Pomp and Circumstance: A Pride and Prejudice Continuation

Chapter 13: A Heart Made Sick

A/N: As always, thanks to you, my readers, and your votes :) Here's  the dinner party, part two...

~~~~~~

Once retired to the sitting room, the thread of conversation was restarted among the ladies, but there was now in their discourse a palpable sense of expectancy and restlessness, and of discordance among their party moreover. Lady Benson remained distant, and hardly a word could be coaxed from her, even by one as rousing and adaptable as Elizabeth. The Miss Bensons chattered among themselves, sat on either side of Georgiana; and it was then only left for Lady Langton and Mrs. Birmingham to join Elizabeth and Mary in discussion, which they did - nervously on the part of one, reluctantly on the part of the other. Thus, the conversation stuttered along at a lagging and uninspired pace, until at last the gentlemen's arrival was announced, and the ladies gratefully accepted them into the sitting room.

Conversations began about the room with renewed animation – no one seemed inclined quite yet to open the instrument, or to organize any games – the ladies, so reticent only moments before, suddenly found themselves quite equal to conversing after all, and began to speak with a newfound vigor. Poor Georgiana had been caught by Colonel Birmingham and listened dutifully, eyes wide with martyrdom, to his winding, vaguely-remembered stories of wartime ("Now that was on the third day– no, I suppose it had been the second day –") while Edmund Benson hung just behind them disinterestedly, making the occasional interjection, though it was unclear whether from pity or amusement; Lizzy spoke spiritedly with Lord and Lady Langton, Darcy made travails with Lord and Lady Benson; and Mary sat quite unattended on the sofa, observing the room and rather wishing she might go and retrieve a book from the case without the risk of interceding in anyone's discussion.

"You perhaps did not have chance to hear, Charlotte, but just now, over dinner, I have invited Mr. Crawford to an afternoon of painting with us whenever his work should allow."

"Oh, how wonderful, Emma! It shall be simply delightful, we must arrange it at once! We simply must insist upon your time, Mr. Crawford, it shall be the greatest shame to not have such an afternoon now that we have so set our hearts upon it, and that you have given us such hope for its execution!"

The Miss Bensons and Mr. Crawford were stood close enough to Mary that she might have been easily invited into their conversation if they so wished; but it was clear this was not the intention of the sisters; their closeness was symptom only of them wishing to be heard, and envied, for their winsome, charming ways, and for their claim on a gentleman's attention.

Mr. Crawford's reply to them, as decorous as ever, was much to the effect of the one he had delivered over dinner – far be it from him to be the purveyor of false hope – however, he might be fated to fall short of their expectations – he was not, alas, a landscape artist, and his expertise lay only in a very narrow confine of the arts, and much more in the scientific interest.

"Oh, but Mr. Crawford, you do yourself a grave disservice! To strangers, you may very well feign shortcomings in your work; but you forget that we have already had the pleasure of seeing it, and examining it at length – so there is no use at all in attempting to convince us that your artistry is that of a common scientist's, or that your work is anything at all but exceptionally beautiful!"

"I see it is a most foolhardy and ill-fated individual who attempts to escape once you have set your mind to complimenting them, Miss Benson; but I myself am partial to the notion that my illustrations' beauty, as you so generously name it, might actually be due in part to their scientific intention. Was it not Berkeley who said that beauty's pleasure is proportional to its utility, Miss Bennet?" And here he had turned to Mary, as if she had been part of their discourse all this while.