Mr. Darcy Came to Dinner

by Jack Caldwell

  “That is no comfort!” cried Mrs. Hurst. “Caroline, we must — ”

  Just then the door to the music room was thrown open, and Mr. Bingley, face aglow, dashed in. “Congratulate me! Jane has made me the most fortunate man in the world!”

  “Oh, Brother, what have you done?” demanded Mrs. Hurst. Meanwhile, Caroline had turned white.

  “Louisa, she accepted me! My angel accepted me!”

  “Where is your angel, Bingley?” asked Colonel Fitzwilliam.

  “Eh? Why, right here — what?” Bingley looked about confused until Jane walked in, a picture of blushing contentment. “Oh, my dear! Pray forgive me! I could not wait to share our happiness!”

  Jane smiled but said not a word. She moved to Bingley’s side and took his arm, her blissful eyes filled with tears of joy.

  The room exploded! Shrieks were heard from Mrs. Bennet and her youngest daughters — and Mrs. Hurst too although hers were from a different emotion. Elizabeth dashed to her sister but could not embrace her; the girl’s attention was monopolized by her mother. So Elizabeth turned to Bingley and expressed all the love a future brother should have from a new sister.

  As she waited her turn with Jane, Elizabeth noticed that, unlike her red-faced sister, Caroline was standing apart from the crowd. She was pale and trembling, and her eyes darted back and forth between the group and Colonel Fitzwilliam. She then closed her eyes, took a great breath, and with the most affected of smiles, approached the happy couple.

  “Charles, Jane, I . . . I wish you joy.” Bingley grinned, Jane smiled, and Mrs. Hurst gasped, her protests overridden. “Louisa, Charles has made his choice. We must support him and help Jane with her entrance into society.” In her more usual tone of voice, Caroline added, “We will guide her, giving her the full benefit of our experience. She will not embarrass us, I am determined.”

  Elizabeth was outraged at the backhanded compliment but held her tongue. It would not do to have an argument at such a time. Besides, Jane, who seemed not bothered in the least, was now available for a loving embrace.

  “’Tis too much!” Jane said, “by far too much. I do not deserve it. Oh, why is not everybody as happy? Lizzy, why am I thus singled from my family and blessed above them all? If I could but see you as happy! If there were but such another man for you!” She stopped and whispered. “But there is.”

  “Oh, Jane,” said Elizabeth. “Not you too!”

  * * *

  Mr. Bingley soon took a hurried leave of those assembled, declaring he had business at Longbourn. Knowing the gist of that business sent Mrs. Bennet into another fit of elation.

  “Oh, my dear, dear Jane, I am so happy; I am sure I shall not get a wink of sleep all night! I knew how it would be! I always said it must be so at last. I was sure you could not be so beautiful for nothing! I remember, as soon as ever I saw him, when Mr. Bingley first came into Hertfordshire, I thought how likely it was that you should come together. Oh, he is the handsomest young man that ever was seen!”

  “You hear that, Georgie?” cried Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Your brother and I have been cast out of Mount Olympus and relegated to the condition of mere mortals. How shall I bear the degradation?”

  “Oh, Colonel, I meant no slight against you,” insisted the chastised matron, “or your excellent cousin.” She looked at Elizabeth and continued. “Mr. Darcy is all that is charming and handsome! And you, too, my dear colonel.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam grinned. “I thank you for my part, madam.”

  Caroline was vexed. “Pray refrain from fishing for compliments,” she said drily. “It is most unbecoming.” The colonel only laughed in return. She then stood, her smile brittle. “My dear Jane, may I tempt you to walk with me? There are many parts of Netherfield that are still unknown to you, and it would be my pleasure to bring them to your attention. As its future mistress, you should become as familiar with the house and the servants as I. The tour will refresh us as well.”

  Elizabeth did not know whether Caroline’s proposal arose from a desire to be of use to her future sister or to be removed from Mrs. Bennet’s company. Jane gave no clue as to her opinion of the matter and accepted Caroline’s offer. The others were to remain — details of the kitchen could be of no interest to them, they were told — and the two ladies swept out of the room.

  Mrs. Bennet, having no other target, engaged Mrs. Hurst in a one-sided conversation, a state of affairs that was accepted with thinly veiled contempt. The other Bennet ladies descended upon Colonel Fitzwilliam. Elizabeth found herself talking with Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley.

