Mr. Darcy Came to Dinner (23 page)

Even though she was successful in her mission, Elizabeth was unhappy with her father’s reluctance to do the right and proper thing without being first hounded into action. He had shown himself repeatedly to be selfish and indolent, complaining about the imposition of Mr. Darcy. In comparison, Mr. Darcy was a paragon, for all his faults.

She could not have known it, but her opinion of Mr. Darcy would be even higher before the day was done. During music practice, she learned that Mr. Darcy had provided the funds to purchase the sheets of music that were now Mary’s most prized possession. At dinner, Kitty was ecstatic over her watercolors, and a full five minutes were insufficient to express her deep gratitude for Mr. Darcy’s generosity. For his part, Mr. Darcy seemed genuinely embarrassed by the attention, something that appeared not to be unusual given Miss Darcy’s amused reaction to her brother’s discomfort.

A subdued Lydia had given a contrite apology to Miss Darcy upon her return to Longbourn. Georgiana, being well bred, accepted the girl’s words with modesty and sincerity. At dinner Lydia was much quieter than customary. Elizabeth dismissed it; her sister was probably worried about her punishment being extended if she did not behave.

Mr. Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam returned for dinner, once again without the company of Miss Bingley or the Hursts. Elizabeth did not know the depth of Mr. Bingley’s concern for his sister, for he was too busy talking and gazing at Elizabeth’s sister. Jane was much affected by the attention — affected, that is, by Jane’s standards. Her blushing and the averting of her eyes spoke volumes to Elizabeth. She knew that Jane had come to know what it was to love and be loved in return.

In her joy, Elizabeth flashed a brilliant smile at Mr. Darcy. He seemed both befuddled and pleased at the gesture, and Elizabeth realized her blunder. It would not do to send their guest the wrong message — not while he was trying to be a gentleman!

Speaking of gentlemen, Colonel Fitzwilliam was his usual charming self, but to Elizabeth, it seemed a façade, an act. She wondered at it. Did he regret his harsh words to Miss Bingley, or was he worried about something else? Mr. Wickham was still under lock and key in Meryton and had not yet been transported to London to face gaol. Might he be concerned that the man might talk his way free? If so, the colonel did not know the magistrate. That gentleman hated debtors with a passion. There would be no escape for Mr. Wickham.

The separation of the sexes was long that night, and it gave Elizabeth the chance to spend time in conversation with Miss Darcy. By the time the gentlemen rejoined them, the two had agreed to use their Christian names.

Mrs. Bennet insisted on cards, and Elizabeth found herself, by her mother’s design, partnered with Mr. Darcy. It was almost too easy — their competitors were Jane and Mr. Bingley — and though Jane was attentive enough, Mr. Bingley made so many errors that one might think him a simpleton if one did not know the cause of his distraction. To Elizabeth’s amusement, she caught Mr. Darcy rolling his eyes more than once during the game, a gesture that made the gentleman more approachable than ever before.

Late that night as she readied for bed, Elizabeth was happy she had finally come to understand Mr. Darcy’s nature and character. And just in time, too, for if she was not careful it would be all too easy to fall in love with the gentleman.

* * *

When Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam were alone in his room, the colonel poured them both a brandy. “To your health, Cuz, and to our removal to Town,” he offered as a toast.

“What?” asked Darcy. “You wish to leave Hertfordshire?”

“Do you not?” the officer shot back. “Would you not be more comfortable in your own house? When can you leave?”

“Fitz, my injury occurred but a week ago. Mr. Macmillan advised that I not be moved for another month at least.”

“Christmas, then? I hope the roads hold up.” The colonel walked restlessly about the room. “Bingley was in rare form tonight. I suppose he will offer for Miss Bennet soon.”

“Do you think so? Bingley has been in love before yet has managed to escape matrimony.”

“Not this time. Did you not see the fool he has been making of himself over that girl? It is embarrassing.”

Darcy thought about that and his better understanding of Jane Bennet. “Yes, he has been more taken by Miss Bennet than by any other young lady. If he is serious about it, he should act.”

