Chapter Twenty-One
Calling at Gracechurch Street had become so regular a part of Darcy's day that even Burke no longer thought it worth remarking upon. Indeed, the only subject upon which his valet now ventured an opinion was the extraordinary speed with which his master concluded the business of the morning.
"I have never known correspondence answered so quickly, sir," he observed whilst helping Darcy into his coat. "It is astonishing how much efficiency courtship appears to inspire."
Darcy had merely given him a look which suggested the conversation was over.
This afternoon promised to be no different from any other.
Tomorrow, he intended to leave for Longbourn to ask Mr Bennet's permission to pay his addresses to Elizabeth in the proper manner, and he had spent a very uncomfortable part of the morning imagining every possible way in which the interview might end badly.
Elizabeth, naturally, had found this exceedingly entertaining. "You have faced angry landowners, impossible tenants and Lady Catherine de Bourgh," she had said. "Yet Papa is the one person who truly alarms you."
"He is the one person," Darcy replied gravely, "who possesses the power to send me away from you."
She had smiled sweetly at him then and he felt he could overcome anything, even Mr Bennet’s ire with her by his side.
Outside, the younger children had persuaded Colonel Fitzwilliam that the garden was infested with pirates and required immediate military assistance.
His loud protests that no sensible officer ought to undertake such an expedition without first taking refreshments drifted through the open window, followed by Lucy's emphatic declaration that pirates never stopped for cake.
Mrs Gardiner looked up from her sewing as another victorious shout rang out from the garden.
"I rather think the colonel has indulged my children once too often," she observed. "He is now reaping the consequences."
Darcy glanced towards the window, where Fitzwilliam could just be heard protesting that pirates ought not to bite.
"I am afraid my cousin has never been able to resist a little harmless nonsense.
Indeed, I suspect he would be deeply disappointed if anybody expected him to behave sensibly for very long. "
Mrs Gardiner laughed softly. "Then I fear we shall soon have to apologise to his commanding officer. He will return to his regiment with a permanent injury to his dignity."
"Richard has never placed a very high value upon his dignity," Darcy replied. "It has always been one of the easier sacrifices."
Elizabeth looked up at him, amusement brightening her eyes. "You speak as though this were an old and familiar complaint."
"It is. When we were boys he once persuaded me that we should attempt to sail across the lake at Pemberley upon an old door."
Elizabeth laughed outright. "You cannot expect me to believe that."
"It was entirely his idea."
"And yet I notice you omit the most important detail."
"Which is?"
"Did it float?"
Darcy maintained a perfectly solemn expression. "For a very short distance."
Even Mr Gardiner lowered his newspaper to laugh at that, whilst Mrs Gardiner shook her head and observed that she had long suspected gentlemen enjoyed remarkably little improvement between the ages of ten and thirty.
Before Darcy could defend his sex, the front knocker sounded with such force that every conversation in the room came abruptly to an end. Mr Gardiner looked towards the hall. "Whatever manner of beast that may be," he said, "I hope Simmons survives the encounter."
A moment later there came the hurried sound of Simmons crossing the hall, followed by several voices speaking at once, one of them unmistakably Mrs Bennet's and already rising in agitation.
Elizabeth had only just begun to stand when the drawing-room door opened and Simmons appeared looking as if his domestic authority had been severely tested.
"Mr and Mrs Bennet, Miss Bennet and Mr Bingley."
He had scarcely finished the announcement before Mrs Bennet swept past him.
"Lizzy!"
Elizabeth found herself embraced, shaken, inspected and embraced again in such rapid succession that she had no opportunity to speak.
Mrs Bennet held her at arm's length, looked her up and down with all the tragic intensity of a mother discovering her child returned from war and cried, "Oh, my poor girl!
My poor, poor girl! You are pale. Jane, look at her. She is positively wasted away."
"I am very well, Mama," Elizabeth said, though the words were muffled by another embrace.
"You are not. I know what well looks like, and this is not it. Mrs Gardiner, how could you allow her to become so thin?"
Mrs Gardiner rose with admirable calm. "I assure you, sister, Lizzy has eaten very heartily during her stay."
"Then she has suffered internally," declared Mrs Bennet. "I always said travelling was dangerous. Nobody listens to me, but I have always said it."
Jane came forward then, her face full of anxiety and apology. Elizabeth saw at once that she had been crying, and whatever amusement she might have felt vanished.
"Jane?"
Jane embraced her tightly. "Oh, Lizzy, I am so sorry."
