Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Although Darcy saw Elizabeth on Sunday, they had little opportunity to speak beyond a few moments before and after the service.
On Monday morning, Darcy rose early and made his way to the stables to saddle Xanthus, the gelding he had brought with him from London. The horse was a particular favourite, and Darcy generally kept him in Town whenever he expected to remain there for any extended period.
He had not ridden for long before he reached a gentle rise overlooking several fields. From there, he could see Longbourn in the distance to the west.
As he drew nearer, Darcy realised he was not alone. A short distance away stood a young woman, her bonnet draped over one arm as she watched the rising sun.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he called, not wishing to startle her.
“Mr Darcy,” she said, turning towards him.
Her smile was brilliant as her eyes met his, and Darcy wondered how he had ever persuaded himself that such a woman ought to be beyond his consideration.
“Good morning,” he greeted her, unable to keep the pleasure from his voice.
“You have found one of my favourite places to watch the sun rise,” she said after a moment. “I am often to be found here on fine mornings.”
Drawing nearer, Darcy dismounted and looped Xanthus’s reins over a low branch. “Then you will not object if I join you when I am able?” he asked.
It was perhaps a little forward to suggest that he might seek her out here again, but he had named neither a particular day nor hour. Surely that did not test the bounds of propriety too greatly.
Elizabeth’s cheeks coloured at his suggestion, but she did not look away.
“Perhaps,” she said, adding nothing more.
She walked nearer to Darcy’s horse. “Will you introduce me to this fine creature?”
Xanthus was a large, dark bay gelding, a Derbyshire-bred hunter standing nearly seventeen hands.
He was powerfully built through the chest and hindquarters, though there was nothing heavy about him.
Even standing still, he seemed alert and ready to move, his dark ears flicking forwards as Elizabeth approached.
“This is Xanthus,” Darcy answered.
Recognition immediately flickered across Elizabeth’s face.
“Xanthus?” she repeated. “As in one of Achilles’ horses at Troy?”
He stared at her for a moment.
“You are familiar with Achilles?”
Elizabeth raised a brow.
“Mr Darcy, you are not the only person in Hertfordshire who reads.”
“No, I had not supposed otherwise,” Darcy replied, though his brows rose before he could prevent it. He regarded her for a moment with renewed interest. “But I have met very few ladies who are familiar with Homer.”
A faint smile touched his mouth.
“Though I confess I ought not to be surprised. We managed to canvas a remarkable number of authors during our first conversation.”
“And yet we apparently failed to discuss Homer,” Elizabeth said, just a hint of her familiar impertinence in her tone.
His smile grew. “A regrettable oversight. When I call at Longbourn today, we shall have to discuss your thoughts on both the Iliad and the Odyssey.”
Elizabeth laughed and reached out cautiously to stroke Xanthus’s nose. The gelding lowered his head towards her hand, apparently deciding that she was worthy of his attention.
“He approves of you,” Darcy observed, taking the opportunity to steer their conversation away from literature.
“I am relieved,” she admitted. “I should hate to begin our courtship by earning the disapproval of your horse. But he seems a fine fellow, and I confess I am not nearly so frightened of him as I ought to be, considering his size.”
Darcy laughed at her comment, and Elizabeth looked altogether too pleased with herself.
Soon, Elizabeth glanced at the sun and declared that she ought to return to Longbourn. Darcy reluctantly agreed, and they parted only a few minutes later. He was pleased to have had even this brief time with her and now found himself anticipating his more consequential conversation with her father.
Several hours later, Darcy arrived at Longbourn with Georgiana, Mrs Annesley, and Bingley. They were shown into the drawing room, where Mrs Bennet greeted them with considerably more enthusiasm than she had displayed during their previous visit.
Mr Bennet, however, was nowhere to be seen.
After the first civilities had been exchanged, Darcy turned to his hostess.
“I had hoped to speak with Mr Bennet this morning, ma’am. Is he at home?”
“Oh, yes, of course,” Mrs Bennet replied with a wave of her hand. “Mr Bennet is in his bookroom. He is always in his bookroom. You may go to him there, Mr Darcy—and perhaps you might persuade him to join us for refreshments when you have finished. He has scarcely shown himself all morning.”
A few minutes later, Darcy found himself settled into a comfortable chair across from Mr Bennet’s desk.
