Just the day before, Darcy had met Mr Bennet while riding. The gentleman had been visiting a tenant or neighbour—Darcy was not sure which, and did not like to enquire—and Mr Bennet had invited him to return to Longbourn. There, they talked about books, and Darcy determined Miss Elizabeth’s love of literature and learning had come from her father. As much as Darcy appreciated his conversation with Mr Bennet, it was taking refreshments with the ladies and being able to speak to Miss Elizabeth that left him smiling as he slowly rode back to Netherfield Park.
This evening, they met again for dinner at Mr and Mrs Stuart’s home. Darcy was not so fortunate as to sit beside Miss Elizabeth during the meal. But later, when he and Mr Bennet walked together into the drawing room to join the ladies, the older man led him to his second daughter.
“Well, what do you think, Lizzy? Have you learnt any interesting new gossip you care to share with us?”
“I am afraid not.” She laughed enough to make the curls framing her face sway. To Darcy, she explained, “My father will deny it, but he takes great pleasure in hearing the lateston dit. He will say it is only so he can make sport of our neighbours—in private, of course—but I believe he is just as curious as the rest of us and wants to know about the tooth Mrs Long’s grandson is cutting or that the butcher is considering giving the business to his son-in-law and retiring to the seaside.”
“Is he?” Mr Bennet asked, his eyes widening, which made her laugh again.
Was it any wonder Darcy found himself smiling at her like a fool? “I cannot say it is vital to know about a baby growing a new tooth, but I would argue it is necessary to understand the butcher’s intentions.”
“Thank you, Mr Darcy. My daughter does not appreciate the finer points of why I require her to tell me everything she hears, even if it is about teeth or, dare I admit it, new gowns purchased or who has been calling on whom. Ah, I see my wife has something to tell me. I leave you in good company, my dear.” He patted his daughter’s hand before walking away.
She regarded her father fondly before turning to Darcy and offering him a smile that, in his opinion, made her eyes light up in a fashion that no one could call anything but bewitching.
“My father told me he greatly enjoyed your conversation the other day. I believe he said it was ‘more than adequately diverting’”—she deepened her voice in imitation of Mr Bennet’s—“which is a remarkable compliment from him.”
“I also found it agreeable. His collection of books is excellent, and we discovered he was at university with one of my father’s cousins, a Mr Reed. Did he tell you?” She shook her head, and he continued. “Most of the Darcys, my father and I included, attended Cambridge, but this particular cousin went to Oxford because his mother’s father and brothers did, and it was her express wish to have her son do likewise. I understood he and Mr Bennet were quite good friends, though they only maintained their correspondence for several years after leaving school.”
“That is quite the coincidence! You may not know, but Papa inherited Longbourn not long after graduating from Oxford. He likely was too busy with his new responsibilities to continue writing to your cousin. I imagine you understand that very well.”
“If his experience was even half as taxing as my own, writing to an old friend would have been the last thing on his mind.”
Her eyes softened, and it made Darcy’s knees weak. As she talked about Mr Bennet not having a young sister to tend to, unlike him, but rather a mother who was mired in grief for her husband, Darcy was struck by a sudden certainty: Elizabeth Bennetwasjust the sort of lady he wanted to marry.
Other ladies, including Miss Bingley, had fortune and connexions—chiefly being the sister of a good friend, in Miss Bingley’s case—but there was something unique about Miss Elizabeth. Darcy would not deny that he knew women who possessed adequate wit and beauty, but, somehow,shewas the only one who was right for him. She was lively where he was too serious, she laughed easily, and he needed more humour. Beyond that, he had quickly come to value every conversation they shared, even knowing that she was in the same room, and that when something amusing or ridiculous happened, he could look across to her, and she would understand what he was thinking. Georgiana would adore her, and she would be a wonderful mistress to Darcy’s dependents and mother to their children. Yes, without a doubt, he could picture himself married to Elizabeth Bennet. After his recent conversation with Fitzwilliam, Darcy was certain his cousin would support his choice of wife, and surely Bramwell would too.
Recognising it was an issue to contemplate when he was alone, he said, “You were fond of your grandmother. That much is obvious from how you speak of her.”
“Very much. I was only six years old when she died, but my memories of her are strong. She was a very proper lady—do not mistake that—but she did not believe girls and women should be confined to certain interests or should deny that they have opinions of their own, even if they were contrary to those of their fathers or husbands.”
“Shocking!”
As he intended, she readily saw that he was joking and laughed. Her eyes wide, she said, “I know! I cannot say her influence made much of a difference to my sisters. Mary, Kitty, and Lydia were too young to really know her, and Jane has always been my mother’s favourite, and did not spend as much time with my grandmother as I did. But I credit her with my being stubborn, obstinate, and, hmm, what else have I been called…” She furrowed her brow and tapped her chin. The way the corners of her mouth twitched told him she was not discomposed by any slurs aimed at her over the years.
“No one who knows you could find anything amiss with your character.”
She blushed and redirected her gaze, but not before he caught sight of a pleased smile. “Mrs Stuart will open the instrument soon, and I shall be pressed to play. Is there anything in particular you would like to hear? I warn you, my abilities are meagre, but if you name three or four favourite composers, I might just know one of their pieces well enough not to shame myself and my family by attempting it.”
They spent the next while discussing music. It might have been ten or fifteen minutes; it was increasingly difficult to mark the passing of time when he was talking to her. When she was asked to perform, he watched with eager interest. It was true that she was not exceptional from a technical standpoint, but she played with so much feeling, almost as though she threw her soul into it, that she was, yet again, captivating.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
Caroline told herself, her mirror, and various other inanimate objects that they had only been at Netherfield a short time, and she should not have expected success so soon. Yet she was disappointed almost beyond reason that Mr Darcystillshowed no signs of being close to proposing. There were no hints in what he said or how he acted, and he asked her no questions about what she thought of matrimony. When she spoke of how all ladies longed to have a home of their own, he had only made a remark about her being pleased her brother had leased an estate. Was it too much to long for the day it was all settled between them, and she could look forward to being a married lady?
Mr Darcy’s failure to make her an offer was not the only matter on her mind when she sought a private audience with her brother in his study. Mr Darcy had, once again, gone on a solitary ride.
“I do not know why he has taken it into his head that we require his absence almost every morning,” she said.
“I told him it is not necessary, but he went on about giving us time to undertake our duties without his interference or him distracting us or some such thing. I never expected Darcy, of all men, to be so considerate. I thought he would be sticking his nose into everything we did.”
“That is not fair. I know he can be a little…overbearing at times, but I believe he truly means to be helpful.”
Bingley shrugged and allowed that she was likely correct.
“Before we talk about Mr Darcy and me further, what are you doing with Miss Bennet?”
“As I have said before, she is agreeable and beautiful. I mean nothing by talking to her now and again, and no one could possibly think I have any intentions, especially when we have so lately entered the neighbourhood.” Her brother glowered at her, which was mildly infuriating.
