Chapter Ten #3
He chuckled. “I believe your sister would thank me not to give her husband a fit of the vapors—nor for him to be murdered by Miss Bingley for turning me away.”
Elizabeth felt a heat surge inside of her as she beamed at him.
He had not struck her, when they first met so long ago, as a man of such humor.
And then she found her courage rising as she seized at the opening he had given her to say what she knew she must. “As to the courtship, I have no intention of recanting my agreement to the scheme. It shall be excessively diverting, and as I am too injured to do anything else I like, I am entitled to some amusement.”
“Are you quite certain? I have no wish to damage your reputation; surely there is some way to mitigate any harm caused by yesterday’s display.”
“My reputation will endure, I assure you. I believe myself to be valued and respected in this community, whereas once you have won your lady back and taken her away—forgive me, but you will be forgotten. And I have no fear of you damaging my prospects. Pardon my candor, sir, but I have loved and lost, and have no thoughts of matrimony. I am perfectly content with my life as it is, and a fortnight of false courtship would certainly augment what is already interesting.”
“A fortnight.” Mr. Darcy nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose such a brief charade could accomplish what Richard promises. Any longer and I may yet abandon all hope.” He gave a wistful sigh as he glanced over at Miss de Bourgh, who was fawning over Sir Sidney and causing her mother great dismay.
“Very well—until after the Summer Ball, and surely you shall win her back by then.”
“I appreciate your faith in me.”
Elizabeth was on the verge of extolling his finer qualities when Sir Anthony Denham stalked toward them. “My dear Miss Bennet!” He made a sweeping bow. “Did you receive my little offering?”
Elizabeth scowled. He had sent an ostentatious arrangement of flowers, which Elizabeth had directed Charlotte to toss out of the nearest window.
“Yes, I found the perfect place for it. But I must ask that you do not send me any further gifts or communications. Your well wishes were more than enough.”
“Beauty for beauty, I thought. You have suffered dreadfully and deserve something as bright as you are to bring you good cheer.”
“The flowers certainly did.” Elizabeth turned deliberately to Mr. Darcy, hoping Sir Anthony would take the hint. “As we were previously discussing, I believe I will speak first to my uncle of our courtship.”
The colonel had come to join them, and grinned at hearing Elizabeth’s words.
“Well, that is capital! I could faint from the shock of Darcy actually taking my advice! Have you been congratulating them, Sir Anthony? If you are quite finished, perhaps you will come and recommend me to your charming cousin.”
Mr. Darcy looked up at the colonel as if stuck by some wild impulse, and then smiled at Elizabeth. “And as we are courting, I hope I may have leave to call you Elizabeth—or perhaps eventually Lizzy.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam snorted and covered it with a cough as he led Sir Anthony away. Mr. Darcy did not wait for Elizabeth’s answer; he observed, “Richard is rather useful on the rare occasion our motives are aligned.”
All the guests had now arrived, and dinner was announced. Mr. Darcy asked to lead her into the dining room and stood to help her rise. “Forgive me for not asking sooner—pray, how is your ankle?”
“It is a little better. The doctor has advised me to keep off of it for a week, but at least I shall be able to dance at the assembly.”
“I would not hold you to it if you were not able, but I shall be delighted if you do stand up with me.” He drew her closer on his arm, her body leaning against his as he helped her into the dining room.
It was with considerable forbearance that Elizabeth refrained from telling him that some ladies were perfectly willing to honor their engagements.
Mr. Darcy helped Elizabeth settle herself at the table and was pleased to discover that he had been seated next to her.
In fact, though Charlotte’s place settings paid the expected deference to several titled guests in attendance, the arrangement was so convenient to Elizabeth’s purpose that she chose to interpret it as tacit approval from her friend.
Charlotte had even placed the chair she added to accommodate Miss Lovelace on Elizabeth’s side of the table, earning a scowl from Miss de Bourgh and obliging Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy to move their own seats closer together.
Sir Sidney and Miss de Bourgh were seated directly across from Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, and did not appear particularly pleased about it.
Sir Sidney was rambling on about the delightful versatility of the oft-overlooked potato; despite his inebriated animation, his expostulation did little to hold Miss de Bourgh’s attention.
Elizabeth could not help herself—she agreed that it was a most exemplary vegetable, earning a scowl from Miss de Bourgh.
