Chapter 16
Darcy led Miss Lydia back to her mother where she could dry her hair and gown close enough to feel the heat but far enough away not to catch fire again. Miss Elizabeth sat with her right hand cradled in the palm of her left. Fortunately, the blisters on her fingertips were small. Nevertheless, he knew from experience how long she would feel the throbbing sting. Yet, not once did she complain. Nor did she call attention to herself. Instead, she tended her sister, who was being extraordinarily cautious with the flames.
He studied Miss Lydia closely. Her shorn locks and washed face revealed her youthfulness, reminding Darcy how inexperienced she was. He suspected that her parents spent little time with her training. Her mother appeared to use her as a tool to gain security. Her father ignored her. Under those circumstances, where she was left on her own and driven by ignorant desires, other than observing her elder sisters, how would she know how to comport herself?
She was a pretty girl, though not as lovely as Miss Elizabeth, with a liveliness that could bring delight to a household. Except she was unschooled. At this revelation, he saw Lydia Bennet in a new light. She had potential, if she could master a measure of self-control, to become attractive. Was this what Miss Elizabeth saw when she looked at her sister? The possibility of something better? Is that why she kept trying to restrain Miss Lydia’s impulses? Although he had no way of knowing for certain, he suspected he was correct. Miss Elizabeth’s love and wisdom would have her see the best of what her sisters could be. She would make a wonderful mother.
What?Good heavens! Why would his mind go in that direction? Better he should think of something or someone else.
Completely undermining his intent, Miss Elizabeth began to sing:
Hey diddle diddle,
The cat and the fiddle,
The cow jump”d over the moon,
The little dog laugh”d to see such craft,
And the fork ran away with the spoon.
“Sing my version, Lizzy,” Miss Lydia asked as she leaned into her sister.
Without hesitation, Miss Elizabeth continued.
Hey diddle diddle,
The cat and the fiddle,
The cow slept in until noon,
Lydia laugh”d at a cow so daft,
And the Fork danced the waltz with the Spoon.
“Do a verse for Mr. Darcy, please,” Miss Lydia asked, much to his embarrassment, especially when she rested her chin on her clasped hands. “He is my hero!”
That was all he needed.With every passing second, his face burned hotter until he guessed that he resembled a ripe tomato. All eyes in the room seemed to be on him.
He shifted from one foot to the other, hoping beyond hope that the verse was at the least flattering.
Finally, Miss Elizabeth sang:
Hey diddle diddle,
The Cat told a riddle,
The hero gave the maiden a boon,
The little girl laugh”d to see his kind act,
And the Fork became friends with the Spoon.
Miss Elizabeth was clever. Once she finished, there was not a somber face in the room except Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. Even Cook smiled.
Miss Bennet helped her mother to stand. “Come, Mama. Do keep Lydia company, for she has had a terrible fright. Kitty, you should also attend your sister. Mary, if you would support Mama.” When the middle girl started to complain, Miss Bennet said, “Mary, I believe it is the Christian thing to do.” Mary Bennet moved quickly into place.
Mrs. Bennet not only sat beside her youngest, but she pulled the girl into a warm embrace, saying nothing about the heroics of her second daughter. Miss Elizabeth rose to make way for her siblings.
Movement to his left drew his attention away. Caroline Bingley sidled close.
“You must wish you were already returned to London where society”—she sneered at the Bennets gathered in front of the fire—“is refined. Louisa and I are ready to depart as soon as the carriage can be ordered. With Charles and Hurst in their cups, we hope for the escort of two courageous gentlemen such as yourself and Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
Without hesitation, he replied, “Are you not our hostess? Would you leave your neighbors and friends to suffer in your own house without your oversight, especially since they were for your ball? You would risk travel in this weather without a care for the cattle and servants?”
Ignoring her gaping mouth, colorless skin, and wide-eyed shock, he barely tipped his head to her. “Pardon me, Miss Bingley.”
“But. but…”
“Would you place Colonel Fitzwilliam and myself in the center of the danger of a storm unlike any other I have experienced before so you might avoid the responsibilities inherent in your position? I cannot condone your including us in your selfish planning, Miss Bingley. You know nothing of what I wish or want.” Darcy easily ignored her sputtering. Instead, he approached his cousin, standing apart in a far corner. Richard’s eyes were fixed on Miss Jane Bennet. His relief was palpable, for it was not Miss Elizabeth who captured Richard’s attention.
“She is Bingley’s angel?” Richard asked.
“She is.”
“If I recall correctly, you said she smiled too much. I do not see her smiling now.”
