The Impulse of the Moment

by Jann Rowland

  At length, however, the Bingleys invited their guests to return to their rooms to rest before dinner, and the company dispersed. Had Darcy had any thought to the contrary he might have been disappointed, but knowing his father, he was aware that Mr. Darcy would wish to speak further of the reason that drew them to Hertfordshire. In this, he was not disappointed.

  “The rooms to which we have been assigned have a sitting-room attached,” said he as soon as they were out in the hall. “Let us make use of it for a family conference.”

  Darcy nodded and led his family up the stairs. When they reached the door, he stepped aside, allowing his mother to lead the way with Georgiana, though she stopped and ran her hand along her son’s arm in a gesture of affection. Then Darcy had all the pleasure of seeing his father enter the room without a second thought, not sparing a glance for Wickham. It was clear that, whatever his pretensions, Wickham was not a member of the family, not that he appreciated the evidence before his eyes.

  With a smirk, Darcy entered the room and closed the door on the scoundrel, relishing the anger with which Wickham regarded them. When the door closed, he turned to look at his family—his mother and Georgiana had seated themselves on a sofa, while Mr. Darcy remained standing. It was his father who drew his gaze.

  “I am sure you can be at no loss as to the reason for our journey here, Fitzwilliam.”

  “Even had your letter not betrayed the reason,” said Darcy, “I could hardly have misinterpreted it. I will own I am uncertain of how you learned of the matter, and I cannot say what you mean to do about it.”

  “Do not speak to me in such a way!” snapped his father. “The manner of our learning of the situation does not signify. While I thought I had instilled into you a sense of your own worth, it seems I was mistaken. How can you consider bringing such infamy on this family? Do you not remember yourself, your family, your very heritage?”

  “None of these would be ruined if I were to aspire to a connection with Miss Bennet. You do not know her, Father—I would appreciate it if you would not lower yourself to disparage her without making her acquaintance.”

  Darcy’s words provoked such a stony expression that he wondered if his father would manage to respond without completely losing his temper. Even so, he could not have predicted what his father was to say next.

  “Do you not know I thought of disowning you?”

  “You would cut me off for following my heart?” said Darcy, his anger growing as he regarded the man who had raised him.

  “That is enough,” said Lady Anne, rising and stepping between their increasingly tense confrontation. “Though the thought crossed your mind, you and I know you would never do disown our son. It does no good to speak of it and will only increase the tension between you.”

  “I wish to meet Miss Elizabeth,” said Georgiana softly. She darted a look in Darcy’s direction, her smile widening when she saw his affection, and continued: “If my brother has chosen her, I cannot imagine she is not everything lovely.”

  “It is possible she is a lovely young woman,” said Mr. Darcy, in a tone which suggested his daughter should not gainsay him. “But that is not the point. There is little chance she is suitable, having been raised in this neighborhood. I heard what your friend’s father said—these Bennets, for whom you appear to have lost your head, are naught but modest gentry.”

  “And yet Miss Elizabeth is perfect,” said Darcy. “She may not possess the highest of connections or a dowry to rival that of the daughter of a duke, but she is capable of anything to which she sets her mind, and her dowry is respectable.”

  “Tell us of her, Fitzwilliam,” said his mother. The glance at her husband which accompanied her words was enough to quell Mr. Darcy’s objections for the moment. He was no happier than before, but at least he had ceased his open objections.

  “As I said, she is a lovely girl.” Darcy paused, thinking about the woman who held his heart, all the qualities that endeared her to him running through his mind. “Miss Elizabeth is calm and poised, lively in company, and sings like an angel. She is happy, her manners genuine, and she can speak of matters of substance, unlike what I have often seen among the heiresses of the ton. Furthermore, she can debate Shakespeare or Milton, plays chess with sufficient skill to best me with regularity, and shows compassion, caring, love, and charity with ease and without artifice. If you only knew her, you would agree she could not be more suitable if she was the daughter of the prince regent himself!”

  “She sounds lovely,” said Georgiana with a shy smile, Lady Anne agreeing with her daughter.

