Chapter Twelve #2
Jane gave no greater encouragement than a smile, but Elizabeth replied, “Now you must amuse us, and perhaps Jane shall repay you with a few conjectures of what our own cousins may be getting up to at Longbourn – it has been many years since we have taken over the parlor and constructed a fortress of blankets and pillows, and taken tea within, for instance, but my youngest cousin Margaret had vowed to restore the parlor to its cozy glory.”
The viscount laughed. “I hope my brother and sister call on them at such a time, and have the privilege of beholding Miss Margaret’s architectural triumph; perhaps my girls might like such a scheme.
They are too young yet to be included in our nonsensical tradition, but Georgie was for the first time included in our whimsy. ”
Georgiana looked round from her captivating conversation with Sophie and grinned, then launched into an account of placing symbolic tokens on a billiard table to predict their fortunes for the coming year.
The viscount wished to have Jane’s opinion of his predicted fate, but her attention had been claimed by Mrs. Ferrars and her eldest son.
Elizabeth grimaced at this, but when she caught Mr. Darcy’s eye, she could not help but smile. “And you approve of this witchery, Mr. Darcy? What was your fortune, sir? Do you credit the forecast of the billiards?”
“I shall not own to my fate unless it comes to pass, and then I daresay I shall be content enough to tolerate a great deal of silliness,” he said with an enigmatic grin.
Elizabeth shook her head at him. “Keep your secrets, then, Mr. Darcy, but you shall have very little nonsense from me, I am sorry to say – I must remain just as mysterious.”
“You could never,” he teased her. “You are too candid; to cultivate a true air of mystery, you would be obliged to keep silent on whatever amuses you, and you are always in possession of a witty observation on what is passing.”
“And incapable of refraining from giving voice to what diverts me,” Elizabeth said with a laugh. “Even when I am unable to satisfactorily unsettle a staid character by saying what I think.”
“I cannot recall any occasion when you failed to unsettle me,” he replied with the trace of a smirk on his lips.
“But you have so wisely devoted yourself to becoming my friend that I shall no longer find any fault with you; I hope it is a great disappointment.” Elizabeth made a droll face at Mr. Darcy, feeling strangely at ease in addressing him as if they were old friends.
He had endeavored to make himself entirely agreeable since she had come to London, and the novelty of discovering him so affable had begun to surpass the gratification of thinking him the most vicious ogre that ever lived.
She could not quite imagine him participating in fanciful parlor games with his cousins; his sister was certainly suited to such jolly diversions, but there was still an unflappable air of gravitas about Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth recalled how Mr. Wickham had once spoken of him, owning that amongst his equals and his intimates, Mr. Darcy might trouble himself to be more amiable.
Had her rise in fortune rendered her now, in his estimation, worthier of his powers of pleasing than she had once been?
Elizabeth had no doubt that the viscount thought little of rank and fortune in his eagerness to recommend himself, though she was sorry to see his efforts with Jane impeded by the Ferrarses, who were relentless in their endeavors to push her at Edward Ferrars.
Poor Jane was too gentle to do otherwise than oblige them, and the viscount eventually directed his good cheer at Elizabeth and her aunt.
“I had no notion that my return to society would be so easy,” he told them.
“After residing for a dozen years at my humble parsonage in Derbyshire, I was loath to accept my stepmother’s invitation to London at Christmas.
I say invitation – it was rather a demand!
But already she is proving a wonderful ally in surrounding myself with pleasant society. ”
The viscount glanced down at Edward Ferrars, and then winked at Elizabeth as he leaned in to whisper, “Darcy looks wounded that I have given him no credit, but I have him to thank for some less desirable companions.”
Elizabeth restrained herself from observing that Mr. Darcy had a great many unpleasant friends she could name – chiefly a few called Bingley.
Instead she said, “Since Mr. Darcy has introduced you to my companions, I must be of the opinion that he has done you a great service, or perhaps a great mischief. Pray, which accolade would you prefer, Mr. Darcy?”
“You may aspire to my mystique; I shall in turn aspire to your mischief, Miss Elizabeth. I await further instruction,” Mr. Darcy said.
