Elizabeth glanced at her relations. Jane was preoccupied with Mr. Bingley’s close attentions, Lydia and Kitty were engaged in their usual gossiping and giggling, and Mary was deep into her Bible. Only her parents seemed aware of the murmurings, and they reacted in very different ways. Her father was obviously bored by the whole exercise, while her mother, cheeks red with embarrassment, raised her chin and sat straight in the pew next to Elizabeth, looking neither left nor right. She reached over and squeezed Elizabeth’s hand.
“Never mind them,” Mrs. Bennet whispered, indicating the townspeople. “Gossip is all they have. We have better waiting for us at home.” She accented her declaration with a wink.
Elizabeth’s mortification was complete.
The service passed without further incident, but the rain had returned. While waiting for the carriage, Elizabeth had time to speak with her good friend, Charlotte Lucas.
“It is the talk of Meryton,” Charlotte disclosed in a low voice. “Everyone knows that Mr. Collins has quit Longbourn, but there is no accord as to why. Some say he was driven out because of some unrevealed misbehavior by him. Others say that he had grown tired of Mrs. Bennet’s insistent matchmaking.” She looked at her friend expectantly for an answer.
Elizabeth blushed. She longed to be frank with Charlotte, but a crowded church was not the proper place for such a discussion. “There is a reason he has left our house, and the blame must be all his. More than that I cannot say, but if you come to Longbourn tomorrow, you shall know all.”
Charlotte’s eyes grew wide, and she stole a glance at her mother across the church. “I am happy you told me this much. Mother was quite put out when she heard the news of Mr. Collins’s removal, and she is determined to show the man the civility she says he deserves. She means to invite him to Sunday dinner.” She continued in a whisper, “I think she wants me to take your place.”
Elizabeth looked over. Sure enough, Lady Lucas was deep in conversation with Mr. Collins.
“Charlotte, take care! I must leave now, but promise me you shall do nothing, agree to nothing, until we talk tomorrow!”
Charlotte readily agreed, and the two parted, Elizabeth still unsettled. She was glad for her own escape from the foolish clergyman, but she wondered whether Charlotte could withstand both Mr. Collins and her parents. She knew her friend was all but acknowledged a spinster and that she was painfully aware she was a burden on her family. Elizabeth prayed that Charlotte would resist any entreaties until they spoke again.
Once in the family carriage, Elizabeth learned that the Bingley party was to return to Netherfield, but Mr. Darcy’s relations were firm in their intention to dine with him, regardless of the rain. The two carriages made good time in the inclement weather, and all were soon safe and dry at Longbourn. As Mr. Darcy could not join the others in the dining room, Mrs. Bennet had Mrs. Hill set up a small table for Miss Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam in the parlor. The young lady and the officer could hardly find the words to express the appreciation they felt, and a very flattered Mrs. Bennet took her usual place at table with a self-satisfied smirk.
Sunday dinner at the Bennets was a matter of routine, for Mr. Bennet, contrary to his usual behavior, was very particular about it. It was Elizabeth’s favorite meal because her father, basking in the pleasure of enjoying his preferred dishes, was gregarious and forgiving of the foibles of the more foolish members of the family.
Alas, today was not a usual day. It began with the presentation of the main course.
“Madam,” cried Mr. Bennet, “what is this?”
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Bennet?”
“This!” He gestured to the platter of meat set before him in preparation for the ritual carving. “This is not roast beef. This is a leg of lamb!”
“House-lamb is all we can get in November. We cannot get good grass-lamb until spring, you know.”
Mr. Bennet rolled his eyes. “You misunderstand me. What I want to know is why we are having lamb at all. And — good heavens, is that potatoes? Where is the Yorkshire pudding?”
“Potatoes are much better with lamb.”
“Mrs. Bennet, this is Sunday. We always have roast beef and Yorkshire pudding on Sundays!”
“Yes, but we have guests.” Mrs. Bennet smiled and looked at Elizabeth. “I understand Mr. Darcy is partial to lamb.”
Elizabeth’s face turned bright red while her two youngest sisters giggled uncontrollably.
