Darcy harrumphed but said nothing, but his silence failed to extinguish the discussion.
“And if Mr. Bingley is a gentleman, then he is our equal.”
Intrigued by his sister’s assertion, Darcy asked Georgiana to support her argument.
“Although our grandfather was an earl,” Georgiana began, “our father was a gentleman and no more than that. And please do not tell me that the Darcys came over with William the Conqueror. Lots of people came over with the Conqueror; in fact, a whole army accompanied him.”
“True enough,” Darcy said, clearly amused by the repartee. “But they were knights not rabble.”
“But Papa was never knighted.”
“That is because it is a Darcy tradition to eschew titles, a tradition that dates back to the reign of the first Stuart.”
“According to Cousin Antony, the only reason the Darcys declined a baronetcy was because James I was handing them out to anyone who could fill his coffers with coin. Our ancestors objected, not to the title itself, but to the lack of exclusivity.”
“Antony is a Fitzwilliam from Kent. How on earth would he know about the Darcys of Derbyshire?”
Darcy’s cousin, the Earl of Stepton, was the black sheep of the family and a particular irritant to his staid cousin. Whereas Darcy cringed whenever his name was mentioned in The Tatler, London’s most popular gossip magazine, Antony perused each new edition for a mention of his name. Antony’s disregard for social conventions was a result of his marriage to a woman he called the Evil Eleanor. Despite his vociferous protests, he had been forced to marry the homely daughter of the Earl of Henley for her very handsome dowry, and in his frustration over his loveless marriage, attacked the institutions that had doomed him. Knowing how easily he got under the skin of Fitzwilliam Darcy, he took particular delight in dinging the Darcys.
“Antony knows of these things because he has access to documents housed in the House of Lords,” Georgiana answered. “It seems that James I needed money and—”
“Never mind Antony and James I. We were speaking of Bingley and his sisters.”
Georgiana now leveled an arrow at Mr. Hurst whose family had deep roots in England’s Northeast. “You tell me that Mr. Hurst comes from a prominent Durham family, and as such, merits our notice. But I ask you, is Mr. Hurst your idea of an ideal gentleman?”
Darcy’s answer was a laugh.
“As awful as Wickham was and is, George Wickham, the son of a steward, did not talk with food in his mouth or belch after supper or lie sprawled on a couch in a drunken stupor.”
At the mention of Wickham’s name, the muscles in Darcy’s neck tightened. He would not stop his sister from speaking aloud the name of her seducer, but he did not have to like it.
“If you do not unclench your jaw, your teeth will break.”
Darcy’s response was a subtle shake of his head, one revealing his inner turmoil.
“I thought that comment was funny, and you should, too. It is when we laugh at our mistakes that we know we have healed.”
“You may laugh, Georgiana, but I am not yet able to do so. Wickham’s intention was to retaliate against me through you. He cared not a whit about the hurt he would cause you.”
“I understand that. I really do,” Georgiana said, reaching for her brother’s hand. “As it gives you pain, I shall speak no more of him tonight, so let us return to our previous subject.”
Although Georgiana disliked Caroline’s snobbery and cutting remarks, she understood that they were evidence of her insecurity as to her position in society. Georgiana was aware that Caroline had been less than thrilled with Louisa’s choice of husband as it had opened few doors for her in London society. On the other hand, Charles’s friendship with Fitzwilliam Darcy had done that very thing, and if such a friendship should lead to a union between the two families, then Caroline’s position in society would be secure. There was nothing subtle about Caroline’s pursuit of her brother.
“What I am saying is that Caroline and Louisa are no different from every other lady in society. When a young woman comes into society, it is for the purpose of finding a husband from amongst England’s most prominent families, including the Darcys. We should not criticize Mr. Bingley’s sisters for doing exactly what everyone else in society is doing and what I am expected to do when I come out in April.” Before continuing, Georgiana took a short breath. “I shall push the argument further. Whether a woman is born in a manor or in a cottage, they all want the same things.”
