3. Chapter 3 Gauging Mr. Darcy’s Character
Chapter 3: Gauging Mr. Darcy’s Character
Tuesday, 28 April
Vauxhall Gardens
Elizabeth
W ith Mr. Darcy and his sister on either side of me, I strolled the paths through bountiful gardens of colourful, fragrant blooms and exotic verdure. I could not have wished for a more agreeable excursion.
Upon my enquiry, Mr. Darcy described the terrain and flora native to Derbyshire. He expressed himself with an endearing mixture of pride and awe, and I developed a keen desire to visit his beloved country.
Behind us, Jane and Mr. Bingley ambled arm in arm, and my aunt and uncle brought up the rear of our group.
We reached a miniature menagerie featuring insects, small animals, and reptiles. I edged around each glass container to examine the creatures from various angles.
Miss Darcy gasped and pointed at one of the reptiles, a venomous pink-and-black lizard. “Merciful heavens, what a repulsive creature! I am thankful we do not have any similar reptiles in England.”
“I grant you, that one is not pretty.” I moved forwards and crouched for a better perspective of a cobra. The snake coiled its body and flicked out its tongue.
“Unlike my sister, you appear to have an appreciation for these animals.” Mr. Darcy’s familiar baritone drew my attention, and I glimpsed him standing to my left.
“For the most part, yes. I appreciate this opportunity to observe these creatures from foreign lands.” I stood, maintaining my observation of the serpent. “I find reptiles interesting, although I can do without the poisonous ones. As a child, I sneaked lizards and frogs into my room, much to my mother’s displeasure.”
Mr. Darcy’s laughter—sonorous and captivating—pulled my eyes from the snake. I savoured the sound, even after it faded away. He grinned. “We shared the same pastime as children.” His glowing countenance presented a model of masculine allure and prompted a tingling sensation in the pit of my belly.
In my peripheral vision, I caught Miss Darcy gaping at us, and I turned to her. “You may be easy. I am no longer inclined to hunt wild creatures, and I do not imagine your brother is either.”
“I most certainly am not.” He set his shoulders in a show of feigned umbrage. “Unless, of course, you count the odd toad I might capture on a Sunday evening with no other task to occupy me.”
Miss Darcy peered at him for a long moment before she burst out in giggles.
A joke—from Mr. Darcy? Who would have thought him capable of drollery? He held me riveted.
“Are you fond of dogs, Miss Elizabeth?”
At Miss Darcy’s enquiry, I prised my sight from him. “Oh yes, very much so. I met Hunter in Kent, and he is quite charming.”
“More charming than me?” Mr. Darcy raised his brows.
“Well…” I drew my head to the side in a show of considering the matter.
He raised his palm. “On second thoughts, I see the folly of my question and retract it.”
“A wise move on your part. Hunter is irresistible, especially when he is jubilant and wags his entire backside.”
“Alas, I cannot hope to compete with that.”
Miss Darcy giggled again. “I have a cocker spaniel too—a black-and-white female named Sally. Of course, we have many dogs, but Sally and Hunter sleep in our bedchambers. You must come to our home and meet Sally.”
“That reminds me…” Mr. Darcy rested a hand on his sister’s shoulder and faced me. “If you are free, we should be pleased to have you for dinner tomorrow night. Your family and Bingley are invited as well.”
“Thank you. I should be happy to accept if my aunt and uncle have no objection. Shall we ask them now?”
“Yes, by all means.”
We waited for the others, and Mr. Darcy presented the invitation. Although my uncle declared a need to work late at his warehouse that night, he urged my aunt to go. She agreed, and accepted Mr. Bingley’s offer to provide our transport.
Mr. Darcy met my aunt’s gaze. “I appreciated hearing your anecdotes of my mother, and I wonder whether you would mind repeating them for my sister. She has fond memories of our father but none of our mother, who died ten days after her birth.”
“I should be happy to do so.”
Thus, Miss Darcy joined my aunt Gardiner, and Mr. Darcy and I took the lead again.
My sight settled upon him. “You must have been a child when you lost your mother.”
“Yes, I had just turned twelve.”
What a tender age to sustain this bereavement. My chest constricted, and an image came to me of how he may have looked then. “I am sorry. You must have been desolate.”
“Thank you.” His voice grew softer. “Yes, though my father suffered more than anyone else. He…cherished my mother.”
