Chapter 18 Darcy
Darcy
The meeting with Richard went off without a hitch.
His cousin had wordlessly shown him the express, which was his mother’s approval of the plan to start a rumour that she was having a secret affair with an unnamed duke, and the confirmation of the dates and places they planned to mention in regards to her supposed trysts with said duke.
The two men stuck to the script they had planned the day before, and Darcy felt confident anyone listening in would believe every word uttered.
He entertained a vague thought that his cousin could have a second career as an actor.
The specifics of two assignations between the countess and the duke, one in the past and the other in the future (and both, of course, completely untrue), were trotted out with attention to clarity of speech and at the same volume as the rest of the meeting.
If Miss Bingley was eavesdropping, and if she decided to spread rumours about a woman who was many rungs above her on the social-hierarchy ladder, and if she spread the dates and places they specified, the rumours would easily be refuted, and Miss Bingley’s reputation would thus be damaged, possibly irreparably.
But that was a lot of ifs!
When they emerged from the study, it was time to prepare for luncheon. Darcy knocked on Georgiana’s door and asked how her morning had been.
“Quiet,” she said. Darcy reflected on the fact that many people had decried his not-very-informative one-word answers to queries, in the past, and he could see the point; such responses could, indeed, be frustrating.
“Well, I am off to tidy up for luncheon. Will you be looking in on Elizabeth and her sister?”
Georgiana smiled, looking amused, and asked, “Do you mean Miss Elizabeth, brother?”
He blushed and nodded quickly.
“I have spent the past hour with them and only came away to get ready for luncheon.” She met his eyes and then said, “Elizabeth is planning to join us.”
He tried valiantly to keep his face in a neutral expression as he nodded and turned away to go to his rooms to freshen up.
When he entered the drawing room, he found Richard, Elizabeth, and Georgiana already there, although no Bingleys or Hursts had yet made an appearance.
Richard was, of course, telling a story with great energy, and both of his listeners seemed vastly entertained.
He felt an immediate jolt of envy, accompanied by a bit of anger directed at both his cousin (for flirting again with a woman he had admitted liking) and himself (for harbouring such an unsuitable attraction to Elizabeth and such an ugly emotion for Richard).
The three turned towards him, and Darcy’s mood flipped entirely. Richard smiled his warmest smile and gave Darcy a wink, and both Georgiana and Elizabeth smiled at him in…. Well, he thought he saw admiration in their eyes.
“What is going on here?” he asked lightly, feeling that whatever Richard had been relaying must have concerned him, in a good way.
Georgiana gushed, “Richard was just telling us more stories about your childhoods. And you have always been such a hero! He told us about a time you rescued an entire cat family—five kittens plus their mama—and then he told us about a flash flood and how you managed to get you and your playmates safely across a stream that had turned into a raging torrent.”
Darcy felt warmth in his cheeks and knew that he was blushing.
Elizabeth interjected, “I remember a certain recent memorable night when you guided an entire household to safety and successfully prevented a small disaster from becoming an enormous one. And I believe you rescued another cat family that night, as well, did you not?”
Her smile, as she gazed into his eyes, made Darcy feel all rubbery, as if he could not even stand, let alone walk the additional two steps to reach the others.
Luckily, she turned away again and asked Richard, “Did you hear about the recent fire here at Netherfield?”
“Yes, briefly,” he said. “But I did not hear from Darcy’s pen about his own heroics during the fire.”
Darcy, released from Elizabeth’s gaze, could walk and speak again. “I did nothing more than anyone would have done if they had been the first on the scene. I was lucky in that I was not asleep when the cry of ‘Fire!’ first rang out from the kitchen.”
Georgiana waved off her brother’s humble words.
“Do not be ridiculous, William,” she said.
“Many people would hear such a cry and panic, and others might flounder, wondering what should be done. You knew what to do, and you stayed calm, and you organised not only the evacuation of the house and the bucket brigade, but the next day you alerted the owner and even provided breakfast for residents and staff.”
