Chapter Seven
I t is just the parson and his wife, Darcy.”
“I am in no humour to be polite to Aunt Catherine’s parson, Richard. If he is anything like his predecessor, he will be a sycophantic oaf.” Mr. Darcy was irritated at this new burden his aunt had laid upon him.
“But his wife will come as well; surely she will be an improvement. Come now, you know that you must attend and you will.”
“Yes; I must and I will.” Darcy knew his duty well, but he did not have to be pleased at its execution.
As it turned out, it was not just the rector and his wife; there was also another gentleman, and two young ladies. The other gentleman was the parson’s father-in-law, Sir Lucas. The youngest of the two unknown young ladies was the younger sister of the parson’s wife. The older of the two young ladies was the wife’s dearest friend from childhood, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. The friend was also a cousin of the parson.
Accustomed from a very young age to grappling with the complexities of families and relationships, Mr. Darcy had no difficulty in assigning the newcomers into their correct slots: parson, wife, father-in-law, sister-in-law, friend. Friend? Mr. Darcy found his eyes fastened on the friend, Miss Bennet.
She was quite pretty, despite the simplicity and age of the gown she wore. Anne’s gown was far more elaborate, with lace dripping from the sleeves and more lace tucked into the bodice, but such attire only served to make Anne appear plainer in comparison. In contrast, the simplicity of Miss Bennet’s gown made her eyes sparkle all the more, her hair shine in the candlelight with additional luster, the curves of her body – Mr. Darcy stopped himself. With an effort, he tore his eyes away from her.
He glanced quickly at his aunt; happily she had not seen his preoccupation with the pretty stranger, as Lady Catherine had been busily interrogating her parson on his proposed sermon for the coming Sabbath.
As everyone got settled in the drawing room, Anne motioned for Mr. Darcy to sit beside her on the sofa she usually inhabited. Mr. Darcy pretended not to see the gesture; instead, he sat on a chair near Miss Bennet. “Will you be in Kent long, Miss Bennet?” he asked.
“Sir Lucas will leave tomorrow, but Maria and I will stay for a month.” Her voice was low-pitched and musical.
“How do you like it so far?”
She laughed. It was a sweet, merry sound. “We arrived yesterday, so I have little to report; though the grounds around the parsonage are very pretty.”
“Where are you from, if I may enquire?”
“You may, of course. I live in a little town called Meryton, in the county of Hertfordshire.”
“Meryton! Well, here is an odd coincidence. My good friend Charles Bingley leased an estate there last year and promptly married a local lady. His handwriting is atrocious, so I could not make out her name; but perhaps you know her?”
“I know her well, as she is my elder sister, Jane, and Charles is now my brother by marriage. So you are the Mr. Darcy who was supposed to visit and did not!”
“Yes, I had thought to advise him as to estate responsibilities, as he requested, but my mother asked that I not leave home.”
His mother guides his actions? Elizabeth wondered at that, but did not comment.
Mr. Darcy looked embarrassed, as if reading her thoughts. “My father recently passed away, and she has not…not been herself.”
Elizabeth hastened to assure him that no explanation was required. “Though I must tell you that Charles is still uncertain as to whether or not he should purchase Netherfield. Perhaps at some point you will be able to make the journey to advise him. He occasionally asks my father for advice, but my parent is perhaps not the best source of information.”
“Your father owns an estate?” Mr. Darcy tried to sound casual, but he was essentially asking what her social status was; it was an awkward question and he immediately regretted it.
“He does, but he prefers his books to his duties.”
Mr. Darcy said, “I do not think Bingley will have that problem.”
“I think you are right.” Elizabeth’s grin was infectious, and Mr. Darcy found himself chuckling.
Lady Catherine thumped her stick on the floor. “Darcy!”
Mr. Darcy looked up. “Yes, Aunt Catherine?”
“Come here; I need you.”
With an apologetic look at Elizabeth, he rose and went to his aunt’s side. Lady Catherine was evidently incapable of whispering, as the entire room heard her say, “Whatever can you mean by sitting next to that nobody? Do you not see Anne waiting for you?”
Mr. Darcy thought he had never been so mortified in all his twenty-seven years, but happily, Richard leapt into action. “I will be happy to entertain Anne!” And he rose from his chair and sat himself down next to Anne. “What shall we discuss, Anne? Or, as I know you are taking pianoforte lessons, might I turn the pages while you entertain the company?”
Anne shrank back in her seat, shaking her head.
Her ladyship frowned at the Colonel, and the frown intensified as she then accosted Elizabeth. “I am given to understand from Mrs. Collins that you play, Miss Bennet.”
“Only a little, Lady Catherine. My sister Mary is the true proficient in our family.”