  But Mr. Darcy was not amused. “So far I have not heard you say anything of her suitability, Fitzwilliam. She may be the most intelligent lady in the world, but if she lacks those attributes which make her acceptable to society, she remains unsuitable. What are her connections, her dowry, her position in society?”

  “Irrelevant, in my opinion,” rejoined Darcy. His father’s countenance darkened, but he appeared to be trying to master his anger. At Lady Anne’s pleading look, Darcy capitulated. “As I said, Miss Elizabeth’s family is gentry and have been for many generations. The estate is a good one, the house fine, if nothing to Pemberley. I suspect the estate takes in something in excess of five thousand a year, and it is managed prudently and with all the most modern techniques by Mr. Bennet and his heir.

  “As for their connections in town, I will own I do not know the extent of any relations. They have an uncle—related to the late Mrs. Bennet, I believe—who is not only very successful, but possesses connections to men of wealth himself. They are, themselves, of the second circles, well respected, and with no stain of anything untoward attached to them. Mr. Bennet’s heir is, as I believe Bingley’s father mentioned, married to the Bingleys’ youngest daughter.”

  Darcy turned a pointed glare at his father. “There is, in short, nothing with which to reproach them, unless you count being separate from the worst elements of our society detrimental.”

  “Except that they are not of our circles,” growled Mr. Darcy. “And it sounds, unless I miss my guess, like this uncle in town is in trade.”

  “The Gardiners are respectable,” said Darcy. “Mr. Gardiner is a good man who would not be out of place in any society in which he chooses to move. The only difference is he is a far better man than most of them.”

  “But she is not of the proper lineage and position to be the future mistress of Pemberley!” cried Mr. Darcy. “What must I say to induce your understanding?”

  “You cannot,” said Darcy. “In my eyes she is perfect. It is my hope you will someday see her worth.”

  “I am anticipating meeting this paragon,” said Lady Anne, again glancing at her husband. “There is no issue with making her acquaintance.”

  While he scowled yet again, it seemed to Darcy his father was fatigued by their argument, though he was not foolish enough to believe he had given in. Mr. Darcy threw himself in a nearby chair, sitting there with his chin held moodily in one hand. For a moment, he did not say anything.

  “I suppose we must meet this woman,” said he at length, turning to face his son. “But at present I shall promise nothing more than to reserve judgment.”

  “That will suffice,” said Darcy. “All I wish is for you to meet her and remain open to her qualities. I have every confidence in Miss Elizabeth’s ability to win even you over, Father.”

  “We shall see,” said Mr. Darcy, standing. “For now, I believe I shall take Mr. Bingley’s advice and rest before dinner.”

  When he was gone into the bedroom, Darcy turned to his mother and sister, giving them a wry smile he was not certain was not sickly and wan. “Thank you for your support, Mother.”

  Lady Anne’s affection shone forth in the smile with which she favored him. “I trust you, Fitzwilliam. There is no thought in my mind you might favor an unsuitable woman.”

  “Of course not,” said Darcy. “I am curious, however, about Wickham’s presence. W
as he not in town?”

  “Mr. Wickham arrived at Pemberley about a week ago,” said Lady Anne. “It was he who brought word of this young lady to us in Derbyshire.”

  Surprised, Darcy could only stare at his mother. “Then I know not how he might have learned of it.”

  “You were not seen in town with her? Gossip spreads quickly in London.”

  “It does,” replied Darcy. “But we were very discrete and were only in town for a few days. Miss Elizabeth’s presence was requested as her aunt had fallen ill. We attended one ball, but as Bingley and I escorted the Bennet sisters, I do not think I gave the appearance of favoring her over any other young lady.”

  Lady Anne regarded him with a fond smile. “It does not surprise me you do not think so. But as my son, I am well aware of your ways, and I suspect a single look at you together would have set tongues to wagging. Perhaps Wickham heard of it. The man is a born schemer.”

  “Father’s express arrived the day of the ball,” said Darcy with a shaken head. “That evening could not be what informed Wickham of my activities. I have always suspected he has some means of keeping track of the family—this seems to prove my supposition.”

