Chapter 6 #2
Darcy ignored her and again demanded this unwanted friend answer him. What rumours of Ramsgate had Miss Bennet heard? With whom had Wickham been speaking? Had Georgiana’s reputation suffered in London? The fear knotted his insides.
“I only meant that some men’s habit of luxury can be an insult to a poorer woman, or when they talk of field sports and dogs as if a woman could possibly appreciate their interest, or a man who presumes his friendship with a woman will lead to matrimony.
Miss Darcy avoids all of that by being friends with her brother, who knows her tastes and is not a marital prospect. ”
Darcy slowly sat, his cheeks heating at his presumptuousness. His emotions had overridden his good judgement, and now he had exposed himself to ridicule and suspicion. “I am sorry. Please forgive me.”
“I suppose I shall have to for your sister’s sake, but you are too secure in the rightness of your opinions.”
“And you have formed an unfair estimate of my abilities and character based on my reserve and one mistake, which does you no credit.”
“I would think your discomfort on this innocent subject, when you ought to have been at ease, proves my point.”
“I am perfectly at ease and amiable when no one is insulting my sister’s reputation and when I am amongst my friends.”
She inhaled and seemed about to give him a disdainful reply in the hopes of offending him, but then looked at Georgiana.
Instead, she gave him a false smile. “I am sure your sister is tired of a conversation in which she can have no share. Miss Darcy and I have begun reading The Female Quixote, since we tried Alphonsine but were disgusted by it within twenty pages.”
Miss Bennet wishes to avoid an argument for the sake of Georgiana’s spirits.
She expressed her amusement with the book and Arabella’s delusions, with his sister smiling all the while and Darcy contributing as little as possible, until half an hour had passed.
Darcy noticed his sister’s shifting in her seat and grimace of pain, and gave their guest a pointed look. Miss Bennet immediately rose.
Georgiana begged her to return tomorrow, and Miss Bennet gave him a taunting look. “I promise to return at the earliest possible hour the Collinses allow me to come.” She curtsied and was gone.
“My dear, perhaps you might be more comfortable in bed—”
“Fitzwilliam, not only did you hardly speak to Miss Bennet, but your countenance never softened nor changed its gravity the whole time she was here.”
“It is best to be silent, for there is nothing more certain than it is easier to make enemies than friends.”
“But she is already my friend—at least she is a close acquaintance—and I have no one else. Aside from you,” she added.
Georgiana then coughed, and Darcy’s arguments about preserving her reputation above all else died on his lips.
Miss Bennet was not entirely objectionable, and her friendship was what Georgiana wanted, and had he not already decided he would do whatever was necessary for her comfort?
I shall try harder to make myself agreeable to Miss Bennet and not to assume the worst of her.
“Come, my dear, let me help you to bed and ring for something to ease your pain. For your sake, I shall give Miss Bennet every courtesy due to the friend of Miss Darcy.”
Elizabeth returned to Netherfield’s gatehouse the next day, willing to suffer the rude brother for the sake of the sweet, shy sister.
Not that she would admit it to Mr Darcy, but his less-than-winning manners were not as much a trial as Mary’s insistence on everyone observing her precedence, or Mr Collins’s speeches, or Lydia’s desperation to be wed and gone from Longbourn, or her mother’s attempts to hold on to the position of mistress of the household.
She comforted herself with the hope that the unpleasant man might be occupied elsewhere today.
Her heart sank when Hannah showed her into the drawing room, and Mr Darcy rose. He said something about his sister sleeping fitfully during the night, and that she was napping now.
“You are welcome to wait here or in the garden. She rarely sleeps past noon, and I know that Georgiana would regret not seeing you today.”
Why was he being so courteous? She would have preferred to walk all the way home and come back again to avoid him, or even help the woman taking down the washing from the line, but she thanked him, and gambled on the best way to get out of Mr Darcy’s company.
“I will walk the garden for half an hour and see if she is awake by then.”
“I would be happy to join you. I do not think I have spent half that long in the garden since I first let the house in October.”
Elizabeth sighed. This is why gambling never pays.
At her suggestion, Mr Darcy retrieved scissors and a basket for her to collect flowers to brighten his sister’s room.
Having a task would make it easier to avoid talking.