Darcy leaned closer. “I will be honest, upon further observation of Miss Bennet, I confess that she is more complicated than I first concluded. She is not easily led. For example, she refuses to follow the selfish Bingley sisters into the stillroom, and she sees to the needs of others without drawing particular attention to herself. Where I once saw weakness, I see strength of character, not unlike her next younger sister.”
“Hmm.” Richard tapped his chin with his finger. “And what would you say is the difference between her and Miss Elizabeth?”
Taking his time to reflect on how much he would reveal, Darcy chose his words carefully. “Miss Bennet is serene. Miss Elizabeth is vibrant.”
Much to Darcy’s relief, Richard smiled before cuffing him on the shoulder.
“Where you need someone who will stir you from your desk, turn your world upside down, and remind you to laugh. Serenity is exactly what I need.” Richard peeled his gaze from the lady. “Is she attached to Bingley?”
With complete honesty, he said, “At first glance, I would have stated with conviction that her heart was untouched, and she was being pushed in that direction by her mother rather than her own affection. Now, I cannot begin to guess her feelings. What I can tell you is that there is nothing official whereupon Bingley arranged a courtship with Mr. Bennet’s agreement.”
“Very good.” Richard pulled at his cuffs. “Then I know how to proceed.”
Darcy had to ask. “You are interested in marriage then?”
“I am not yet convinced that being united with another is best for my future, but I would regret the loss of the possibility of getting to know her better.”
Grateful that his favorite cousin was no longer looking at Elizabeth, with appreciation, he said, “Best wishes to you.”
Richard grinned. “And you, as well.”
Elizabeth watchedthe colonel and Mr. Darcy closely. Obviously, they discussed Jane. When the colonel moved in that direction, and Mr. Darcy turned his attention to her, she did the only thing she could think to do—she arched her brow, folded her arms across her chest, and beckoned him to explain himself.Elizabeth pondered the situation for a mere moment before realizing that she did not mind the colonel’s attraction to her favorite sister at all.
She caught the hint of a smile before Mr. Darcy again studied his cousin.
The second Lydia and her mother saw the colonel’s approach, Elizabeth knew her youngest sister would believe his interest was in her. Pressing her eyelids closed so she would not see the coming humiliation, Elizabeth heard rather than saw…nothing at all. Peeking out between her lashes, she watched in amazement as Lydia stood and walked toward her, encouraging their mother, Kitty, and Mary to follow. Jane, whose back was toward where the men had been standing, offered the hearth to others.
Caroline Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were the first to respond.
“Well, it is about time that you, Bennets, allowed us access to the fire. There are, after all, others in the room deserving comfort. Come, my neighbors, do be seated where you can enjoy the warmth.”
Miss Bingley glanced toward Mr. Darcy as they moved toward the fireplace, undoubtedly expecting praise. Instead, he was making his way through the throng toward Elizabeth.
Once the gentlemen and the footmen returned to the cellar and most of the maids were put to work in the pantry with Cook, Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam were alone in a sea of females. Mrs. Long was pushing Sally and Sarah to approach the men. Lady Lucas was doing the same to Charlotte and her young sister Maria. Mrs. Hammond quietly observed the room when Mrs. Bennet finally noticed the colonel’s attention toward Jane.
“Look who is with Jane,” her mother began, only to be hushed by Lydia.
Barely keeping her jaw from dropping, Elizabeth listened as Lydia quietly explained to her mother and sisters that, according to Mr. Darcy, officers are unworthy fodder for a lady’s future. They were daughters of a gentleman deserving of nothing less than a duke, an earl, or even the prince himself. She finished with a smug, “Mr. Darcy said so.”
“Well, I never!” Francine Bennet gasped, glaring at the source of Lydia’s information. “Mr. Darcy does not have five daughters to marry, does he?”
“I do not…” Before Darcy could complete his comment, the kitchen door began rattling, and dirt and hailstones pelted the panes, threatening the glass.
“The wind changed,” the colonel said as he commanded, “away from the windows, ladies.”
Within seconds, the relative peace in the inner room was shattered by howls of terror from Mrs. Long, Lady Lucas, and Mrs. Bennet.
“This wind! Make it stop, I beg you. My poor nerves.”
Elizabeth heard her mother’s complaints so often through the years that she failed to react. However, Caroline Bingley apparently decided to stoke the fire.