  “Perhaps it does. But there is nothing to be done about it now. Regardless, Georgiana and I are fatigued as well. We shall see you at dinner.”

  Lady Anne extended her hand to her daughter, and Georgiana followed her into her own bedchamber, though Georgiana smiled expressively at Darcy as she was led away. Georgiana would, Darcy thought, love Miss Elizabeth, and the presence of a woman her own age and as confident as Miss Elizabeth in her life would benefit her.

  As Darcy let himself out of his parents’ sitting-room, his mind kept replaying the confrontation with his father, and from thence to the question of how Wickham had learned of Miss Elizabeth. It was fortunate the libertine was nowhere in evidence at that moment, for Darcy did not think himself capable of withstanding Wickham’s glib tongue without planting a facer on him. And while he was not certain of how Wickham had obtained his information, he did not think it was because of gossip.

  Regardless, Darcy decided it did not signify. The more pressing matter was the protection of Miss Elizabeth from Wickham’s depredations. For Darcy had little doubt Wickham would take any opportunity to hurt him through Miss Elizabeth. Vigilance was required.

  Chapter XXV

  “Relax, Lizzy. There is nothing of which you need fear.”

  Though Elizabeth had not thought her nervousness was that pronounced, the looks in the faces of her family—which ranged from concerned to amused—told her otherwise. Caroline, who had spoken, reached out her hand, grasping Elizabeth’s, and squeezing. By her other side, Jane was watching with sympathy.

  “There is no need to fear, perhaps,” said Elizabeth. “But I hardly think my worries are without foundation.”

  Sitting not far from the four ladies—for Mary was also nearby, ostensibly with a book in hand, though Elizabeth did not think she had turned many pages—the two gentlemen watched, Mr. Bennet showing his own interest, while Thomas’s feelings were unreadable. Mr. Bennet gave Elizabeth a fortifying smile before turning back to his newspaper.

  “When Mr. Darcy comes, you will see his father is not so fearsome,” said Caroline. “If nothing else, he will accept you for his son’s sake.”

  “Why, thank you Caroline,” replied Elizabeth, injecting all the sarcasm she felt into her voice. When Caroline’s smile widened, Elizabeth huffed with exasperation. “It is not as if you have any frame of reference, dearest Sister. Your marriage was anticipated long before it occurred, and your husband’s father was in favor of the match.”

  A snort from behind Mr. Bennet’s paper drew Elizabeth’s gaze, but as he did not lower his paper, Elizabeth was unable to show her father her displeasure. Elizabeth decided to ignore him.

  “This is an interesting picture, is it not?” said Jane, her countenance a mask of pure innocence. “If Elizabeth was indifferent to Mr. Darcy, her nerves would not be as noticeable, I should think.”

  “It does suggest feelings our sister has not yet acknowledged, does it not?” added Mary in a teasing tone.

  “Perhaps we should encourage her to be more explicit,” said Caroline.

  When faced with three sisters all intent upon teasing her, Elizabeth did the only thing she could: she laughed. While her brother looked on her as if she had lost her mind, Elizabeth could not help herself, and the release of tension felt marvelous. Of course, her sisters were drawn along with her, their mirth lasting for several moments. When it had run its course, Elizabeth directed a look of mock severity at them all.

  “Is it not I who is supposed to be the tease?”

  “And it is only fair we return it when we can,” said Caroline, Jane and Mary nodding and grinning widely.

  “Now answer the question, dear,” said Jane. “Are you more welcoming of Mr. Darcy’s attentions? Do you love him?”

  “Love?” asked Elizabeth softly, testing the word on the tip of her tongue, trying to determine how it felt when she said it aloud. “This has all happened too quickly to be love, I think.”

  “But you are not indifferent to him,” pressed Jane.

  “That seems impossible, Jane,” replied Elizabeth. “Mr. Darcy is, I believe, a good sort of man, possessing all the qualities which render him a desirable prospect.”

  “His wealth is fabulous,” said Caroline, grinning.

  “He is handsome, too,” chirped Mary.

