Accept No Evil （First Person）
I can say one thing for certain. My niece Abbie is the most delightful child ever born.
I know most mothers and aunts claim as much, but in my case, I have the supreme pleasure of being right while the others are wrong.
I know it is impolitic to claim so publicly, so I shall smile serenely and simply hum it under my breath.
I know the truth and shall not be dissuaded.
Little Abbie can also be quite useful. For example, if I do not want to go somewhere I can always pinch her bottom and volunteer to stay with her.
Mary could hire a nursemaid, and no doubt will get around to it sooner or later, but for the moment she finds her sister convenient and inexpensive, while I am happy to be of service.
Little Abbie is also sanguine about the situation, though I am not certain she approves of the pinching.
This system proved useful in keeping me away from church on the day that would otherwise have been my first sighting of Mr Darcy, but I harboured no illusions that it would last forever.
Lizzy had been suggesting in her letters for months to let bygones be bygones, and I had for the most part.
After well over a year, I hardly ever thought of the Netherfield party at all… well, not often, at least.
In moving to Hunsford I had exchanged my mother’s company for my cousin Collins', which under normal conditions would be an even trade, (or at least, it would have before his marriage). However, I also had Mary, Abbie, and Lady Catherine on the credit side of the ledger, so I was quite happily fixed in the parsonage and in no hurry to leave. Except for my father’s occasional whingeing about the house’s lack of sense (to which I naturally suggest he educate his other daughters), I planned to stay as long as I was welcome.
I suspected that when I finally decided to re-enter the marriage mart, Lady Catherine would set me to rights, so I was unconcerned.
Should the worst happen, the only change would be our move to Longbourn to otherwise carry on as before.
My reprieve from Mr Darcy was short, as we were to attend supper.
I had chosen the parlour at Rosings as our battleground because I was quite comfortable there…
more so, perhaps, than that gentleman. Mr Darcy was visiting for a fortnight to give Lady Catherine some unnecessary assistance with the estate, chiefly to please his uncle.
I wondered if Mr Darcy would be more comfortable with his aunt with Anne gone.
I had not joined Mary the previous year, so had no way to know his former demeanour.
He usually came at Easter but had been unable to do so that year, so he was spending early August in Kent.
When the time came, we reluctantly left Abbie in the care of a maid and repaired to Rosings.
Taking her with us was common enough, but for this occasion we were to mind the protocols.
Mr Darcy had been at Rosings for a few days by then, and I believe he would have called on us at the parsonage if he were certain of his welcome.
I had, even at that late date, not told Mary exactly what happened at Netherfield; but I suspected she had mostly deduced it.
We met in the parlour at Rosings, and I managed a credible curtsey and even a small smile.
Mr Darcy appeared somewhat different than he had in Hertfordshire, but I could not identify the change.
He was as always impeccably turned out, but he had lost a bit of the smooth, prideful air he had then.
He had lost some weight. It was not an alarming amount, but his clothing did not have quite the snug fit I was accustomed to.
His manners were smooth and practised, and he seemed more…
I could not say—perhaps a combination of nervous and amiable.
I suspected that night in Netherfield might have had a greater effect than I had supposed, and that naturally led me to thoughts of the other resident that I studiously avoided.
Mr Darcy’s greeting was all that was right and proper.
“Miss Bennet. It is quite a pleasure to see you once again. I hope you have been well.”
“Mr Darcy.”
So far, his manners were better than mine. I wondered if we would ignore what happened at Netherfield, which seemed for the best, or if he would ask to discuss it. Neither event was likely in Rosings, so it was a problem for another day.
“May I present my cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam. Richard, Miss Jane Bennet of Longbourn in Hertfordshire.”
“Very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Bennet.”
I knew from my cousin’s intelligence that the colonel was the son of the Earl of Matlock, which in my mother’s mind would be as good as a king, and in my mind, was not quite as good as any other ordinary man. Lizzy’s cynicism for the upper classes was still running rampant in my thoughts.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam, it is my pleasure.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam entered directly into conversation with the readiness and ease of a well-bred man, and talked very pleasantly.
