Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
At precisely twelve o’clock, Mr Darcy presented himself at Longbourn’s front door.
Warning her mother of his imminent visit had been impossible, so Elizabeth had spent all morning ensuring her family’s home appeared at its best advantage, and not at all like a place with which Mr Darcy might find fault.
“Gracious!” Mrs Bennet’s embroidery fell to the floor when she was informed of his arrival. “Whatever could that disagreeable man want?”
“Quick, Kitty, let’s hide!” Lydia pinched her older sister’s arm.
“Or we shall be forced to suffer his dull company all afternoon.” Both girls leapt up from their seats and fled the room by the smaller door in the corner, making a tremendous racket, just as Mr Darcy entered.
Elizabeth could not be sure if he heard the commotion, or any of Lydia’s unkind words, as his expression was as disapproving as ever.
She could not be pleased by her sisters’ rudeness but then reminded herself to be thankful that they had removed themselves from his presence.
All the women rose to greet him and he took a seat, his dark, elegant clothes at odds with the pink and gold flowers of Mrs Bennet’s well-loved sofa.
Mrs Bennet told the servant to bring some more refreshments before addressing him.
“You have taken us by surprise Mr Darcy! May I offer you a drink? Or a slice of cake? I do hope all is well at Netherfield and there are no ill-tidings. And dear Mr Bingley did not accompany you? How strange! I know how dearly he loves to spend time in my Jane’s company.
” Elizabeth bit her lip in chagrin at her mother’s lack of refinement—Mr Bingley’s preference for Jane was hardly a matter to reference before Mr Darcy.
“Mr Bingley is well,” said Mr Darcy stiffly before accepting a cup of tea—looking so out of place that Elizabeth might have laughed if it were not for the fact that he was paying her a courtesy. He really need not have come. There must be quite a streak of chivalry under that stern countenance.
Mrs Bennet was not a woman who could tolerate a prolonged silence. “If it is not news of Mr Bingley, I must ask—what brings you to Longbourn?”
Mr Darcy’s eyes flickered briefly in Elizabeth’s direction, before he swiftly turned his gaze to Jane. “I came to ask after Miss Bennet. I wanted to know if she had fully recovered.”
Jane’s cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink. “Thank you, I am feeling a good deal better.”
“I am pleased to hear it.”
Mrs Bennet subtly glanced from Mr Darcy to Jane and then back again.
Elizabeth could almost hear her mother’s machinations.
Mama believes Mr Darcy admires Jane! In Mrs Bennet’s mind, there could be no other explanation for his visit.
She prayed that her mother would not behave too indelicately—Mrs Bennet firmly believed the only suitor better than a man with an income of five thousand a year was one with ten thousand.
“I do believe Jane will be well enough for a dance or two at Mr Bingley’s ball,” Mrs Bennet said lightly. “I have always said that balls put my girls at such an advantage. No one dances as they do, nor behaves with such elegance.”
Of course, it was at this moment that poor Mary had the misfortune to emit a powerful—and decidedly inelegant—sneeze, but neither Mrs Bennet nor Mr Darcy chose to draw attention to it.
“Would you care to request a dance?” Mrs Bennet pressed on. “Jane is so admired you should claim one now before the chance is lost.”
Elizabeth did not need to be closely acquainted with Mr Darcy to see that he had no wish to dance with her elder sister, but to his credit he did not find an excuse, rather, he politely requested to partner Jane for a reel.
Mercifully, food arrived, providing a welcome distraction. Desperate for a safe topic of conversation, Elizabeth enquired after Mr Darcy’s own health and his opinion of Hertfordshire.
“Hertfordshire is one of the prettiest counties I have visited.”
“No doubt you have travelled extensively,” Mrs Bennet was quick to cut in. “Have you been to Greece? Or seen the wonders of Rome? One of Jane’s admirers said she resembles the Caryatids of Athens. Could you confirm her likeness?”
“Regrettably I have not had the opportunity to visit any of the places you mention. I am unable to answer your question.”
“That cannot be true! You mean to say you have never visited any of the ancient cities?”
Mr Darcy visibly bristled at Mrs Bennet’s familiar tone. He gave a tight smile. “The eight years of war suffered by the continent at the hands of Napoleon have regretfully hampered my ability to travel safely within it.”
“I do not see what Napoleon has to do with anything. Why, Lizzy’s tiresome godfather is forever travelling here and there.”
Certain that her mother’s sole object in life was to cause her embarrassment, Elizabeth interjected, “Is there anything about Hertfordshire that has particularly captured your notice?” she asked, expecting him to pass comment about the farmland or the large estates dotted about the countryside.
“I find there is much to admire.” His eyes met hers briefly and he cleared his throat. He took another sip from his teacup. “The woodland around here is delightful.”
Elizabeth arched a brow, understanding the reference perfectly. “Oh, the woods are indeed beautiful. One could get quite lost within them.”
He flashed a knowing smile at her. “I was walking through the woods earlier this morning, and I encountered an acquaintance of yours—Mr Frederick Lucas. I spoke to him for a little while.”
“Oh? And how did he seem?”
His eyes met hers once more. “He seemed in good spirits after we left each other.”
“I am glad to hear it.” Elizabeth hoped he heard the gratitude in her voice.
“Who could not be jubilant?” Mary interjected. “Mr Lucas is walking in God’s own creation. ‘For in Him all things are created.’”
“Yes, quite my dear.” Mrs Bennet gave an impatient wave of her hand. “Now, Mr Darcy, tell me, what do you think of dear Jane’s needlework?”
By Elizabeth’s watch, Mr Darcy’s call lasted twenty-seven excruciating minutes.
Her mother did most of the talking, which Elizabeth could almost be pleased about, if it were not for the fact that she used every available opportunity to bring attention to some aspect of Jane’s heavenly beauty or gentle disposition.
Mr Darcy politely agreed with every compliment put forth by Mrs Bennet, but did not offer much by way of his own opinion.
At last—and to Elizabeth’s great relief—he left as abruptly and as awkwardly as he had arrived.
“Fancy Mr Darcy taking a liking to you Jane!” Mrs Bennet nodded vigorously. “Coming all this way to seek out your health!”
“He acted out of politeness, nothing more.” Jane moved herself next to the fireplace and away from her mother’s indelicate speculation.
“You must take care that poor Mr Bingley does not get jealous and fly about in a reckless rage. These young men can be so heedless when they are crossed in love.”
Elizabeth could hear no more. She stood quickly and went to the windowsill. “I beg you to lower your voice. The servants might be listening. We would not want to spread idle gossip when Mr Darcy was only paying us a courtesy as any neighbour might.”
An exasperated huff escaped Mrs Bennet’s lips. “But Mr Darcy never singles out any one of us—there must be another reason behind his call.”
Framed by the window, on the cobbles leading from the stable, Elizabeth saw Mr Darcy atop his white horse, like a scene from an oil painting. She watched him with interest, murmuring almost to herself, “Could it be that Mr Darcy is more considerate than we previously gave him credit for?”
“He admires Jane, you may depend upon it. A mother knows.”