, the chance to hear his version of the story. At first unable to utter a word, she nodded her acquiescence. Then she licked her lips and voiced it, "I agree to listen to you, Sir. Would after the coffee is served be convenient?"

Relief overflowed his heart and he impulsively grabbed the hand that was resting on his arm. "Thank you Miss Bennet. Any time will be convenient… I will wait for your signal."

She bashfully smiled, the heat of his gloved hand infusing through the fabric of her own glove. Her eyes left his to slide down to his arm. He followed her stare and, embarrassed, jerked his hand away. When she pulled off hers to sit down, he whispered to her once again his heartfelt thanks and went to take his place, as far from her as the table could divide them.

Anxious and uneasy, the period which passed in the drawing-room, before the gentlemen came, was wearisome and dull to a degree that almost made Elizabeth uncivil. Charlotte was no longer there, Jane was otherwise engaged, and the silliness of the other ladies’ conversation was something she didn’t feel capable of dealing with. She was lost in her remembrance of Mr. Darcy’s last words to her before dinner and of his behaviour while feasting. He had been seating on one side of her mother; and she knew how little such a situation would have given pleasure to either, or made either appear to advantage. She had not been near enough to hear any of their discourse; but, although she had thought he had, at first, tried to be more talkative, she had seen how curtly her mother had replied. Eventually, they had seldom spoken to each other, and their manner had been formal and cold whenever they did.

The gentlemen came; and, although she was in no humour for conversation with anyone but him, to him she had hardly courage to speak. What had he to tell her? How could she escape the room, with him in tow, to hear him out? She sighed heavily, memories of the same circumstances at the Umberight ball and what had issued from them still vivid in her mind. The eagerness she felt for his confession was only equal to the dread at finally having all the cards in her hands. She prayed that time would give her strength, and busied herself at pouring out the coffee while Jane was making tea. She could not help following him with her eyes, noticing he was less stern than he used to be, envying every one to whom he spoke, with scarcely patience enough to help anybody to coffee; and then enraging against herself for being so silly!

Lizzy, in spite of your own indecision in regard with Mr. Darcy, you have to be as strong as everyone believes you to be. You heard Mr. Wickham out; you almost enticed him to confide in you; you owe the same to Mr. Darcy; all the more since he asked you to hear him out. Stop being missish and fretting over such a request!

She was a little revived, however, by his bringing back his coffee cup himself; and she seized the opportunity of saying,

"Is your sister in London?"

"Yes, she will remain there till the end of the Season."

"And quite alone? Have all her friends left her?"

"Mrs. Annesley is with her, and I believe she made some friends while at the library."

She could think of nothing more to say; but if he wished to converse with her, he might have better success. He stood by her, however, for some minutes, in silence; and, at last, on one young lady’s asking for Elizabeth’s advice on some stitching matter, he walked away.

Darcy had been looking at Elizabeth from afar for quite a long time when, at last, she motioned towards the door. He had done his best in uttering a few words to the gentlemen who had earned the ‘not avoidable’ title when he had last been in Hertfdrdshore. He had even gone as far as congratulating Mr. Bennet on his speech. Truth be told, he had openly and genuinely chuckled on hearing Miss Bennet’s father congratulate Bingley – for having won his already most devoted daughter’s heart – and his daughter – for the mistery she had chosen to lay upon her London betrothal. He had less appreciated the blatant irony he had used to describe the whole family – and especially Mrs. Bennet’s – joy on learning Jane’s acceptance of Bingley’s proposal; yet he had to acknowledge that the lady herself had just seemed pleased to be mentioned. Nevertheless, the older gentleman had earned some consideration with the sincerity of his own happiness since it seemed to be genuinely based upon his daughter's. If only for this, Darcy had earnestly wished to make obvious his own pleasure at the match, and had born the trial of Mr. Bennet’s dry wit.

Once every guest was sipping one’s tea or coffee, Mary had determinedly opened the pianoforte and started obliging the company with a piece she had proudly announced she had especially learned for the occasion. Elizabeth had winced on hearing Mary’s words; after weeks of practicing, her performance was hardly satisfying, she dreaded what would be the result of only two days work. It had given her the courage she had tried to gather since agreeing to listen to Mr. Darcy, and, making her way to the door, she had easily sought the gentleman’s eye and indicated to him that he should follow her.

On exiting the drawing-room, Darcy found Miss Elizabeth waiting for him in the foyer. She silently led him to what was obviously the library. Although it could by no means compare with Pemberley, he felt immediately at ease in the room. She asked him if he wished to take a seat, he replied that it would probably be easier for him to stand. She settled comfortably in her favourite chair and gazed into the blazing flames in the hearth; with no expectation of pleasure, but with the strongest curiosity, Elizabeth waited for him to start. He looked at her, in the warm glow of the fire, and his heart missed a bit. G-d! But, she was handsome! He had to win her! He started the speech he had prepared during the dinner, in spite of Mrs. Bennet’s piercing voice.

Sow Potatoes, See What you Shall Reap, Chapter 25