Mr. Bennet glowered. “Mrs. Bennet, this is my house, not Mr. Darcy’s, and I expect roast beef on Sundays!”
His wife waved her napkin in an unperturbed manner. “Oh, you may have your old roast beef next week! Indeed, you like Cook’s lamb.”
“That, madam, is beside the point. You are spending my money on Mr. Darcy’s lamb!”
Mrs. Bennet was unmoved. “I insist you carve. The rest of us are waiting.”
Mr. Bennet was all irritation as he attacked the mass of meat before him. Usually very careful, he made a hash of it, but Elizabeth could forgive him his mood. All her life she could depend upon roast beef and Yorkshire pudding for Sundays. It was her father’s favorite dish, and for his preferences to be set aside as a result of Mrs. Bennet’s scheming was not only unfair in Elizabeth’s eyes, but unnecessary.
True, Mr. Darcy had been a bit more accommodating of late. He had apparently forsaken the snobbish air he so effortlessly displayed at Netherfield during Jane’s illness, and he had been very forceful in his dealings with the obnoxious Mr. Collins and his equally unpleasant aunt. But that signified little to her. Elizabeth was still the lady judged not tolerable enough to make an adequate dance partner. It was not easy to recover from such a blow to one’s pride.
Mr. Darcy’s recent good behavior was the result of the gentleman finally remembering his manners — that was all, Elizabeth decided. For her part, she would respond in kind. The two might no longer be enemies, but acquaintance is not admiration. Mrs. Bennet’s ambitions for her second daughter were doomed to failure.
Mr. Bennet’s mood did not improve upon the presentation of dessert.
“Baked apples? But where is the trifle?”
“Oh, Mr. Bennet,” laughed his wife, “we have trifle all the time! The apples were so nice this week. I knew we must have some. Nice and warm on a cool and wet November day. Look, Cook added currants. It smells heavenly, does it not, Jane?”
“I do not like currants,” whined Mr. Bennet. “I like my trifle! Is it too much to ask that I be satisfied one day a week?”
This last statement from Mr. Bennet was one too many, and all the girls looked on with wide eyes as their mother threw down her napkin. “I will have you know that I have set a good table for you these four and twenty years! Such a thing to say to me!”
Mr. Bennet remembered himself and apologized, not very graciously, but it was accepted by his wife, and all attended to the apples. They were delightful, an opinion echoed from outside the family.
Colonel Fitzwilliam appeared with a plate, the smile on his face making his plain features very pleasant. “Mrs. Bennet,” he cried. “Allow me to convey the gratitude of my cousins and myself for a wonderful dinner!”
“You are very welcomed, Colonel,” Mrs. Bennet simpered, giving her husband a look of triumph. “It has been said I serve the best dinner in Hertfordshire, and I believe I can give a good account of myself, even in Town! I am happy you enjoyed it. Mr. and Miss Darcy did so as well?”
The colonel laughed. “Indeed, they did! In fact, my cousin sent me to see if any of those delicious apples were left. He is not one for second helpings, but he cannot resist a baked apple, particularly with currants!”
“Is that so?” Mrs. Bennet looked as if butter would not melt in her mouth. “Well, here is more. Hill will fill your plate.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam turned his back and did not see how dark Mr. Bennet’s look became, but the change in her father’s countenance did not escape Elizabeth’s notice. He waited to explode until the cheerful colonel left
the room.
“Mr. Darcy likes baked apples, does he?!” Mr. Bennet stood up in a huff. “Mrs. Bennet, you may name me exceedingly displeased!” He stalked off, declaring that he was going to his book room and was not to be disturbed. Elizabeth was thankful that he did not slam the door.
Mrs. Bennet did not seem affected in the least. “Oh, he will sit and storm for a while. Let him stew.” She smiled at Elizabeth. “The important part is that Mr. Darcy is well pleased!” With that, she rose to go to the kitchen to thank the cook.
Elizabeth’s sisters stared at her, and the object of their examination dearly wanted to escape to the woods if only the weather would permit it. It did not, however, and the others began directly to question her.
“Lord, Lizzy, is Mama trying to match you with Mr. Darcy?”
“Lydia, I am sure that is not what Mama is doing.”
