Chapter 8 Elizabeth
Elizabeth
Elizabeth was so pleased to see Mr Darcy, it was as if she had been thirsty and he was the water she had longed for. It was almost unbelievable how strong her longing was, given that they had seen one another just that morning!
“Good afternoon, Mr Darcy,” she said. “I see you have no gift for me.” She laughed a bit, knowing that he would know even without that clue that she was teasing, but glad to give him every reassurance.
“I spoke with Bingley,” he murmured, “and there are quite complex rules about gift giving. I panicked and decided that today I should arrive empty-handed, and that I will consider the matter further and consult with my valet in regards to future gift giving.”
“Panicked?” she asked. “What dreadful thing might happen if you slip up and give me an inappropriate gift? Might you be forced to marry me?”
She smiled her slyest smile, and he gulped.
“Oh! You are entirely correct! I should be showering you with the most ostentatious and unseemly gifts!”
They both laughed, drawing the attention of the other ladies in the room.
Mr Bingley looked up from his quiet conversation with Jane, and as he met Elizabeth’s eyes, he winked.
She smiled, thinking that his brotherly attitude towards her boded well about his feelings towards her sister.
If he had begun to think of her as a sister already, did that mean that Jane and Mr Bingley were falling in love as swiftly as she and Mr Darcy had?
Mr Darcy noticed the exchange. “I also spoke to my friend about your sister. Remind me to tell you what was said, when we have privacy.”
Her curiosity piqued, Elizabeth wished to drag him out to the gardens immediately.
But instead she just nodded and murmured, “I have a feeling my father is wishing for a visit. We might both go to him, for I should love to watch you play chess against my father. I feel I will learn much by watching you play another.”
“Should we go to him now?” Mr Darcy asked. At her nod, he stood and offered his arm.
At the library door, Elizabeth gave her usual courtesy knock and, as she opened the door, said, “Papa, it is me…and Mr Darcy. Might we intrude on your time?”
She expected her father to be welcoming and yet curmudgeonly, and he fulfilled her expectations perfectly, saying “Certainly” but frowning quite severely at Mr Darcy.
“I have been brushing up on Mallet, translated by Percy,” Elizabeth’s father said, as if they should know of what he was speaking.
Elizabeth felt at sea, and she studied her papa’s eyes, assuming that he was starting a new game—one of challenge, of esoteric names or titles or whatnot—probably in an attempt to make a certain someone feel unknowledgeable.
She felt a pang of frustration at how…silly…and insecure, perhaps?…her father could be.
But the certain someone by her side surprised her, and her father as well, she imagined, by responding with a bright smile. “Northern Antiquities? I have dearly loved learning about Norse history and culture, and all things Viking, if you accept the term used by Mr Turner and Mr Chalmers.”
Elizabeth now studied Mr Darcy. He was obviously completely sincere and excited to be speaking to someone who knew or cared about…
Norse history and culture, she supposed.
She had read enough about it to know that the Norse were Danes and others who lived long ago in the northernmost regions of Europe.
She spun her head back to see her father’s face. He looked equal parts dismayed and puzzled, as if he was disappointed that Mr Darcy had recognised the two names he had casually dropped, completely separated from context, and as if he was wondering to what Mr Darcy referred with two more names.
Score another one for Mr Darcy, Elizabeth thought. It was satisfying that her suitor was able to meet and exceed her father’s game playing.
“You have read Mallet, then?” her father challenged.
“I have. I have read the prose Edda and bits from the poetic Edda. My horse is white, with a yellowish golden mane, and I admit that I named him Gulltoppr.”
Elizabeth was startled when she saw her father shake a finger at Mr Darcy.
He had never been one to discipline her or any of her sisters, so she had never before seen the kind of look that accompanies a wagging finger on her father’s face.
But after he said, “Young man, you cannot be as perfect as you seem. I will find a weak spot…somewhere,” her father chuckled long and low, as if he was tickled pink about discovering that his opponent was even more worthy than he thought.
Delighted, Elizabeth laughed.
“Are you willing for a rematch, sir?” Mr Darcy asked, waving his hand towards the chessboard. The two sat down, and Elizabeth chose a chair where she could watch and learn more about the Game of Kings.
