Chapter Seventeen #2
“Would you rather use the powders, sir? They tend to act a little faster for you.”
His valet was familiar with his headaches.
“Yes, good advice. I need my wits about me. Thank you, Jenkins,” he said as his valet slipped out to make the requisite drink.
When Jenkins returned with the powders, Darcy noted he seemed nervous. His curiosity was satisfied when his valet cleared his throat and spoke.
“Pardon me for intruding on how the house is run, sir, but Mrs. Whittaker asked me to speak with you.”
“About what?”
“It seems as though Mrs. Darcy made some unusual requests earlier today, and Mrs. Whittaker is not sure if you were aware of them.”
At first, Darcy felt a frisson of anger, his thoughts automatically going in the direction of: what right does she have to order about my housekeeper?
Just as fast, his knee-jerk reaction was diffused by the remembrance of their conversation whereupon he assured his wife that she did, indeed, have authority as Mrs. Darcy.
Apparently, Elizabeth was not one to let moss grow on that particular stone and had turned it over.
“Did she tell you what requests my wife made?”
“Mrs. Darcy wanted a list of all servants and their duties and receipts of all purchases made for the kitchen. She also felt there had not been enough variety of dishes and wished to find out why.”
Guilt tore at his gut. He had been assiduously avoiding having meals with his wife and had no idea what she was served for dinner.
Something Richard had, quite succinctly pointed out.
Had his staff given her less than stellar service, feeding off his discontent?
As his aunt, Lady Matlock was fond of saying, servants were the silent eyes and ears of every home.
How you behave in front of them is how they will project your values inside and outside of the house, and he had not treated his wife the way he had been taught by his father.
“Advise Mrs. Whittaker that Mrs. Darcy is the mistress of this house and to comply with all of her requests.” Hopefully, that would take care of that little problem and at the same time let his staff know he would not tolerate any disrespect for his wife.
“Yes, sir.”
His valet then proceeded to wrap a warm cloth around the lower half of his face.
Within the hour, he was freshly shaved and dressed, ready to enjoy dinner with Elizabeth, Miss Bennet, and Richard.
The Bingleys and Hursts were slated to arrive around eight p.m. for cards.
Thankfully, not for dinner. He was not sure if he could stomach Miss Bingley sniping at his wife and her sister over a delicious meal.
A repeat of her behavior at Meryton would not be tolerated, nor would she have him as a willing ally this time around.
He was not only honor-bound to deflect her oblique criticisms and innuendos, but he also would not stand for the woman he loved to be verbally degraded.
He had learned from his folly and would not make the same mistakes.
Dinner was deemed a success and they retired to the drawing room where Elizabeth played and Jane sang.
Both he and Richard sat and listened, each enraptured with their object of desire.
All too soon, Burke announced the arrival of their guests and the pleasant atmosphere disappeared.
He noticed both of the ladies squared their shoulders and took deep breaths.
He sent a silent prayer for strength as the doors to the drawing room opened and Bingley, with Miss Bingley on his arm, entered, followed by Mr. and Mrs. Hurst.
“Darcy, it is so good to see you again!” Bingley enthused, his gaze flicking about the room, stopping when it landed on Miss Bennet. He made to step toward her, but his sister tightened her grip and kept him anchored to her side.
All of this took only a few seconds to play out, which Darcy would have missed if he had not been watching his friend so closely.
He was worried about how he would behave around Miss Bennet, and also what Richard might do.
His cousin had made no bones about the fact he was very interested in the beautiful lady from Hertfordshire and would not take kindly to Bingley hovering around her like a hopeful bee to a favorite flower.
“Bingley, Miss Bingley, Mr. and Mrs. Hurst,” Darcy said by way of greeting.
Mrs. Hurst followed her husband, who gave both ladies a respectful bow of greeting before turning to Richard and speaking with him in a low voice. Miss Bingley focused her sole attention on Darcy.
“Mr. Darcy. I am always delighted to be welcomed into your home. I am here so frequently, I feel as though this house is my own.”
Darcy’s spine stiffened at what she inferred.
“Come, Caroline. We have not been here that much.”
“You forget, brother, I have often visited with Miss Darcy in this very room. Why, she is almost like a sister to me,” Miss Bingley said with a sideways glance at Jane.
