Chapter 26 #2
“Good gracious!” Mrs Bennet was all delight and boisterousness. “An estate in Derbyshire, a house in town, and a marine villa to boot! What deep pockets you have, Mr Darcy.”
He unclenched his teeth to reply. “Unfortunately, it will not be prudent for me to keep Strandsmere Park. It will be put on the market in due course.”
“Then we are glad to be here now, are we not, girls? I always thought that a little sea-bathing would set me up for ever.”
Ye gods, madam! You are not thinking of doing that here, are you?
“My poor Lydia could not go to Brighton in May as she wished to do, so it was terribly kind of you to invite us here to the seaside after so short an acquaintance. Lizzy wrote to tell us of your being here. I hope she has been tolerably civil to you.”
“Oh, indeed, yes. Very friendly, in fact.”
Upon entering the vestibule, he winced when Miss Lydia cried out, “La! Will you look at that!” She and Miss Catherine giggled.
Miss Mary looked horrified, and their mother stared overlong at a particular statue the judge had brought back from Italy.
I shall have fig leaves affixed. Or have him moved to the shrubbery where he may turn his back and contemplate the boxwood hedge.
Darcy had listened to their impertinences with what, he hoped, was forbearing courtesy.
But he breathed easier once Mrs Carter took the ladies to their bedchambers, and he wished they might like their rooms well enough to stay there and not come out until it was time for them to go home.
The dilemma was that the sooner they returned, the sooner he could be with Elizabeth.
While waiting, he pushed the statue, face first, into a corner. Serves you right, sir, for being so terribly underdressed.
He consulted his watch. What are they doing? No doubt visiting one another’s rooms and squabbling about who gets which.
Five minutes after they returned, he wished they had not. While escorting the four ladies to the garden, all but Miss Mary talked incessantly, especially Miss Lydia.
“How comfortable it was for Mama, Kitty, and me to have the family carriage all to ourselves while Mary went behind with Jane and our new brother in his. Lord, how strange it is to refer to Mr Bingley in such a way! At any rate, it was quite unnecessary for Papa, young Mr Hughes, and the colonel to go crammed into a post-chaise when they could have travelled with us, all nice and snug together. What a laugh that would have been! But they chose to go before us, leading the way. By the by, where is Colonel Fitzwilliam? I was hoping he might be sporting his regimentals for the occasion.”
Darcy was more than willing to foist the youngest Bennet sister upon his cousin in punishment for keeping Elizabeth to himself for such a duration. But Miss Lydia, the flibbertigibbet, was in the process of bestowing herself elsewhere.
“Lizzy! Is not this an agreeable surprise? La! The look on your face when you spotted us!”
Standing aside while Elizabeth, all smiles and astonishment, greeted her mother and sisters, Darcy momentarily caught her eye and winked when she mouthed ‘thank you’. Her appreciation for what he had done was evident, and it gave him considerable satisfaction to have pleased her.
“Bridget, there you are!” Miss Lydia embraced her friend. “Look at you! You must be so relieved to be out of dull mourning gowns. That pink muslin is very pretty. Is it new?”
“Yes, Aunt and Uncle Baker presented it and this lovely fan to me just this morning. I am now considered of marriageable age, you know. And I cannot wait for you to meet Mr Henry Clark this evening, but you must promise to not flirt with him.”
Eventually, Miss Mary and Miss Catherine were able to greet Miss Hughes and express their birthday wishes to her.
“Thank you, and it would mean a lot to me if the three of you and Mrs Bingley were to make an entry in my friendship book.”
It was difficult to slide in a word edgeways, but Darcy finally managed it. “Over there on that little table”—he pointed—“you will find Miss Hughes’s and Miss Bennet’s books. There is also an assortment of blank ones I purchased in Bristol for you and all the other young ladies here.”
Only Miss Mary thanked him. Her younger sisters simply squealed and ran to the table, followed more sedately by Miss Hughes and Miss Mary. Even from where he stood, Darcy heard Miss Lydia and Miss Catherine fighting over an album amicorum with pink flowers on the cover.
He sensed Elizabeth’s presence and her scent before she softly spoke.
“It is no excuse, but they are young and spoilt, especially Lydia. They were taught good manners, but when they forgot, they were never corrected. Papa made sport of them, and Mama… Well, she hardly knows better herself, I am sorry to say. But I promise you that if we are so blessed, our sons and daughters will be better behaved.”
Darcy stared fixedly at her, and she at him. The rest of the world vanished. Sons and daughters. Our children. Our future. He could think of nothing but kissing the mother of those future boys and girls.
“Speaking of our children, I should warn you, sir, that, as a child, I was a handful.” She grinned at him, fine eyes shining mischievously.
You are more than a handful, Elizabeth. You are a tempting armful. He started to lean in.
Someone behind him cleared their throat.
“I believe you and I have some important business to settle, young man,” said Mr Bennet. “Now, Mr Darcy…if you can tear yourself away from my daughter.”
His ears burnt, and he supposed the tips were red.
Fortunately, they were hidden beneath his hat.
But he could not blame Elizabeth’s father.
If some scoundrel tried to take liberties with Georgiana or, perish the thought, one of his own future daughters, Darcy might be tempted to do more than just clear his throat.
“Mr Bennet,” cried his wife. “Where are you going? What important business do you have with Mr Darcy? Mr Bennet?”
Later, when a soft, golden glow settled over the countryside and the two gentlemen were returning from the villa, having signed the marriage settlement securing property for Elizabeth and her future children—those handsome, clever little Darcys so longed for by their father—Darcy was set upon by Colonel Fitzwilliam.
“Cousin, I fear the cat might have been accidentally let out of the bag.”
Mr Bennet, evidently preferring to not get involved in a family dispute, left them to it by tipping his hat and sauntering off towards the garden.
“Fitzwilliam, I sincerely hope you are referring to Heiress Tottle. Please tell me you have not carelessly revealed my plan to Miss Bennet.”
“Did you say heiress?” The officer’s eyes lit up.
“She is my cat, you ninny-hammer. Now, kindly explain yourself.”
The colonel told Darcy that Elizabeth had asked what had brought him to Wyman’s Cove. “In retrospect, I should have said ‘a post-chaise’. But, unthinkingly, I blurted something about being your groomsman.”
Darcy groaned and seriously considered putting his honed pugilistic skills to use on Fitzwilliam’s nose.
“Do not fret. I laughed it off and simply said, ‘Well, I shall be Darcy’s groomsman someday. That is, when, and particularly if, my fastidious cousin ever makes up his mind to marry one of these years’. Clever, eh?”
“Oh, you simply said that, did you? Considering that simply is the only way you know how to do anything, I suppose that makes it perfectly all right. Were you not my groomsman in actuality, I might have to darken your daylights. But Miss Bennet might be put off were she to learn your black eye was thanks to my fist. She is clever. Far cleverer than you. Why, even my cat is smarter than you.”
On that subject, there began to be a great difference of opinion.