Chapter 3 #2
Elizabeth wondered when the Lucas ladies would arrive.
Their closest neighbours visited after every assembly or large event so that her mother could exchange gossip with Lady Lucas.
While they spoke, Elizabeth and Jane would discuss their experiences with Charlotte Lucas, and Lydia and Kitty would giggle with Maria Lucas.
The youngest girls would not just giggle: they would giggle as they critiqued the clothing people wore, and they would giggle as they discussed who danced with whom, and finally they would giggle as they daydreamt about the near future, when militia officers soon to be quartered in Meryton might attend gatherings.
Elizabeth left Mary out of the account of the usual post-assembly visits because Mary did not join in with any of the discussions; she preferred reading to what she disparagingly called “tittle tattle.”
As Elizabeth sealed the fourth letter, she dimly heard a knock on the front door.
She carefully put away the writing implements and the sealing wax before turning towards the door, the four letters in her hand, smiling already as she looked forward to discussing the Netherfield residents with Charlotte.
Mrs Hill entered the room and announced, “Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy.”
A jolt of pleasure, even more than surprise, shot through Elizabeth. She swiftly handed the letters to Mrs Hill and then joined the other Bennet ladies as they curtseyed to the men’s bows. Everyone exchanged the usual pleasantries.
Mr Bingley soon began paying notable attention to Jane. He had taken a seat near her, and the two began speaking with low voices. In contrast, Mr Darcy engaged in conversation with everyone. He cordially asked Mary what she was reading.
“I am reading Mr J. C. Kellner’s treatise The Basics of Thoroughbass.” Elizabeth felt a bit sorry that her sister’s tone was smug; she seemed proud to be reading an improving book rather than a fashion magazine or novel.
Mr Darcy took Mary’s unusual reading choice in stride and nodded thoughtfully. “Are you very interested in musical theory?”
Mary looked very pleased. “I am,” she said. “Since I play the pianoforte, I feel that I should understand the technical rules of harmony.”
“That is admirable,” Mr Darcy responded. “My sister plays, as well, and she has even written several original pieces, such as a sonatina, but as yet she has never studied music academically, such as theory and composition.”
“She is three years younger than Mary,” Elizabeth said. “Georgiana may apply herself to a scientific study of music at some later point.”
“Indeed,” Mr Darcy said. He turned to Lydia, who had been ignoring the conversation as she whispered and giggled with Kitty, but who was now sketching an idea for the bonnet she worked on.
“You sketch well, Miss Lydia,” he said. “Did you participate in the sketching lessons at Netherfield Park that Miss Elizabeth mentioned to me last night?
Lydia preened at the compliment and said, “Yes, Kitty and I both took classes.”
“And did you learn languages from your neighbours, too?” he asked. He sounded sincerely interested, and Elizabeth marvelled at his capacity for caring about people so decidedly lower in status than his exalted position.
“Lord, no! What a bore that would have been!”
Elizabeth winced at Lydia’s bold and dismissive statement. Mr Darcy raised his eyebrows, and his lips twitched as he shot Elizabeth a look. She was surprised and relieved that he looked more amused than disapproving.
He said, “Ah! mais on conte si bien fleurette en francais.”
Lydia really looked at him, at that moment, and Elizabeth wondered if she was seeing him for the first time as a handsome man. “What—” Lydia paused, then started again, “What does that mean?”
Elizabeth translated in a low voice, “It means ‘But one can flirt so well in French.’ Which you would know if you had taken the class offered by our delightful neighbour.”
Lydia’s mouth made an astonished “O.” But then she shrugged and said, “Well, at least Kitty and I took one class. Jane did not take any! She never even tried a single session of any of the classes, so I do not know how she was so sure she would not like them.”
Elizabeth found herself blushing. She had deliberately expressed Jane’s dislike of the group classes as if she had tried at least one and discovered that it was not something she enjoyed.
Mr Darcy sent her a swift glance that made her believe that he noticed the discrepancy of the two reports.
But he did not exhibit any feelings on the topic through words or expression.
“What about you, Miss Mary?” he asked. “Did you take advantage of any of the classes?”
“Yes, of course,” Mary said. “Lizzy and I took every session of every class. We were the only ones in the neighbourhood to do so.”
Mr Darcy smiled at Mary and then at Elizabeth.