  “And you must not forget how he speaks with our Elizabeth on her level,” giggled Jane. “As far as I am aware, our father is the only other one who does so.”

  “He is perfect!” declared all three girls at once, prompting them all to laughter. This time, Mr. Bennet lowered his paper and laughed along with them, and even Thomas showed them an indulgent grin.

  The sound of the door chime startled them to silence, and Elizabeth’s nerves returned as if they had never left. Mr. Hill was, at that very moment, no doubt greeting their guests and leading them to the sitting-room—the dreaded meeting was upon her!

  “Just remember, Lizzy,” said Jane, her whisper for Elizabeth’s ears alone, “show these people Lizzy Bennet, my sister, and everything will be well. If you do that, I doubt they can resist you.”

  As the door opened, Elizabeth flashed a smile at her sister, Jane’s words of encouragement bolstering her courage more than anything else had that morning. Then Mr. Hill was leading their company into the room, the Bingleys accompanying the Darcys, and Elizabeth’s attention was caught by the demands of the moment.

  Mr. Darcy stepped forward and performed the office of introducing his family to the Bennet family’s acquaintance, and Elizabeth obtained her first impressions of the family. The girl, Georgiana, was tall and pretty, blond and blue-eyed, but possessing what Elizabeth suspected was a shy demeanor. She was the very image of the older woman, Lady Anne Darcy. But where the girl was reticent, Lady Anne was confident and forward, greeting the family with excellent manners and gracious interest.

  As for Mr. Darcy, the elder, he was a tall man, much like his son, and also like his wife and daughter, his son resembled him closely. There was a little grey on his head, mostly around the temples, though it was also sprinkled through his hair. His jaw was squarer than Fitzwilliam Darcy’s, and his eyes burned with an icy cold fire. Those eyes rested upon Elizabeth, inspecting, judging, and unless Elizabeth missed her guess, she was found wanting.

  There was one other member of the party, a handsome man with wavy blond hair and shocking blue eyes. When Mr. Darcy introduced him, his manner was such to make it appear an afterthought, which brought a scowl from the elder Darcy, though the blond man smiled in what seemed to be amusement. He was introduced as a Mr. Wickham and greeted them with an effortless charm. After, however, he sat largely silent, observing them all and, in particular, Elizabeth, unless she missed her guess.

  In her capacity of the estate’s mistress,
Caroline welcomed their visitors, inviting them to sit while she sent for tea and cakes. For the first few moments, the elder Mr. Darcy was silent, seemingly weighing what he was seeing. The residents of Netherfield and those of Longbourn carried much of the conversation, speaking of matters of the neighborhood common in such gatherings. The younger Mr. Darcy—Elizabeth idly wondered what she should call the younger man, since the elder was indisputably “Mr. Darcy”—sat beside Elizabeth in seeming defiance of his father’s contempt, asking her quiet queries of how she was, which Elizabeth answered with an absence of thought.

  Then Elizabeth’s father struck up a conversation with Mr. Darcy’s father, speaking of their journey from the north. It seemed Mr. Darcy recognized her father as an intelligent man, for he conversed with him with nothing less than perfect civility.

  “You have a good property here, it seems,” observed Mr. Darcy. “Has it been in your family long?”

  “Ten generations,” replied Mr. Bennet.

  Mr. Darcy seemed impressed.

  “A distant ancestor provided a service for the Crown,” continued Mr. Bennet, “and was rewarded with a small plot of land immediately around the house. Subsequent masters of the estate made additional purchases and expanded the house and property to what it is now.” Mr. Bennet smiled with fondness at his family’s legacy. “I have continued in my ancestors’ footsteps, adding a pair of fields on the northern edge of the estate. I hope my son will continue the tradition.”

  “A concern for the master of any estate,” said Mr. Darcy, his tone ever so slightly friendlier. “My family has a similar history with our lands.”

  Mr. Bennet nodded. “Given what your son has told us, I dare say Longbourn is nothing to Pemberley. But it is a good estate, and we are fond of it.”

  “Surely ten generations of a family must spawn many connections.”