“Well, sir, what have you come to see me about this morning?” the older gentleman asked.
“Your wife sent me to enquire whether you might join the rest of the family for tea,” Darcy replied drily.
Mr Bennet let out a chuckle. “I doubt that is your only purpose, sir, but I am not surprised that my wife would use you as her emissary.”
“It is not my sole purpose, Mr Bennet,” Darcy said. He drew a slow breath before continuing. “I have come to ask your permission to court Miss Elizabeth. We have not known each other long, but I admit that I am intrigued by her and wish to know her better.”
“And she knows your intentions? She has accepted your request to call?” Mr Bennet asked.
“She has.”
What followed was a considerably longer conversation than Darcy had anticipated.
Mr Bennet questioned him closely regarding his intentions towards Elizabeth, the differences between their families and status, and what Darcy expected should the courtship continue.
Although the older gentleman’s manner remained dry, there was nothing careless in the questions he asked.
In the end, however, he appeared satisfied.
“You have my permission to court her, Mr Darcy,” he said at last. “Though I hardly need tell you that Lizzy will ultimately make up her own mind. I will not force her into a marriage she does not wish.”
“I would expect nothing less of either of you,” Darcy replied. “Nor would I persist if she declined me.”
Mr Bennet’s mouth twitched.
“Yes, well, my wife might have something to say on that matter. Regardless, I suspect we had better join the others before she sends someone to discover what has become of us.”
As Elizabeth had anticipated, Mrs Bennet’s reaction was considerably less restrained than her husband’s.
The Netherfield party was immediately invited to remain for the rest of the afternoon and dine at Longbourn.
They accepted the invitation to dinner, though pleaded the necessity of returning to Netherfield for a few hours beforehand.
At dinner, Mrs Bennet appeared torn between fawning over Darcy, who had already declared his intention of courting one of her daughters, and Bingley, who continued to pay marked attention to her eldest but had thus far made no declaration of his own.
By the end of the evening, everyone within Longbourn—and quite possibly half of Meryton—might have believed an engagement already settled rather than a courtship only just begun.
Over the weeks that followed, Mr Darcy proved himself capable of withstanding even Mrs Bennet’s more excitable moments.
With one daughter now officially being courted by a gentleman of considerable consequence and another receiving increasingly marked attentions from Mr Bingley, Mrs Bennet seemed determined to do nothing that might jeopardise either possibility.
Elizabeth could not decide whether to be amused or grateful that her mother’s attention was divided.
Too much of her mother’s notice had always made Elizabeth uncomfortable, and she knew Mr Darcy had even less patience for being fussed over.
The two therefore took frequent walks, where they could enjoy one another’s company in relative peace.
Despite her preoccupation with her daughters’ suitors, Mrs Bennet also began paying a great deal of attention to Georgiana. Although Georgiana was only a few months older than Lydia, the difference between them was striking.
Georgiana was shy where Lydia was bold, but that was hardly the whole of it. She spoke sensibly, listened well, and conducted herself with an ease that spoke not only of her birth but of careful instruction.
Watching her mother observe the two girls, Elizabeth began to suspect that Mrs Bennet was reaching an uncomfortable conclusion about her youngest daughter.
Elizabeth’s suspicion was confirmed only a few days later, after a visit to Netherfield which Lydia had insisted upon attending. Her mother relented, but then even she seemed embarrassed by Lydia’s behaviour.
“I believe, Mr Bennet,” her mother announced at dinner that evening, “that we ought to consider more seriously our earlier decision to hire a governess for Lydia. Or perhaps we should look into schools where she might receive some instruction in accomplishments, as well as proper behaviour.”
“If you insist, madam,” her father replied, and allowed the matter to drop.
Mrs Bennet did not.
At nearly every meal thereafter, she raised the subject again until Mr Bennet finally followed up on the replies he had already received and made further enquiries regarding both possibilities.
In the end, a suitable governess was found, and scarcely a month after Michaelmas, Longbourn acquired a new resident.
Lydia protested vociferously, but every objection seemed only to strengthen her mother’s conviction that the arrangement was necessary.
Elizabeth was not present for the final discussion, but she gathered afterwards that Lydia had been given a choice of sorts: she might apply herself to her lessons and improve her behaviour at home, or she could be sent away to a school where both would be required of her.
Until one or the other occurred, Mrs Bennet made it clear that she would not be returning to society.