Chapter Fifteen
Michaelmas Goose
Frith House was as old as Pemberley, set well back from the road in the midst of an acre of pretty gardens and woodland.
A decent size—perhaps six good bedrooms over a large drawing room, dining room, and parlours, with several servants’ rooms in the attics under its grey gritstone roof—it had originally been built as the secondary dower house when more than one Darcy widow had claims against the estate at the same time.
Mrs Bennet must have seen their approach from a window, for when they were admitted to the house, she was awaiting them in the hall, calling eagerly on her daughters to join her and partake of her joy.
“How kind of you, Mr Darcy, to call upon us, very kind indeed while we are situated in this out of the way place! Not,” she added hastily, perhaps remembering he owned Frith House along with the rest of the estate, “that anyone could complain about the house for it is all that is convenient and commodious… if the kitchen pantry were a touch larger and, of course, the attics… Very comfortable indeed, and such a refuge for us! Come in, come in! Hugh is already here, of course, and has agreed to join our Michaelmas feast, and so has Mr Reid. You are very welcome, sir!”
Reid was here? Darcy had half expected Hugh to be present, since his brother had an obvious tendre for his fair cousin Jane and had already expressed his displeasure at Darcy’s giving the Beauty any notice beyond the commonplace—a ‘warning’ Darcy chose to treat with all the disdain it deserved. But Reid?
Darcy allowed himself to be escorted into the drawing room, aware of Mrs Bennet’s sharp sidelong glances and the weight of her hand on his arm.
She was watchful, as if she feared relaxing her vigilance would allow him to turn tail and run, and yet all the time a torrent poured from her lips: praise for the house, for the kindness of the Darcys, for Derbyshire in general, and, of course, for the loveliness of her daughters, particularly the eldest. Mrs Bennet’s husband-hunting intentions could not be more clearly signalled if she wrote them in scarlet letters two feet high.
“And here is my beautiful Jane, who will be delighted to see you, sir.” Mrs Bennet appeared to remember George, who was behind them, for with a wave of her free hand she half turned and added, “And you too, of course, George, although we do not stand on ceremony with you, for we count you quite one of ourselves!”
George, when Darcy glanced back at him, did not even pretend to wipe the smirk from his face.
Hugh, in contrast, looked cross again, but deigned to nod a greeting. Reid presented his usual imperturbable mien and did not look self-conscious in the slightest. Indeed, he seemed to be completely at home.
Miss Elizabeth closed her eyes for an instant too long, conveying exasperation and mortification if he read her expression aright, but she was too well-bred to comment upon her mother’s effusions.
She, and all her sisters, stood to curtsey, and with a bow in Mrs Bennet’s direction, he disentangled himself and went to speak to her.
“I had not the opportunity to see you this morning before we were busy with the tenants. Are you quite well? We are all concerned that last night’s adventures were too much for you.”
“Oh dear, oh dear!” Mrs Bennet released a new torrent before Miss Elizabeth could respond.
“What a horrid, horrid story Mr Reid told us, and then Lizzy came and said it was all too true. How very distressing and frightening! I have never had a house catch alight. I hope I train my servants better than to be careless with hot coals! Mrs Hill—who has been my housekeeper, Mr Darcy, since I first married, and who came with us from our old home in Hertfordshire—well, Mrs Hill is quite fierce when it comes to dampening down all the fires every night, and ensuring the doors are locked tight, and the dog is let loose in the yard to scare off any malcontents. Not that there are many so far from a town, but we cannot be too careful and only last week came a rumour of a pedlar in the district who is quite ill-favoured, with the most untrustworthy eyes and a squint, I am told… well. I am sure I give grateful thanks for Hill’s steadiness of character and faithfulness!
Lizzy, thank Mr Darcy for his solicitude.
It is very kind of him to concern himself about you this way. ”
“No, indeed, ma’am.” Darcy was awed his hostess had not stopped for breath in that entire speech, although somehow she managed the spate of words without showing the least pulmonary distress.