I bit my lower lip. On countless occasions, I had lamented over Mama’s embarrassing remarks, yet I ought to be more thankful to have my parents alive and well.
“Are you having a pleasant time?” His inflexible bearing betrayed a scintilla of anxiety, disputing his easy tone.
“Yes, I am. Although I have been here before, I never enjoyed the experience as much as I have today.”
“No doubt the menagerie pleased you, but I hope my company added some benefit.” His brows edged higher.
The twinkle in his expressive eyes stole my focus and delayed my response. “Your presence provides a distinct advantage.”
He murmured under his breath—words akin to ‘thank goodness’. A few moments passed before he beheld me again. “How long will you stay in London?”
“Jane and I had planned to return to Longbourn in two days, but my aunt has suggested I extend my stay at her home.”
“Would that suit your wishes?”
“Yes. I think it would be…preferable for you to call upon me here instead of in Hertfordshire.”
His lips parted. “Then you anticipate seeing me often. Does that mean your opinion of me is improving?”
“Yes, without doubt.”
A radiant smile brightened his aspect. “If you agree, I shall speak with your uncle tonight and make my intentions clear to him.”
“That is a fine idea.” Uncle Gardiner did not share Papa’s lax outlook; he would expect this courtesy. I glanced at Miss Darcy, who appeared to be engrossed in my aunt’s narrative. “I presume your sister is aware of your…interest in me.”
“Yes, she is. Georgiana already likes you very much, and it is unusual for her to be comfortable so soon with a new acquaintance.”
We stopped at an area with several benches and shared a light meal prepared by the Darcys’ cook consisting of chicken, breads, pickled carrots, and a special treat: delectable grapes courtesy of Mr. Darcy’s greenhouse. I partook of the nourishment and marvelled at the rapid progression of my favourable sentiment for him.
His gentle manner towards Miss Darcy won my regard. As for his treatment of me, I could not ask for better. For some fortunate lady, he would make an excellent husband; he was intelligent, reasonable, caring, and…yes, even articulate. In the next instant, my appetite vanished, and the food I had already ingested seemed to congeal into stones. Drat , I could not entertain the concept of his marrying another with equanimity.
After the meal, we continued our exploration of the gardens. At my aunt’s suggestion, Miss Darcy returned to her side, and they became immersed in conversation. Mr. Darcy and I made frequent stops to remark on the unusual flora present. This time, we fell behind the others.
I strayed from his side to admire a striking group of peonies and moved from one stunning flower to the next.
“Mr. Darcy.”
I whirled towards the dulcet, feminine voice. Two fair young ladies accompanied by an older lady approached Mr. Darcy. All three wore elegant clothing. I smoothed the sprigged muslin of my frock, which paled in comparison to the trio’s fine attire.
Mr. Darcy bowed to them with a welcoming mien. “Good day, Mrs. Browning, Miss Browning, Miss Miriam. I hope you are having a pleasant tour of the gardens.”
The two younger ladies stopped before Mr. Darcy. The taller, blonde one—whom I presumed to be Miss Browning—fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Yes, we are, thank you. This is a most fortuitous surprise. I enjoyed our discussion of poetry last Wednesday at Lady Hampshire’s party.” Her honeyed declaration brought to mind a purring kitten.
I lapsed into a motionless state, spellbound by this disconcerting scene. So, Mr. Darcy had engaged her in conversation last week. Did he find her attractive? Most would call the elder Miss Browning a beauty. Based upon her attire and presence, she had the wealth, formal education, and social standing to make him a suitable match—unlike me.
Mrs. Browning stood behind her two daughters, resting her hands upon their shoulders. “We are having an intimate gathering for dinner on Friday, and we should be pleased if you would join us. My invitation went out to you today.”
“This is a busy time for me, so I may have another engagement.”
“If that is the case, we shall invite you for a later date.”
Miss Browning’s upper body crept closer to him. “Would you care to walk with us? Perhaps we might discuss Dr. John Donne’s poetry today.”
I seethed at her coquettish overture. What a flirt—she is worse than Miss Bingley! And yet…I had no justification for objecting to anything she did. This logic, though, brought me cold comfort.
“Thank you, but I am here with a party of friends.” Mr. Darcy sought me out and beckoned.
I set my spine and went towards him. The three Browning ladies took my measure, and their smiles waned. Nevertheless, I formed the semblance of a welcoming expression.