“It appears so, Jane. How funny! Mr. Darcy is so dull!”
“Mr. Darcy is a respectable gentleman, Kitty. He is serious, not dull, although I must wonder at his disrespect for a member of the clergy.”
“Oh, hush, Mary! (cough) Mr. Darcy is worth a hundred of your stupid Mr. Collins!”
“Kitty, he is not my Mr. Collins!”
“Perhaps not, but Mama would have Mr. Darcy be Lizzy’s! Haha! If only he had a red coat, he would be as handsome as Wickham!”
“Lydia, for shame! Mr. Wickham is a scoundrel.”
“I know that, Jane, but he is a handsome scoundrel.”
“If Mr. Darcy marries you, Lizzy, how many carriages would you have?”
“Money is the root of all evil.”
“Oh, hush, Mary!”
There was nothing for it but for Elizabeth to flee above stairs.
* * *
“I say, Darce,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, “these baked apples are almost as good as the ones served at Pemberley!”
“I agree,” said Darcy. “Apparently, Mr. Bennet has a source of cinnamon — it must be his relations in trade.”
“I have no idea what cinnamon is, but if it makes apples taste like this, then I must have Father procure some for Matlock.”
Darcy, knowing how frugal and English his uncle was when it came to his table, did not expect that Fitzwilliam was serious. It was a long-standing difference between Pemberley and Matlock, for the earl considered all things French to be foreign and unnecessary — except for wine and Cognac, of course. At Pemberley, it was another matter entirely. Darcy’s cooks were well versed in the French style, and lately there had been attempts at Italian pasta and even the exotic curry of India.
Georgiana ate her dessert with a thoughtful expression. “Has Mr. Collins left Longbourn?” Assured that he had, she became concerned. “I do hope that the Bennets are not blamed for that. There were strange looks directed at them during the church service.”
The colonel was nonchalant. “Small society as found in the country must have their gossip, Georgie. What other entertainments are available here in the wilderness?”
“If memory serves,” responded Darcy drily, “the ton indulges in its share of gossip and scandal and more besides, even with all the diversions that may be enjoyed in Town.”
The colonel laughed. “Well said! Although you must admit that gossip is paramount among the pastimes in London! Things would be so dull without it.”
For some of us, thought Darcy. Aloud, he asked his cousin how long he was to stay in Hertfordshire.
“My plans are not fixed,” the colonel admitted. “I have received indefinite leave from Whitehall.” He grinned. “It helps having a father in the House of Lords, what? The length of my stay depends on you, Darcy, and how fast your leg heals. I shall stay until you are well enough for removal to London and civilization.”
“Well, I like it here,” said Georgiana. “I only hope that Mrs. Annesley is not too lonely.”
“I am sure your companion is well and has enjoyed her short respite from her duties,” said the colonel. “She will join us once the weather clears. That reminds me.” He moved to the window and looked outside. “Yes, I thought the weather was letting up. We should return to Netherfield before the rains return in earnest.”
Georgiana was not happy. “I want to spend more time with Brother!”
Darcy’s heart was touched by his sister’s devotion. “As much as I enjoy your company, my dear, our cousin is right. You must not endanger your health.”
“I am not like Anne; a little rain will not bother me!”
Darcy could hardly believe how quickly Georgiana’s sprits had revived in Hertfordshire. It made him almost happy that he had broken his leg — almost. “If my sister should fall ill, it would bother me a great deal. Please do as I ask.”
“Oh, very well.” The girl pouted for a minute before an idea seemed to occur to her. “If we must go, I should take my leave of the Bennets, especially Mrs. Bennet.” She stood and, with an insincere smile, said, “It would not do for me to fail to thank her for her hospitality. I should not be a moment!” The two gentlemen watched her depart.
“She is going to grow to be a handful, I think,” observed the colonel. “I do not envy you.”
Darcy was too happy to see his sister smiling again to be concerned about such things. “She has been through much. I can indulge her a little.”
Mrs. Hill came in. “Begging your pardon, sirs, but I just spoke to Miss Darcy, and she said that you were preparing to leave. Shall I have Mr. Hill fetch the carriage?”
