Chapter Twenty
Darcy was announced and invited to the breakfast room where Mr. Bennet sat alone. “Welcome back, sir,” he said.
“Darcy,” Mr. Bennet greeted him, putting down his coffee and setting aside his newspaper. “To what do we owe the pleasure of such an early call?”
Darcy shifted nervously from one foot to the other. “Mr. Bennet, I have come to speak with you on a matter of great importance.”
A twinkle appeared in Mr. Bennet's eye. “Mr. Bennet, is it? I see. And would this matter happen to concern a certain daughter of mine?”
“Indeed, sir.” Darcy stood a little straighter. He glanced around the room, but he and Mr. Bennet were alone. “I had thought to make this request in your study.”
“You had better make it here. I would hate for my coffee to cool.”
Darcy half laughed. Mr. Bennet was teasing him again. Or was he? When the man made no move to stand, Darcy realised he truly did mean to entertain this request in the breakfast room. In that case, it was best to be brief. “I wish to ask your permission to court Miss Elizabeth.”
Mr. Bennet leaned back in his chair, regarding Darcy with an appraising look. “And what makes you think you are worthy of my Lizzy, Mr. Darcy?”
For a moment, Darcy was taken aback, but then he saw the mischievous glint in Mr. Bennet's eye. “I am not, sir, in the ways that really matter,” he said. He genuinely believed that. “But I can promise to love her, respect her, and do everything in my power to ensure her happiness.”
The older man tipped his head to one side. “That is quite a statement, Mr. Darcy. Are you certain you are not asking for Lizzy’s hand?”
Darcy smiled and shook his head. He wanted nothing more, but some things were worth the wait. “Much as I would like to, I fear a great deal of our time together has been focused on other, more pressing matters. I am sure of my course, but I should like to court her as she deserves.”
Mr. Bennet nodded, his expression softening. “Then you have my blessing, Mr. Darcy. Though I daresay you will have a more challenging time convincing Lizzy herself.” He reached for his paper. “Or has he already won you over with his declarations, Elizabeth?”
Darcy could feel his cheeks warming even before he turned to see Miss Bennet standing in the doorway.
“How long have you been there?” he asked, surprised. Bennet had thoroughly fooled him.
She shook her head. “Are you pleased to have embarrassed us both, Papa?”
He peeked out from behind the news, his eyes alight with the pleasure of a good joke. “Indeed I am, Lizzy.”
Voices called out from the front hall, and Mr. Bennet lifted his eyebrows. “Your delivery is here, Elizabeth. Perhaps Mr. Darcy would like to help you with it.”
“The men have been here for some time, Papa,” Miss Bennet said, exasperated. “Did you not hear them arrive?”
Darcy had not noticed them either—they must be working on the other side of the house. “What are you having delivered, Miss Bennet?”
“A Broadwood Grand, Mr. Darcy.” She shifted uneasily from one foot to the other and glanced behind her at the stairs.
Broadwood made exquisite instruments. He knew this because he had researched them, meaning to purchase one for his sister when she turned sixteen. But Miss Bennet appeared ill at ease. “Is something wrong?”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “No, only . . . It took months to order and deliver, and the sight of it being hoisted through a window has made me too anxious to watch. When I saw it was the time Papa usually has breakfast, I came to join him. I was seeking a distraction.”
“And you found one,” her father said, taking a piece of toast and buttering it. “You are welcome.”
“Miss Bennet?” It was Mr. Riggs who had called her name. The butler acknowledged Darcy but returned his addresses to her. “The pianoforte is safely inside. Will you come to the music room and tell the men where you wish it placed?”
“Will you accompany me, Mr. Darcy?” Miss Bennet asked. “If you remain here, Papa will only tease you more.”
Mr. Bennet, again hidden behind his paper, raised his coffee cup in a silent salute.
Darcy smiled. “I would be honoured.”
They entered the music room to find the beautiful instrument only a few feet from the window through which it had been lifted. Elizabeth was thrilled. “It is magnificent,” she breathed. “Mary will be so pleased.”