“I trust you are wise enough to know that you do so at your own peril,” Mrs. Gardiner teased him.
“Oho!” Viscount Bellamy laughed. “I believe Darcy is in some peril, for it is only his taciturnity that has spared him the worst of my family’s wickedness.
If he grows any more agreeable, I am sure he shall be fodder for all our japery; it requires a strong constitution, which I only acquired through the trial by fire of having so many daughters. ”
On either side of Elizabeth, Mrs. Gardiner and the viscount began to exchange playful boasts about the impishness of their own dear children. Elizabeth was scarcely aware of their banter, for she and Mr. Darcy simply stared at one another, a range of humorous emotions playing over their faces.
At last he asked, “Have you no mercy, Miss Elizabeth? I can hardly be serious and stoic amongst such merriment, and though I have yet to learn the trick of being otherwise. Pray, what do you recommend to encourage levity? My cousins would likely suggest a prank or a jape, but I suspect your expertise is more worth hearing.”
“You may find that is always the case,” she said archly. “But I fear that if I endeavor to reform you, sir, you shall grow so altered by mirth and nonsense that your friends would hardly know you.”
He leaned forward with a look of mock solemnity. “They would probably throw a parade in your honor, even if they suspect you have only accomplished such a feat by administering a severe blow to my head.”
Elizabeth laughed. “When all else fails, such an injury is just what novels recommend. But I am more creative than this, sir, and I shall suggest that you begin by teasing me mercilessly. Do your worst, and I shall provide such edifying critique that your japery will soon be first-rate.”
He studied her for a moment, his meal entirely forgotten as he steepled his hands on the table, tipping his head to one side and then the other as he made his silent assessment.
“You are marvelously confident for a young lady whose expectations are so strongly influenced by the events of fiction, though perhaps having a family wherein no two persons are remotely similar has provided such ample study of character that you believe you have already seen everything, and may liberally judge all the world as you choose.”
Elizabeth grimaced at his mention of her family and slowly deepened the furrowing of her brow and the flattening of her lips until she was giving him so severe a glare that he shifted uncomfortably, betraying a gratifying degree of panic.
And then she relaxed her face and grinned at Mr. Darcy, as relief washed over him.
“An excellent first attempt, and commendably accurate, sir. You might also observe that I have moved very little in the world, to have such immovable opinions.”
“You once accused me of the same, and I strive for originality.”
“No indeed – you described yourself as of such a disposition, and I merely lamented that I could not laugh at you for it. Allow me to do so now,” Elizabeth chortled.
“I have, at least, moved more in the world than you, to be sure, and for longer, yet I cannot deny you are an estimable tutrix in laughing matters."
Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. “My existence is entirely composed of laughing matters; what a pity you did not find all my relations so amusing in Hertfordshire. We might have shared a perpetual state of hilarity.”
“I recall being perfectly willing, at Netherfield, for you to discover something about me of which you might make sport; it must follow that the failing is your own, for not laughing at me sufficiently when my behavior was at its worst. I am presently resolved that it shall only ever improve, now that we are truly friends.”
A flush of heat burned her face and trembled through her body.
Elizabeth could not account for this alteration in his manners, or why Mr. Darcy should seem so eager to befriend her, but she was glad of it nonetheless.
Despising him had been her chief amusement in Meryton, but in London she might find ample sources of delight, and his company was proving to be one of them.
Elizabeth spent the remainder of the meal advising him with unabashed impudence on the ways he might correct his character and recommend himself to amiable companions.
The viscount and Mrs. Gardiner were at hand to agree with her increasingly preposterous suggestions, such as taking up racing in Rotten Row and infiltrating the drawing rooms of London’s most notorious gossips to study their style of sketching character.
“Good Lord, Miss Elizabeth, though I know you to be in jest, I must own to having considered several of your methods of distinguishing myself,” Viscount Bellamy laughed.
“The change of my situation in life has left me quite unequal to recommending myself, and I have appealed to Darcy for aid only to discover him equally clueless. But I believe that in you and your merry companions, we have certainly found the remedy to our former tedium.”