Chapter 17 #2
“He’s Mr Bennet’s heir, unfortunately,” Darcy said, recalling Elizabeth’s blushes at the parson’s blatant disregard for propriety. “I never met a clergyman so puffed up on his own consequence. I don’t know how the family endures him.”
“You would have enjoyed yourself, Henry. Darcy was as mad as fire, and I had no idea what to say to the fellow,” Charles said with a laugh. “I doubt anyone has ever seen Charles Bingley in such a foul mood.”
When Hurst and Charles both laughed, Darcy was finally able to see the absurdity of their situation. “I can laugh about it now, but his presumptions put me all out of temper. I wanted to give the encroaching gabble monger a stinging set-down.”
“I wish I had been there to witness the ridiculous fellow in action.”
“You may still have your chance,” Charles said. “He’ll probably be at the assembly next week. He’s bound to make a spectacle of himself.”
“Well then, if you’ll point him out to me, I’ll introduce myself.”
Unable to resist, Darcy laughed with his friends. Despite their disastrous morning call, he’d seen Elizabeth and had shared a few moments with her. Knowing she no longer held him in aversion, he would be content until he saw her again, hopefully soon.
When the men joined the ladies, the housemates agreed to play loo. The game advanced as usual, with comments pertaining only to the cards, until Darcy introduced a new topic.
“We may look forward to a call from the Bennet ladies in the next day or two.”
Caroline and Louisa exchanged steely glances, but when they made no remark, he continued.
“You should have come with us. We had the pleasure of meeting their guest, Mr Collins, who is Mr Bennet’s heir.”
Examining the cards, Caroline shook her head with false remorse. “The entail – such an unpleasant business.”
“True,” Louisa said in a grave tone. “And with five daughters yet unmarried, it puts Mrs Bennet in such a difficult position.”
Darcy doubted either lady cared one whit for Mrs Bennet’s difficulties.
“Perhaps the heir will marry one of them,” Caroline said with a hopeful mien.
Louisa naturally agreed. “That would be the best solution. After all, it’s quite unlikely they could do much better.”
Darcy rejected that notion. The idea of an intelligent woman like Elizabeth marrying that pompous fool was past all endurance. She would never agree to such an unequal match. “There’s no reason why they shouldn’t marry whoever they choose,” he said, thinking especially of Elizabeth.
Caroline snickered. “You can’t be serious, Charles. They have no more than a thousand pounds each,” she said with an incredulous air, then turned to Charles. “I’m certain Mr Darcy agrees with me.”
“That’s the usual way of things,” Charles said, turning a card. “But there are exceptions.”
Caroline forfeited the hand. “Well, Jane is a rare beauty and may do well enough, but the younger girls want better manners. In my opinion, they were released from the schoolroom far too early.”
“My goodness, their conduct is most unbecoming,” Louisa said in a despairing tone.
Darcy couldn’t disagree on that point. Those girls had tested his patience on several occasions, including today’s dismal performance. But at least they hadn’t behaved as badly as the ridiculous parson.
That topic of conversation was thankfully put to an end by the arrival of a footman with the tea cart.
The ladies served the tea with the graceful elegance befitting a London drawing room.
Caroline’s devoted attention to Charles’s every preference reminded him of the overreaching clergyman’s servitude to his esteemed patroness.
Later that night, Darcy followed Charles and Hurst out to the brook. Thank the gods, the rain had finally returned. Granted, it was a light mist, but still, this was the most precipitation they’d seen in over a sennight.
“How does one appease the gods?” Charles inquired once they had positioned their lanterns around the bench.
“Bonfire,” Hurst said.
“There’s an idea,” Darcy said, rolling his eyes.
“I’d rather enjoy watching you build a fire in this weather, Henry,” Charles said. “We have no other amusements.”
Accepting this challenge, Hurst instantly set to work, gathering fallen branches, loose brush and leaves, and using the lantern flame to start the fire. Through no small effort, the fire sprang to life.
Invigorated by his success, Hurst jumped over the flames. “Excelsior!”
Charles quickly followed. “Long live the King!”
Darcy remained seated; he still had his dignity, after all, even though it dangled by a loose thread.
“Come on, Darcy,” Hurst said, wildly waving him forward. “What do you have to lose?”
Indeed, he had already lost everything. Why shouldn’t I? he thought. Nothing else had worked thus far, and unless he had attempted every foolhardy scheme imaginable, he couldn’t honestly claim that he had tried everything to reverse the spell.
He jumped over the fire. “In Veritate Victoria!”
“Was that Latin?” Hurst inquired.
Darcy confirmed this. “Victory is Truth; the Fitzwilliam family motto.”
Hurst raised up a cheer and clapped him on the back. “That’s the spirit,” he said, then leapt over the already dwindling fire. “Rule, Britania!”
“Make me Charles Bingley again!” Charles shouted as he jumped a second time.
By this time, the fire was more smoke than flame. Undeterred, Darcy jumped. “Release me from this hell!”
Determined to jump again, Hurst took a running start and launched himself over the smoking pile of debris. “I am the master of fire!”
Charles laughed heartily as the flames sputtered and emitted a plume of smoke. “Some master you are, Henry. The rain has usurped you.”
Hurst merely shrugged off this comment. “Ah, well, that was fun while it lasted,” he said in the highest spirits. “What shall we try next?”
“I suppose we can try our luck in the lane,” Charles said without much conviction.
“I’m game for it.”
While Hurst might be primed for the next adventure, Darcy kept a level head. “Perhaps we should douse the remnants of the fire before we cause another disaster.”
“Yes, yes, quite right,” Hurst said, searching for a receptacle, with no success. Then scooping up water from the brook, he splashed a scant handful onto the fire.
Finding this method somewhat lacking, Darcy soaked his handkerchief in the brook and wrung it out over the smoking embers. Charles followed suit, and once they were satisfied that the last spark had been extinguished, they retrieved the lanterns and followed the path back to the house.
As they reached the driveway, the rain began in earnest, and Darcy wondered if the gods had been appeased and would finally put an end to his suffering tonight.
“Your coat smells of wood smoke, sir,” Henderson said as Darcy disrobed later that night.
“Does it? I hardly noticed.” Darcy hadn’t considered this possibility, but now realised that his remaining attire must also reek of smoke, despite being drenched by the rain.
“I suppose I can soak it in vinegar,” the valet said, then gazing downward, frowned at the state of Darcy’s boots.
Admittedly, his boots had been in worse shape before, but still… “You’re a champion, Mr Henderson.”
From the valet’s forlorn expression, Darcy supposed that he took no pleasure from this compliment.