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“How do you find Hertfordshire, Mr. Darcy?”
Mary spoke before I could, saving me from making a stupid comment on his appetite and asking whether he had skipped breakfast.
“It is pretty countryside,” he said evenly.
We sipped our tea, conversation lagging.
“I believe I heard you are from Derbyshire?”
Bless Mary, and bless Mrs. March for teaching us all how to make polite conversation, though my abilities seemed to have abandoned me today. Perhaps it was as Mrs. Allums said and I needed a change of scenery. I had not left Meryton for over a year and it was showing, or so she said.
Mr. Darcy proceeded to tell us about Derbyshire and his home there, Pem something. Pemmelwood? Pembrooke? My mind wandered, but when I was paying attention, I noticed Mr. Darcy spoke well. He was kind to Mary, if not charming, and he held up his end of the conversation, though he looked laughably relieved when Mr. Bingley arrived and he no longer had to talk.
I sat back and observed him for the remainder of our visit. He contributed minimally to the conversation, as did I, but I suspect it was for vastly different reasons. Mr. Darcy did not like to talk, and may not even like company in general, and I suspected he surrounded himself with people like Mr. Bingley so he might avoid the activity as often as possible.
Mr. Bingley was the opposite. Lively, convivial, charming. He made Mr. Darcy look like a stump in comparison. Mary and Jane looked at me strangely more than once, likely wondering why I was not speaking more, but I was content to observe the gentlemen and my sisters. Jane was clearly falling for Mr. Bingley, as I had suspected, and he seemed equally smitten with her. Mary was perfectly polite to both gentlemen, but she did not appear to have any interest in either of them, thankfully. She was much too young to think about marriage.
The gentlemen offered to accompany us home and we rode back to Longbourn as we had arrived, Mary and I flanking Mr. Darcy while Jane fell behind with Mr. Bingley. What they spoke of I did not know, but they were certainly engrossed in one another.
“Do you often ride to Meryton?” asked Mr. Darcy.
“Often enough, though we walk just as frequently. My brothers cannot be trusted without at least two grooms.”
“That is often the case with boys. How old are they?”
“Thirteen, eleven, and nine.”
“I did not know there were so many children in your family. Are there eight of you?”
“Nine. Robin and Henry are twins.”
His eyes widened and I smiled. “Shall I treat you to the Bennet family roll?”
His eyes lit with amusement and he said, “Please do.”
“There is Jane, the eldest of course. I am second, then my sister Mary.” Mary nodded on his other side, delight on her face. “Then Kitty and Lydia, our younger sisters who are not yet out. Thomas has recently left for his first year at school. Jack is eleven and insists he is no longer a child, and Robin and Henry are nine.”
“Twins?” He bore the expression most wore when I mentioned the number of children in my family or that there were twins among them. Utter horror.
“Yes,” I repeated. “They run in my mother’s family.”
He nodded, and I imagined he was holding himself back from saying more. It was not common to see families in the gentry as large as ours. Tenant families, yes. Shop keepers, farmers, laborers had large numbers of children. Gentlemen did not. It was almost unseemly! Of course, my parents could be forgiven the first seven as it was clear they needed a son and they had to continue until they had the resultant heir and a spare. But twins were practically hedonistic.
“Do you have any brothers, Mr. Darcy?” asked Mary.
“No brothers, no. I have a sister much younger than myself. Georgiana is not yet out.”
I wanted to ask about her, but Mr. Bingley rode up to join us and soon we were at the drive to Longbourn and the gentlemen were headed back to Netherfield.
“What do you think of Mr. Darcy, Lizzy?” asked Mary.
“I am not certain. He is amiable enough, I suppose. But he seems a reserved man, don’t you think?”
“Yes, but that is not a bad thing, is it?”
“No, of course not. It simply makes it harder to get to know him.”
“Perhaps he is worth getting to know.”
