Chapter Seven
By four o’clock, Darcy found himself seated in the drawing room at Hollydale, holding a delicate teacup precariously in one large hand.
It was clearly meant for use by ladies—he was almost afraid he would break the handle off the cup, so fine was the work.
Across from him, Mr. Bennet eyed him with barely concealed amusement.
Darcy noted his host was not attempting to drink from his teacup at all.
“There were three sets of china in the house when we arrived, Mr. Darcy,” he said as though making polite conversation. “This is my wife’s favourite, is it not, my dear?”
“They are all quite beautiful.” Mrs. Bennet eyed the teacup in Darcy’s hand.
He set the cup down, and Mrs. Bennet’s posture relaxed.
“So, Mr. Darcy, I hear you took on quite the string of purloined goods today.”
“Papa.” Miss Bennet’s glance at him was apologetic.
Darcy tried to reassure her with a look of his own that said he was not offended. “Indeed, sir, though I assure you it was not as dramatic as it sounds. Your daughter solved all three cases in no time at all.”
“Elizabeth is a clever girl, Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Bennet said with a proud nod at her daughter.
He agreed, though Miss Bennet was more than clever. He did not believe he would ever forget her giving up her ribbon for Mrs. Travis’s cat, or how she had so thoroughly charmed the crowd. “I had an excellent demonstration of that this morning, Mrs. Bennet.”
Mr. Bennet’s eyes, so much like his daughter’s, were twinkling with mischief. “I, for one, should like to hear more about that.”
An impatient huff came from Miss Bennet’s direction, but Darcy could not neglect to answer her father. He chose his words carefully. “I found Miss Bennet to be not only remarkably observant and quick-witted, but also caring.” A rare combination in his experience. “It was an impressive performance.”
Mrs. Bennet beamed, her earlier suspicion of him forgotten. “Oh, Mr. Darcy, how generous of you to say so. My Lizzy has always been kind as well as intelligent, has she not, Mr. Bennet?”
“She has, my dear.” Mr. Bennet’s gaze shifted between Darcy and his daughter with undisguised interest. “Though I daresay Mr. Darcy has discovered that for himself.”
Darcy was saved from further comment by the arrival of a maid with a fresh pot of tea.
She was going to die of mortification.
Elizabeth was used to her mother singing the praises of her daughters, though it most often had to do with their looks.
But Papa was joining in with her, and Mr. Darcy had not found some polite excuse to depart but had instead offered her a compliment of his own.
Did he really think those kind things or was he only saying so for the sake of her parents?
She hoped he really did think well of her.
He had been so handsome and flustered as he was accosted by the townspeople, all of them demanding he do something without really giving him the opportunity to do so.
But he had listened to their complaints with patience.
She really believed he would have written up a report and included something about Selina’s ribbon, simply because it was his duty to record every reported theft, no matter how ridiculous or unlikely.
“Mr. Darcy is too complimentary,” she said, steeling herself to meet his gaze. The warmth she found there was reassuring. “I had information he did not, that is all.”
“Now Lizzy,” Mamma interjected, “there is no need for modesty. I am sure Mr. Darcy’s assessment is accurate.”
Elizabeth resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her mother’s obvious matchmaking efforts. Her cleverness had not always been considered a boon. Instead, she focused on their guest. “How long has the Darcy family been in Derbyshire, sir?”
“Quite some time, Miss Bennet. My ancestors came here from Yorkshire and Lincolnshire about three hundred years ago. The current estate house was built after the original burned down in the early 1600s.”
“Longbourn was built a hundred years after that,” Papa replied. “Your family is quite old, then.”
“It is, sir.”
Before Papa could say anything else, Mamma leaned forward with profound interest. “Three hundred years! My, that is a remarkable heritage, Mr. Darcy. You must be proud of your family’s legacy.”
Mr. Darcy offered a small, polite smile.
“I do take pride in it, Mrs. Bennet, though it is the duty of each generation to build upon what was left to them. The land was here before me, and it shall be here after I am gone. If I have done my duty, the estate will prosper and continue to offer a good life for my children and theirs.”
Mamma nodded so vigorously Elizabeth thought she might lose one of her hairpins.
“Oh, indeed, sir! Such a noble sentiment, is it not, Lizzy? I always say that a good family is the foundation of a good character.”
Papa said, in his droll way, “Yes, my dear. Though it is remarkable how often the foundation goes unnoticed in favour of more decorative elements.”
Mr. Darcy nodded in agreement, and Elizabeth relaxed a little. Perhaps Mamma was not going to frighten him away.
“Lizzy, it is wonderful how Mr. Darcy values family, is it not?”
Her heart gave a tiny leap when Mr. Darcy turned his gaze back to her. “I believe Miss Bennet shares similar values,” he said, and his voice, though steady, was deep and warm. “She appears to have a great affection for you both.”
Elizabeth’s usual wit failed her. Mamma, however, was always ready to accept praise.
“Oh, Mr. Darcy, you do flatter us! Lizzy is a devoted daughter, and always looking after her sisters, you know.” She was about to launch into some story that was sure to embarrass Elizabeth, but she was saved by Mr. Riggs’s appearance at the door.
Papa and Mamma stepped out to the hall for a moment to speak to the butler who was relaying a question from one of the workers. Elizabeth presumed it must be about the drawing room, for otherwise Mr. Riggs would have asked for her.
“I must beg your pardon, Mr. Darcy. My parents . . .”
“Love their daughters and are fond of one another. That is the real treasure, Miss Bennet.” His expression was more wistful now than amused.
“My sister and I lost our parents long ago. It is lovely to see the affection between yours.” He shook himself a bit.
“Forgive me, I did not mean to become mawkish.”
It made her a bit sad for Mr. Darcy and his sister. “I could do without the effusive compliments from my mother, but I do not know what I would do without them—you are quite right.”
“I often am, you know,” he said, teasing her.
Elizabeth arched an eyebrow at him. “Let me point out that I witnessed your performance in town today.”
The bark of laughter that escaped him at her quip surprised Elizabeth. She had not taken him for a man who overflowed with mirth.
“Indeed,” he said, as her parents returned to the room, Papa looking shrewdly between the two of them. “Not today.”