Sir William only smiled. "Your friend performs delightfully,” he continued after a pause, on seeing Bingley join the group; "and I doubt not that you are an adept in the science yourself, Mr. Darcy." (Chapter 6)

In the first few chapters I thought Sir William acquitted himself rather well in a couple of situations. He visited Bingley; I assume he did not have to be nagged into visiting Bingley for the sake of poor unmarried Charlotte as Mrs. Bennet struggled to convince her daughter’s father. In Chapter 6 I thought he was a little cheeky when after Darcy declared “every savage can dance” he smiled and pointed out Bingley was dancing and then cheeky again to say in front of Darcy:

"You excel so much in the dance, Miss Eliza, that it is cruel to deny me the happiness of seeing you; and though this gentleman dislikes the amusement in general, he can have no objection, I am sure, to oblige us for one half-hour." (Chapter 6)

Darcy had been standing “in silent indignation at such a mode of passing the evening” so Sir William is not just cheeky but right too. I cannot but believe Sir William heard the story of how Darcy mortified Lizzy’s pride at the Meryton assembly ball. Is it possible that in Chapter 6 Sir William is playing peacemaker by trying to bring them together and dance—that which Darcy refused to do at the assembly? In Chapter 23 he retains the complaisance of a courtier despite Lydia’s unguarded, uncivil, boisterous exclamations and the family’s wondering and incredulous reaction to the announcement of Charlotte’s engagement. I admit this is not extraordinarily high praise but it was more than I hoped to find. I think Sir William is a star in Meryton despite his silliness because he is so obliging but he finds himself rather out of place when faced by his son in-law’s patroness or even her daughter. He goes from courtier to bumpkin in the course of fifty miles. ;D

Mr. Collins and Charlotte were both standing at the gate in conversation with the ladies; and Sir William, to Elizabeth's high diversion, was stationed in the doorway, in earnest contemplation of the greatness before him, and constantly bowing whenever Miss De Bourgh looked that way. (Chapter 28)

When reading Sir William’s antics at Hunsford and Rosings this time I thought that no adaptation had done his gaping awe justice. I envisioned his constant bowing to Miss De Bourgh with the accompaniment of a tuba note at the low point of each bow. In Chapter 29 his courage fails him more each step (with accompanying tuba notes) he takes closer to Lady Catherine until he is finally unable to speak at all, only able to give one low (in my mind) tuba accompanied bow. He only recovers enough during dinner to echo all Mr. Collins’ compliments on the dishes served. Later during cards Sir William is still uncharacteristically at a loss for words but able to fill “his memory with anecdotes and noble names.” Finally in Chapter 30, Sir William departs knowing his daughter is well settled so I do have one last nice comment to make. Although I think Sir William could hardly help being drawn to Kent eventually as the lure of the “great” would be hard for him to ignore—I do think he is a nice father to visit his daughter two months after her marriage and to bring a sister and her close friend too. ;D