“It is I who owe Miss Elizabeth my grateful thanks. Had she not needed to find something to read in the library last night and smelled the smoke, the fire could have taken a severe hold on the house—to my personal detriment, since I was asleep in the study at the time. Her quick thinking saved both Pemberley and me, and I am deeply grateful on both accounts.”
“What?” Hugh, who had been half-reclining, gazing upon the Beauty’s fair face, jerked himself upright and stared. “You were in the study, and Lizzy too? Dear Lord, she could have been hurt!”
Hugh appeared not to think of Darcy in the same light. Darcy was uncertain whether to be amused or exasperated.
“Oh, do not speak of it! It was nothing,” Miss Elizabeth began, evidently struggling to suppress her coughing.
“It was everything,” George said, his voice rough.
The youngest Miss Bennet had pulled him into a seat beside her and her next sister on one of the long sofas, but his attention was for Miss Elizabeth, his concern evident in his alert posture and the way he twisted a signet ring on his right hand.
It made him seem uncharacteristically nervous.
“Hugh is right. You could have been hurt and it is only by the grace of God that you were not. We could not have borne it, Lizzy.”
Miss Elizabeth glanced at him, and away again. A blush made her pale face momentarily rosy.
Her mother did a fine job of hand-wringing. “It is too, too dreadful to contemplate and we all give thanks that no one was hurt at all.”
“And that our Lizzy is a heroine,” murmured Miss Lydia, throwing up a hand to press the back of it to her brow in a fashion Sarah Siddons might envy, and pretending to swoon into George’s arms.
“Indeed she is.” Darcy bowed, ignoring the girl’s less-than-proper behaviour when in the presence of a near stranger.
She should sit quiet and restrained, waiting to be spoken to, and not impose herself into the conversation in such a way, nor giggle so loudly when he spoke.
He would be dismayed indeed if Georgiana emulated such a lack of modest discretion and displayed the same crass desire to claim everyone’s attention.
“I believe we expect Dr Barrow tomorrow, Miss Elizabeth, and I hope you will consent to see him.”
“I am quite well, sir, I promise you.” Miss Elizabeth smiled.
Her voice still lacked its usual music, but her breathing was better, and her speech less broken up than the previous evening.
“A day or so should see me back in fine trim. But I am not so intractable a creature that I will refuse to see the doctor. He is an entertaining gentleman!”
“So I am told. I look forward to meeting him.” Darcy glanced at his brother. “I remember Hugh mentioning that I might expect the doctor to appear dressed as a Mandarin.”
Hugh’s grimace might pass muster as a grin, but only on a dark night with no moon.
Mrs Bennet had apparently lost patience with the talk of fires, heroism, and Chinese doctors, for she latched onto Darcy’s arm again and marched him, captive, to the sofa occupied by Miss Jane, who now resumed her seat. Mrs Bennet’s single-minded purposefulness was impressive.
“You must sit here, sir! It is quite the most comfortable seat in the entire house, and eminently suited to a tall gentleman like yourself. Not that we cavil at the furniture, you know, since this house came ready furnished. Such good fortune in that regard, because we had to leave all ours behind when we left Longbourn, for the Collinses to use. Jane painted a pretty little table when she was fifteen, that would have suited this room so well. Make room, Jane, do… yes. Oh, good. Now Jane shall entertain you, I am certain, and be delighted to do so! Her kind attentions set all at their ease, she is so careful of everyone’s comfort.
She will be the perfect hostess for some lucky gentleman, I am sure.
I shall send for refreshments and in a while we will eat our Michaelmas goose, which I hope you will find to your taste.
Not that it is always a simple matter, sir, to find a bird fitting to the quality of our guests, but this one we raised ourselves and I can guarantee it was fed on the best corn we could obtain… ”
And on she went. And on. Darcy tried hard not to show his discomfort, and indeed, his distaste for toad-eaters. He was vastly relieved when Reid, once again proving himself more than worthy of Darcy’s trust, rose and came to Mrs Bennet’s side.