Chapter Three
When Darcy and Mr. Bennet arrived at Lucas Lodge, they were escorted into a drawing room to the sight of Elizabeth standing on a stool in the middle, her back to them.
Miss Mary knelt on the floor next to the stool with a cushion full of pins tied to her left wrist. She finished putting one in Elizabeth’s skirt.
Elizabeth turned slightly and Miss Mary reached for another pin.
All about the room, Bennet and Lucas women sat and sewed, with the notable exception of Miss Jane Bennet. Nor was Bingley in evidence, much to Darcy’s consternation. Halting inside the doorway, the maid announced him and Mr. Bennet.
Lady Lucas and Mrs. Bennet set aside their sewing, and Elizabeth started to turn.
“Stand still or your skirt won’t be even,” Miss Mary warned her sister.
Elizabeth halted, back still to Darcy, but craned her neck to look over her shoulder. She offered a small smile and a nod.
Lady Lucas and Mrs. Bennet rose and crossed to issue greetings, to which Darcy made a polite reply, hardly glancing away from the elegant curve of Elizabeth’s neck while Mr. Bennet bore the brunt of the pleasantries.
After two more pins, Miss Mary said, “Done.”
Elizabeth spun and then stepped down, holding up her skirt to keep the hem from dragging on the floor. Miss Mary took the stool to a corner of the room and picked up what looked like undergarments to sew.
“Papa, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth mustered a pleasant expression, marred by the dark smudges under her eyes and the tension in her frame. Addressing her father, she asked, “How was the cottage? Mr. Bingley informed us of your meeting and Mr. Darcy’s offer to express his opinions.”
How, Darcy wondered, did she manage to make that seem like a criticism? He’d accompanied Mr. Bennet to assist. And in an attempt to keep Bingley away from Miss Bennet. “Where is Mr. Bingley?” he asked, trying to sound at ease with the question.
Footsteps sounded behind him, and Darcy turned, but Bingley’s solid form didn’t meet his seeking gaze. Instead, Sir William Lucas entered the parlor.
“I heard we’d more illustrious guests,” Sir William said. “Mr. Darcy, how happy we are to welcome you to our home this morning.”
Was that a criticism as well? The hour might be a bit too early for calling, Darcy knew, but surely circumstances warranted ignoring that. Unsure if Sir William baited him or not, Darcy replied simply, “Thank you.”
“Mr. Darcy was asking where Mr. Bingley and Miss Bennet are,” Lady Lucas said.
Darcy hadn’t asked after Miss Bennet at all, a fact Elizabeth had undoubtedly noted, if the gleam in her eyes was any indication. “Ah, yes. I asked after Bingley.”
“They’ve gone to bring slippers to one of our maids,” Mrs. Bennet said.
“Slippers?” Darcy repeated.
“The maid ran out barefoot. She’s gone to stay with her sister, who lives nearby,” Elizabeth said. “No one has shoes that are likely to fit. Thus, slippers.”
“Why do you not sit with us and wait for Mr. Bingley?” Lady Lucas asked. “I will ring for tea. Would you care for toast? Preserves? Mr. Bingley said he had not eaten much before coming out this morning, since both of you rushed to Longbourn immediately upon learning the news.”
The back of Darcy’s neck heated. They had indeed, and he realized that while anyone could guess why Bingley might rush over, those in the room would be of two minds as to Darcy’s motives.
He didn’t know which embarrassed him more, the idea that the people about him thought he’d gone running to Elizabeth, or that some of them must guess his true motives, Elizabeth among them.
“Yes, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said. “Will you have tea or is there some urgency in finding Mr. Bingley?”
Darcy gritted his teeth. She definitely understood his motive in accompanying Bingley. “Tea would be very kind of you.”
Lady Lucas indicated a chair near her seat, on the opposite side of the large parlor from where Mrs. Bennet had sat. “Come in then, please. Sit.” She turned to her second daughter. “Move those bonnets for Mr. Darcy, dear.”
The girl hopped up to comply. Darcy, Mr. Bennet and Sir William gathered around the low table on which tea and toast were served so quickly they must have been almost ready.
Mrs. Bennet joined them. The younger women kept up sewing, though Elizabeth disappeared.
She returned shortly, wearing the gown she’d worn at the ball.
It was dirty, torn at the hem, and smelled of smoke.
Taking a seat away from the tea service but in his line of sight, she began work on the hem of the gown she’d been wearing when he entered.
Darcy frowned. Didn’t she have anything else to wear?
“Yes, quite the show of good Christian charity, is it not?” Sir William said, catching Darcy staring at Elizabeth and, fortunately, misunderstanding why.