  “Your sister and Mr. Bingley seem well suited,” the heiress said. “I am sure they will be very happy together.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “Yes. They both are gifted with gentle and pleasing natures. I doubt a cross word will ever arise between them.”

  Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley shared a look. “I am sure you are right,” said the companion. “Not everyone, however, wishes to be paired for life with their mirror image. Some people,” another glance at Georgiana, “like to be challenged.”

  “There is some truth to that. There can be too much compliancy in marriage, I suppose.” Elizabeth looked over at her mother. “Respect, I am convinced, is very important.”

  “Very true,” said Mrs. Annesley. “Where there is a greatness of mind, there should also be an appreciation for the same in one’s chosen life partner, as well as the modesty of acknowledging that one cannot know everything. A sensible wife can support her husband without offering too much deference. Wise is the man who seeks a clever bride.”

  “Elizabeth is very clever,” Georgiana blurted out. “Do you not think so, Mrs. Annesley?”

  “Georgiana! You should not embarrass our friend so,” her companion gently admonished.

  “She is not embarrassed,” said Georgiana innocently as she turned. “Are you, Elizabeth?”

  A self-conscious Elizabeth managed, “Of course not.”

  Without a beat, Georgiana continued. “Mrs. Annesley, would you not say that my brother is a wise man?”

  “Georgiana!” the other two cried in unison, bringing attention to themselves from the others in the room.

  “What was that, dear?” asked Mrs. Bennet. “Is something the matter?”

  “No, Mama, nothing.” Elizabeth stood up. “I believe it is my turn again at the pianoforte. Georgiana, will you attend me?”

  * * *

  That evening a celebratory dinner was given at Longbourn, and Elizabeth found everyone in high spirits — well, almost everyone. Mrs. Hurst was decidedly morose, and while Caroline was not as rude as her sister, she was uncharacteristically quiet. Colonel Fitzwilliam spent no little time attempting to draw her out but to no avail. He finally abandoned the effort and joined the general conversation.

  The party concluded rather early. Mr. Bingley needed to prepare to return to London for business in two days and expected to spend the next day in close consultation with the steward of Netherfield. As it would be a full day, he reluctantly made his adieus, and the Hursts, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Miss Bingley accompanied him. Mr. Darcy retired to the parlor bedroom, despite the protests from Mrs. Bennet of his abandonment of the ladies.

  The young ladies, in fact, were not distressed, for they longed to retreat upstairs and review that delightful day in minute detail. Georgiana was particularly enthusiastic about being included in the conversations to come. With no sisters, she had never enjoyed the close comradeship of ladies her own age and, truth be told, felt the absence exceedingly since her arrival at Longbourn. With envious eyes, she watched the interactions among the Bennet sisters. To be invited to participate in such an intimate discussion met all her dreams of sisterly camaraderie. Jane held court, revealing to the delight of those assembled Mr. Bingley’s nervous, stuttering proposal.

  “Have you seen Cassandra?” Elizabeth asked Kitty during a lull in the conversation.

  “No, but she has been spending a great deal of time with Mr. Darcy.”r />
  Lydia smirked. “I think you have a rival for Mr. Darcy’s attentions, Lizzy!”

  “Stop talking foolishness!” Elizabeth cried, her face beet-red. “Mr. Darcy is a friend — that is all.”

  “Oh, certainly,” was Lydia’s retort before she, Kitty, and Georgiana dissolved into giggles. Elizabeth escaped as soon as she could and went directly to the parlor. The door was slightly open, so she knocked as she went in.

  “Mr. Darcy, I — ”

  At that moment, she saw Sally reaching down to hand a glass of port to Mr. Darcy, entirely coatless in his wheel-chair. Her entrance must have startled the maid, for she gasped and lost hold of the glass, spilling its contents over his fine silk shirt.

  “Stupid girl!” cried Bartholomew, who had been preparing Mr. Darcy’s bed for the night. “Look what you have done!” He dashed to his master’s side with towels, mumbling condemnations against the sobbing maid.

  “Oh, no, it is my fault,” protested Elizabeth. “Do not blame poor Sally.”

