The social custom was to keep couples from sitting too closely to each other in a dinner party to make conversations more interesting. This never seemed unreasonable before. But now, Darcy wanted Elizabeth.
Roast goose, joints of beef, thick white soups, long strips of savory venison, pheasants and ducks. And squash, potatoes, carrots, all cooked to a fatty deliciousness. The presentation in the crowded dining room lacked the spectacle of high society dinners in town, but Darcy liked how the food had been prepared to be eaten, instead of looked at.
The time he dined in the Prince Regent’s pavilion in Bath, there had been puddings in the shape of castles, roast pigs dressed up as soldiers, and living centerpieces with food was served off the bodies of nude women.
The Bennets’ meal tasted savory and sugary in turn. The wines were excellent and the din of conversation made it almost impossible to hear anyone beyond his neighbors. The entire evening was infused with a convivial spirit of goodwill and the genius of the season.
The platters of food were half emptied and then carried away from the overfull diners, with the remainders to be given to the servants and then the cottagers. Then heavy black Christmas puddings were ceremonially carried into the dining room on silver platters and placed down on the table. The puddings had been aged for the past month and were now delectably ready to be eaten. Celebratory brandy was poured over each pudding then they were all lit at the same time. Blue and yellow flames leaped up, dancing in the air.
The footmen dished out onto the gentry’s plates the burning plum pudding, full of raisins, cinnamon, and nutmeg and bits of dried apple and held together with suet and egg. The smell of the brandy that made the thickest part of the mixture wafted with the fruit to their noses.
Darcy smiled at Elizabeth sitting across from him and lifted a forkful to his mouth, as though saluting her. She winked back at him. He really detested the rule which kept them on opposite sides of the table.
The sweet rich taste of the pudding melted in his mouth. Darcy closed his eyes to concentrate on it. He now understood Mr. Bennet’s story about Elizabeth stealing one a few days before Christmas to eat alone. He hoped Elizabeth would bring the Bennets’ recipe to Pemberley with her.
The alcohol in the pudding burned pleasantly in his mouth. Darcy swallowed the tasty bite. Then too quickly for elegance, he shoveled another into his mouth.
Mrs. Lucas, seated at his side, amiably said, “The Bennets have an old tradition of using a recipe that goes back to the time of Eliza’s great grandmother, I believe. The rest of the meal is exceptional for them. Mr. Bennet usually does not allow Mrs. Bennet to splurge so high on food.”
“An excellent meal.”
“With your marriage to Miss Bennet, perhaps hermothernow contrives to convince Mr. Bennet to relax the tight purse strings far enough to allow her to spend closer to the grandeur she wants. Ever since I arrived in Hertfordshire, it was clear Mrs. Bennet had a jealousy of how her daughter and Bingley live in a much wider style than she.”
Darcy shook away a vague surprised unease. He knew Mr. Bennet always set aside money for the support and dowries of his daughters. His marriage to Elizabeth would end the need. Mrs. Bennet had fortune enough for personal needs, and with five daughters married — though onewaswidowed — and two having married wealthy, she would have no need to fear or worry for a place to live.
His connection with Elizabeth was, in major part, a spiritual thing, untainted by money. But she, and by extension her family, were wealthier now. It was rational for them to spend more freely. Darcy slowly enjoyed the flavor of another bite of the Christmas pudding.
He liked being richer than Elizabeth. He liked being able to bring her into a higher life. It somehow filled the grand name and old dignity of Darcy with new life. The point of such status and consequence was that he could share it with Elizabeth. His grandeur, his pride, his place would become hers.
Darcy ate the pudding carefully and slowly, savoring the taste. But by the time he’d finished his seemingly ample portion all of the leftovers from the first round had been claimed by the other diners. Darcy stared in surprised dismay at the empty platter, with a charred spot from where some of the brandy had incompletely burned and congealed into a thick syrup. He thought about scraping it off and picking at the crumbs of bread and the few raisins left on the platter, but that would be beneath his dignity.
Elizabeth’s laughter rang across the table. Her cheeks were red and there was an additional light in her eyes. She leaned across the table and pointed at the platter. “We have others set aside — I shall ensure a pudding is brought to Netherfield for the New Year especial for you to eat alone.”
Feeling slightly embarrassed by shouting across a table, Darcy replied, “I expectyouto join me in the repast. I would not want an injured tummy.”
Elizabeth blushed and laughed, flapping her hand as though she wished to drive it away. “Do not rememberthat.”
“You recall my embarrassing moments.”
“I would claim it is different, but alas, your point is valid.”
Soon the female dinner guests withdrew to the drawing room, leaving the gentlemen alone in the dining room. Everyone continued to enjoy mulled wine, punch, eggnog and some ale. The crowd was loud and happy, though the presence of many older gentlemen kept the high spirits of the younger generation contained. Darcy continued to talk, laughing with Mr. Peake and Mr. Lucas.
After a little less than an hour the gentlemen rejoined the ladies in the dining room. When they entered the drawing room, Darcy’s eyes immediately searched for Elizabeth. A bowl of hot punch was set upon one table and upon a stove in the corner near it a pot of mulled wine. Elizabeth and her mother and sisters were happily talking and pouring and preparing hot chocolate and coffee for everyone. Sprigs of mistletoe decorated the ceiling.
He approached Elizabeth and she liltingly laughed. “Not so soon! You shall not grab me again for your own purposes. Notyet. Go talk to someone elsewhere. Now what is your preference?” She gestured at the coffee, chocolate, tea and the wine and punch.
“You.”
Mrs. Bennet stood behind his love, and she tittered and winked. If Darcy had not been slightly foxed he would have been slightly offended by the vulgarity, both his own and Mrs. Bennet’s. As it was he bowed to Mrs. Bennet, who without waiting for his choice, poured Darcy a full glass of the punch. “Very good, made with the best Jamaica rum. My brother purchased for us. You’ll not find better, not even on your fine estate.”
Darcy sipped the punch. He had drunk too much already to be able to tell whether the rum was good or not, but he thought that the punch tasted like alcohol. Elizabeth laughed and pushed him again, her hand lingering on his chest. “Go talk to someone. A little separation is good for the soul — Mr. Smith, chocolate or punch?”
Darcy had already talked too much today. His head buzzed, and he knew the sensation of a crowding of his thoughts that happened after overlong house parties. He amiably spent a minute talking to two or three people, but when one of the guests with a more distant house left the sofa to prepare his carriage and family for the journey home, Darcy seized his chance to sit and hopefully be allowed peace until Elizabeth joined him.
It had been a fine Christmas, but…even if he had Elizabeth near him, he disliked too much social intercourse. Elizabeth laughed and happied where she stood handing out chocolate and punch to her guests. His Elizabeth thrived under such attention. If he could be allowed to spend a mere two or three hours conversing, and then simply watch Elizabeth laugh and smile and throw those piercing glances of understanding towards him.
She winked and waved at him from across the room, before supplying a rotund woman with large bustles and a feather in her hair a steaming mug and a biscuit.
