Chapter Three #2
“Peace, sister.” Darcy laid a hand on her shoulder. “I will take care of it.”
“It is difficult for her to contribute if you do it for her, Cousin. She will hardly be beggared by seven shillings and six.” Priscilla pulled out her reticule and began counting coins, as did Georgiana.
“I have not made my usual charitable contribution for Michaelmas either, for I am not at Matlock this year. I am remiss. Thank you, Lizzy, for reminding me. Georgie, you and I may share the expense of their next quarter’s rent. ”
Darcy waited obediently as his sister and cousin counted their coins carefully, and pulled out his purse as well. At his sister’s glare, he said, “I assume I might contribute something for their maintenance through the winter?”
“How kind.” Elizabeth was overwhelmed. “You are all very good to help a cottage couple you do not know.”
“Nonsense, deeds of generosity are the order of the day at Michaelmas. We must all do our part. If you believe they are worthy of your help, Miss Elizabeth, then they must also be worthy of mine.” Darcy left the ladies and followed Mrs Turritt to where she was conversing with the steward.
Elizabeth was gratified by the number of times she caught Mr Bingley staring at Jane and making her blush during the Michaelmas sermon. Mr Darcy looked exasperated by his friend, but not in an arrogant or disapproving way, more of an amused resignation.
The two parties met by their carriages after exchanging greetings with Mr Abbott, Meryton’s rector who was to dine at Haye Park for the feast. Elizabeth was well pleased to be back in company with Lady Priscilla–who was her match in wit–and Miss Darcy–who was full young, but a delightful girl.
“Miss Darcy, come and open the instrument with me!” begged Mary, who headed for the music room the moment the party was divested of their outer-garments and everyone entered the drawing room to await the announcement of the meal.
Miss Darcy obliged with alacrity. The rest of the guests helped themselves to punch, as well as fruit and nuts provided for their refreshment while they made themselves comfortable and began conversing with one another.
It was not long at all before the sound of cheerful music filled the room and voices carried over one another in enthusiasm.
“Miss Bennet, I must commend you and your family.” Lady Priscilla joined Elizabeth, Jane, and Miss Bingley.
“I have never before witnessed a household both in perfect order and perfect chaos. I am greatly in anticipation of the meal. Mr Bingley has heard from the neighbours that your mother is a great hostess and that her table is well-regarded.”
“I am sure that Mrs Bennet tries well enough, and perhaps achieves a certain rustic charm in her village, but nothing can compare to the tables of London.” Miss Bingley sniffed.
“On the contrary, I quite enjoy a country table,” Lady Priscilla disagreed.
“The game is always more varied and of a better quality. Perhaps in the distant north, Matlock might be too far to obtain certain delicacies from town, but Meryton is only a few fair hours from the metropolis. I am certain we will enjoy a variety of delights.”
“If I know my mother, she will not disappoint you,” Elizabeth assured her.
A peal of laughter drew their attention to the pianoforte, where Kitty and Lydia attempted to lure Miss Darcy away to discuss fashion, claiming that Mary was monopolising their guest.
“Does their noise ever cease, or did everyone simply adapt to it after the first half decade?” Miss Bingley asked snidely.
“Some families keep their animation…contained.” Mrs Hurst pursed her lips in disapproval as she joined them.
“How restful your lives must be without any liveliness at all.” Priscilla frowned at the bottom of her cup. “Oh dear, I fear I have run dry. Miss Elizabeth, your cup is empty as well. Pray accompany me to the punchbowl.”
When the meal was announced, Darcy escorted Mrs Bennet into the dining room, while Mr Bennet escorted Lady Priscilla. There were no place cards upon the table.
“Let us not stand upon ceremony today, we are all getting to know one another!” Mrs Bennet encouraged.
“Sit where you like! Mr Bingley, how kind you are to sit next to Jane. Is she not the most sweet and gentle maiden you have ever seen in blue? Did you know that my Jane is uncommonly skilled with her embroidery needles? Jane, you must show him some of your stitching later.”
Elizabeth seated herself next to Miss Darcy, who had Mrs Annesley on her other side. She looked up as Mr Darcy took the seat on her other side. “Mr Darcy, have I taken the place next to your sister that you wished for?”
“Of course not, Miss Elizabeth, although I take pleasure in her being seated so close by,” Mr Darcy answered.
“I enjoyed a lively debate with your father about books in the drawing room and at the assembly. He claims that you have several interesting opinions on some texts that I enjoy. I thought you might make a stimulating conversationalist.”
Miss Bingley sat steaming on the other side of the table. Mr Darcy had not once expressed the remotest interest in any opinion of hers. “Ah, yes, I am sure that a lady so singular as Miss Eliza must be a great reader, and take no enjoyment in anything else.”
Elizabeth thanked the footman who served her wine with a quiet smile and regarded Miss Bingley contemplatively. “I assure you, I deserve neither such praise nor such censure. I would not go so far as to call myself a great reader, and I take enjoyment in many things.”