Elizabeth felt almost giddy with happiness. She looked sidelong at Mary and discovered that her next-youngest sister was smiling complacently. Mary made her excuses to leave the room, saying pointedly to Mr Darcy, “I will be diligently practicing the pianoforte, as is my daily routine.”
He nodded and complimented her desire to work hard with an old adage: “It is said that little strokes fell great oaks.”
Mary immediately quoted the Bible in agreement: “In due season, we shall reap, if we faint not.”
“Very good, Miss Mary.” Mr Darcy turned to Elizabeth and asked, “I wonder if you would like to take a walk?”
Elizabeth shot to her feet, and she was relieved that Jane and Mr Bingley would accompany them rather than her reluctant parents or even more resistant youngest sisters.
As soon as they reached the garden, Mr Darcy offered his arm. Do not jump to conclusions, Elizabeth told herself. You are the second eldest, and Mr Bingley obviously put first claim for the eldest, so this attention means nothing.
They walked briskly, soon leaving Jane and her prospective suitor far behind.
Elizabeth eagerly asked, “Mr Darcy, it did not occur to me, yesterday, but you must have realised before you joined your friend at Netherfield Park that you would be close to where your sister’s correspondents lived.
You must have wondered if we would be attending the assembly. ”
Mr Darcy smiled gently as she waited for him to respond. He said, “You have informed me of two things I must have done and have asked me no questions.”
He was being deliberately obtuse, and he therefore deserved a tease. She said, “I mourn with you that your logical thinking skills have obviously suffered of late, or you would have understood the implied question. I am certain that this disability is because of your very advanced age.”
He chuckled and replied, “Pray, take pity on my decaying faculties, and pose an actual question.”
“Did you realise that you must be close to our father’s estate and that you might see us at the dance?”
“Yes, I did. I actually went so far as to hope I might see you at the assembly.”
Elizabeth felt bubbly inside, just as she had when Mr Darcy had smiled at her and Mary. She reminded herself yet again that this was not the beginning of a Gothic novel, and no romance was brewing between Mr Darcy and any of the Bennets.
After a dozen more steps, Mr Darcy changed the subject: “At the assembly, you asked what group class my friend and I would teach. And although you were teasing, and I am almost certain that neither Bingley nor I have the time or inclination to teach a group of ladies, I did consider that you and Miss Mary might benefit from instruction on riding. I assume you both ride, but do you know how to leap over enclosures?”
“Actually, I do not know how to ride,” Elizabeth said. “Mary knows a bit more than I, but she basically plods along on our old nag or she walks; we do not have many horses here at Longbourn.”
Mr Darcy did not seem surprised, which pleased Elizabeth. She had talked to some ladies who had gasped, “You do not ride?”—as if she had just admitted that she did not eat food, but instead subsisted on the sun’s rays.
He said, “I have an extremely gentle mare at Netherfield. Should I bring her here tomorrow for a lesson?”
Elizabeth despised cowardice—especially when she saw it in herself.
The fact that her family’s estate did not have horses for riding had spared her for too long the self-knowledge that she was still afraid of riding from her last attempt, at age ten, and the massive bruise that had resulted from a truly awkward fall.
She opened her mouth to say yes but heard her traitorous voice say “No.” She stopped walking and turned to Mr Darcy. “I mean yes. I…I hate to admit it, but I am ridiculously frightened to try. But I want to face my fear, conquer my fear.”
“Misty is, as I said, gentle, and we can go slowly. Naturally, it is up to you, but I believe you have it in you to, as you expressed, face and conquer your fear. It would be my honour to help you do so.”
“Then, yes, please. I would love to have your help fill this embarrassing gap in my skills.”
“Do you think that Miss Mary will wish to learn more as well? Having both of you with me will make it more proper, although having the class right here will enable your parents to watch a lesson or to provide a chaperone.”
“I shall ask her when we return. Thank you again for such generous suggestions.”
Inside, Elizabeth was aching to jump to conclusions again, despite her own lecture against it. Taking the time to teach a reluctant lady how to ride did not fit in with any flight of fantasy she had ever come up with.
As they walked back to the house, Mr Darcy said, “I wonder if you might allow me to introduce a thoroughly inappropriate topic of conversation.”
Elizabeth felt her heart thunder. She could only think of one category of inappropriate topics, and she half dreaded and half longed to hear what he would say. She could only nod her head.