“We live in a wonderful community here in Meryton. Good, God fearing folk. And, to be certain, charity to thy neighbors in their time of need is the highest duty. Especially for those of rank. The more one has, the more one is obliged to give. Do you not agree, Mr. Darcy?”
“I do.” Did any chance exist that Bingley had not yet proposed?
“Then Mr. Darcy must be very charitable,” Elizabeth said from where she sat, without looking up from her work.
“It would be wrong for me to say so.”
“Because you are admirably modest or because you are not charitable?”
“If I am admirably modest, I cannot admit as much,” Darcy replied.
“And if he is not charitable, he will not admit as much,” Mr. Bennet concluded, tone amused. “You’ve given him an impossible question, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth glanced up with a smirk, then returned to working on the hem.
“I say Mr. Darcy should be very charitable,” Mrs. Bennet stated.
Taking Mrs. Bennet’s declaration as his cue, Sir William returned to his speech about charity.
Darcy sipped his tea, half listened so he might nod at appropriate intervals, and tried not to study Elizabeth as she worked.
Not her elegant profile, or the graceful movement of her hands.
Not the way warmth brightened her eyes when her friend, Miss Lucas, came over to work beside her and they had a brief discussion about whether Elizabeth should cut material off the skirt or make a larger hem, leaving the extra on in case the hem ever needed letting out for someone else.
Fresh footfall sounded in the hall. Multiple sets, one firm and both distinctly different from the hurried patter of the maids. Darcy wasn’t the only person in the parlor to turn to look, though Sir William kept expounding.
Bingley and Miss Bennet entered, hands clasped, faces radiant. Darcy stifled a groan.
“We’re engaged,” Miss Bennet cried.
Such joy suffused her face and voice that Darcy began to question his opinion that she didn’t love Bingley. Could financial security, even in the face of the fire, create that much happiness?
Miss Bennet turned to her father. “That is, if we have your permission, Papa?”
Bingley hurried to the low table, not relinquishing Miss Bennet’s hand. “Yes, if we have your permission, Mr. Bennet. I did not mean to circumvent you.”
Though dismayed, Darcy wasn’t surprised. Bingley was rescuing a damsel in distress, and Miss Bennet made a lovely picture, still wearing the jewelry she’d worn the night before, but a plain gown, her hair done in a simple knot and her eyes shining.
Mrs. Bennet hissed, “Mr. Bennet. Say yes.”
Mr. Bennet set down his teacup. “Certainly, if you are acceptable to Jane, you are acceptable to me, Mr. Bingley.”
The room erupted into congratulations. All the women clustered about Miss Bennet, hugging her.
Every gentleman must shake Bingley’s hand and congratulate him.
Sir William changed his monologue to one about Miss Bennet’s beauty and suitability, being the finest miss in Hertfordshire.
Darcy, aware of Bingley’s joy and the irrevocableness of his proposal, joined the others in wishing him well.
As the furor died down, Miss Bennet said, “And Mr. Bingley has invited us all to stay with him in Netherfield Park until Longbourn can be rebuilt.”
Darcy grimaced. Another unavoidable, and predictable, outcome. He’d have to invent an excuse to return to London immediately.
“No.” Mr. Bennet’s loud, firm refusal met with universal shock and not a few outright gasps.
“No?” Mrs. Bennet asked, stunned.
“No,” Mr. Bennet repeated. “If we go, we will be tempted not to leave. We will move into Goldfinch Cottage today.”
Darcy ran rapidly over the work they’d seen and decided it could be done, sans kitchen and shutters.
“Today?” Sir William asked. “Surely, you will need our generosity for longer.”
“I am not going to move into a cottage,” Mrs. Bennet cried.
“Yes, you are. You all are.”
Miss Bennet nodded serenely, while Elizabeth dipped her head in acceptance. Miss Mary shrugged, but Miss Lydia and Miss Kitty gaped at their father in horror. Mrs. Bennet scowled.
“But, surely, accepting my offer would ease the burden on you, sir,” Bingley said.
Visage set, Mr. Bennet turned to him. “I will make an exception with Jane. That means you will be taking care of her earlier than you might normally do so but given the circumstances that is reasonable.”
Bingley smiled down at Miss Bennet. “Certainly. I’ll be very pleased to do so.”
“I will go with Jane to chaperone,” Mrs. Bennet said, crushing Darcy’s growing relief.
“No,” Mr. Bennet said again. “Mr. Bingley’s sisters are perfectly proper chaperones.”
Mrs. Bennet’s anger didn’t waver. “Then I will stay with my sister Phillips.”
“You will not. You will sleep in Goldfinch Cottage tonight,” Mr. Bennet said with quiet firmness.
“But, Papa,” Miss Lydia began in a wail.
“No,” Mr. Bennet said, a touch sharper this time. “There will be no discussion on this. The decision is made.”