She was swept up in both men's strategic play, so much so that Elizabeth was unaware of the passage of time. Finally, her father crowed, “Checkmate,” and Mr Darcy calmly studied the board, nodded, and tipped over his king.
“Congratulations, Papa,” Elizabeth said, echoing Mr Darcy’s words as the two men shook hands. Then she checked the clock, adding, “Come, let us see if there is any more tea left.”
It turned out that tea had been delayed by some minor disaster in the kitchen, and it had just been brought in as Elizabeth and the two men entered the parlour.
Jane was pouring, and Mary was serving cakes and biscuits. Before long Mr Darcy, Mr Bingley, and her father were served as well, and Elizabeth took a seat near Mr Darcy, with her own plate, cup, and saucer placed on the small table between them.
Her father said, “I am happy to tell you, family, that Oxford beat Cambridge today.”
Elizabeth saw that her mother looked puzzled until Jane said, “Chess.” The younger girls did not seem to pay any attention, but Mary and Jane both quietly congratulated their father.
Mr Bingley was eating a rolled wafer and exclaimed, “This is the most delicious biscuit of its kind I have ever had!” He sipped his tea and also praised its excellence. When he took a bite of a currant teacake, he lavished additional compliments on that treat.
Everyone smiled at his enthusiasm. Elizabeth thought to herself that the man was a bit like an excitable puppy.
She noted that he commended the millefruit biscuits as highly as the others, but he ate many additional millefruit biscuits and teacakes, but he never helped himself to another rolled wafer.
Elizabeth was used to seeing her sisters, mother, and father eat just one to three sweets with their tea, and she now remembered that both Georgiana and Mr Darcy did the same.
It seemed to her to be typical behaviour, not necessarily as a guest or a host, but just as a human, to have just a small number of treats when offered.
To watch Mr Bingley eat perhaps ten millefruit biscuits and six teacakes was quite…
impressive. She did not wish to feel that Mr Bingley was ill bred, especially since she had been told that, although he was raised to be a gentleman, that upbringing was within a family that was not yet landed gentry.
She dared not be a snob and criticise such a man.
Her eyes were on Mr Bingley when he finished yet another currant teacake.
He studied the plate, which still had one more of the small fruit-studded cakes.
He looked up, saw Elizabeth watching him, and he looked around at everyone else.
Finally, he asked, “Shall I relieve the plate of its final burden?” Everyone agreed, and his smile grew as he helped himself, saying, “I shall have to beg, borrow, or steal the receipt for this excellent teacake!”
The maids removed the tea service, two of the plates with not even a crumb remaining, the third plate still laden with almost all of the original rolled wafers. Elizabeth could just imagine the servants grumbling that they had only one sort of treat with their own tea.
“You seemed to enjoy more than the teacake,” Elizabeth’s father said to Bingley.
The young man just smiled his enormous grin and said, “I did. I have a gigantic sweet tooth, although of course I adore savoury foods as well.”
“I am happy you are not too shy to sate your hunger, then,” her father replied. He did not sound happy, though, and Elizabeth cringed at what Mr Bingley must think of her father’s manners.
“I know what I wish for,” Mr Bingley said, “and if it does not harm another, I take it.”
Elizabeth decided that this philosophy had much to recommend it, but she was certain that most people could fool themselves into ignoring harm to others if it got in the way of whatever it was they wished for.
“Speaking of taking,” Mr Darcy said, “I wonder if anyone would like to take a walk?”
It did not surprise Elizabeth to see that almost all her sisters, Georgiana, and Mr Bingley all wished to be included in the activity.
But she was burning with curiosity about what Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley might have said to one another, so she ensured her suitor and she outpaced everyone else.
They couple soon found themselves on Oakham Mount.
Elizabeth sighed with contentment. “From here we can see everyone else, and thus we can be certain not to be overheard. Please, please tell me what Mr Bingley said about Jane!”
Mr Darcy laughed at her eagerness. “Believe me, it is not terribly interesting. I just wish not to keep anything from you, and I feel I must tell you what I know.”
“Oh!” Elizabeth worried that something unpleasant would be expressed, but she did not wish to hamper her reticent beau, so she decided to remain utterly silent while he relayed whatever he knew.
After spotting Mr Bingley, Georgiana, and each of her sisters from their higher vantage point, Elizabeth said, “Please tell me.”