It shouldn’t have been so attractive, but it was. The neatness of it. The way disorder slid off him because he’d decided it would. He was . . . impressive.
“Hello to you too.” Darcy laughed as he leaned down to pat Waffles and neatly avoided her dog’s attempts to lick his face.
“You must be Darcy!” her mother exclaimed. “I’m Frances Bennet, Elizabeth’s mother. These flowers are lovely, thank you. And this mustbe Athena. My goodness, isn’t she beautiful? Look at that posture. Like a queen.”
As if sensing she was being complimented, Athena stepped forward and allowed herself to be admired. Her good behaviour made Waffles look like he’d been raised by wolves.
Elizabeth released a nervous breath. “She’s very well trained.”
“I can tell. Unlikesomedogs I could mention.” Despite the slight, her mother patted Waffles on the head. "Come inside, then."
They followed, Waffles racing back inside at nearly the same speed with which he'd exited.
Once indoors, Athena sat while Darcy removed her lead. He hung it up on the peg over Waffle's own lead, then began to remove his coat. Elizabeth held out her hand to take it.
It was at that exact moment that Waffles chose to demonstrate his completelackof quality breeding by somehow managing to get his entire head and front legs over the stretcher of a dining chair, leaving his hindquarters marooned on the other side. Attempting to retreat, he failed to grasp that he must first lift his back feet to free them. He paused—plainly astonished—then began to reverse in earnest, creating a spectacular amount of noise while he spun in frantic circles and barked at the chair. No doubt he was informing it that he should like to be released.
Darcy grabbed the chair while Elizabeth extricated her dog.
“And that would be Waffles,” Elizabeth’s father said, appearing in the sitting room doorway. He held out his hand to Darcy. “I’m Tom Bennet. Please ignore the fracas. We’re typically much worse than this.”
Elizabeth watched Darcy shake her father’s hand while Waffles spun in place, her mother fluttered around offering tea and seventeen different varieties of juice, and her father grinned like he found the entire situation vastly entertaining. Which she was quite sure he did.
Then Lydia thundered down the stairs.
“Is this him?” she asked, appearing in the doorway like a whirlwind. “Oh my God, Lizzy, you didn’t tell me he was gorgeous. And is that his dog? She’s massive. Can I pet her?”
“Lydia,” Elizabeth said weakly. “This is William Darcy. Darcy, my sister Lydia.”
“Nice to meet you.” Darcy extended his hand with the formal politeness that Elizabeth knew was his way of dealing with overwhelming situations.
“So formal!” Lydia laughed, ignoring his hand and going straight for a hug that caught him off guard. “We’re not formal people, William. Can I call you Will? I’m going to call you Will.”
“Darcy is fine,” Darcy managed, extracting himself from Lydia’s embrace.
“Right, well, Darcy then. Very posh. I like it.” Lydia turned her attention to Athena, who had maintained her serenity throughout this entire exchange with a supernatural calm that Elizabeth was beginning to find mildly insulting. “And you’re beautiful, aren’t you? Such a good girl. Yes, you are.”
It was at this point that Waffles noticed that Athena was in residence. And despite having been rebuffed at every turn, he bounced up to her, tail wagging so enthusiastically his entire back end wiggled. Then he demonstrated his affection by licking her face.
Athena, who had clearly never been slobbered on by another dog in her entire decorous life, froze like a statue, just long enough for Waffles to trot around to her rear and . . . sniff. A typical doggie greeting, Elizabeth had to give him that.
For a moment, Athena stood stock-still, as though processing what had just happened to her. Then, she turned and walked calmly to the far cornerof the room, where she sat down with her tail to the wall and pointedly ignored everyone.
Waffles, delighted by what he saw as a successful hello, bounded back to the group and began showing off by offering to shake hands with Darcy.
“I’m so sorry.” Elizabeth touched a hand to her warming cheek, mortified. “He’s not usually this . . . well, heisusually this bad, as you know. I’m just sorry.”
“It’s all right,” Darcy assured her, but Elizabeth could see him glancing over at Athena, who was now sitting in the corner like a furry statue.
“Dinner!” her mother announced with a forced cheer that suggested she’d been listening to the entire exchange. “Everyone to the table. And Elizabeth, put that dog somewhere he can’t cause any more trouble.”
Elizabeth grabbed Waffles by the collar and steered him toward the laundry room, where she shut him in with his dinner, his dog bed, his favourite toy, and a stern warning.
When she returned to the dining room, she found her family arranged around the table like they were auditioning for a comedy programme. Her father sat at the head, enjoying himself immensely. Her mother bustled around laying out an herbed roast chicken, honeyed carrots, roasted Brussels sprouts, and little potatoes, all of which smelt marvellous—her mother might be nosy and pushy, but she was a very good cook. Lydia had positioned herself directly across from Darcy and was asking him rapid-fire questions about his car, his job, and whether he had any single friends.
Mary had appeared and was explaining to anyone who would listen why Christmas was essentially a capitalist conspiracy designed to exploit the working classes.
Kitty was taking photos of her dinner and had must have decided that Darcy was Instagram-worthy, because she kept trying to catch him in the background.