"For what?"
Before Jane could answer, Mr Bennet entered at a far more leisurely pace than the rest of his party.
He removed his gloves, looked about the room and took in the whole scene: Mrs Bennet flapping over Elizabeth, Jane pale and distressed, Bingley hovering near the door with the air of a man prepared to apologise to every person present and Darcy standing very still beside the window.
"Well," said Mr Bennet. "This appears to be a very full house."
Darcy bowed at once. "Mr Bennet."
"Mr Darcy."
The exchange was perfectly civil and perfectly brief. Mr Bennet betrayed neither surprise nor approval, merely allowing his eyes to travel from Darcy to Elizabeth and back again with thoughtful deliberation. Elizabeth felt the colour rise in her cheeks.
Mrs Bennet, however, had now noticed Darcy properly. Her eyes widened. "Mr Darcy! Oh! Mr Darcy is here."
"Yes, Mama," Elizabeth said faintly. "He is."
"So I see." Mrs Bennet looked from one to the other with a rapidly shifting expression in which alarm, calculation and dawning hope all struggled for mastery. "Well. That is... that is very well indeed. Or perhaps it is not well. Mr Bennet, is it well?"
"I am still gathering evidence, my dear."
Mr Bingley stepped forward, plainly unable to bear the confusion any longer. "Miss Elizabeth, I fear this is all my fault. Or rather not my fault precisely, though I was present and ought perhaps to have prevented... That is, I did attempt to prevent it, but not quickly enough."
"Bingley," said Mr Bennet mildly, "you are making a noble attempt, but I confess myself no wiser."
Bingley stopped, coloured and looked helplessly at Jane.
At that moment a shriek of laughter came from the garden, followed by Colonel Fitzwilliam insisting that pirates who changed sides in the middle of a battle could not expect to be taken seriously. Mrs Bennet turned sharply towards the window.
"Who is that?"
"My cousin," Darcy replied. "Colonel Fitzwilliam, the son of the Earl of Matlock."
"A colonel and the son of an earl?" she exclaimed. "Lizzy, I declare you have been keeping exceedingly grand company."
Before Bingley could attempt another explanation, fresh footsteps sounded in the hall beyond, accompanied by a lively dispute which appeared to concern the proper conduct of pirates after capture.
Simmons looked to the heavens and left the room.
Clearly the lack of propriety was too much for the staid butler.
Colonel Fitzwilliam stepped into the drawing room wearing a black eye patch of decidedly homemade construction and carrying a wooden sword beneath one arm.
Little Lucy Gardiner clung triumphantly to one hand, whilst George followed close behind, loudly objecting that the colonel had surrendered far too easily.
Fitzwilliam came to an abrupt halt as his one visible eye travelled slowly around the crowded room, taking in the Bennets, Bingley and the unmistakable air of interrupted conversation.
"Ah," he said after a thoughtful pause. "I appear to have chosen my moment with unusual distinction."
With perfect composure he removed the eye patch, folded it neatly and slipped it into his pocket before bowing to the assembled company as though appearing dressed as a pirate in a respectable drawing room were an everyday occurrence.
"Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam," he said pleasantly. "At your service. Until a few moments ago I was also chief prisoner to a particularly bloodthirsty band of pirates."
"You surrendered," George corrected him at once.
"I was hopelessly outnumbered."
Lucy shook her head. "No. You stopped because I wanted lemonade."
"That, Miss Lucy," said the colonel gravely, "is a detail I had hoped to keep to myself."
Mr Bennet, who had watched this exchange with growing amusement, turned quietly towards Darcy. "Your cousin appears to possess a remarkable gift for accommodating himself to any company."
"He has had many years in which to cultivate it," Darcy replied, the corner of his mouth betraying the smallest smile. "Richard has never considered dignity worth preserving if it can be exchanged for amusement."
Mrs Bennet had been staring at the colonel throughout this extraordinary introduction with increasing bewilderment.
"You are the colonel?" she asked at last.
"Only when the Army insists upon it, ma'am. This afternoon I have chiefly been a pirate."
Mrs Bennet looked from Darcy to the colonel and then back again with increasing bewilderment.
"I confess I understand less now than when I arrived," she declared.
"One moment I am told my poor Lizzy's reputation is being torn to pieces all over Hertfordshire, the next I find her sitting quite comfortably with Mr Darcy and a colonel who has only just ceased being a pirate.
I really do not know what I am expected to think. "