This only provoked Elizabeth to lean a little closer to Mr. Darcy as she spoke to him.
“I must sincerely thank you for returning my books to my uncle. I am astonished to learn they were in pristine condition after tumbling into the mud. How ever did you manage such a miracle?” Knowing she now had Miss de Bourgh’s full attention, Elizabeth winked at Mr. Darcy for good measure.
He seemed to understand what she was about without glancing across the table.
Mr. Darcy took her hand and lifted it nearly to his lips as if he would kiss it, then gave it a squeeze and slowly released.
“I told Mrs. Bevan of how you had wanted her autograph, and lamented the loss of your novels in the mud. She gave me her own personal copies—she has several of each.”
Elizabeth flexed her hand, moving it reluctantly away from his. “That is genuinely one of the loveliest things anybody has ever done for me.”
“I hope this means it was far superior to Sir Anothny’s offering.”
Elizabeth smirked. “I told him that I found just the place for his flowers, and so I did. By the by—did you know that my favorite word in the English language is defenestration?”
He smiled appreciatively at her jest. “An excellent choice, but I have a better one for you.”
“I should dearly love to hear it.”
“Murmuration.” Mr. Darcy paused for her to ponder the word, but she only shook her and awaited his explanation.
“It is that ebbing formation when a large flock of birds swarm in the air, creating an undulating, fluid effect when seen from afar. I have always found it entrancing.”
“Of course the cormorant would make such a fowl observation.” Elizabeth laughed, though Mr. Darcy only gave a droll shake of his head. “In truth, that was rather poetic, Mr. Darcy.”
“I certainly hope not, for I remember your opinion of poetry.” He paused for Elizabeth to laugh incredulously before he elaborated. “I recall now that at the assembly long ago, you decried poetry as driving away love rather than inspiring it.”
“If you had ever seen the poem young Fred Tilney composed for Jane, you would reconsider ever reading another!”
“Surely not Frederick Tilney of Northanger Abbey? We attended Eton together.” A fleeting look of distaste suggested he shared Elizabeth’s opinion of the eldest Tilney.
“Indeed—though he was Fred Tilney of Netherfield at the time. His family rented Netherfield for many years when I was a child, but when the General’s father died, he moved them all away to Northanger Abbey.
I am glad he did not wait for his inheritance to run an estate of his own, for the younger Tilneys were our constant companions growing up.
I had a letter from Miss Tilney just this morning. ”
Mr. Darcy nodded and then looked at Miss de Bourgh, who was clearly despairing over Sir Sidney and Arthur Parker’s debate about mushrooms. Sir Sidney’s lubricated state rendered him enthusiastic, if not sensible, in his effusions.
Elizabeth almost pitied her rival, for once the youngest Parker brother was engaged on any culinary topic, there was little to be done.
With a slow smile, Mr. Darcy turned back to Elizabeth. “I was not surprised to discover your popularity abroad, Lizzy, for this morning I witnessed your uncle receive at least a dozen different letters for you.”
“It was not quite that many, but certainly more than usually arrive all at once. It was a happy coincidence, as I could not leave my bed all day; I was at least sufficiently distracted from my discomfort.”
“You have a large family. I suppose you must write to them a great deal.”
Elizabeth was still blushing from the sound of her name in his husky whisper. “Do you really wish to hear about my letters, Mr. Darcy?”
Again his gaze flicked to the lady staring at them from across the table. “My view of letters has suffered a little recently, but perhaps you might reverse that disappointment. In truth, I should enjoy listening to you speak on any subject.”
“I suspect you to be teasing me, and your punishment shall be that I will tell you, and in great detail.”
“I am not afraid of you.”
“Well then, I receive a packet of letters from Meryton every fortnight. Jane usually includes one with what is sent from Longbourn, but she sent her letter alone to tell me of their plans to travel here so soon—my father apparently found it amusing to tell her that he had no intention of writing for another week. His missives are always full of recommendations of what he is reading, and complaints about the antics of my sisters. I often write to him about the fascinating characters I observe at the hotel, for I have met more than my fair share of interesting and odd people from across England. He responds with his own witticisms, which are sure to be amusing after he receives my next letter.”
“I suppose all your sisters write to you?”