“I should like to introduce Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn in Hertfordshire. Miss Bennet, this is Mrs. Browning, Miss Browning, and Miss Miriam of Forest Manor in Essex.”
I curtsied. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintances.” The ladies responded with the barest of acknowledgements.
The return of Miss Browning’s fulsome smile coincided with her fixing upon Mr. Darcy afresh. “Well, I hope we shall see you again soon.”
Mr. Darcy stepped back from her. “Good day, ladies.” He offered his arm to me. “I believe we ought to join the others.”
I wrapped my arm around his. “Yes, I agree.” My respiration calmed as we increased our distance from the three women. I glanced at him and attempted to sound unruffled. “I take it the Browning ladies are friends of yours.”
“Our association is a distant one.”
“Perhaps it is merely Miss Browning who is a friend since you discussed poetry with her last week.”
“She is no more than an acquaintance.” He adjusted his hat higher, and his eyes settled upon me. “You once admonished me for not having exerted myself to converse with others in Hertfordshire, and I saw the justice in your criticism. Since my return to London, I have attempted to be less reserved than has been my wont.”
The thumping of my heart echoed through my ears. He had altered his conduct because of me . A flurry of emotions threatened my composure.
“I expect that, the more I…practise being sociable, the easier it will become.” His soothing baritone calmed and stimulated me in equal measure.
“I am impressed. It is difficult to alter one’s intrinsic habits.”
“Although I shall never be as easy and open in company as Bingley or my cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam, I can at least be more polite than before.”
Had I fallen under a strange spell? It seemed his every statement earned my admiration. I sought to lighten the mood. “I appreciate your efforts. Do take care, though, not to effect a tremendous change—if you become too genial, I might resort to carrying a stick to fend off other ladies.”
A soft chuckle rumbled from his chest. “There is but one lady to whom I am vulnerable, and she can parry any opponent with her wit alone.” His engaging grin foiled the precarious state of my poise; I took an awkward step and almost stumbled. His secure grip on my arm saved me from tripping.
How had I ever earned his regard? In any case, I wanted to nurture and safeguard the sentiment—as one would any treasure.
Wednesday, 29 April
Darcy House, London
Elizabeth
While Mr. Bingley, Jane, Aunt Gardiner, and I followed the butler, Slade, through the elegant hall, I sneaked glances into each room we passed.
Over the years, I had accompanied Aunt Gardiner to a few homes in exclusive neighbourhoods of London, but none so grand as Mr. Darcy’s fine pillared residence. Unlike most of the houses in this section of Mayfair, this one did not share common walls with any other.
Jane held back to walk at my side. She took my arm and lowered her head near mine. “How do you like your future home?”
I raised an eyebrow at the rash assumption in her query. “It is tolerable.”
She covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. “Come now, Lizzy, admit it: this is a gorgeous house.”
“If you insist upon a serious response, then yes. Everything I have seen here is splendid.” Despite my outward show of confidence, it took an effort to prevent my shoulders from stooping. In every direction, exquisite items of décor drew my admiration, from the sublime statuary chimneypiece and detailed cornices in the sitting room off the entryway, to the elegant pieces of mahogany furniture and the wainscoting lining the hall. Could I ever belong here? Thanks to Aunt Gardiner, at least my satin gown did the house justice. Since the dressmaker required several days to complete the first of my new garments, my aunt had insisted upon my wearing one of hers tonight, which had been altered to fit me.
We entered the saloon, where Mr. Darcy and his sister greeted us.
Mr. Darcy moved opposite me. “Miss Elizabeth, it is a pleasure to welcome you to my home.” His magnetic, dark eyes flared.
“Thank you, I am glad to be here.”
He glanced at my dress. “You always look beautiful, but you are especially handsome this evening.”
A flush rose up from my throat. “Thank you.”
“I thought you and your family would like a tour of the house.”
“That would be lovely.”
His response, a beatific smile, made my heart skip a beat.
The others echoed approval for the tour, and Mr. Darcy led the way. His sister took a position at my side. He and Miss Darcy pointed out items of interest as we progressed through the residence.
The finery on display coincided with my own taste, with one exception: a garish vase in the corner of the green morning room with a discordant combination of bright colours. When the others left the room, I stayed Miss Darcy with a hand on her arm and indicated the flashy item. “This differs from the other furnishings in the house. How did you acquire this piece?”
