Page 29 of Elizabeth and Mrs. Bennet

Mama and I continued towards the Salutation Hotel. Catching each other’s eye, we began laughing—for even though the stranger had insulted me, his companion had described both of us as uncommonly pretty and agreeable. This, together with our excellent excursion, cheered our spirits, for we delighted in anything ridiculous. Coming to the hotel, we immediately sought our room to change for dinner.

* * *

Chapter 13

Ambleside

“My pardon, Mrs. Bennet.” The innkeeper spoke to Mama as we entered the dining room. “A large party has reserved most of the seating. We have places for yourself and Miss Bennet, but at a table that seats six. Do you mind sharing with another party of four?”

“Of course not,” Mama replied. “I think that Lizzy and I would enjoy their company.”

We were led to a table near the corner of the room; the other occupants—three men and a young woman—were already seated. As we approached, the gentlemen stood.

“Mrs. Bennet, Miss Bennet! What a serendipitous chance to meet you here in Ambleside—and what pleasure to have you at our table!” Mr. George Darcy was beaming.

“Well, I never, Mr. Darcy,” Mama replied with genuine astonishment. “It is indeed a small world. You are already acquainted with Miss Elizabeth. Please, could you introduce us to your friends?”

The two other gentlemen had stood but had yet to turn toward us. I do believe I shall always treasure the expression that overcame Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy’s face when he was introduced. He coloured, his lips pursed; he looked everywhere but at me.

Oh, I am so impertinent—”I believe we have already met, gentlemen, but not been introduced—though to be spoken of behind our backs is, I suppose, not truly meeting; certainly not an introduction.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam, for that was the other gentleman’s name, burst out laughing. “Mrs. Bennet, Miss Bennet! More fool me for letting this curmudgeon persuade me against having Sergeant Appleby introduce us. Oh, this is too good!”

Mama and I curtseyed.

The young woman stood, and her father, Mr. George Darcy, introduced her. “My daughter, Miss Georgiana Darcy. My dear friends, Mrs. Bennet and Miss Bennet.”

It was my turn to gasp; my complexion coloured as much as her brother Fitzwilliam’s.

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet?” Georgiana put her hand to her mouth. Tears flooded her eyes. “Oh, I have so much to thank you for—how can I ever repay you?”

The seat next to her was vacant; gently, I took her hand, sitting beside her. “There is nothing to thank me for, sweetling,” I said, guessing she referred to her experience in Ramsgate. “Sisters look out for each other, do they not?”

“A sister? I have never had a sister.” She spoke softly, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

“Of course you do,” I replied. “From our very first letters, you have been a sister to me. You see, my elder sister Jane, whom I have spoken of, is now married. While she is very dear to me, perhaps you can fill that little space in my heart that is now empty.”

I took a handkerchief from my sleeve and gently wiped her tears. Looking up, I saw Mr. Darcy regarding us with such tenderness; the other gentlemen were looking on with confusion—that I, a stranger to them, was an intimate of Miss Darcy.

“Uncle, there is some connection here that I do not understand,” said the Colonel. “You are well acquainted with these lovely ladies, while, if Fitz has met them before, then his insult to Miss Bennet this afternoon would force me to call him out. What is it to be, Fitz? Swords—not your spindly épée, but a proper soldier’s sabre—or pistols?”

“It is of no import, Colonel,” I said. “I am tolerably satisfied that he meant little by it. But both my mother and I were well pleased when you called us uncommonly pretty and agreeable girls. I daresay Mrs. Bennet at least finds your description charming, if only slightly overdone.”

“Where did you meet the ladies?” inquired Mr. Darcy, directing his question towards the Colonel and his son. “We left you near the Bridge House, and thought you to follow us directly.”

“Indeed, sir,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, “but I spied two young women walking from the direction of Rydal, on the arm of Sergeant Appleby. Having been a soldier too long, I confess, I thought that the company of such lovely sisters would enliven my day, particularly as Fitz was in one of his dour moods.”

Oh, the Colonel was a practised flatterer—I saw Mama smile at the allusion that she and I were sisters. But why not? The walk had brightened her complexion, her lovely fair hair quickly pinned up before we went down to dinner, her dress of sprigged muslin was elegant simplicity itself—certainly not the dowdy style that most matrons wore. I sat back in my seat and admired her—she, indeed, could easily pass for my sister. I looked between her and Georgiana, who now sat forward, listening with interest to our banter. Both possessed the same fair hair, the same fair skin lightly tanned by walking outdoors. Indeed, this table could well be a family gathering—a family where both brothers and sisters sat at table. Lydia giggled—they were all handsome men—Kitty squeezed my hand, and Mary, sweet Mary, had discarded her books and regarded the company with warm satisfaction.

The conversation was carried forward by Colonel Fitzwilliam. He was a well-bred man, and talked of everything and nothing, but very, very pleasantly. His cousin, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, tended his meal and spoke very little. In this, he was similar to his sister. Georgiana, while having recovered her composure, still dabbed at her eyes now and then, blushing whenever I caught her gaze.

“This is so vexing!” I exclaimed, during a pause following the removal of the soup and the placing of the dishes of the next course. “How am I to address the gentlemen, when two are Mr. Darcys, and two are Fitzwilliams?” I looked towards Mr. Darcy senior. “Properly, sir, I should address you as Mr. Darcy, and your son as Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy—but that seems an impossible mouthful when one’s mouth is already full at table.” For emphasis, I speared a small potato with my fork.

Mr. Darcy laughed—Mr. George Darcy, not the son; the latter furrowed his brow and remained silent. “I see your problem, Miss Bennet. Propriety does indeed demand strict adherence to the rules of etiquette. Yet, let us agree the best manner of address. You and Georgiana are already, I believe, on a first name basis, through your correspondence.” He turned to Mama. “I suspect, Mrs. Bennet, that you would prefer to refer to my daughter as Miss Darcy; though, your being a married woman and a friend of the family, I believe Georgiana is acceptable. Is that not so?”

Both Georgiana and Mama agreed that such an address honoured all propriety.

“Now for the difficult forms.” Mr. Darcy chuckled. “Certainly, we address Colonel Fitzwilliam by his Christian name, Richard—but it would be far too familiar for you, Miss Bennet, to do so. I think a Colonel he shall remain.”