“Forgive me, Miss Bennet,” Mr. Darcy asked, “but which one of your many sisters is Miss Mary?”
“Third, just after me. She is too serious about her accomplishments, though she is far more diligent at her practice than I have ever been. But having such a beautiful instrument will certainly draw me here more often.”
Mr. Darcy nodded appreciatively. “Indeed, it is a fine instrument. However, it cannot remain there.”
Elizabeth turned to him, one eyebrow raised in a teasing challenge. “Oh? And are you an expert in pianoforte placement, Mr. Darcy?”
He chuckled. “Not an expert, simply experienced. For instance, it should not be positioned too near the window.”
“And why is that?” Elizabeth asked.
“The fluctuations in heat and cold are more pronounced there,” Mr. Darcy explained. “It causes the wood to shrink and swell. You would need to tune it more frequently.”
Elizabeth knew as much but was curious to hear what else this surprising man knew. “What else should we consider?”
“Direct sunlight,” Mr. Darcy continued, warming to his subject. “It can cause the finish to fade.”
They spent the next few minutes discussing potential locations, settling on a spot that met all their criteria.
“Here,” Mr. Darcy instructed the men. They all looked at Elizabeth, who nodded.
“Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said as the men began their work, “I must say, I am impressed by your knowledge of pianofortes. Is this a particular interest of yours?”
His eyes twinkled with amusement. “Let us just say that the music room at Pemberley has seen its share of instrument rearrangements over the years since my sister began to play.”
Elizabeth stepped back as the pianoforte was placed, a bemused smile playing on her lips as she observed Mr. Darcy carefully measuring out the distance between the instrument and the nearest window.
The sight of the usually reserved gentleman engrossed in such a task struck her as delightfully absurd.
“Mr. Darcy, when I imagined being courted by a gentleman, I never thought it would involve such intricate discussions about pianoforte placement.” She smiled brightly at him. “Is this a common practice in London society?”
Darcy looked up from his task, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I assure you, Miss Bennet, this is a highly sophisticated form of courtship. One must always gauge a potential partner's ability to arrange furniture.”
Elizabeth laughed, delighted by his willingness to play along. “Indeed? And how am I faring in this test of my abilities?”
“Exceedingly well.” Elizabeth relished the return of Mr. Darcy’s warm humour. “I daresay you will arrange a music room to rival even that of Pemberley.”
“High praise indeed,” Elizabeth said, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks. “And what other domestic skills shall you be assessing during our courtship, Mr. Darcy? My ability to compose dinner menus, perhaps? Or my skill in directing the hanging of curtains?”
Darcy's eyes crinkled with amusement. “All vital qualities in a potential wife, to be sure. Though I must admit, just now I am particularly interested in evaluating your proficiency in selecting the perfect path for a morning stroll.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, enjoying their playful exchange. “And here I thought you might be interested in my conversation or my character. How fortunate that arranging rooms and morning walks have captured your attention instead.”
“Ah, but one's approach to the arrangement of furniture in a room reveals a great deal about one's character. Your choices here show practicality, aesthetic sense, and a consideration for the comfort of others. All admirable traits.”
His expression was so sombre, Elizabeth might have believed him serious had not she caught the gleam in his eye.
Still, she was touched by this odd compliment. “Well then, Mr. Darcy, I shall have to ensure every room in the house is impeccably arranged. I would not want you to doubt the strength of my character.”
He took a deep breath to say, “I assure you, Miss Bennet, I have no doubts whatsoever about the strength of your character.”
The intensity of his gaze made Elizabeth's heart skip a beat. She cleared her throat, acutely aware of how close they were standing. “Perhaps we might adjourn to the breakfast room for tea before our walk?”
“Do you think your father will still be there?” he asked warily.
Elizabeth did not laugh though she wished to. “Excellent point. Papa does have a habit of hiding behind his newspaper, ears perked for any material he can use in his jests.”