Elizabeth added, “Did you know, Georgiana, he even paid all the servants for their extra work—despite the fact that most of those servants are employed by another.” She saw Darcy’s raised eyebrows—he was surprised that she knew what had been done quietly—and she said to him, “I know things. Many of them complimentary to you.”
Darcy felt a gush of happiness that washed away all thoughts of Elizabeth Bennet being in any way unsuitable. He gazed at her, realising fully for the first time that she was not a woman he merely liked. The more apt verb, he felt deep in his bones, was love.
Bingley entered the room with his usual affable greeting; the Hursts entered on his heels with more subdued yet polite words.
Darcy managed to say the correct words and to act, he dearly hoped, almost as if he were a rational man.
Yet he could not have been altogether successful, since everyone kept sending surreptitious glances his way.
He stepped close to his cousin and, bending towards him, spoke so low he was almost positive that even Richard would not hear his words. “What is my face doing to cause so much consternation among the others?”
Richard chuckled—of course he did, he loved Darcy, but even more he loved making sport of Darcy—and answered just as quietly. “Very red. Altogether starry eyed. Completely enthralled.”
Miss Bingley finally made an appearance, and Darcy focused on greeting her in a normal, courteous manner. Everyone turned to the dining room. The seating arrangements, as usual, positioned Elizabeth as far from Darcy as possible; Darcy and Richard were seated on either side of Miss Bingley.
For the first half of the meal, Darcy was entertained by the fact that Miss Bingley was quite obviously attempting to flirt with Richard.
He, of course, flirted right back. She complimented his table manners; he complimented the menu.
She revealed great interest in, and admiration for, the Royal Horse Guards; he evinced his esteem for her arrangements and decorations of his rooms at Netherfield.
Her frequent glances at Darcy’s reaction to all the flirtation were, perhaps, expected; he was careful to keep a neutral expression on his face no matter what was said.
“Colonel,” Miss Bingley said at one point. “Please do tell us about the health of your esteemed parents.” She peered down the table towards Elizabeth and said, “You may not realise, Miss Eliza, that the colonel’s parents are the Earl and Countess of Matlock.”
Richard claimed health for his parents and all of his family. Darcy noted that his cousin presented a strained smile and was careful to pretend discomfort about the topic of his parents, once again confirming his acting skill.
Miss Bingley kept her focus on Richard, asking, “You were telling us all, last night, stories of your childhood. But surely you have many stories about your heroic deeds in the cavalry? We should love to hear them.”
“Indeed.” Richard launched into several tales that Darcy knew were carefully edited to remove the many upsetting portions, the violence and injury and death.
Darcy watched with interest as Miss Bingley tittered at Richard’s jokes, smiled admiringly at his boasts, and even reached over to touch his arm, at times, as she heaped fulsome praise on his courage and fortitude.
He never dared to meet her eyes when she sent increasingly frequent glances his way. He was also afraid to look into Elizabeth’s or Richard’s eyes, because he was afraid he might burst into laughter over her seeming desperation to, he supposed, rouse him to jealous possessiveness.
One of Richard’s anecdotes told of a lieutenant leading his men into a thorn hedge, rather than to the bridge they were to secure; all of the company had to disentangle uniforms and flesh from vicious plant life rather than engaging with the enemies that had human form.
“Obviously, the lieutenant did this deliberately as a distraction to the French, who must surely have been wondering at the motivation for the unorthodox manoeuvre.”
Everyone chuckled, and Miss Bingley said, “Oh, Colonel, you do entertain us so well! We should never want you to leave Netherfield!” And then she swept another one of those sharp looks at Darcy.
There was a pause, and Darcy felt incredibly happy that Elizabeth provided a distraction.
Speaking at a volume that reached everyone, she said, “I should love to tell you all about some former leaseholders of Netherfield. Their names were Mr. and Mrs. Wadham. They loved to entertain, and they hosted several quite outrageously extravagant themed balls.” She went on to describe in detail a masquerade themed on Ancient Rome.
Another ball had a magical-world theme, with the ballroom decorated as an enchanted forest; and the menu including floral cordials, marchpane sculpted into stars and moons, and elaborate sugar sculptures of fairies hiding in lilies and under toadstools.
