Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
After dinner, Mr Bennet requested that Darcy and Bingley accompany him into his book-room.
“You can be assured that it is the quietest part of the house,” he said as they entered the room. He pointed to a large set of shelves. “My wife is not fond of insects.”
“Good Lord!” Bingley jumped back. Opposite them was a specimen case with beetles of every shape and size. Next to it was an identical one with row upon row of enormous butterflies.
“No need to be alarmed. I can assure you they are all quite dead.” Mr Bennet eyed Bingley’s pale face with amusement.
The room was modest and felt smaller still due to the abundance of fascinating objects cluttered about the place. In other circumstances, Darcy’s sensibilities would have been offended by the disorder, but his gaze was pulled in every direction. “You are something of a collector, then?”
“An avid one.” Mr Bennet served Darcy a glass of port.
“When did you start?”
“Shortly after university.” Mr Bennet regarded Darcy shrewdly. “I expressed an interest in entomology and foreign botany. An acquaintance of mine indulges my curiosity.”
“Mr Vanderbeck?”
“Why, yes. I assume Lady Lucas told you of our connexion at the first opportunity.” There was unmistakable derision in his voice.
“Miss Elizabeth informed me of your friendship.”
Mr Bennet’s glass stilled before he took a sip and met Darcy’s gaze.
“How interesting. She does not often speak of it outside of our family circle.” He turned towards the bookcase.
“Is there anything about the natural world or ancient civilisations that interests you?” He drew out a volume containing the leaves of exotic plants.
“You are welcome to borrow it. This book has long been a particular favourite of Lizzy’s.
” He glanced back at Bingley who still had not approached the cases of insects.
“I have a delightful collection of pebbles in the far corner, should you wish to examine something less terrifying.”
The gentlemen had been in Mr Bennet’s book-room for some time.
Elizabeth wondered what they might have found to talk about.
Mr Darcy’s impressions of Papa’s books and displays should be of no interest to you, she admonished herself.
Elizabeth picked up her needle and attempted to make a stitch on her embroidery.
Mr Darcy is here because his friend has taken an interest in Jane.
Mrs Bennet called out from across the room. “You should ask Mr Darcy what he likes the most from your father’s dreadful collection and then say you are of the same opinion as him. There can be no truer way to a man’s heart than by agreeing with him.”
“Is that how you secured Papa’s affections?” she replied with false lightness, thinking of all the times her parents were at odds with one another.
“Oh, your father is so contrary that the usual rules do not apply to him.” Mrs Bennet settled herself further into the sofa. “Mary dear, could you read aloud from that book you have? The dull one about women’s behaviour— Forsythe’s?”
This suggestion elicited a loud groan and a pouted lip from Lydia. “Whatever for? It’s sure to send us all to sleep.”
“But it will be communicated to Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley that we take a keen interest in the correct comportment of our dear girls. You and Kitty do not need to stay, if you do not wish to listen. A good night’s sleep is important if one wishes to appear at one’s advantage.”
“Well, Kitty does hope to look her very best for Captain—” Lydia was silenced by a shove to the ribs from Kitty. They both burst into a fit of giggles.
“A sensible plan.” Elizabeth seized the opportunity to have her youngest sisters removed before Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy returned.
Lydia and Kitty stood with tremendous fuss and noise. It was at the very same moment that the gentlemen arrived to rejoin them. Lydia gave an exaggerated curtsey, wishing them all a saucy goodnight, to which Kitty gave a snort of laughter.
To Elizabeth’s shame, Lydia, not quite finished with her rudeness, then eyed Mr Darcy and addressed him boldly.
“Now remember not to wear Lizzy down with all your chatter and allow her to get a few words in. She likes nothing better than to attempt to be witty.” And with that she linked her arm into Kitty’s and left, her shrieks of mirth echoing all the way down the corridor.
Heat swept through Elizabeth at Lydia’s insolence and for a moment she was unable to speak.
Mr Darcy did not say anything either and his face remained impassive.
She half-expected him to make his excuses and beg to return to Netherfield; she would not blame him if he did.
It was then, to her great shock, that he took the seat next to her.
Mr Bingley found a place in between Jane and Mary, giving Elizabeth the first chance to speak to Mr Darcy in a more private capacity.
He sat on the other side of a small table. She smiled weakly in greeting, her spirits still dampened by her family’s ill manners.
Mr Darcy took one look at her face and said, in a low voice, “You are very subdued this evening. Is something troubling you?”
His concern for her caught her off-guard.
“I am sorry for my mother—and for Kitty and Lydia,” she stammered.
“There has been some confusion. Mama believes that our dances the previous evening are evidence of an understanding between us. Of course, the very notion of a union between us would seem ludicrous to you, but I cannot persuade my mother otherwise. And it is not just her. Wherever I go, people are wishing me well on the certainty of our impending engagement. I apologise for their presumption.”
She knew that she should not speak of such matters with an unmarried man, but she would sleep easier tonight with the knowledge that she had at least tried to make amends for her mother’s conduct.
She stole a glance at Mr Darcy, expecting him to look mortified at her revelation, but he did not. His eyes creased with compassion. “Grateful as I am for your concern, there is nothing to forgive. I only regret that my actions have brought you trouble.”
“Pray do not be sorry! It was only a couple of dances! Besides I cannot remember when I have had a better evening. My mother’s imagination has run wild.”