The footmen withdrew when the first course was served, and the guests murmured appreciatively over artichoke soup, broiled oysters with bacon, quail with lavender stuffing–a dish Mrs Bennet’s table was famous for–roast pork belly with an ale glaze, as well as carrots glazed with honey, boiled and buttered potatoes, and baked apples.
Conversation flowed around the table, Mr Bingley’s claret was consumed liberally, and Mrs Bennet seemed well-content with the attention her daughter Jane received from Mr Bingley.
She spoke with Mr Hurst, who–always interested in fine fare–asked numerous questions about the dishes–and praised her table.
Georgiana had taken her brother’s remark about books as an excellent topic, and she enthusiastically engaged Elizabeth in discussion about her educational reading and novels she enjoyed.
The second course was brought in. The goose was done to a turn, stuffed with apples and glazed in honey with lemon slices over the top, the skin golden and crisp.
The bird was accompanied by goose fat dumplings–a tradition for Michaelmas–roasted parsnips with sweet onions, creamed spinach, a savoury mushroom and onion tart, mackerel with fennel and mint, and lemon syllabub.
“Mackerel, Mrs Bennet?” Mr Bennet growled from his place, eyeing his wife and wondering what the delicacy from London had cost him.
“My sister sent it from town. It arrived just yesterday morning.” Mrs Bennet was obviously unconcerned.
“Your sister’s housekeeper knows an excellent fishmonger, and you have a skilled cook, Mrs Bennet. The fish is very succulent and well-flavoured,” Mr Darcy complimented his hostess, a sentiment echoed by Mr Hurst.
Darcy turned back to Elizabeth. “Our outing yesterday was charming, Miss Elizabeth. I noted the new roofs on several farmhouses as we traveled across Longbourn and well mended fences. Your family keeps a well maintained estate.”
“My father will not allow the tenants to live in anything other than decent cottages, though I wish he would consider convincing them to try the new crop rotation methods.” Elizabeth smiled at Darcy.
“He and the tenants prefer the methods they have, but I think they could yield better results if they would only attempt it.”
Across the table, Mrs Hurst leaned towards her sister. “Are they speaking of tenant cottages and crop rotation?” Her attempt at a whisper was an utter failure.
“How rustic,” Miss Bingley eyed Elizabeth with contempt. “I suppose Mr Darcy must lower the sophistication of his conversation to suit his company, though we know he prefers more refined discussion.”
“I prefer useful discussion that reveals a person’s understanding and character.” Mr Darcy frowned across the table.
Not long after, the next course was brought in. A generous haunch of venison was accompanied by a savoury pumpkin soup, roast rabbit with onion sauce, roasted sprouts, woodcock pie, and the traditional Michaelmas blackberry pie.
Darcy turned his attention back to Elizabeth. “I hope, if I may be so bold, that my sister and I shall see more of Longbourn and Meryton. Perhaps you would join us. You seem to be an excellent local guide.”
“I would be delighted to join you and Miss Darcy whenever you like. Perhaps Jane and Mr Bingley would like to accompany us as well. Miss Darcy says that you both keep very early hours. Perhaps you would like to see Oakham Mount at sunrise? I walk there each morning, and though it may not equal the peaks of Derbyshire, it is well worth a visit.”
“We will consider that an invitation on the next fair morning. Perhaps we shall ride over and meet you there.” Darcy’s voice was warm as Miss Bingley emitted a strangled sound and her fork ground against her plate with a loud screech.
“Oh!” Mrs Bennet winced from across the table, murmuring to Mary. “I do hope my Wedgwood will survive Miss Bingley’s manners.”
“It is time to examine the breast bone of the goose,” Mr Bennet announced. The footman at the sideboard had removed enough meat from the bird to reveal what they sought, a longstanding prediction that dated back hundreds of years.
The platter with the remnants of the goose was laid upon the table before Mr Bennet, who regarded the breastbone solemnly.
If the breast bone of the bird was white or blue-tinted, a harsh winter with a great deal of snow could be expected.
If the bones were brown, a mild winter could be anticipated.
“The bones are rather mottled this year, a bit of this, a bit of that,” Mr Bennet observed. “I believe we might have a variety of weather this winter. I think I will send word that the tenants should begin their preparations early, lest unseasonable conditions strike unexpectedly.”
“Mr Wynford sent a boy reporting similar findings from the tenant feast, sir,” Mr Hill informed him.
“Heavens, you country folk do take your superstitions seriously.” Miss Bingley’s voice was dripping with sarcasm.
“Yes, we do.” Georgiana answered Miss Bingley tartly, to the raised eyebrows of that lady and Mrs Hurst, and the amusement of Elizabeth, Lady Priscilla, and Darcy.
1 There was a superstition that the devil, or “Ol’ Nick,” would spit on or otherwise defile blackberries after Michaelmas, making them poisonous to harvest, and so the last of the blackberries were traditionally harvested and baked into pies for the Michaelmas feast.