Chapter 7
Lucas Lodge
A Few Minutes Later
Caroline Bingley stepped into the drawing room on Darcy’s arm and looked around eagerly.
The proportions of Lucas Lodge were reasonable rather than grand, and the room was very full of people.
Red was abundantly represented, with the bright coats of several militia officers very apparent in the candlelight.
Members of the other families of the local gentry milled about with cups of tea and merry chatter.
Caroline looked around the room hoping to see the Bennets, but to her disappointment, she could not spot them.
A movement beside her drew her attention, and a moment later she saw that Colonel Fitzwilliam had been sharper eyed than she.
He crossed the room towards the fire, and Caroline, following his path, saw Miss Bennet and Miss Mary seated side-by-side on a plain green couch.
They were chatting with Miss Charlotte Lucas, who was placed across from them in a dark walnut chair.
Cheered by their presence and the prospect of their conversation, Caroline took a step towards the fireplace.
A tug on her arm stopped her in her tracks, and she turned in surprise to look at Darcy.
He had not moved, his attention riveted on something across the room.
A simple pianoforte stood in one corner, brightly illuminated by a candelabra set on the surface.
The pool of light caught on Elizabeth Bennet’s chestnut hair where her head was bent over several sheets of music as she prepared to play.
Caroline cast her companion a sidelong glance.
She could not imagine that the instrument, hardly the finest of its kind, could hold Darcy’s regard in such a way, and so it must be the lady seated at it that had captured his exclusive attention.
In fact, now that she was thinking about it, Caroline could recall several instances where he had stared at an unwitting Miss Elizabeth. That was an interesting thought.
“I wonder if Miss Elizabeth is going to play for us,” Caroline said. “Shall we speak to her?”
“Of course,” Darcy said with his usual calm, but Caroline, who knew him well, could see in those dark eyes a strange intensity.
She forced herself not to react for fear of frightening the poor man who had never, as far as she knew, felt a genuine romantic interest toward a lady in his life.
Instead, they walked toward the instrument, and Miss Elizabeth, spying them, stood up and said, “Good evening, Miss Bingley, Mr. Darcy. I hope you are well today?”
“Yes, very well,” Caroline replied. “Will you be playing for us soon?”
“I will.”
“I am certain we will enjoy that,” Caroline said. “Thank you.”
Elizabeth smiled engagingly and said, “I hope you will. I do not pretend to be a great adept on the instrument, but I adore singing and playing. My sister Mary is far more diligent than I am in practicing, and I make rather a point of playing before she does.”
Caroline laughed and said, “My sister Louisa sings far better than I do, so I well understand, though in my case, I am inclined to blame my voice for being at fault, not a lack of practice.”
“How is Mrs. Hurst?” Miss Elizabeth asked, her eyes shifting to the doorway, where the Hursts and married Bingleys had just entered the room.
Caroline, following her gaze, said, “She has been better today, thankfully.”
“I am glad,” the other lady said simply, as Miss Charlotte Lucas stepped up and said, “Miss Bingley, Mr. Darcy, thank you for coming tonight.”
“It is our pleasure to be here,” Caroline replied truthfully.
Miss Lucas now turned toward her friend Elizabeth, who said, “Is it time for me to play, Charlotte?”
“It is.”
Caroline stepped a few feet away, and Darcy followed her, and the pair watched and listened as Miss Elizabeth sang and played two songs.
Her performance was pleasing, though by no means capital. Caroline knew that she and Louisa were more experienced musicians, and young Mrs. Bingley surpassed them all in her skill, but she nonetheless found great pleasure in listening to the second Miss Bennet.
It was, she thought, the lady’s joie de vivre that transported the performance to something beyond the ordinary.
Miss Elizabeth sang and played with cheer and simplicity, without putting on airs, and she seemed to derive as much pleasure from the experience as her audience.
She appeared unconcerned about minor mistakes in fingering and showed no signs of worrying about the judgement of those around her.
For Caroline, who had spent several painful years in a finishing school where appearance and accomplishments had caused her grinding anxiety, such confidence was appealing indeed.
When Miss Elizabeth had finished playing, she rose to the sound of clapping and retreated from the pianoforte to give way to her sister Mary.