Mr Darcy appeared to wait cautiously for a chance to speak.
He did not seem haughty or proud; merely nervous.
The colonel was about thirty, not handsome, but in person and address appeared quite a gentleman.
We spent some time talking about mostly trivial subjects.
He attempted a foray into travel and books and music; all of which would have been better topics for Lizzy.
I attempted to keep pace, but glanced repeatedly at Mr Darcy, so my responses were hardly up to my own meagre standards, let alone what Lizzy or Mary could manage.
The man persevered, however, and I eventually overcame some of my reticence and held a fairly pleasant conversation.
Lady Catherine observed us both carefully for the interval before dinner was announced, then Mr Darcy escorted her into the dining room, leaving the colonel with me and Mary with her husband.
I sat across from Mr Darcy and next to the colonel, who continued to chatter throughout the meal.
I endeavoured to attend to him, but my gaze returned to Mr Darcy.
What was he thinking? He held a reasonable conversation with Mary, and even spoke with Mr Collins, who seemed uncharacteristically voluble.
Perhaps some of Lizzy’s schooling had taken root, as he seemed more the man I had seen the last time we were in company before my trip to Netherfield, and much less the haughty proud man Lizzy had accosted at that first assembly.
Given a complete lack of history, if this were our first meeting, I should look forward to associating with the man.
When the ladies withdrew to the parlour, we did just about the same thing we always did when we visited.
We were all so well known to each other that nothing was particularly new or exciting, but we were comfortable, and naturally could talk about Abbie, the parishioners, the villagers, and the tenants endlessly.
Among the gentlemen, my cousin was likely up to his usual antics, so I was not surprised when the men entered after the shortest possible interval.
My cousin Mr Collins was considerably less voluble than when I first met him, but he still had much to learn.
Mary had worked with him, but he still appeared too wordy for people who did not love him as we did.
The colonel once again cornered me, and I felt somewhat put upon. Thus far, he had used nearly every opportunity to converse with me. He was not flirting outrageously, but I wished he would give his attention to someone else for a time, because I desired to have just one or two words with Mr Darcy.
That gentleman did his best to converse with the others in the room, tried not to stare at me or be inconsiderate, and otherwise spent his energy feigning ignorance of my presence.
It would have been entirely successful were he not quite so studious in his efforts, but he tried hard to give no offence.
I doubted anybody other than Lady Catherine knew what had passed at Netherfield, and I was certainly in no hurry to enlighten them.
I had heard rumours that the colonel and Mr Darcy were close as brothers, but I hoped that did not extend to long-winded discussions of my family’s affairs.
Such a thing, which I am certain is quite common, would displease me; though I must sheepishly admit that Lizzy would receive nearly any confidence I had regardless of who else was involved, so I imagined I should give Mr Darcy the benefit of the doubt and at least one confidant.
I envisioned a fortnight of such torture and was weary of the game already. As people moved about, and joined and left conversations, I finally secured a moment close to Mr Darcy while his cousin went to procure libation.
Since Lizzy had pushed me for some time in her letters to let the past be, I relented. “Mr Darcy, have you been well, sir?”
“Yes, Miss Bennet, I have been excellent.”
He was such a liar, but calling him such would obviously be beyond even Lydia. “I have not seen you in some time.”
“It has been around a year and a half, I believe.”
I suspected he could tell me the interval down to the day if he put his mind to it.
My last conversation with him had been at the Netherfield ball, and Lizzy’s last had apparently been in the breakfast room at Netherfield, when she came to visit me while I was sick…
unless one counts her refusal to talk to him through her guest room door as a conversation.
Mr Darcy had returned to help Mr Bingley several times since then, but while I had seen him about the village, and occasionally in the fields bordering Longbourn, I had never talked to him directly.
Unwilling to stand another fortnight of awkwardness, I did something probably quite foolish. “I find I have taken up Lizzy’s old habit of walking. The grounds here are quite lovely.”
“Indeed. I can imagine your sister—”