With that, Darcy conceded the argument: Bingley was a gentleman, and Caroline and Louisa were ladies. But that did not make the sisters any less annoying, and although he had lost the debate, he was happy to have done so. Even though Ramsgate had left its scars, it had also accelerated his sister’s maturation. She had been forged in fire and had emerged a better, stronger person for it.
“Speaking of pushing ladies into the arms of eligible bachelors,” Darcy said, “apparently, Bingley experienced that very thing in Meryton, the village nearest to Netherfield Park.”
“Did he now? How interesting. I shall ask him about it tonight as he is to dine with us. I am sure he will have many amusing stories about his adventures amongst the ladies of Hertfordshire, and you will laugh at his stories and not chide him because he is your friend.”
After acknowledging his sister’s instructions, Darcy’s demeanor changed, and he returned to a painful subject. “Georgiana, what happened in Ramsgate…” Darcy struggled to find the right words because his sister was correct. Ramsgate had changed him. In his heart, he believed that he had failed his young sister in his basic responsibilities as her guardian. His response to this failure had been to throw a protective net around her so that she would never be hurt again, but his efforts had been rebuffed as evidenced by Georgiana’s insistence that she would remain in London to continue her studies when Darcy joined Bingley in the country.
“You are correct. I frequently am too serious.”
“Then do not be. You are too young to have frown lines,” Georgiana said, running her finger along her forehead. “Another suggestion: Smile more and criticize less. Most people are good and kind and worthy of our attention regardless of where they live or whom they know.”
Darcy’s response was pointed. “It is obvious from that naïve remark that you have not been out in the world. The world is full of Wickhams.” Noting his sister’s frown at his sour comment, he added, “But you are right—again. I am overly critical of Bingley’s sisters. If truth be told, I am critical of most people as I annoy easily. I promise to try to do better.”
“You must not just try; you must succeed.”
Darcy raised an eyebrow.
“You do understand that any change of attitude on your part will soon be put to the test.”
“How so?”
“When you join Mr. Bingley in Hertfordshire, he will want you to meet his neighbors. I believe some social gathering is in your immediate future and you must perform well amongst strangers.”
“Blast!” was the only response Darcy could muster.
* * *
At supper at Darcy House, Charles Bingley could not contain his enthusiasm for Netherfield Park. In addition to an excellent manor house, the surrounding park had numerous paths and trails, all in good repair, and the nearby village and its inhabitants were friendly and accommodating. An eager Bingley was on pins and needles as he urged Darcy to share Flitter’s findings.
Darcy was happy to report that the manor was solidly built and well maintained. Flitter had gone the extra mile and had spoken with Mr. and Mrs. Buttons, the Darlington’s butler and cook, who had been with the Crenshaws for more than two decades prior to being employed by the Darlingtons. The two servants remained with the property and lived in the servants’ quarters adjacent to the kitchen. The couple had nothing but good things to say about the Darlingtons and Netherfield Park.
“Then it is perfect?” Bingley asked.
“For its age, it is in very
good condition, but one of the reasons given for it being unoccupied for so long is that the rent was quite high.”
Bingley waved off such concerns as inconsequential, and after learning that the Darlingtons had agreed to a reduction, Darcy considered the matter closed.
That left the matter of Bingley’s neighbors to consider. Both Flitter and Mercer had heard reports that one of the reasons Mrs. Darlington had wanted to give up the lease was the inferiority of the local society.
“I could not disagree more,” Bingley said emphatically. “I was greeted in every shop and made welcome by everyone I encountered, and I encountered a lot of people. There were so many people out and about that you would have thought it was market day, which it was not, but there they were, strolling High Street by the dozens.
“Do not fool yourself, Bingley,” Darcy said with a smile in his voice. “It was market day, and you were what was on offer.”
Darcy’s remark was met with considerable laughter, and Bingley did not deny that every female he met was beautifully accoutered as if in preparation for a dance. He also mentioned Mrs. Darlington’s plan to host a card party in his honor so that he might meet his neighbors.