“It will not be a brilliant match for him; it will not help his standing in society.”

“True, but I do not think that has ever been Bingley’s ambition. He wants a pretty and quietly charming lady who truly cares for him. If Miss Bennet loves him — and she very well may — she would meet his every expectation.” Darcy chuckled. “It is
Miss
Bingley that would suffer the disappointment.”

“Quite,” said the colonel sharply before turning to the window, staring out into the darkness. “Oh, I long to leave this miserable wilderness and return to civilization! How can you bear it?”

Darcy was surprised at the earnestness in his cousin’s tone. “This is a dark mood! I thought you enjoyed the countryside.”

His back still to Darcy, the colonel replied, “I spent too much of my time ‘enjoying the countryside’ from a tent in Spain. I think I shall go to Town for a few days.” He swallowed the rest of his drink, turned, and smiled. “Forgive me for distressing you. I shall be all smiles from now on.”

Darcy thought the colonel’s explanation was too glib by half but kept his observation to himself as his cousin moved to the sideboard and refilled his glass. “Have you heard recently from your brother?”

Colonel Fitzwilliam was surprised by the question. “Horace? I saw him before I left London. He and the viscountess are well.”

“And how are things at Argyle Manor?”

“Short-handed as usual. He never can make up his mind about staff. It drives Lady Eugenie to distraction.” He laughed. “I am not saying that is a bad thing.”

Darcy knew well the mutual loathing between the viscountess and the colonel. “Do you think he would take on a new cook?”

“If it would make dinners at Argyle more palatable, he should jump at the chance. Do you have someone in mind? You know he can deny you nothing.”

“As a matter of fact, I do — a local woman with excellent references. She has a daughter trained as a maid and a grown son — hard-working, but he has lost an arm in the factories. I would hope he could take the lot.”

“There is room for extra staff at Argyle, I am sure. The son lost an arm, you say? Horace would probably make him a footman and tell everyone the man was a veteran of the wars just to irritate me.”

“Good. I will write him tomorrow.”

The colonel frowned. “Why are you concerned with Horace’s domestic deficiencies? What is this unnamed family of servants to you?”

“You recall the maid attending me — Sally? I speak of her mother and brother. They are facing hard times as the mother lost her position when her employers left Hertfordshire.”

“Anyone with common sense should leave this wretched place. Ah, here you go again, saving the world! I wonder at you, Cuz. One of these days, your intrusion into other people’s business will get you in trouble.”

“It has done me no ill yet. Will you take my letter to the viscount?”

“I suppose I can suffer a half-hour’s visit with my dear brother and sister. I will be your courier.”

“Will you return?”

“Yes, in a few days. I shall not abandon you or Georgiana.”

“Thank you. One last request: Bring two or three of my horses back with you.”

The colonel nodded. “I planned to bring Georgiana her horse — hold, you said two or three? Why? You cannot ride.”

Darcy smiled. “Just do as I ask, please.”

Chapter 13

T
HE NEXT FEW DAYS
were little changed from the ones before them. The weather remained mild for November. Elizabeth never missed a morning ramble while Darcy spent his time after breakfast outdoors in the Bath chair, posing for Georgiana and Kitty’s amusement, often with Cassandra in his lap. In the afternoons, Mary, Elizabeth, and Georgiana practiced with Mrs. Annesley. Jane would sit and listen, working on her embroidery. Lydia would disappear for hours at a time, and only the groom and Darcy knew where she was to be found.

Like clockwork, Mr. Bingley would arrive for tea, the only event save meals that could coax Mr. Bennet to abandon his book room. Colonel Fitzwilliam had left for London, but he was expected to return, to the relief of the younger members of the Bennet household. Of Miss Bingley or the Hursts, nothing was seen, but only Elizabeth and Jane showed any concern over their absence. Mrs. Bennet, good hostess that she was, would normally be curious about Mr. Bingley’s missing relations, but she was too occupied entertaining the gentleman himself, thereby helping her eldest daughter secure the lessee of Netherfield.