Darcy was pleased at the efficiency of the housekeeper. “Very good, Mrs. Hill. Directly, if you please.” A quick curtsy and the servant was gone.
Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam spent a little time talking over politics until Georgiana’s return with Mrs. Bennet and Jane. The Bennet ladies bade their visitors goodbye at the door while Darcy wondered why Miss Elizabeth had not joined them.
Darcy’s thoughts had become increasingly occupied by fine eyes, curly hair, and impertinent remarks. He thought he had been winning his struggle against Miss Elizabeth’s now undeniable attractions, but the incident with Mr. Collins overthrew such fantasies. He was lost — he had as much as declared himself during his defense of the lady. There was nothing for it but to make clear his intentions in form.
And why should I not? he asked himself. She was a gentleman’s daughter and, therefore, his equal. True, she had not the benefit of a season in Town, but what of it? In Darcy’s opinion, society had ruined more ladies than it helped. Elizabeth was kind and intelligent, not the least bit mercenary, and she possessed a quality missing from many: courage. Her strength of character stirred his blood as thoroughly as did her light and pleasing figure. She was just the sort of companion his dear sister Georgiana needed — and himself.
The lady was not indifferent to him, he knew. The spark in her eyes just yesterday as she helped him back to bed sent a jolt through him that left him speechless. He was bewitched by her plump, moist lips; he ached to taste them — to lose himself in her arms.
Just then, Mrs. Bennet returned, and Darcy was glad for the blanket across his lap. Otherwise, he was sure to be ashamed of himself.
“Are you feeling any better today, Mr. Darcy?” asked the matron. “I must say, you are looking well, as is your sister — a lovely young lady. You should be very proud of her. She is welcome anytime to Longbourn — and your cousin, the colonel.
“I understand you enjoyed the dinner. I shall tell Cook that you were pleased. It is important to set a good table and impress one’s guests, as I have constantly instructed my girls. Oh, they all know their duties, I can assure you! Lizzy is particularly attentive to such things, but then, so are all the girls. Yes, running an estate like Longbourn is not very different from Netherfield or even Pemberley, I daresay. Why, they are all houses, some larger than others. The only difference is the size of the staff. You are satisfied with the attention we have shown, are you not?”
The lady’s transparent fawning and boasting almost undid Darcy, but he was able to mars
hal his expression into a properly appreciative visage though he did have to bite his tongue to stop from snickering.
“I have no complaints at all, madam. Mrs. Hill and Sally have been most attentive. And I shall say that the food is as good as I have had in any house I have visited.”
“Bless you, sir, but it is nothing!” Mrs. Bennet simpered. “It is just a matter of proper household management. As I told Mr. Bennet, ‘We do not have to worry over our girls, for wherever they go, they shall run the finest house in their neighborhood!’ Well, I should leave you to rest. I shall let your man Bartholomew know your relations have departed.”
Mrs. Bennet closed the door behind her, leaving a very pleased Darcy. He expected that Mrs. Bennet would not be averse to having Miss Elizabeth become Mrs. Darcy, but to have her so blatant about it was actually comforting. All that remained was to get well enough to propose to the charming Elizabeth.
Darcy smiled, anticipating her response.
Chapter 9
THE RAINS FINALLY ENDED; the sun shone merrily the next morning. Elizabeth could hardly restrain herself long enough to make a proper toilet and choke down a bit of breakfast before seeking the solitude and serenity that only a walk in the countryside could provide.
The air was cool and still, and the woods were ablaze with color. Elizabeth’s shoes made an agreeable crunch on the new-fallen leaves as she progressed on her ramble. Finally, assured she was indeed by herself, she turned her thoughts from a simple appreciation of nature to the issues that had plagued her sensibilities during the past week.
She disliked Mr. Darcy, and he disliked her. Until his accident, nothing could have been more firmly decided in her mind. He was snobbish, proud, disagreeable, and worst of all, he had insulted her appearance. The man was above his neighbors. He paid no attention to anyone who was not part of his immediate party, and when he did, it was only to observe their faults with a satirical eye. It was the reason Lizzy accepted Mr. Wickham’s tale of woe so readily.
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