19. Darcy House—27 December 1809
Richard praised Elizabeth a bit too much as he ate far too much breakfast at Darcy House, two days after Christmas. Darcy had finally implored him to desist. “I feel quite uncomfortable, Richard—as if you will sweep my intended off her feet and carry her off to Gretna Green.”
Darcy was funning his cousin—to a point. But there was a part of him that worried that his more charming cousin could win Elizabeth’s heart.
Richard’s expression, however, transformed from teasing to serious.
He said, “Those few times when you and Elizabeth are not staring into each other’s eyes as if you are two halves of the same soul, she is looking at you as if you were the most perfect man—actually, the most perfect person—on earth.
I would not be able to convince her to take a single step towards Scotland with me. ”
Georgiana entered the breakfast room at that point, and as she gathered fruit and sweetbread on her plate, she asked when they would leave for the exhibition and competition. “Elizabeth is coming, is she not?”
“We will walk over at ten. It should take a quarter hour or so to get to the exhibition area. Elizabeth is coming with her uncle and her cousins by carriage,” Darcy said.
“As you know, it is anyone’s guess what time she will arrive, because there are so many factors that affect traffic and travel time. We will just have to be patient.”
Richard patted the chair next to him and said, “Here’s our circle-dance queen. You seemed to have a very good time dancing with the ladies on Christmas Day.”
Georgiana smiled. “It was splendid. Elizabeth has an easy way about her that makes things fun.”
“I have noticed,” Darcy said.
Georgiana nodded and smiled, but then a frown flitted over her face. “Has Aunt noticed? She behaved so oddly.” She glanced at Richard and mumbled an apology. “I did not mean to criticise your mother.”
Richard patted her hand. “I do not know if you have realised, but my parents are the definition of the word snob. My mother had not heard of or met Miss Bennet when she heard that your brother was courting her, but she decided on the basis that she knew all the worthwhile members of the ton, and did not know her, that Miss Bennet was not worthy of being Mrs Darcy. She was positive that she was, in fact, a fortune hunter.”
“She is not!” Georgiana exclaimed.
“I know that,” Richard soothed. “I mean, I had been quite certain that your brother would never be drawn in by a fortune hunter, but I did get nervous when I heard about Miss Bennet’s circumstances—I thought that some lady might manage to fool him.”
Darcy made a small movement, and Richard hastened to continue, “I definitely remembered to trust you, Darcy, and then when I met her—well, you have heard my praises of Miss Bennet. I cannot even see that she has the least idea how wealthy you are, so it is impossible for her to be a fortune hunter.”
Darcy thought of Elizabeth’s desire to have a larger aviary and a variety of glasshouses, and he started to laugh.
He knew that her care and incipient passion were for him, not just his conservatory, orangery, and bird enclosures, but it was truly humorous to consider how actual fortune hunters would scoff at the things she coveted.
“What is it, William?” Georgiana asked. “Is it something Richard said?”
“Before she met me,” he said with a grin, “Elizabeth read about Pemberley’s glasshouse. So all of this,” he waved his hand in a circle, “has been her effort to obtain that glasshouse.”
“You are being silly, Brother,” she said. “Are you not?” A line appeared between her brows.
Darcy said, “Of course, I merely tease. She will love the aviary, the conservatory, the greenhouse, the orangery. I am excited to show her all of those things—she knows a bit about them, but I am positive she will be thrilled with the reality. But when we talk about books and music and family, she is caring and considerate and passionate—” he flicked a glance at Georgiana, a bit panicked that he had used that word, but Georgiana showed no flicker of discomposure—although Richard coughed a bit, probably to prevent a laugh—“and she is opinionated and interesting, but she is also very interested in what I have to say….”
He drew a breath in an attempt to stop rhapsodising about his intended, and he finished off with, “In conclusion, she is neither a fortune hunter nor a glasshouse-hunter. I just found it humorous to consider that, if she was given a fortune, she would spend it on a larger glasshouse and aviary, and no actual fortune hunter would understand her motivation for such choices.”
Georgiana shook her head, smiling. “William, you are so smitten you have reached befuddlement, a state in which I never imagined you.”
“He is captivated,” Richard said.
“Beguiled,” Georgiana offered.
“Enamoured,” Darcy said, “and unless we are creating a list to be published under the name, Love, Infatuation, and Other Befuddlements, I say let us assume the subject is adequately described and get ready for our outing.”
The exhibition and competition arena had been set up for lawn bowling, archery, and long leaping.
In other parts of the park, informal coach racing, wrestling matches, and the relatively brutal cudgelling matches were springing up, but the Darcys and Richard moved towards the areas where gentlemen were competing with one another.