“Oh, our aunt Lady Catherine gifted that hideous thing to us years ago.” Her nose crinkled. “Fitzwilliam and I hate the vase, and we once had it removed to the attic. But on her next visit, our aunt noticed its absence and made a fuss. My brother took responsibility, blaming his muddled order to a servant for the misperception.”
“Ah, I see.”
“Fitzwilliam has joked about ‘accidentally’ breaking the vase, but it remains here in case Lady Catherine makes an unexpected appearance—which she has been known to do. She seems to take satisfaction in seeing her gift here.”
“Then the vase serves a purpose.”
“Yes, I suppose so, despite it being offensive to the eyes.”
We departed the house to enter a lush garden that boasted a singular attraction: the Darcys’ two cockers, Sally and Hunter. The delightful creatures rushed to greet their masters, then progressed to provide an enthusiastic reception to the rest of us.
Their tails wagged at a furious pace as they pushed against each other, vying for the position closest to me with an affable rivalry. I crouched to stroke the cockers’ soft fur. “I cannot decide which of you is most adorable.”
Miss Darcy grinned. “They like you and your family. Dogs seem to sense which people favour them and which do not.”
We returned to the house, and the tour ended at the library, an area the size of our drawing-room at Longbourn. Mr. Darcy led me throughout the various sections. “The library at Pemberley is much larger, but I have amassed a diverse collection here. Please feel free to borrow anything you would like to read.”
“Thank you. I should be delighted to take you up on your kind offer.”
He stopped before a bookshelf. “You will find my latest acquisitions here.”
After perusing the indicated shelves, I pulled out Corinne, or Italy , a novel by Madame de Sta?l, and skimmed several random paragraphs; the text provided detailed descriptions of the Italian countryside. “I should like to read this as I have done little travelling, and I appreciate stories set in…” The words ‘Volume I’ on the cover caught my eye. “Oh, I did not realise there are multiple volumes.”
“That is not a concern. You made a fine choice. I suggest you take the first four books for now.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your generosity.”
“Books may introduce you to new worlds, but they cannot compare to observing them in person. I believe you will have more opportunities to travel in the future.”
My eyes locked with his, and no coherent response came to me. His inference, that we could travel together as a married couple, suited my long-held desire to see more of England and beyond. From the warmth that spread across my cheeks, they must have darkened to a deep scarlet.
Soon thereafter, Miss Darcy announced dinner. Mr. Darcy escorted me to the dining-parlour and seated me to his right. The variety of dishes served included many of my favourites, leading me to conclude Mr. Darcy had noted my food preferences on past occasions.
After the delicious meal, we all removed to the music room. Miss Darcy took me to her collection of music books and leaned close to me. “I am not yet comfortable performing for anyone other than family, but I have decided to be brave tonight. Would you mind turning the pages for me?”
“I should be happy to do so. Would you prefer I play first?”
She shook her head. “If you do not mind, I should rather get my performance over with sooner.”
I patted her arm. “Of course. I understand.”
We made our selections and went to the pianoforte. Miss Darcy placed her hands above the keys and froze.
I inched close to her ear. “Why not pretend you and I are alone here? You need not look towards the others.”
She glanced my way and gave me a nod. With a heave of her chest, she began to play, at first in tentative movements. Within the first few measures, though, her upper body straightened, and her fingering grew more vigorous and controlled. She finished to enthusiastic applause, along with whistles from Mr. Bingley. She went on to play two more pieces.
I had selected arrangements familiar to me, folk songs for the most part, to reduce the likelihood of my mistakes. All in all, I acquitted myself well.
At the end of the evening, Mr. Darcy and I shared a moment alone in the music room whilst Miss Darcy accompanied the others to the entryway. He stepped closer to me than could be deemed proper—not that I minded, though I fancied the room had grown warmer. “Thank you for a most enjoyable evening.”
“It has been my great pleasure to have you here.” His dark eyes, illuminated by the candlelight, encompassed a bewitching glint. “I have been remiss in never telling you how much I adore your singing voice. Your performance of ‘Robin Adair’ tonight surpasses any I have heard before.”
That could not be true, could it? But our conversation after he had complimented me on Saturday came to mind, and I quelled my instinct to protest. “Thank you.”
When his hand engulfed my much smaller one, I resented the social custom of gloves. He left a tender kiss upon my bent fingers. That ethereal touch—even through the kid leather fabric—sent tingles through me.