“A card party? Forgive me, Bingley, but these people sound positively desperate. I anticipate that on your next visit, the men will carry you about the village on their shoulders while the ladies throw rose petals at your feet.”
“As you will have a joke at my expense, I shall return the favor.”
Bingley shared that while touring Netherfield Park, Mrs. Darlington had inquired after Mr. Darcy and asked if that gentleman had been pleased with all he had seen while supervising the inspection of Netherfield Park.
“Mrs. Darlington said it was unfortunate that she had not been in Hertfordshire at the time of Mr. Darcy’s visit or she would have acted as his host, and he would not have had to stay at the inn in the village.”
Darcy looked confused. Although he had lodged at the inn for one night, he had never set foot in the manor house.
“Do you not see, Darcy?” Bingley asked, slapping his knees. “They mistook Flitter for you. Is it not too funny?”
“They thought William was Mr. Flitter?” Georgiana asked, looking at her brother, and laughed so hard that she nearly spilled her coffee. As she thought about Pemberley’s steward, with his fuzzy whiskers, furry eyebrows, and wizened face, being mistaken for her handsome brother, her laughter grew louder.
“What did the lady of the house say when you corrected her?” Darcy asked.
“That is the funny part,” Bingley said. “I did not correct her. I thought it too delicious not to leave it as it was. I thought it would be great fun when you are at the card party—”
“When I am at the card party…”
“Of course, you must go, William. You are Mr. Bingley’s closest friend,” Georgiana said with a tsk in her voice. “And as Mr. Bingley said, it will be great fun to have it revealed that you are not Methuselah reincarnated, and it is the perfect test with regard to our earlier conversation.”
Darcy was less sure of the plan’s entertainment value than his friend and sister. What if the denizens of Meryton thought he had come amongst them under false pretenses? Actually, from the looks of it, he had done that very thing. It was he who had sent Flitter in his carriage and had instructed him to act the gentleman in his stead to divert attention from Bingley’s interest in the property. The letter of credit had been in his name, and the workmen paid by him. The confusion was understandable, but what if they were not amused?
“I can tell what you are thinking, William, by the overly serious look on your face, and you must stop it,” Georgiana said. “Think of this card party as you would a masked ball. At the right time, you reveal your true identity.”
“A masked ball is meant to disguise not deceive.” But after giving the matter additional thought, Darcy acknowledged that it really was a harmless bit of fun, reminding him of his carefree days at Cambridge when pranks were the order of the day and where he had been both the perpetrator and recipient of such high-jinks. Darcy finally declared that he would go to Hertfordshire.
“Thank you, Darcy. I shall feel much more comfortable with you there, and barring any further concerns, it is my intention to sign the lease on the day of our arrival. I am very keen to live at Netherfield Park.”
Georgiana and Darcy exchanged looks. Obviously, there was another reason why Bingley was eager to lease this particular estate, and that reason very likely took the female form.
“I understand why you would want your own house in the country,” Darcy said, “but I suspect there is more to it than riding trails.”
Bingley’s smile grew bigger. “An angel lives in Meryton.”
“An angel?” Darcy said. “Does this angel have a name?”
“Yes. Her name is Miss Jane Bennet. We were introduced outside the butcher shop. She is a fair-haired, blue-eyed angel who walks as if on a cloud.”
“You were introduced in front of the butcher’s shop? By whom?”
“By Miss Bennet’s mother. Mrs. Bennet declared her daughter to be the most beautiful girl in the county, and although it probably was inappropriate to brag about her own daughter, I saw no evidence to contradict her. And as I said, every girl in the shire was on High Street that day, so there were comparisons to be made.”
“That is fast work, even for you, Bingley,” Darcy said with a hint of disapproval. Introductions should not be made in front of a butcher shop.
“And the lady has a sister. In fact, she has four sisters, all unmarried. Perhaps, Darcy, you will find an angel in Meryton as well.”
Darcy had no wish to dampen Bingley’s enthusiasm for the heavenly being he had found floating above High Street in Meryton, but he was much too practical a man to think that one could so easily fall in love as Bingley had a habit of doing. But then what did he know of such things as he had never been in love.