Caroline had partially overheard a previous conversation between Miss Mary and Georgiana Bingley on the subject of music, and she was thus not surprised when the third Miss Bennet proved a genuine adept at the pianoforte.
She listened with pleasure, as did the others in the room, but when she glanced at Darcy, she noted that his gaze was on Miss Elizabeth.
It was all very intriguing and, if Caroline was to be honest with herself, surprising.
Mr. Darcy, master of a great estate with close relations in the nobility, could reach very high for a bride, and Caroline had vaguely assumed that when she released her betrothed from the engagement, he would find a woman with impeccable connections and a substantial fortune.
And indeed, he might do so. Just because Fitzwilliam Darcy was interested in Elizabeth Bennet, and she was confident that he was, it did not at all mean that he would make the lady an offer or, for that matter, that Miss Elizabeth would accept it.
The only reason that Darcy had deigned to offer for herself, whose father was a man of trade, was because Sir John Bingley had helped save the life of old Mr. Darcy and his only son so many years ago.
It seemed reasonable, though in Caroline’s view regrettable, that Darcy would indeed marry a rich lady of the haut ton once he was released from his engagement. It was regrettable, because he would benefit from a bride like Elizabeth Bennet.
***
Hemel Hempstead
Tuesday, 3rd December, 1811
The Bennet carriage was adequate for its passengers, but Elizabeth had gotten used to being slightly squished when the Bennet ladies rode together.
The Darcy carriage, by comparison, was luxury itself, with plenty of space for all the women it currently contained and bricks and rugs in abundance.
Even with Mary on one side and Jane on the other, Elizabeth was able to relax onto the plush squabs without bumping her sisters in the process.
Caroline and Georgiana sat across from the sisters, while from outside came the clopping of the hooves of many horses.
Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy, and Colonel Fitzwilliam were riding, having declared the day fine enough to do so.
It was too cold for Elizabeth’s taste, but the sun was out and there was no wind, and the gentlemen were bundled in thick woolen coats and mufflers against the cold.
Thus prepared, the party had then embarked together on an errand of great importance.
The town of Hemel Hempstead lay some twelve miles from Meryton, a busier hub of commerce than its smaller, sleepier cousin.
Hemel Hempstead boasted a bustling marketplace with larger and more numerous shops, including a toy emporium, and it also had a truly impressive bookshop that was twice the size of the one in Meryton.
The party would spend the day wandering the market, purchasing toys and other gifts for the tenant families, and with two bibliophiles in the party, they would certainly take time to visit the bookstore.
It would be a wonderful day, and their shopping would give the horses plenty of time to rest before the party returned back to Netherfield and Longbourn.
Before setting out for their tour of the market, they would bespeak a dinner that evening at the Golden Daffodil, a charming little inn that served the town and surrounding environs.
Though the gardens would not be beautiful at this time of year, the canal that ran beside the inn was always lovely, and most of the tables were situated so that the diners could look out the windows with ease.
All in all, it would be a wonderful day.
Shopping with new friends, the satisfaction of knowing their purchases would bring joy to their dependents and the children, the prospect of a new book or two, and a satisfying meal at a beloved restaurant at the end of the day.
Elizabeth gazed thoughtfully across the carriage at Caroline and Georgiana.
She liked them both very well and was impressed that both had enthusiastically embraced their roles assembling boxes for the servants and tenants for Boxing Day, which was now less than a month away on 26th December.
“Is this Hemel Hempstead?” Caroline asked, and Elizabeth turned to gaze out the window.
“Yes,” she confirmed. “If you look into the distance, you can see the Church of St. Mary’s. It is Norman and was built about 1140.”
Georgiana Bingley shivered and said, “It is marvelous to think of those workers who built the church so many centuries ago.”
“It is,” Elizabeth agreed and sighed. “I confess that I am a bit envious of your brother. In Rome there are ancient structures and cathedrals far older than the Church of St. Mary’s.”
“Fitzwilliam has told me about his journey to Italy, and he did enjoy it very much,” Georgiana said, “though I have no interest at all in traveling to other countries.”
“Why not?” Caroline asked, obviously surprised.
“Because I get horribly seasick when on the water,” the younger woman said candidly, and Elizabeth said, “Oh, I had not even thought of that. I have never been to sea, and I might be miserable as well!”