After about half an hour, during which time she arranged and rearranged the seating plan, tweaked the placement of glasses and cutlery, and checked with the kitchen staff more than twice, she called everyone in to dinner.
Mr. Bennet was at the head of the table, of course. Jane was on his right, with her intended beside her, then Mrs. Hurst and Mr. Hurst. Elizabeth she placed on her father’s left, with Mr. Darcy beside her, then Mr. Darcy’s sister (Mrs. Bingley! Who would have guessed it!), then Mr. Bingley. The younger girls were down at Mrs. Bennet’s end of the table, where she could keep an eye on them.
The food was everything delicious and the wine plentiful; it was not long before conversation was flowing as freely as the ruby liquid.
“So, Mr. Fitzwilliam, I hear that you have resigned your commission,” Mr. Bennet said to his future son-in-law.
“I have, yes.”
“How do you think you will take to farming? Rather a quiet life after the military, is it not?”
“Quiet is exactly what I hope for, with my lovely wife beside me.” He smiled beatifically at Jane.
“Where, exactly, is this estate of yours? Chestnut something?”
“Chestnut Creek. It is in Derbyshire.”
“Close to your cousin’s home, is it not?”
“It is, yes.” Mr. Fitzwilliam began to wonder toward what end these questions were tending. He was certain his host hadnot forgotten the name of his estate, and he suspected the man was also well-informed as to its location.
“Perhaps Elizabeth will be able to visit her sister there.”
“She is always welcome, of course. Indeed, I hope you will all visit us there.” Ah, there it was, Mr. Fitzwilliam thought. Mr. Bennet hoped Elizabeth and Darcy would see each other again, in the event they were unable to work out their differences before the twelfth of January.
“Be careful what you wish for, Mr. Fitzwilliam. The entire Bennet family is a fearsome thing to behold.” Mr. Bennet gestured with his wine glass to the other end of the table, where Kitty and Lydia were in the midst of a loud argument. Mr. Fitzwilliam laughed.
Mr. Bennet glanced to his left. Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth were speaking together softly; too softly for a fond father to overhear.
“You look lovely tonight, Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy whispered.
“I thank you, Mr. Darcy,” she whispered back. She opened her mouth to tell him that he looked lovely as well, but she thought better of it. Instead, she said, “Your sister seems quite content with Mr. Bingley.”
“She is; I would not be surprised if they end up in love!”
“She deserves a happy ending after all she has been through.”
“I agree.”
“You are no longer angry with one another, I trust?”
“I think we have resolved our differences, and I thank you for your help in that regard.”
“Me! I did nothing.”
“Your opinions were valued by everyone in the room. If I may say so, Miss Elizabeth, your opinions will always be valued – by me. And it was you who gave me the impetus I required to put things right with my sister.”
Their eyes locked. And, again, it was Mary who interrupted them. “Lizzy, can you pass the butter down this way?”
***
After everyone had eaten their fill, Kitty and Lydia began to chant. “Snapdragon! Snapdragon!”
Mrs. Bennet was surprised when Mrs. Bingley, obviously a very superior young lady, said, “Oh! I love Snapdragon! May we?”
After that, there was nothing to do but do oblige. A large bowl was produced from the kitchen, into which nuts and raisins were poured. Brandy was added to cover the nuts and raisins. Mr. Bennet protested at the waste of brandy, but he was ignored, and the brandy was lit. Lydia, always competitive, reminded everyone that the person who was able to get the most raisins and nuts out of the dish was the winner. The room was soon filled with squeals of laughter as everyone tried to snatch the raisins and nuts from the bowl without being burnt.
Once the brandy had burnt out, Kitty and Lydia began squabbling over their count. “I got eight!” Kitty said.