Mr Darcy gave a rueful smile. “I fear you have hit upon the reason why I never dance with women outside my close acquaintance.”
“Does this happen often?”
“You would be surprised how many times I have received congratulations for an engagement over nothing more than a conversation at a ball.”
“Is this why you keep yourself aloof?” It was only as she said the words aloud that Elizabeth heard their impertinence.
“I do not consider myself aloof. It is my belief that a gentleman should maintain a dignified reserve.”
“I daresay that is quite the wrong strategy!”
“Is it?” He regarded her with amusement.
“You should talk openly to everyone, then it would not seem noteworthy when you do single out one particular person.”
“A strategy indeed!” He glanced back to where Mr Bingley was conversing merrily with Jane and Mrs Bennet. “But not one that yields me any advantages. I have not the gift of conversing easily with people I do not know.”
“Then you will be forever destined to give the wrong impression.” She smiled, unable to refrain from teasing him.
Deep dimples formed on either side of his mouth, but his reply was halted by Mrs Bennet whose curiosity could not be contained. “What are you talking about over there?”
Suddenly very aware of the intimacy of their conversation, Elizabeth replied lightly, “We are talking of Papa’s collection.”
“And what did you think?” Mrs Bennet regarded him with interest.
“It is a remarkable treasure trove.” Here Mr Darcy caught Elizabeth’s eye, and the corner of his lips twitched. “Pray, what is your opinion?”
“It is Lizzy who knows all about it. You must continue your discussion with her. She is far more knowledgeable than I.”
“Miss Elizabeth has given me some delightful insights, but I should like to hear yours.” He rose from his place next to Elizabeth, bowing low and muttering, almost in her ear, “Let us see how your strategy works in practice.”
“I am all anticipation,” she murmured, concealing her amazement as he crossed the room and carefully squeezed his large frame onto the sofa next to her mother.
Despite his initial misgivings, Darcy’s evening had been a pleasant one.
At some point in his conversation with Mrs Bennet he had agreed to accompany Miss Elizabeth and her elder sister to a ruin some ten miles from Meryton.
Darcy should have refused. Indeed, it would have been the most courteous course of action, given all the unfair scrutiny now placed upon Miss Elizabeth.
Yet her description of him still echoed in his ears.
Aloof. Hard as he tried to persuade himself otherwise, her words bothered him more than he cared to admit.
It was all he could think about in the carriage back to Netherfield.
In the end, he had said yes precisely to show Miss Elizabeth that he could be civil and open to suggestions from those he did not know well.
Bingley did not seem to mind Darcy’s lack of conversation; he spent most of the journey either effusing over Miss Bennet’s choice of garment or humming merrily to himself, much to Darcy’s irritation.
It was only as they stepped inside the entrance hall at Netherfield that Bingley changed the subject from the much-admired Miss Bennet, turning his full attention to Darcy and suggesting a nightcap.
Fortunately for Darcy, Miss Bingley and the Hursts had already retired, and he was ready for a distraction from this unwelcome feeling he had not been able to shake.
“I must thank you for agreeing to visit Birkstead Castle.” Bingley poured Darcy a glass of brandy and gestured for him to sit closest to the fire. “I did not have you as an enthusiast for ancient masonry.”
“I take an interest in many things,” Darcy replied curtly. “Besides I could hardly refuse a direct invitation.”
“And from Mrs Bennet no less! I know how she annoys you.”
“What gave you that impression?”
Bingley gave a nervous laugh at Darcy’s sharp tone. “My apologies if I have misspoken. I only wished to thank you for your efforts today. I know you find conversing with our Meryton neighbours a trial.”
Sorely wishing everyone would desist in referencing how disagreeable he was, Darcy drained his glass. “Do you know, I am feeling tired after all. I shall retire now, if you do not mind.”
Clearly startled by Darcy’s abrupt change in manner, Bingley began to beg for forgiveness which only served to make Darcy feel guilty for his ill-temper. Apologising, he hastily quit the room, nearly clattering into the footman who was waiting on the other side of the drawing room door.
The servant paled when he saw Darcy’s expression. “This letter came for you earlier, sir. A young boy delivered it, saying it was to be placed into your hands.”
Wickham. Darcy recognised the careless blots and hurried scrawl.
He took the note with a grim nod of thanks, struggling to suppress the rage simmering in his chest. He waited until he was alone in his chambers and then snapped the seal, shaking the letter open, expecting to see more of Wickham’s pathetic demands.
As he did, a smaller sheet of paper fluttered to the floor.
He picked it up, stepping closer to the candle to make out the faint ink.
My dearest George,
I have been anxious to hear from you. It has been only two days since we were last together, but I think of you constantly.
Ramsgate has its charms, but my life only has meaning when you are with me.
I realise now that I cannot be happy without you.
You must return soon and tell me of your plans for our future.
Are you sure we should not tell Fitzwilliam?
My heart belongs to you, but I am afraid our secrecy will hurt him.
I hope to find the courage to equal yours.
GD
Darcy sank into a nearby chair. Georgiana, what have you done? He cast his eyes across his sister’s note once more, uncomfortable at reading this private message. The original letter was still in his hands, and he turned that to the light too. The spidery writing danced in the shadows.
I have more.
GW