  The two servants tried to sop up the dark red liquid covering Mr. Darcy’s shirt, but it was a hopeless task. He was soaked through, the port making his shirt quite transparent. Elizabeth could clearly see that Mr. Darcy was not a man of leisure, at least not in the manner of men like Mr. Hurst. The muscles of his broad chest and strong arms were clearly defined, even with the red hue of the wine, and there seemed to be a small bit of dark hair about the center of his torso.

  The sight riveted Elizabeth. “I . . . I was looking for Cassandra . . . my cat.”

  Darcy looked up from the mess as his valet stepped forward to remove the soaked garment. “Miss Elizabeth, please! This is no place for you.”

  Elizabeth had never felt as flushed before. “Of course. I am so sorry!”

  With that, she left the room quickly and returned upstairs. As it was, Cassandra had been visiting Mary’s room and was waiting for her. Elizabeth quickly prepared for bed, not saying what had happened downstairs or what she had seen.

  But visions of Mr. Darcy in his wet shirt — and out of it — haunted her dreams all night.

  * * *

  Darcy awoke early the next morning, no worse for all the hullabaloo of the night before. Once the majority of the port had been soaked up, he had washed and retired. Before Sally left the room, he made certain to assure the girl that she had done him no harm and wished her and her family a good journey to London.

  Darcy found he was the first at breakfast. He spent little time there as Mr. Jones was due to inspect his injury. He was on his second cup of coffee when Colonel Fitzwilliam was announced. They retired to the parlor to await the apothecary’s arrival.

  The gentleman was prompt and immediately began his examination. After much poking and prodding, he judged that the injury was healing much faster than he thought possible.

  “You should still remain in your chair, sir,” he advised, “but the bone has knit in a very satisfactory manner, and you will soon be on your feet.”

  “That is welcomed news, sir.”

  “Indeed. You should know I have put my new knowledge to good use. I used this innovative splint on young Master Baker, who had fallen out of a tree, and his arm shall be as good as new, God willing. What a fortunate thing it was for me to meet Mr. Macmillan!”

  “I am glad my cousin was considerate enough to break his leg for you, sir,” remarked Colonel Fitzwilliam drily. “All in the name of science, you know.”

  “Fitz, enough!” Darcy demanded.

  Mr. Jones advised that Mr. Darcy should remain at Longbourn until the time set by Mr. Macmillan. The colonel waited until the good man left before speaking again.

  “So, you and Georgiana are to remain another fortnight?”

  “It appears so, but you are not so imposed. I appreciate your attendance and service, but you must not think that you are obligated to remain. Has Whitehall grown anxious by your absence?”

  “Not yet. Things are quiet now, thank the Lord. I consider myself at your and Georgie’s disposal.”

  “I am not sorry to hear it but do own myself surprised. A few days ago you sang a different tune.”

  “Yes . . . well, I have found that Hertfordshire holds a certain charm.”

  * * *

  It had been a long, hectic day, and Elizabeth owned herself tired from all the visiting in the village. Mrs. Bennet had gathered up her brood and marched off to Meryton to crow about her daughter’s good fortune as soon as it was fashionable. At least Lady Lucas took it all in stride. Disappointed as the good lady might have been over the Mr. Collins affair, her affection for the eldest Bennet girls fortified her against their mother’s bragging. Mrs. Goulding was sweetly insincere, and Mrs. Long was downright hostile. Mrs. Philips declared that she would have Jane and Elizabeth visit longer the next day so that callers could spend time with them — visits to Longbourn being out of the question due to the injured Mr. Darcy residing there.

  Elizabeth concluded that it was just as well that she was absent from Longbourn for the majority of the day. Her sleep the night before had been disturbed by the most wanton dreams! She knew she would blush beet-red had she come upon the gentleman at breakfast, and only the exhaustion of her activities gave her the ability to see Mr. Darcy at dinner with any level of modesty. Mr. Darcy himself appeared unharmed by the misadventure of the day before. Still, even attired in a splendid coat of bottle-green and an impeccably tied cravat, Elizabeth’s thoughts could barely stray from the fetching aspect of a drenched Darcy in his shirtsleeves. As a result, when it came to conversation with the man, she was tongue-tied, save for the odd innocent comment.