“Tell me, Mrs. Bennet. Why would you ask someone to control the wind when you cannot even control the conduct of your daughters? To expect a gentleman to perform either of these tasks is ridiculous.” She guffawed. “For the past two weeks, Mr. Darcy has spoken of little but the storm of 1703. Surely, you are old enough to have lived through that melee so have little reason to be as fearful as you are now.”
By now, their hostess was surely at her wit’s end. Caroline Bingley’s barbs were pointed and cruel. She had to know that she gained no favor with Mr. Darcy, so she was apparently past the point of caring.
Additionally, they placed her mother in an untenable position. With the authority Miss Bingley commanded over her brother, to be in her disfavor could affect Jane’s potential to be the new mistress of Netherfield Park, her mother’s fondest dream. Yet, to let it go would have the two worst gossips in the shire (Lady Lucas and Mrs. Long) taunting Francine Bennet more than they already did.
With every fiber of her being, Elizabeth wanted to jump in and divert the attention to herself so her mother would not make matters worse by speaking carelessly. Nonetheless, Mrs. Hammond’s comments earlier about her family were valid. She was not responsible for either parent. Therefore, she pressed her lips together and said nothing, hoping this was one of the rare times that Francine Bennet was rational.
Her mother’s body shook before she breathed deeply to calm herself. Her chin lifted until she gazed down her nose at Miss Bingley, who remained seated on the hearth. Elizabeth knew that look well. Francine Bennet, on occasion, understood more than she let on. Even Elizabeth’s father stated once or twice that his wife had a degree of sense. Where she failed was in execution. The few times her mother convinced herself that she was in the right, she became a force to be reckoned with against anyone who dared to oppose her.
“Miss Bingley, you address me with words of contempt, yet have I not already accomplished what you most desire? Despite my background in trade being the same as yours, I attracted and married a gentleman landowner well before I reached my majority. Not only are you unwed at an age far beyond what I was, but it is apparent that there is no one in pursuit of your hand since we have seen no suitors since you arrived in Hertfordshire. On the other hand, my daughters are universally known to be kind-hearted. They know better than to utter callous, spiteful, malicious, or ruthless comments against anyone, but most especially a guest. I dare say that you could learn much from any of my children, Miss Bingley. Why, my Jane is a model of elegance. Elizabeth is a fount of intelligence and joy. Mary is morally excellent. Kitty and Lydia, though years younger than you, have an abundance of friends who are eager for their company. Tell me, who are your friends? Who is eager to spend time with you?” She waved her hand as if brushing away a fly. “Oh, do not trouble yourself to answer, Miss Bingley. Your lack of London companions other than Mr. Darcy and his cousin speaks for itself, does it not? Now, if you do not mind, I would caution you about sitting too close to the flames. I hear the wind picking up. Even with the screen placed properly, which should have been done for Lydia, the ashes might blow.”
Miss Bingley sat in stunned silence. She was not alone, for Elizabeth was gobsmacked by her mother’s reasoning. Barely keeping herself from hugging Mama close and praising her for her fine words, Elizabeth watched in horror as a downdraft, caused smoke, ash, and cinders, to back up into the kitchen. The screen kept the debris from Miss Bingley’s gown, but it did not stop the flow to her face and hair.
“No!” Miss Bingley screeched, sounding remarkably like Elizabeth’s mother had done moments prior. Before she could stop Mrs. Hurst, she grabbed the full water bucket kept by the fireplace and dumped it over her sister in the same manner as had been done earlier to Lydia.
The men rushed up from the cellar at the disturbance to witness Miss Bingley in all her disheveled glory. Instead of rejoicing in the justice of the moment, Jane and Elizabeth grabbed available dishcloths and a blanket to dry off as much water as possible. When Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley rushed back to the stillroom with no actual harm done to either sister, Jane offered assistance.
“Just leave me alone.”
Mrs. Francine Bennet chortled. “Well! I did try to warn her, did I not?”
At that moment, Elizabeth caught Mr. Darcy’s eye. Full of merriment, he cupped his hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. The colonel was no less affected. Mr. Bingley, unaware of what led up to the disaster and too comfortable with the amount of spirits he had already consumed, said, “I must speak to Mr. Morris about this fireplace. As steward of Netherfield Park, he should know it is defective. What say you, Darcy? Should we keep the ladies from the hearth since it appears they attract smoke?”
Mr. Darcy swallowed, closed his eyes tightly for a hairsbreadth, then said, “As you say, Bingley.”
Elizabeth suspected that she would be able to see bite marks on his tongue if she could see it.
Who knew Mr. Darcy had a sense of humor? By the minute, she learned more about him. And she liked what she learned.