Mr. Darcy's eyebrow arched in amusement. “And here I thought Mr. Bennet was actually an avid reader.”
“Oh, he is,” Elizabeth assured him. “Particularly when it comes to discerning the follies of others in their words and expressions.”
“Then perhaps we should give him nothing to read at all,” Darcy suggested.
Before Elizabeth could respond in kind, her mother spoke from the doorway.
“Oh, Lizzy, it is beautiful. Will you play for us tonight?”
“We really should wait, Mamma, for it will not be tuned until next week. But I shall be happy to play for you then.”
“Good day, Mrs. Bennet,” Mr. Darcy said with a bow.
Then, with a glance at Elizabeth and a perfectly straight face, he added, “I was just telling Miss Bennet how much I admire your husband's dedication to his family. In fact, Mr. Bennet mentioned his intention to accompany you to Lambton today. He seemed quite eager to assist you in selecting new fabrics and ribbons for your daughters as presents for the festive season.”
“Truly?” Mamma asked, clasping her hands together. “He is an excellent father is he not, Elizabeth?”
“He is,” Elizabeth agreed. “You should insist on taking him today, for I know that he has no other appointments.”
Mrs. Bennet's face lit up with delight. “Oh, how wonderful! I must go and thank him at once for being so thoughtful. Mr. Bennet!” she called, hurrying from the room. “My dear Mr. Bennet!”
As soon as her mother was out of earshot, Elizabeth turned to Darcy. “Mr. Darcy, you are quite devious.”
“Fair recompense for his little trick this morning.”
She chuckled. “My father does enjoy my mother's company, but I dare say he will be utterly confounded by the intricacies of selecting ribbons and fabrics. Mamma will be sure to shop for lace as well. Shall we position ourselves near the breakfast room to witness his attempt at feigning enthusiasm for the outing?”
“I find myself quite intrigued by the prospect.” Mr. Darcy's lips twitched in amusement.
They were not quick enough, however, for when they arrived, her father was already being helped into his coat.
His narrowed eyes promised retribution, but Elizabeth smiled at him—a genuine, happy smile—and Papa’s dark expression transformed into resignation.
He did pat his wife’s hand when she took his arm, though, and leaned down to whisper something to her.
“Thomas,” she responded, then tittered.
And then they were gone, leaving the breakfast room blissfully empty.
“The room is clear, Mr. Darcy. Would you care for that coffee now?” Elizabeth inquired.
He smiled at her. “I would, Miss Bennet.”
They stepped inside, and Elizabeth moved toward the sideboard, reaching for the coffee pot.
Her hands stilled when she felt the weight of his gaze on her, and she turned, meeting his eyes.
The way he looked at her, warm, steady, and with that same glimmer of amusement that she had missed while he was gone—it made her heart flutter.
“Mr. Darcy,” she began, “I had an interesting note from Mrs. Milner yesterday. Did you know that someone has gifted Mrs. Higgins with a lovely new ladle?”
His cheeks flushed. “Really? I suppose it was time. The handle was badly bent.”
This embarrassment meant that she had been right. “It was you.”
“I do not know what you mean,” he said, looking away.
Elizabeth felt as though she could burst into song. She had known Mr. Darcy was the right man for her. And she had been right. Wordlessly, she poured the coffee and handed him his cup. Their fingers brushed briefly—was it strange that she felt the heat of it all the way up her arm?
Elizabeth watched him take a sip. “And will you be gifting anyone else with kitchen utensils this week, Mr. Darcy?”
His cheeks flushed again, but this time, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I suppose that depends on how many more I find in need of replacement.”
Elizabeth let out a soft laugh, shaking her head as she turned toward the door. “Well, do let me know before you restock the entire village. I should like to assist you.”
Mr. Darcy chuckled softly. “I shall be sure to seek your counsel—though I suspect your help might prove invaluable beyond ladles and spoons.”
“Well, Mr. Darcy,” she replied archly, “I do try to be of service where I can.”