  She instead turned her attention to the others, finding soothing refuge in ordinary conversation. Mrs. Bennet was full of advice about Jane’s wedding, the bride-to-be accepting it all in her usual stride. Mary and Georgiana spoke of music, while Mrs. Annesley held Kitty spellbound with tales of the great painters of Europe. Colonel Fitzwilliam was in attendance, locked in a discussion of horseflesh with Lydia. Elizabeth was relieved to see her father and Mr. Darcy conversing amiably over matters of field drainage. It pleased her to see that tensions in the house had virtually vanished.

  Knowing she and Jane were to be at their Aunt Philips’s after breakfast, Elizabeth decided to retire early that evening. Before proceeding upstairs, she went into the kitchen to inform Cook of their plans. Cook thanked Elizabeth for her thoughtfulness but claimed their early departure was no burden as Mr. Darcy often breakfasted soon after sunrise.

  The thought of sharing breakfast with Mr. Darcy was an agreeable way to start the day, Elizabeth considered, as she made her way to the back stairs. She should be able to meet the man with composure after a good night’s rest. She had only climbed a few steps when her attention was called to a conversation between a downstairs maid and a stable boy.

  “Are ya sure about this, Billy?” the girl demanded.

  “She ain’t here, now, is she? I’m tellin’ ya, Mr. Bennet dismissed her.”

  “And for what? Sally’s as hard-workin’ a girl as Longbourn’s ever seen.”

  “That may be true, and that may not, but when the Quality takes a dislikin’ to ya, ya best see to yourself.”

  “The Quality? You mean Miss Bingley?” The maid sniffed. “She don’t carry no weight around here.”

  “You say true and no mistake, but I ain’t talking about that one. I means th’ guest in the parlor.”

  The maid gasped. “Mr. Darcy?”

  “Keep yer voice down,” the stable boy advised. “Do ya wanna be next?”

  “Why would Mr. Darcy want Sally run off?”

  “You didn’t hear about last night?”

  “I heard about some spilt wine and yellin’, but — No, I don’t believe it!”

  “Believe what ya like, but there’s the wine, an’ there’s Mr. Darcy — an’ Sally’s gone.”

  “Maybe she went home sick.”

  “Lord! Ain’t ya got a brain in yer head? Her stuff’s cleared out! Look,
I know th’ Master’s not one to run a servant off. Look how long he put up with old Whittaker, that damn thief. He was stealin’ him blind, he was, but th’ Master wouldn’t let him go ’til he retired. No, it was Mr. Darcy that made th’ Master dismiss Sally. Ya can depend on that, sure as I’m standin’ here.”

  “Just for spillin’ wine?” Elizabeth could hear disbelief in the maid’s voice.

  “And ruining his shirt. I’ve heard me some stories about the Quality, girl. Makes yer hair stand up on end.”

  “You’ve heard a lot o’things at the tavern, Billy, but I’d be careful of givin’ any of the fools there any say-so. Mr. Darcy’s been nothin’ but good an’ kind, and I’ll not say a word against him.”

  “I don’t think I like what yer sayin’. You sweet on Mr. Darcy?”

  “You’re daft! He’s too high for the likes of me. Besides, if I were, what business is it of yours?”

  “Aw, Betsey, ya know I’ve taken a fancy to ya.”

  The pair moved off, but Elizabeth remained frozen. She realized she had not seen Sally all day.

  No! Stop it! Elizabeth raged to herself. She had been there, and while Mr. Darcy was shocked at the incident, only his valet was angry. He was not. Elizabeth was sure of it. Certainly Mr. Darcy would not make her father dismiss a servant because of a ruined shirt.

  Would he?

  No! It was impossible! Mr. Darcy had been remarkably kind to her sisters — and to her — since he had been here. Elizabeth knew she had misjudged him. He was firm, but fair — and kind, very kind.

  Elizabeth almost went to her father for an explanation but stopped. It was foolish to confirm what she already knew. Perhaps Sally was ill. Elizabeth was sure she would see the girl tomorrow. Moreover, Billy was a known braggart. If he did not cease his tales, Elizabeth was of a mind to speak to her father about him.

  Not that Father would do anything. Billy was right about that. No, Father is not a man of action. Not like Mr. Darcy.

  Enough of that, Elizabeth Rose Bennet! Time to get to bed!