“Alas, your sister Mary is not with us, so it falls to you to entertain us.” Her ladyship’s tone was acerbic. That this was Elizabeth’s punishment for occupying the attention of Mr. Darcy could not be lost on anyone in the room.
Without another word, Elizabeth rose and walked to the instrument. Mr. Darcy, in agony over his aunt’s rudeness, followed her, saying that he would be happy to turn pages for her. Elizabeth rummaged through the music sheets, finding several that she thought she could perform creditably.
“I apologise for my aunt’s behaviour, Miss Bennet,” Mr. Darcy whispered. “She means well.”
“Does she?” Elizabeth whispered back. Without giving her companion an opportunity to respond, she launched into the music, spine straight and courage high. She continued to play until the company was called in to dinner.
Elizabeth was seated between Charlotte and Colonel Fitzwilliam, so she had nothing to wish for in terms of amiable dialogue. The Colonel, she quickly discovered, was an intelligent man and a willing conversationalist.
“There will be quite a lot of food,” the Colonel murmured to her. “You will want to take just a small amount of each dish.”
“I shall do my best not to offend my hostess,” she replied.
“Do not concern yourself; it is impossible for you not to offend her,” was the unexpected response.
“I beg your pardon?” Elizabeth was shocked.
“No, I must beg yours, as that was poorly phrased. Let me try again. Darcy made the mistake of speaking to you, which means you have already earned my aunt’s enmity.”
“But why? He is engaged to her daughter; a brief conversation with me can harm neither daughter nor mother.”
“Engaged? Where did you hear that?”
“I understood it to be common knowledge,” she replied, confused.
“My aunt very much wishes for the engagement, as does Anne, but it has not yet happened.”
“But surely it will?”
“I very much hope not.”
Charlotte now commanded Elizabeth’s attention, so Elizabeth was forced to contain her natural curiosity on the subject and satisfy Charlotte’s enquiries as to her enjoyment of her food.
Eventually, Lady Catherine rose, signaling the end of the meal, and led the ladies into the drawing room. Lady Catherine went to her preferred high-backed seat, Anne took the seat nearest the fire, and Charlotte, Elizabeth and Maria sat together on the sofa.
“Sit beside me, Miss Bennet,” Lady Catherine commanded.
Elizabeth rose and went to Lady Catherine’s side. There was no chair nearby, but Lady Catherine gestured to a low footstool. Unbelievable, Elizabeth thought, but sat at her ladyship’s feet, as she had been bid.
“You are a pretty enough girl,” Lady Catherine began. “What are your accomplishments?”
“I play, as you know –“
“Poorly,” her ladyship interjected.
“I did say that my sister Mary was the proficient, you recall. I speak French and Italian, and have a good understanding of European history and geography. I am competent in mathematics.”
“That is all?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “I read a good deal, your ladyship.”
Lady Catherine scoffed. “Do you paint? Draw? Design tables?”
“No, Lady Catherine, none of those.”
“So you cannot call yourself truly accomplished.”
“Indeed, I would never have dreamt of doing so.”
“Very well. You understand that my nephew Darcy is engaged to my daughter?”
“I know nothing whatever of the matter, your ladyship, as it is none of my concern.”
“None of your concern! Did you not invite my nephew Darcy to sit beside you before dinner, in a blatant bid for his attention?” Her ladyship rapped her stick on the floor, angrily.
Elizabeth was reaching the end of her patience. Only a quick glance at Charlotte, who was looking pleadingly at her, allowed her to keep her countenance. “No, your ladyship, I did not. He chose that seat himself.”
At this, Lady Catherine waved her away. Gracefully and gratefully, Elizabeth rose from her low seat, curtsied, and went back to her place between Charlotte and Maria.
“Charlotte…” Elizabeth muttered.
“Later, Eliza,” her friend whispered.
Elizabeth glanced over at Miss de Bourgh, who was frowning mightily at her.
The gentlemen soon returned. The Colonel made a beeline for Miss de Bourgh, so that the seat beside her was occupied, thus allowing the other gentlemen to sit where they chose. Her ladyship frowned at the Colonel, but he ignored his aunt completely.
Mr. Darcy was disappointed to see that there were no seats available near Miss Bennet, but perhaps that was a good thing. He knew he had already made her a target for his aunt’s ire; he should stay far, far away from Miss Bennet for the duration of his visit to Rosings Park.
But he found his eyes drawn to her face, again and again. Her beautiful, expressive dark eyes! The intelligence that shown from her visage! Against his better judgment, he compared her to his cousin Anne, who sat beside Richard and had nothing whatever to say to him, though Mr. Darcy knew Richard to be an entertaining and intelligent companion. Look at how engaged Miss Bennet had been by him at dinner; the two had whispered to one another throughout the entire meal.
Then Mr. Darcy grimaced. Richard and Miss Bennet? Was it possible that his cousin could develop a tendré for Miss Bennet?