Chapter Nine #6
Mrs. Bennet, mollified by both the apology and the deference, drew herself up. “Well! That is handsome of you, Mr. Darcy. Hill! See that the footmen bring the parcels to the stillroom. I shall examine them and determine what is useful and what is redundant.”
“And the footmen themselves?” Mr. Bennet inquired. “Are they to be quartered in the stables, or shall we install them in the hall like statuary?”
“The footmen are here to ensure the security of the household whilst certain matters remain unresolved,” Darcy said, recovering some of his composure.
“They will take up posts at the entrances and on the grounds. They will lodge at Netherfield. They have been instructed to defer to your authority, Mr. Bennet, and to make themselves as unobtrusive as possible.”
“How terribly considerate.” Elizabeth tilted her head. “Did you consult my father before posting guards at his door, or was that another instance of your thoroughness?”
Darcy's gaze met hers. “I ought to have done so,” he said after a brief pause. “I hope, nevertheless, that you will forgive me for acting first. I could not bear the thought of Georgiana unprotected whilst her assailant remains at large.”
The quiet earnestness of his reply caught Elizabeth unawares. Her retort faltered.
“Of course you could not,” she said more gently. “And my father, I am sure, is sensible of the care you are taking for your sister.” She glanced at Mr. Bennet. “Even if he finds the manner of its execution somewhat sudden.”
Mr. Bennet's eyes gleamed. “Miss Elizabeth raises a valid point, Mr. Darcy. Though I confess I am not inclined to object to your footmen. They appear sturdy, and I have always thought Longbourn might benefit from a more imposing threshold presence. The chickens have grown altogether too bold.”
“Papa,” Elizabeth murmured, though she smiled.
“I am merely observing that Mr. Darcy's efficiency, whilst occasionally presumptuous, has its merits. It is not every man who can organise an entire defensive operation before luncheon.”
Darcy, clearly uncertain how far he was being mocked, inclined his head. “I shall endeavour to consult you in future, Mr. Bennet.”
“How remarkably diplomatic of you,” Elizabeth said. “Though I notice you phrase it as 'endeavour to consult' rather than 'certainly shall consult,' which suggests you reserve the right to act when you believe the case urgent.”
“You attend quite closely to my phrasing, Miss Elizabeth.”
“It has proved… instructive,” she returned, unable to resist. Yet there was more warmth than sting in the words now. “I will allow that your concern for Georgiana goes some way toward excusing your presumption. Only some way, mind you.”
“I must be content with that,” he said. For a fleeting instant, a reluctant amusement flickered in his eyes, and Elizabeth was uncomfortably aware of how much more attractive he appeared when not on his dignity.
Mrs. Annesley, who had been silent throughout, cleared her throat delicately. “Might I be shown to my room, Mrs. Bennet? I should like to settle my things and then attend Miss Darcy, if that would be convenient.”
“Oh! Yes, of course!” Mrs. Bennet, recalled to her duties as hostess, bustled toward the stairs. “Jane! Jane, where are you? Come help me show Mrs. Annesley to her room!”
As the party dispersed, Elizabeth found herself alone with her father for a moment. He studied her thoughtfully.
“Well, Lizzy,” he said. “That was quite a performance.”
“He is insufferable,” she replied, though the protest sounded weak even to her own ears. Darcy’s apology, and the genuine anxiety behind his arrangements, had unsettled her more than she cared to admit.
“He was being efficient,” Mr. Bennet said.
“There is a difference, though I grant you the distinction is sometimes fine.” He paused.
“He is also rather magnificent when he chooses to be. I confess I felt a pang of envy watching him marshal all that. When was the last time I organised anything beyond my morning newspaper?”
“Papa—”
“Do not mistake me. I am not advocating autocracy. But there is a great deal to be said for decisive action.” He smiled. “And watching you oblige a gentleman of such consequence to apologise—twice—was remarkably gratifying. I have not been so entertained in years.”
Elizabeth’s cheeks warmed. “I was not trying to entertain you. I was merely reminding Mr. Darcy that, however many waggons he brings, Longbourn is not his to arrange as he pleases. A gentleman ought to know his place in another man's house.”
“Indeed, you were trying to keep Mr. Darcy from arranging Longbourn without asking.” Mr. Bennet’s expression grew more thoughtful.
“The entertainment was merely a happy coincidence.
Still, I wonder, Lizzy—when a gentleman regards a woman the way Mr. Darcy was regarding you just now, 'his place' may not be quite where you imagine it to be.”
Before Elizabeth could formulate a response to this unsettling observation—or decide whether she wished to—her father had already retreated to his library.
She was left in the hall with the echo of his words, and the uncomfortable recollection of a pair of dark eyes meeting hers with an expression that could only be called admiration.