12. Gracechurch Street—Thursday, 14 December 1809 #2
Putting down another block, Stephen said, “Sorry, Mama. Sorry, Annie.” But then he looked searchingly at his mother. “Can I push the wall and dead Boney that way?”
Elizabeth watched her aunt bite back a smile. She seemed to contemplate his question seriously for a moment, and then she nodded. “The English army does need to stop the Frenchman somehow, before he orders more deadly attacks. Yes, I suppose you can collapse the wall onto Bonaparte.”
“Thank you, Mama.” Stephen proceeded to knock down his tower, and Annie put down her mending in order to ensure a downward trajectory for every block.
“It would be so perfect to have this little one be another boy who could grow into a playmate for Stephen,” Aunt Maddie murmured, caressing her altered form.
“That would be lovely, Aunt,” Elizabeth confirmed. “But whoever it is, they will still be a wonderful playmate, I am certain.”
“Yes, of course.” Aunt Maddie consulted her list and said, “Now, we need to find the two rattles and three carved horses….”
When the preparations were well in hand, Aunt Maddie and Elizabeth sat down to a simple luncheon. As she rose from the meal, Aunt said, “I wish to take a nap. If Mr Darcy calls again, Mrs Henderson will sit with you in the parlour.”
Mr Darcy did come. And he brought the specifics of the first of their planned lectures, which would be held that evening: a talk about and demonstration of galvanism and electrolysis.
It would be held at the Surrey Institute.
He explained that the location was less than a quarter hour away if one walked briskly or rode a horse or carriage, the latter being subject to the vagaries of traffic.
“I will be bringing my fourteen-year-old sister, Georgiana,” Mr Darcy said.
Elizabeth looked forward to meeting Miss Darcy.
She already knew several things about her, from her brother’s little mentions here and there.
First and foremost, the girl was dearly loved.
Whenever Mr Darcy spoke of her, his eyes brightened and his mouth softened.
Elizabeth also knew that Miss Darcy was an orphan; her mother had passed more than a decade ago, and Elizabeth thought it likely that Miss Darcy had no memory of her.
“I warn you,” Mr Darcy said, “Georgiana is very shy. Actually, I worry that I have not been a good enough guardian for her…. I have protected her and provided for her as well as I knew how since my father’s illness five years ago and his death three years ago, but maybe I should have sent her away to a place where there were other young girls.
I felt that I needed her, and she, me, so I did not consider sending her away to school, but instead brought in governesses and masters.
But…I suppose I should have rented some sisters for her as well. ”
He shook his head a bit and explained, “Then she might be as lively and confident as you, instead of so very reticent.”
Elizabeth said, “My sister Jane has four sisters and is still shy.”
Mr Darcy looked startled but thoughtful.
He took a few moments and then said, “I noticed that about your sister, and even though I myself am far less lively than you, and quite reticent in large groups, I felt that your elder sister’s shyness was…
well, it made her less interesting to me.
That said, I assure you that my own sister is much more shy than Miss Jane Bennet. ”
Elizabeth smiled and teased, “Wait, Jane was less interesting to you than who, exactly?”
He blushed. “I apologise. I made it sound like a comparison, and I had not meant it that way.”
Elizabeth laughed. “If the comparison favours me, I do not mind it. After all, with Jane being at least fifty times more beautiful than I am, I need a comparison or two to go my way.”
She had meant her words to be light and humorous, and she was certain that Mr Darcy would manage to compliment her in some way, with that perfect opening. However, she was shocked by what he actually said, and his manner and expression.
He frowned, and he said quite fiercely, “You are every bit as beautiful as your sister, and I dearly hope you know that. With such different colouring and personalities, it is hard to compare appearances, but I find you much more handsome—much more beautiful—than any of your sisters, including your eldest sister, and I am fairly certain most men would agree.”
Elizabeth reached out a placating hand, placing it on his arm, and she said, “Thank you for the compliment, Mr Darcy. I was teasingly asking for praise, and that might have made you feel uncomfortable. I apologise.”
“I do not feel uncomfortable giving you honest praise, and I could easily do it every minute of the day. But I find it surprising that you consider your beauty at all lacking.”
Elizabeth shook her head and laughed again. “I wish I had realised before I agreed to your calls that you suffered from debilitating blindness. I suppose you also failed to notice that Miss Bingley is more beautiful than I am?”
Mr Darcy’s eyes flew open in shock, and he said, “Miss Bingley? More beautiful than you? You cannot be serious!”
Elizabeth studied his face and silently considered his words and her own memories. Her laughter and interest in teasing temporarily extinguished, she finally said, “You said something about men agreeing with you. What did you mean about that?”
Mr Darcy blushed vividly. “Well, I…my sister….” He stopped floundering and drew in a breath before starting over again.
“I believe, from what I have observed and overheard, that women have some theory of what makes a lady beautiful. My sister has said some things, and I feel I ought to read what she reads, so I have read articles meant for young ladies. And there seems to be some sort of pact having been created, some sort of agreement amongst ladies, about what is beautiful and what is not.”
“I suppose that the ideal of feminine beauty could be described that way,” Elizabeth said.
“And yet,” Mr Darcy said, “when men are alone, they do not talk about slim bodies, willowy bodies, delicate bodies, which is what I have heard and read as being ideal.”
Elizabeth almost wished to ask what men did talk about—but a part of her did not wish to know!
Mr Darcy looked almost miserable, he was so embarrassed. “They prefer…what you have,” he finished in a whisper.
“Oh!”
With her wit carefully put away for the moment, Elizabeth had no idea what to say.
She certainly felt uncomfortable, but also gratified in a way she had never felt before.
She wished her suitor did not feel ill at ease, however, and instead of lightly touching his arm in an attempt to comfort him, she placed her hand on his hand and gave it a squeeze.
He flipped his hand so that he could capture hers and lifted it to his mouth for a soft kiss that rendered her as decomposed as he seemed to be.
Mrs Henderson clucked her tongue.
Mr Darcy stood, mumbled something about the hour his carriage would arrive to pick up Elizabeth and her uncle, and hurried away.