* * *
Charlotte had come to Longbourn with news about the invitations. Jane, now recovered from the drama on High Street, along with Lizzy, eagerly awaited word of those who had made it on to Mrs. Darlington’s guest list.
“You will be happy to learn that your parents and the three eldest Bennet daughters have all been invited to the card party.”
Lizzy smiled at Charlotte in gratitude for Mary’s inclusion. She had shared with her friend Mary’s distress at the possibility of being excluded. At the time of their conversation, Charlotte had assured Lizzy that she would do her best to see that Mary’s name appeared on the guest list. “I know what it is like to be called plain. I would not wish it on another.”
“There are only two surprises on the list,” Charlotte continued. “First, Mary King—”
“Oh no! Not Mary King,” Lizzy said, interrupting. “Not only is she pretty, but she is an heiress. I shall be at a disadvantage from the outset.”
Charlotte was surprised by Lizzy’s response as she had never thought of Mary King as being exceptionally pretty. Her attractive appearance had more to do with the fine clothes she purchased in London’s shops than any particular physical attribute. “Do you really think Mary King is so very pretty?”
“She is pretty enough,” Lizzy said, “and her money makes her even more beautiful.”
Opinions on Mary King varied greatly, depending on one’s sex. While the ladies regarded Mary as a flirt, who would elbow any perceived competitor out of the way, the men found her witty and engaging and an excellent dance partner.
Charlotte explained that it was impossible to avoid inviting Miss King as Sir William was friends with Mary King’s uncle, the lady’s guardian.
“And what is the other surprise?” Lizzy asked with resignation in her voice. Mary King would be at Netherfield Park whether she liked it or not.
“Mr. Darcy will also be attending.”
“But I heard he was deaf,” Jane said.
“Well, even a deaf man can play cards,” Charlotte answered.
&nb
sp; “Personally, I do not care if the gentleman is deaf,” Lizzy said. “Jane and I have already decided that she will have Mr. Bingley, and I shall have Mr. Darcy.”
Charlotte laughed out loud. “Mr. Darcy is old enough to be your—”
“…father?”
“I was going to say grandfather.”
“That may be so, but rumor has it that he is as rich as Croesus. So, I shall take care of him in his old age to the best of my ability, and when he goes on to his glory, I shall act the merry widow.”
“I had not thought about that,” Charlotte said, “and now that I know how very rich Mr. Darcy is, I shall fight you for him. I can be as merry a widow as you, Lizzy.”
“It will not do, Charlotte. I have already determined that you will marry my father’s cousin, Mr. Collins. He is a curate in Kent and in need of a wife.”
“A curate?” Charlotte shook her head. “Curates are very poor, you know.”
“From Mr. Collins’s letters, it is clear that his patroness, the daughter of an earl, has been very generous to him, going to considerable expense to refurbish the Parsonage, and he is regularly invited to attend on Her Ladyship at the manor house. Besides, as you know—as anyone who has ever had a conversation with Mama knows—Mr. Collins is to inherit Longbourn. As Longbourn is your home away from home, Charlotte, you will be quite comfortable here. However, you must be kind to Mr. Collins’s poor relations.”
“Then Mr. Collins it is.”
“And when you do marry our cousin, please encourage him to stop writing letters as it distresses our mother.”
“After my acceptance of his offer of marriage, it shall be the first thing we discuss. Does that satisfy?”
“It certainly does,” Lizzy said, laughing.
“So, it is all settled. Jane is to marry Mr. Bingley. Lizzy is to marry Mr. Darcy, and I am to marry Mr. Collins—a perfect solution for three ladies in need of husbands.”
* * *
Mrs. Darlington was confused. The man Mr. Bingley was introducing as Mr. Darcy was definitely not Mr. Darcy. Multiple sources had told her that the gentleman from Derbyshire was quite elderly and hirsute. The man standing before her had not yet reached his thirtieth year and had no beard at all.
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