Mrs. Bennet was also pleased at the affability between her second daughter and their august guest. True, Mrs. Bennet often found herself confused and sometimes shocked listening to their strange exchanges, which to her mind sounded like arguing. They were certainly nothing like the gentle conversation shared between Jane and Mr. Bingley.
That
was proper courting. Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy seemed to be debating most of the time. What sort of courtship was that? However, the two seemed to enjoy their discussions — Elizabeth was all smiles, and Mr. Darcy was very pleasant as he spoke to Elizabeth — so Mrs. Bennet was only somewhat alarmed.

Fanny Bennet understood she was not an astute woman. Her husband was considered by all of Meryton exceedingly intelligent for all the good it had ever done him, and she knew Elizabeth was Mr. Bennet’s equal. Mr. Darcy’s intellect was undisputed. Mrs. Bennet expected that Elizabeth would never be happy if she did not esteem her husband. She considered Mr. Darcy her daughter’s superior in wealth and learning, and if debating was how clever people made love in a crowded sitting room, who was she to gainsay it?

As long as there was a marriage at the end of it.

Now you, gentle reader, might think that Elizabeth and Darcy were well on their way to an understanding. Alas, you would be wrong. For, you see, as intelligent and perceptive as these two persons were, pre-conceptions continued to cloud the pair’s thinking.

Elizabeth’s esteem for Darcy grew by the day. Truly, she thought, he was among the best men she had ever met. In fact, he was fast becoming her secret ideal of perfection, and he was in danger of being placed on a pedestal to be worshiped from afar — afar because Elizabeth presumed there was no future for the two of them. This good, decent, generous, and handsome man was one of the richest landowners in Britain. According to something Colonel Fitzwilliam once mentioned, Mr. Darcy’s family came over with the Normans in 1066. The history of the family spanned that of the kingdom. He was a consort fit for the daughter of a duke.

Elizabeth took care not to fall in love with the gentleman; for the child of an obscure country squire to even dream of something more than friendship was simply absurd.

Darcy’s thoughts were less conflicted. He had surrendered to his desire for Elizabeth Bennet. He had fixed the idea in his mind that he would have her as his wife. He was humbled by learning of her previous opinion of him and his manners. He labored to prove himself to her, and as the days passed, he thought he was making extraordinary progress in changing the lady’s mind.

His attraction to Elizabeth was fueled by more than her undeniable beauty; he had put his stupid statement at the assembly completely out of his mind. She was witty, learned, charming, and kind. She loved the countryside as much as he did. He also perceived that she possessed the proper strength of character he desired in the future mistress of Pemberley. Darcy wanted no shrinking violet as his bride, forever hiding in his shadow. No, he wanted and needed a woman who would be his partner and confidant, as well as his lover and the mother of his children — someone who could manage his house, stand up to the slings and arrows of society, and provide the love and serenity he craved.

And why should he not marry Elizabeth? He was only a gentleman, and she, a gentleman’s daughter. She was certainly his equal, no matter what others, particularly his Aunt Catherine, might say.

Darcy was pleased that Elizabeth seemed to enjoy his company. There were times he was tempted to express more of his admiration — indeed, even to flirt — but he checked himself every time. Darcy was a proud man, and he would not make love to his choice while he was a helpless invalid. To rouse her pity was his abhorrence.

And though he would not admit it to himself, he was also reluctant to risk a considerable improvement in their dealings with one another by being more open. He was, in a word, scared.

Darcy should have remembered his family motto,
Fortune Favors the Bold
. It would have saved much heartache later.

* * *

The Bennets dutifully promenaded to church on Sunday, the matriarch of the family proud that their number included the illustrious Miss Darcy of Derbyshire. The young lady even sat in their family pew, and the group enjoyed the adjacent attentions of the Bingley party. The service passed either quickly or slowly, depending on the participant’s point of view, and at the appointed time, the congregation gathered outside the church for fellowship and gossip. The air was abuzz with talk about the absence of a certain clergyman from Hunsford.