Knowing what she wrote to Miss Bennet after the ball at Netherfield, Darcy’s anger rose in tandem with his intense dislike of the woman.
About to give her a well-deserved set down, Caroline spoke again.
“Is dear Georgiana joining us tonight? I would so love to hear her play the pianoforte. No one can perform like her.”
“My sister is staying at my uncle’s house for the interim.”
“A wise choice, given the circumstances.”
The narrowing of Elizabeth’s eyes did not bode well for Charles’s sister.
Darcy almost felt sorry for Miss Bingley when his wife’s countenance cleared and she smiled.
Not a friendly smile, by any stretch of the imagination, but one which reminded him of a cat that had found a new mouse to play with.
He cast a glance at Richard and noted he also watched her intently.
His cousin had hinted his wife had a core of steel beneath her wit and grace.
Would that steel take the shape of a cudgel or the sharp edge of a rapier?
Elizabeth rose to her feet and joined Darcy, twining her arm with his. He looked down at her with surprise and a little trepidation.
“Thank you, Miss Bingley, for showing so much concern for our sister. Last I saw of her, she asked if she could remain with Aunt Lucinda… oh, do forgive my tiny faux pas, you only know her as Lady Matlock.”
Elizabeth’s smile widened as Miss Bingley’s nostrils flared.
A rapier it was, then.
“Anyway, Georgiana wishes to give us some privacy and will join us tomorrow, now that Jane is here.”
“Then I must make sure I call upon her when she arrives,” Miss Bingley simpered, unaware that one could bleed out from the cuts of a thousand knives as well as a full frontal attack.
“I am afraid we shall not be at home tomorrow. My sisters and I have been invited to Hertford House.”
“Hertford House! Why would you be invited to the Spanish Embassy?”
“Come, let us all get seated and I will ring for tea. Or would you rather some Madeira, Mrs. Hurst?”
Darcy did not dare smile over the fact his wife chose not to answer Miss Bingley’s question and rather had deflected the conversation to Mrs. Hurst. It seemed like the kitty did not want the mouse to have too much information. For now, he would follow her lead.
***
“You have the devil’s luck when it comes to whist, Miss Bennet,” Mr. Hurst said as he and his wife lost yet another hand to Richard and Jane.
Elizabeth curbed a smile. Beneath Jane’s calm facade lay a razor-sharp mind with the uncanny ability to know who held what cards at all times.
It was also one of the reasons she avoided playing Vingt-et-un.
She always seemed to know which card would turn over and grew bored with the game too fast.
The evening had been fairly enjoyable with one table playing whist while the other played Euchre. Footmen came in and removed the tables and chairs and Darcy poured each of the men a snifter of brandy. The ladies commandeered two of the three settees that formed a cozy grouping.
“My dear Miss Bennet, I am so worried for you,” Miss Bingley said suddenly. Taking Jane’s silence as a tacit agreement to continue this vein of conversation, she said, “I worry you have reached a certain age with no hint of a marriage prospect.”
Elizabeth dearly wished Miss Bingley had kept her avowed written promise of not acknowledging Jane in any way and decided to insert herself into the conversation.
“Miss Bingley, how thoughtful to concern yourself on a topic of which you are so very familiar,” Elizabeth said through a smile as fake as Caroline’s. “After five seasons, how do your prospects fare?”
She heard the colonel snigger and then murmur to her husband.
“Whom do you think your wife will choose as her second?” Elizabeth fought the inclination to turn her head and tell him it would not get that far.
Miss Bingley would concede the field before the night was over and she planned on taking no prisoners.
“My prospects are none of your concern, Miss Eliza,” Miss Bingley said, her lips thinning in anger. “Pray, excuse my interference. It was kindly meant.”
“I am sure it was. Whilst I am certain Jane appreciates your interest; you may safely set your worries aside. She has received an offer of marriage.”
From her peripheral vision, she noticed the colonel straighten at her words.
“She has?”
The officious orange-shrouded prig dared raise a hand to her throat as though such a notion was beyond belief.
“Indeed, however, she turned the gentleman down.” The colonel’s shoulders slumped in relief. Most excellent. “That was when both of us swore we would only marry for the greatest of love.”
“How… quaint.” Caroline cast a coy glance at Mr. Darcy. “Did you keep your self-made promise and marry for love, Miss Eliza?”
Miss Bingley dared to snigger and covered her mouth with her fingers.