Miss Bingley was obviously caught up in Elizabeth’s tales and pressed her for more details. Elizabeth unhesitatingly described supper tables decorated with moss and ivy, for the enchanted forest theme, and with white drapery, laurel garlands, and faux marble busts, for the Ancient Rome theme.
Darcy was almost positive that every word poured out of Elizabeth’s imagination rather than from memories of actual events. But of course he enjoyed anything Elizabeth said more than Miss Bingley’s affectations and inspections.
Unfortunately, Elizabeth’s pleasing voice spinning out charming tales of entertainments past eventually inspired Miss Bingley’s more strident voice plotting a future entertainment.
She specified that her ball would impress generations of Meryton residents, and that Ancient Egypt, rather than Ancient Rome, would be her inspiration.
“Will you use a pyramid theme for decorations or displays of food?” Elizabeth asked.
Miss Bingley expounded on a myriad ways she could do so.
“And what of mummies?” Elizabeth suggested. “I can imagine wrapping cutlery in napkins fashioned as mummies. I read recently that an English gentleman was able to buy an entire Egyptian mummy on the streets of Cairo. A real mummy would be a spectacular decoration!”
Miss Bingley narrowed her eyes and said, “That borders on the vulgar. I would have to think carefully before utilising mummies in any way.”
Darcy watched in fascination as Elizabeth’s sparkling eyes managed not to betray the least bit of irony.
He attempted, once again, to wrest his own eyes away from Elizabeth.
He studied Miss Bingley’s face, instead, and he wondered if the woman actually was infatuated with him in addition to his estate and his fortune.
If so, was Miss Bingley planning to redecorate or host spectacles in an effort to impress him?
Would such ideas distract from blackmail schemes?
Georgiana said, “Mr. Wadham must have been very rich to hold balls with such sophisticated themes.”
Richard, who knew about Elizabeth’s two-pronged plan to confuse as well as discredit Miss Bingley, chimed in and said, “Mr. Wadham…. I knew a man by that name, once. Was this fellow Mr. John Wadham, or perhaps his brother Mr. James Wadham?”
Elizabeth said, “I am sorry to say that it never occurred to me to wonder about his first name, and I do not believe that I ever heard it. He was always just Mr. Wadham to me.”
Miss Bingley, who had been apparently considering mummies as a controversial addition to the Egyptian theme, interrupted the Wadham chat to say, “I would not display a mummy, even if I could procure one without myself travelling to Egypt. However, I would make a showcase of a single spectacular relic, something truly ancient. With my superior taste, I will ensure that ‘old’ need not equate to dust and muss.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I am certain that you will carry elegance and restraint throughout, Miss Bingley.”
“Thank you,” she preened. Just as she had a few days before, she was startled to realise who it was that she was thanking, and she changed her self-satisfied smile into a scowl.
This particular evening, there was a separation of the sexes, and Darcy sipped port as Richard smoked a cigar and drank three glasses of brandy.
Bingley was his usual friendly self and asked about each of the Fitzwilliam family by name.
Richard gave a good report on the health of his brother, the Viscount Graynard, and his sister Sara, who had just entered confinement, with her first child due soon.
When Bingley asked after the health of the earl and countess, Richard proved his acting skills once again.
Knowing that their host was not privy to anything about the blackmail nor the plans to thwart the blackmailer, Richard acted more serious, more hesitant, but conveyed a cautiously positive report on their health.
Bingley looked surprised at Richard’s manner and shot an inquisitive glance towards Darcy. Darcy kept his face carefully neutral and gave a slight shake of his head, trying to convey the silent message do not ask.
Almost as soon as the men rejoined the women, Miss Bingley asked her sister to play for them. After pouring out tea for everyone, she sat next to Richard on a settee, and as they talked softly, she sent many smiles at Richard and several penetrating glances at Darcy.
Darcy sighed. He wondered at his cousin’s ability to bear their hostess’s flirtation, and he was incredibly grateful that his own part—keeping an impassive expression on his face—was something at which he was quite accomplished.