Page 29 of Sweet on Mr Darcy

“You were not harmed at all, Lydia, nor were we even near when it happened,” Kitty admonished her younger sister.

“Kitty is correct, Lydia,” Mr Bennet observed as he shook Darcy’s hand and that of his father’s in greeting. “Do not be a petulant child.”

“We brought more sweets from the confectioner’s. And fruit from the orchards, to aid in Miss Bennet’s recovery, and to lift all of your spirits.” Miss Darcy’s cheeks turned pink as they always did when she was speaking to a group of people.

“You are all so excessively kind. I am mortified to receive so much attention for such a small injury.” Jane smiled with her customary serenity from her seat near an open window.

“You make a poor invalid, Jane.” Priscilla teased. “One might expect a lady to take to her bed and present a list of demands after such an experience.”

Jane shook her head in amusement. “I fear I have no talent for it.”

Mr Bennet peered into the boxes. “Jane is obviously much beloved by our friends.”

Charlotte, who was sitting with her son in a maternal fashion, instructed the maids to take the boxes to the kitchen and have the offerings arranged on trays.

Tea was soon served, and everyone marvelled at the bounty of almond cakes, prawlongs, cream cakes, marzipan, and biscuits, not to mention pears, cherries, raspberries, and apricots from the local orchards. Charlotte quickly instructed Kitty and Lydia to serve and pour, not wishing to disturb Mary or for Elizabeth to be distracted from Darcy.

Mr Bennet fell into a comfortable, often visited debate with Darcy’s father regarding the classics and his view of the deplorable state of contemporary literature.

Mary and Jane found a willing listener in Priscilla concerning the moral deficiencies of reckless young men.

Georgiana sat by Charlotte and Lucas, whom she quite doted upon, and admired the chubby infant as he cooed and gurgled happily.

Soon, everyone was served far more than was good for them, and easy conversation flowed through the room. Only one source of discomfort intruded upon Mr and Mrs Bennet, which was noticed and shared by Darcy.

Mr Wickham had, as usual, established himself in conversation with Kitty and Lydia. No one could hear what he said as he spoke in low tones with a wolfish smile, but everyone could hear the scandalised giggles and squeals of the two youngest ladies in the corner.

Elizabeth noticed that it was not only Darcy who looked displeased and distracted from his conversation with her. Miss Darcy was also distracted by the antics of Mr Wickham and her friends, and her face was red with what seemed to be anger.

Mr Bennet observed the scene with unfolding unease, and at a sharp look from his wife, found himself forced into a paternal activity entirely foreign to his custom.

“Lydia,” he said suddenly. “Did you not intend to show me the sketches you began yesterday?”

Lydia blinked, not having expected the intrusion. “Not particularly, Papa.”

“Certainly you did,” her father insisted. “You must be forgetful.”

“I do not believe Lydia has had any such intention at all,” Kitty laughed in derision.

Mr Wickham smiled at Mr Bennet easily, in the manner of a man who knows he will always be protected by a wealthy patron. “You do your daughter an injustice, sir. She could not be as forgetful as you claim.”

“Lydia, fetch your sketchbook. I would very much like to see it.” Mr Bennet was not to be deterred.

“Kitty, please take your brother back to the nursery,” Charlotte requested of her step-daughter.

“But I–”

“Now, Kitty,” Mr Bennet barked sharply, to the surprise of his friend and his daughter.

As Kitty and Lydia obeyed, Georgiana stood and began to wander the room. Although Elizabeth and Darcy had been in quiet conversation before the interruption, it trailed off. Elizabeth observed as Darcy watched his sister take up a place by a window, where she gazed outside with an odd, forlorn expression. His expression cooled even more as Mr Wickham wandered over and began to speak to her, the young lady blushing in obvious pleasure. His countenance settled into the barely contained rage Elizabeth had come to recognise when Mr Wickham approached the very young ladies.

“Wickham, did you not say just this morning that you were meant to be on duty soon?” Darcy inquired of his father’s godson.

“I most definitely did not, Darcy.” Wickham smirked, knowing instantly what disturbed Darcy.

“I am certain that you did. I heard you with my own ears,” Priscilla interrupted her conversation with Jane and Mary to say.

“I am not on duty until midnight,” Wickham disputed.