The old gatehouse had an enclosed garden and a small terraced walk that had been neglected all spring.
Mr Darcy talked about the strawberry beds needing tending and the apple tree beginning to bloom while Elizabeth silently picked bluebells and a few daffodils.
“I am surprised to see the bluebells at their peak the third week in April.” Mr Darcy was strangely attentive today. “They do not bloom until May in—”
Mr Darcy broke off, and Elizabeth looked up from the flowers in time to see him cringe. What an odd, taciturn man. She picked up the basket and moved farther down the walk, but he followed and after several minutes spoke again, this time more sensibly.
“Do you have a taste for flowers? Since she was quite young, my sister has enjoyed working in the garden.”
“When I was young, if I gathered flowers at all, it was chiefly for the pleasure of mischief, if my father was to be believed.” She caught his questioning eye.
“Or at least he so conjectured from my always preferring the flowers that I was forbidden to take. My tastes have improved with age, I promise you.”
Mr Darcy smiled. “Since you are such a proponent for the country over town, perhaps you can now give way to all of your feelings on flowers and nature.”
One moment unsocial, the next ready to banter and tease. “Be careful what you ask for lest I wax eloquent on all the beauties of Hertfordshire.”
“Hertfordshire is not a county for poetry; it is only straight lanes and a few peaceful valleys. Derbyshire is more—Derbyshire, for example, is all picturesque cliffs, rugged rocks, and bold peaks.”
“Goodness, what makes you an advocate for that county above any other, including the one you live in?” Who is this man to say Hertfordshire is not worthy of poetry?
His reply was interrupted by the approach of the maid, who said that the woman who came in to help with the washing wished to be paid. Mr Darcy reached into his pocket and pulled out two shillings before asking Hannah to put the flowers in water for Miss Darcy, who the maid said was now awake.
Elizabeth frowned. “Is it old Mrs Moon who comes in to help with the washing?” Mr Darcy nodded. “Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but since you have no housekeeper nor is Miss Darcy in charge of your household, I must tell you that I fear you are being cheated.”
“How do you mean?”
“Mrs Moon helps many in the village, and I assure you, as good as her work is, such a task is not worth more than eighteen pence, particularly for as small an establishment as yours. I would not have thought her capable of it, but I fear she cheats you.”
He gave her a smile that reached the corners of his eyes.
“I thank you for thinking of my accounts, but Mrs Moon is a widow with only a small annuity, and I would cheat a worthy woman if I did not give her two shillings.” He then led her into the house and asked, “If it is not any inconvenience, would you go to my sister’s chamber to spare her the trouble of getting out of bed? ”
As Mr Darcy went into his study, Elizabeth climbed the stairs, distracted.
Mr Darcy was the sort of man who had someone come in to do washing for eighteen pence a week, but who added the sixpence for the sake of a poor woman, to make her happy by it.
She caught a glimpse of his generosity and the depth of his character for the first time, and was duly impressed.
Well, he might be a quick-witted, handsome man, and excellent to those under his care, but he is still not a pleasing man.
The flowers were already by her bedside, and Miss Darcy sat in her dressing gown on her bed. She looked better than when she had last seen her, and Elizabeth told her so.
“I feel well for having rested, and I think I will tend the garden for an hour later today. Thank you for the bluebells and daffodils.”
“Your brother said you have always had a fondness for flowers.”
“Nothing but music pleases me more. Do you think I shall see the strawberries this summer?”
“Oh, my dear Miss Darcy! Your brother showed me the apple blossoms, and I think not only will we be picking strawberries in July, but apples in the autumn, and I will expect you to play a duet with me at Christmas. Now, shall I tell you about the dance I attended last Christmas? There were only twelve dances, of which I danced nine, and was merely prevented from dancing the rest by the want of a partner. We began at ten, supped at one, and were back in Cheapside before five.”
“Not now. I . . .” She sighed softly. “I ought to explain my brother’s loss of temper yesterday.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “You need not justify his behaviour, and it does not reflect poorly on you. He is a taciturn man who does not like me, but tolerates my friendship with you, and you need not make an excuse for him. He assumed I was the worst sort of gossip.” Likely he has a propensity to hate everybody.
“No, you see, he is rightfully concerned for my reputation, and your remarks about an unsuitable friendship between a man and me hit close to the truth.”