Page 30 of Most Truly the Gentleman

Darcy agreed that it was probable, unless some more urgent circumstance called him elsewhere. “I hope you will be happy there, Miss Mary. I am sure you will be comfortable; the parsonage is a handsome house.”

Mrs Bennet eagerly asked for details of the home her daughter would inhabit, and as Miss Mary did not seem disinclined to hear the answer, Darcy, with some assistance from Fitzwilliam, related what he could recall of the place. While he was thus occupied, Bingley secured the exclusive company of Miss Bennet on the settee by the window, as Georgiana was drawn away by Miss Elizabeth and Miss Catherine. He had no notion of what they spoke, but she seemed happy enough; her natural diffidence was evident in her expression and posture, but she did not duck her head and mumble at the carpet as she so often had in the company of new acquaintances. She smiled at times and regarded her companions with real interest. For the first time, he saw in her a young lady instead of a little girl, and he was not entirely certain that the alteration was wholly pleasing to his fraternal feelings.

“It is a great pleasure to meet you, Miss Darcy, and one we had not thought to have,” Elizabeth said. “Your brother and cousin speak very highly of you.”

Miss Darcy blushed becomingly and replied, “They are kinder to me than I deserve. I dare say I have given my family as much trouble as any other girl.”

“We know all about troublesome girls at Longbourn, for we are five sisters!” Seeing Miss Darcy’s gaze pass over the three of them and then Mary across the room, she added, “You have not met our youngest sister, Lydia, and it is likely you will not until Sunday. Apropos to our current subject, she is not allowed to leave the estate without Papa or else Jane and me, a consequence of recent disobedience. She is allowed to attend callers, but has thus far chosen to remain in her room and punish us by withholding her presence.”

“I should not consider being less in company as too dire a penalty, myself,” the young lady said. “I tend to favour solitary pursuits.”

With an air of shyness Elizabeth had rarely, if ever, seen her display, Kitty ventured, “May I enquire as to what those pursuits might be?”

“I love the pianoforte above all things.” There was a note of eagerness in her voice that could not be mistaken. “And I am fond of books and of drawing.”

“Depending on what you like to read, you will be great friends with either Mary or Lizzy, then. They both play and they read ever so many books, though their tastes are vastly different.” Kitty giggled softly after relating this.

They spoke for some time of occupations and accomplishments. Miss Darcy’s taste in books was fairly similar to Elizabeth’s, though like most girls her age, she was fonder of Gothic novels than Elizabeth could claim to be—her own flirtation with the lurid tales had lasted for perhaps a year and ended some time ago. Miss Darcy and Kitty found common ground in stitchery, and were speaking of favourite motifs when the gentlemen approached them, leaving Mary with her mother, who could be heard speaking of the wedding breakfast she was planning.

“We have been taking good care of Miss Darcy while you were occupied with my mother’s and sister’s questions,” Elizabeth said.

Mr Darcy replied with a fond smile at his sister, “So I see.”

“Your mother is very excited about the wedding, and your sister seems pleased with her choice,” commented the colonel.

“Mary and Mr Collins seem to share a true affinity,” Kitty said graciously. “We are all very happy for them.”

“Indeed, we are,” Elizabeth agreed fervently.

Kitty giggled and the colonel had a sudden need to cough into his fist. Miss Darcy seemed very interested in this byplay, and Elizabeth chose to explain without reference to his brief attempt to capture her interest. “Mr Collins is a distant cousin of my father’s and, as fate would have it, his closest living male relation, making Mr Collins the heir to Longbourn. His union with my sister will not only secure their personal happiness, but my mother’s future and that of any of us who are not so fortunate as to marry.”

“I see. What a wonderful thing for your family,” Miss Darcy replied warmly.

The sisters agreed that it was, and then Colonel Fitzwilliam suggested that it was time they took their leave. Farewells were said, many intentions of meeting again soon were exchanged between Miss Darcy and her new friends, Mr Bingley was coaxed away from Jane’s side, and the Netherfield party withdrew.

“What a very pleasant young lady Miss Darcy is!” Kitty exclaimed when they were gone. “And her dress! Did you notice how fine and delicate was the printing on the muslin? I should very much like to know where she got it, but I feared it might be gauche to enquire. I do hope we shall be friends.”

Elizabeth was well-pleased to see Kitty considering such things instead of saying whatever came into her head. She thought the desire to make a good impression upon Miss Darcy must be the cause. “She is a sweet creature, is she not? I believe we shall all enjoy knowing her better.”

20

ON THE BRINK

It was apparent as soon as the carriage door shut on them that something was troubling Bingley, but he waved away Darcy’s enquiry, saying, “I learnt something from Miss Bennet today that I must think upon, but it is nothing to do with any of you.”

Darcy thought that had the lady rejected him outright, Bingley would be more distressed than he appeared. He was distracted, displeased by something, but not apparently broken-hearted. As he was not at all forthcoming, the supposition that some less dreadful thing had occurred must satisfy unless and until his friend elected to be more open.

The visit to Lucas Lodge was not so much to Darcy’s tastes as their first call had been. The gentlemen of their party were left to speak with Sir William, while the ladies became acquainted; Fitzwilliam captured Miss Lucas’s attention with a query about a card party they had missed while in London when she brought him a cup of tea. Through the simple expedient of continuing that discussion, he avoided a full five minutes of the elder gentleman’s copious conversation. Darcy hardly knew whether to reprimand his cousin or admire his ingenuity.

At Netherfield, they separated to their own occupations until dinner. Darcy thought to take refuge in the library, which was fortunately across the hall from the music room where his sister practised. Even sat in the large armchair by the fireplace, invisible to anyone merely glancing into the library, he could hear her very well, and spent more time simply listening than reading his book. A perusal of the nearly bare shelves revealed that he had already read the few works present which held any interest for him. He considered reading King Lear again, but it had never been such a favourite as to tempt him to read it twice in as many months.

If he were to be here for several weeks more, he would require reading material. He supposed it was time he took a look inside Meryton’s library; fresh books would be quite worth the subscription fee, and leaving the house would ensure that Miss Bingley would not locate him with even a determined search. He returned to his chambers to don his riding apparel once more.

A little while after their callers departed, Mrs Bennet broke off her chatter about the wedding breakfast to order Jane to go to Cook and enquire whether it would be possible to acquire enough fruit for a lemon cake in January, or if they should have to settle for a honey cake. Jane left, and Elizabeth and Kitty returned their attention to their sewing while Mary patiently endured more of her mother’s endless stream of words. Elizabeth laughed to herself when it occurred to her that her mother had trained Mary well for the role of Mr Collins’s wife, and shared the thought with Kitty in a whisper.

Kitty’s shoulders were still shaking with repressed hilarity when Jane returned, stopping in the doorway to say, “Mama, Cook says enough lemons can be got, but Papa must approve the expense.” She looked then to Elizabeth and Kitty, and Elizabeth could tell from the faint strain in her smile that something was amiss. “Lizzy, Kitty, might I ask you to assist me in the stillroom for a moment?”

“Certainly—” Elizabeth began, already moving to set aside her work, when her mother interrupted.