Lydia, who had been whispering with Kitty, now spoke up with a giggle. “I hope he is not too dull. A parson, how tiresome. Why can he not wear a red uniform?”
Kitty shrugged. “Even a parson can dance. We could invite him to the next assembly and see if he can keep up with the latest steps. Do you think he is tall?”
“What does it matter whether he is tall? He is a parson,” Mary reminded her younger sisters. “Doubtless, he will have much better things to do than dancing.”
“Oh, bother with his looks,” their mother huffed. “He is to inherit this house, and that is good enough. Lizzy, be sure your hair is tidy, and your gown… oh, no there she goes, out the door again!”
“Ah! There you are,Darcy. I was starting to think you did not mean to join us,” Wickham greeted with a genial wave of his hand as Darcy entered the breakfast room.
Darcy claimed a seat beside Bingley and forced a polite smile. “Good morning, Wickham.” He hoped his response conveyed the appropriate warmth without betraying his discomfort. To think of him, happily eating at George Wickham’s table… why, the whole thing still rankled. He simply did not know what to do about it.
Wickham settled back in his chair; his demeanour relaxed as he poured himself a cup of coffee. Bingley, after a thoughtful sip of tea, looked up with curiosity. “I was thinking a deal about this last night. Do you think the neighbourhood has a suggestion for someone to hold the office of MP if Sir Harold decides to step down?”
Wickham’s eyes lit up, and he leaned forward slightly. “Actually, Sir Anthony Mortimer was suggested.”
Darcy raised an eyebrow. “Sir Anthony Mortimer? I am not familiar with the name.”
“Ah, not terribly surprising. He is not of the first circles but a most trustworthy and intelligent fellow. His father happens to be from just north of here, about fifteen miles. I happened to suggest him myself.”
“You know him?” Bingley asked.
“Indeed, I met him in school.”
“You did? I was at the same school as you were,” Darcy reminded him.
“As was I,” Bingley added.
Wickham chuckled. “And I hardly saw you, Darcy, and never met our good Mr Bingley here at all. Not everyone was in the chess club or the fencing club, you know. Come, Darcy, there were over one hundred eighty men in our class!”
Darcy frowned. “And the handful who escaped my notice probably did so for a reason. I am acquainted with all the good families and—”
“Oh, Darcy! You do amuse me,” Wickham laughed. “A man must be born of the finest circles to be worth knowing.”
“I did not say that.”
“But it is in all your manners. Seriously, Darcy, he is an excellent chap. But do not take my word for it—Sir William knows him as well. He was quite pleased when I brought the man’s name up, as were a number of others. They say Mortimer has implemented a dozen new farming practices at his estate and has also managed to secure an apothecary to serve his tenants.”
Bingley smiled brightly. “Why, he sounds like a remarkable fellow! Having someone like him in London would certainly benefit Meryton.”
Wickham continued modestly, “Indeed, and with the support of the community, I am confident he will be elected. But that is not ultimately up to me, so perhaps I will ask your opinions about the upcoming Ball. Tell me, Darcy, for you must have overseen many similar events. Ought we to serve white soup or oysters first?”
Darcy glanced up. “You are mistaken. I have never—”
“Oh, of course,” Wickham chuckled. “I forgot, you are just as much of a bachelor as I am and have never played the host. Our situations are much the same. Well, save that you never enjoyed balls. But, quite seriously, most of the affair will be in the hands of Mrs Nicholls, and I’ve no doubt she knows what she is about. But Mrs Bennet has given me aguest list—rather extensive, I daresay. She tried to organise the seating, but I believe I shall make some alterations to that. You will thank me, Darcy, for she had you seated beside Miss Lydia.”
Darcy’s head snapped up with a swift look of horror. “Heaven have mercy,” he breathed.
“Hah! I knew you would say that. I think we shall adhere to the usual protocol of the gentlemen escorting their most recent dance partner to dinner, so Darcy, I admonish you to choose well.”
Darcy raised a brow and resumed moving his egg about his plate with his fork. “I expect I will be returned to London before then.”
“Oh, Darcy!” Bingley protested. “You would not miss the fun. Truly, what can be so pressing in London?”
“My sister, of course,” Darcy replied, not looking up from his plate.
“You spoke too quickly, Darcy,” Wickham answered. “I was hoping Miss Darcy could be prevailed upon to come here. Why, think of all the lovely ladies she could meet and—”
Darcy stiffened. “I do not think that would be appropriate,” he replied curtly, his voice strained.