Darcy could not be bothered with watching young men besting each other with either sticks or bows and arrows; he was entirely absorbed with attempting to spot Elizabeth and her relations.
He found them in less than a quarter hour, according to his watch, although the time without her seemed to stretch uncomfortably long in his own mind.
But there she was, as lovely as ever, holding tight to the hand of her two-year-old cousin and speaking merrily with the two older girls.
Gardiner walked slightly behind, and Darcy could see that he was keeping his eyes carefully on all four of his charges.
Darcy knew that he would be in that role some year soon—and he could not wait.
“Mr Darcy!” Elizabeth called out gladly. They kept to the courtesy titles and signs of respect—him bowing, her bobbing a curtsey—when in public, and he dipped a formal bow towards his intended, with the sedate greeting, “Good morning, Miss Bennet.”
He hoped she felt the ardent love beneath the polite forms. As he had that thought, she blushed, and he knew that she did.
Richard said, “Come; the event my brother is entering is about to start.”
“What is it?” Ellen asked as she trotted to keep pace with the adults’ longer strides.
Richard grinned and said, “It was supposed to be the long leap. But Vincent—that is my older brother, the viscount—tells me that he and his friends have decided to do a hilarious version of the competition—the lord leap.”
“The lord leap?” Margaret asked. Her father had scooped her up and Darcy had picked up Stephen as they hurried to join the crowd.
Richard explained, “It is supposed to be a bit like leapfrog with some running and leaping combined. He explained that only peers are allowed to compete, hence the lord bit. You and me, Darce, we are certainly not lords.”
“Certainly not,” Darcy agreed calmly. They had reached the crowd of onlookers, and Margaret, Ellen, and Elizabeth were cheerfully allowed by other viewers to move to the front so that they could see.
Darcy noted with satisfaction that Elizabeth was keeping a firm grip on each girl’s hand.
He passed young Stephen to Gardiner so the lad could sit on his father’s shoulders.
An older man shouted for the leapers to get ready, and Richard pointed out to the Gardiners which of the ten lords was his brother. Then, the older man dropped his hand and shouted “Start!”
The lords charged ahead, and several of their top hats flew off their heads to be left behind.
Several men deliberately lagged behind and then tried to leap over the slower lords’ heads—of course typically knocking off their hats—and if a lord had been overleapt, he crouched down and counted to three loudly before he could resume the race.
One of the lords never leapt over a lord nor was leapt over, himself, and he was the lord who won.
It was, Darcy informed Elizabeth, the Marquess of Northaven.
He looked remarkably well considering how quickly he had run.
He had carried his hat, and he put it on, straightened his tail coat, and managed to look quite impeccable.
Most of the others, including Vincent, were disheveled, sweaty, and fretting over their bedraggled top hats.
Lord Lowell had split his pants, another man Darcy had never met had apparently burst the buttons of his brightly patterned waistcoat, and Lord Parker had ended his leaping about in a slick slide that coated portions of his coat tails, breeches, and Hessians with mud.
There had been enormous outcries and bursts of laughter during the event and boisterous shouts of “Northaven!” when the marquess won. He looked quite smug as he strode back to his friends. Most of the lords who lost smiled and bowed to their audience despite their afflicted clothing.
Darcy could not help but see evidence of frenzied betting—people taking out pocketbooks and betting books, calling out odds—and when he noticed two men in the crowd who seemed devastated with the results of the contest, he could not help but wonder if they had lost far more than they could afford.
He despised frivolous betting and high-stakes gambling. It seemed as if it should be a fun way to enjoy sports and games, but it too often was not. He had seen far too many people ruined by lost bets and too much gaming.
He was happy to see the innocence of the children and Elizabeth. They had been in the front, watching the ridiculous leaping and the running in tight, tailored clothing, and they seemed completely unaware of what he considered the seedier side of the frivolity.
Gardiner encouraged everyone to watch an archery contest, and Darcy was content to have Elizabeth take his arm and adapt to slower enjoyment of the competitions.
She had asked if he was feeling fine, when he was still attempting to shake off the vision of a pale youth passing a wad of money to another dandy.
He looked into her remarkable eyes and breathed in her lavender scent and decided that, yes, he was well.
After all, he could not take on all the problems of the world.
He would rather take action to help his tenants live happy and healthy lives, start schools for the children of Lambton, donate monies to help the children abandoned to poverty in London, work to increase knowledge of agriculture and horticulture, protect wildlife, including birds—well, he could go on and on with all the ways he was attempting to help solve problems, and he would rather continue with those efforts than spend time and caring on rich lords who gambled away their fortunes.