Chapter 8
Lucas Lodge
A Week Later
Lucas Lodge was homely and inviting, but Darcy, accustomed as he was to larger rooms and finer furnishings, was not impressed.
The occupants of the house had similar characteristics.
They were bluff, kind, and honest, but with little taste and less refinement, and lacking in the rote social graces that made navigating London society easier for the master of Pemberley.
In Town, it did not matter much if one was not entirely at one's ease in company.
The occasional stilted awkwardness would be politely overlooked in consideration of one's name and fortune, which would be well known but never publicly discussed.
Here in this backwater hamlet, the name of Darcy was not well known and inspired no gracious obliviousness, and his stiffness in company, and his immense fortune, were fodder for talk between gossip-loving matrons.
Darcy did not want to be here tonight among these uninspiring people in this pretentious little house, but Bingley's arguments had been persuasive.
Bingley had pointed out that if he was truly in earnest about being a good landlord to the estate of Netherfield, it behooved him to be on good terms with his neighbors, the merchants who did business in Meryton, and the four and twenty local families who made up what passed for society in the environs.
It would not help Bingley if his sisters and guest were seen to hold themselves aloof.
Thus, Darcy had allowed himself to be persuaded and had accompanied Bingley to this dinner party tonight.
Already he was regretting it, as Bingley had scarcely made his bow to Sir William and Lady Lucas before shooting straight as an arrow to Miss Bennet's side and taking up position there as though he had no intentions of moving for the rest of the night.
Lovely Miss Bennet had favored the newcomer with a beautiful smile, and the chattering young sister beside her – Miss Lydia, Darcy thought, although he was not certain – at once made room in the conversation for Bingley.
Bingley, in turn, was courteous in his responses to the younger girl, but his focus was very obviously on the angelic Miss Bennet.
Darcy surveyed the arrangement with disquiet.
Bingley had long had an unfortunate habit of falling head over heels in love with every blonde-haired beauty who cast a limpid blue-eyed gaze in his direction, which was only ameliorated by his habit of falling out of love just as quickly.
A few of the ladies who had caught Bingley’s eye had been acceptably eligible, but most of them had not been, and Miss Bennet fell indubitably into the latter category.
Though she was admittedly a lovely young lady, and Darcy had neither seen nor heard anything to impugn her character, her prospects were no more impressive than the town of her nativity.
Bingley was a fine man, wealthy, generous, kind-hearted, easy of manner, refined, and well-educated.
He could reach high into society for a bride who would raise his family name higher.
There was no need for him to settle for an impoverished country miss with an eccentric for a father.
Still, the younger man’s infatuations never lasted long, so Darcy would leave him alone for the time being.
It would be better for Bingley's passions to fade naturally, than for him to feel as though he needed to come to the gallant defense of his current 'angel.
' Darcy would bide his time, and watch, and gently discourage his friend from pursuing Miss Bennet when the opportunity presented itself.
In the meantime, he was stuck at this dull party.
He looked around unhappily, with no expectation of finding acceptable diversion or amusement in the room.
To his surprise, fortune smiled on him, as he caught sight of Miss Elizabeth Bennet sitting beside the fire in conversation with a middle-aged man who was vaguely familiar.
After a few moments of thought, Darcy recognized the man as Mr. Garrison, whom he had met at the Meryton bookstore some few days previously.
Upon which occasion, Darcy had purchased a few books at the bookstore to make up for the sad deficiencies of the Netherfield library, and he had been introduced by the proprietor to Mr. Garrison, who had been purchasing a history book at the time.
Mr. Garrison was balding and slightly plump, but his discussion of his purchase of the day, the second volume of The History of Brazil, by Southey, had displayed a keen intelligence.
Darcy would not mind knowing the man better, and he found Miss Elizabeth interesting as well.
Thus, he wandered in the direction of Miss Elizabeth and Mr. Garrison and came to a halt by the fire as if he intended to enjoy the heat, and he turned his curious ears on the conversation.
“I quite agree with you about the Tullian drill,” Mr. Garrison remarked, “though in my mind, it is just as important to consider the needs of the soil. Mr. Coke has a great many views on that subject, of course.”
“I wish that I could attend the Holkham week in Norfolk someday,” Miss Elizabeth said with a sigh.
“Ladies do attend on occasion, Miss Elizabeth,” her companion said, but the lady replied, “I am certain they are always accompanied by a brother or father or husband, and in any case, I am far too busy with Emerald Island and Longbourn to leave for a week.”
“I have not heard much about Emerald Island,” Garrison remarked. “Is the soil good?”
“The farmland is well enough, though rather sandy in some parts, but there are also marshy areas where nothing can be planted. Fishing is a significant source of income for many of the families in the lone village on the island. I would like to learn more about sheep, as it is possible some of the less fertile soil might be appropriate for grazing, but I need to read more on that subject.”
“Eliza,” a new feminine voice said. “I have a request for you.”
Darcy, who had been thoroughly surprised by the conversation, now turned to observe the elder daughter of the house, Miss Lucas, looking down with a fond smile on her face at Elizabeth Bennet.
Miss Elizabeth glanced toward the pianoforte in the corner of the room, and Darcy followed her gaze. Another Miss Bennet, the fourth or fifth one, perhaps, was seated at the instrument, peering intently at the music on the rack.
“My dear Charlotte, I have not practiced my singing in some time,” the younger woman protested.
“It matters not, and you know it,” Miss Lucas declared. “You have a charming voice, and we would all enjoy hearing it. Moreover, you will be letting Lydia down if you do not sing with her.”
“I cannot disappoint my sister, I suppose,” Miss Elizabeth said and turned to her companion. “I hope you will excuse me, sir? I enjoyed our conversation.”
“As did I, my dear,” the gentleman replied in a fatherly tone. “But go along with you and lift your voice for the pleasure of your neighbors.”
Miss Elizabeth smiled, and Darcy felt his heart skip a beat.
He had, upon first observing the lady, thought her entirely commonplace, but he now realized that not only was she pretty, but that her dark eyes were beautifully intelligent, her figure was light and pleasing, and she moved with natural grace.
The ensuing recital did not discourage his admiration in the least. Miss Lydia played very well, and Miss Elizabeth, while not in any way an expert songstress, had a lovely voice, and she sang with simplicity and without airs.
He found himself enjoying the performance very much, even as he pondered the mystery that was this young lady.
How did she know so much about farming, including esoteric information about Tullian drills?
Why did she speak in such a way about Longbourn, along with some island, presumably the place where her father currently dwelled?
Longbourn had a steward, so it did not seem reasonable that a mere twenty-year-old girl would be involved in livestock and farming, and yet, how else could he understand the conversation between Mr. Garrison and the lady?
He found himself standing stock still, pondering the matter, only to be called to attention by Sir William Lucas, the master of Lucas Lodge, who had approached Darcy with a glass of wine in his hand and his cheeks flushed with bonhomie. “Mr. Darcy, thank you for coming to our house tonight.”
“It is my pleasure, of course,” Darcy replied automatically.
He realized that Miss Elizabeth was no longer by the pianoforte, and Miss Lydia was playing a lively Scottish air for the benefit of several militia officers, resplendent in their red coats, who were dancing with the local girls in one corner of the room.
“What a charming amusement for young people this is, Mr. Darcy!” Sir William continued. “There is nothing like dancing, after all. I consider it as one of the first refinements of polished societies.”
“Certainly, sir,” Darcy agreed drily, “and it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongst the less polished societies of the world since every savage can dance.”
“Your friend performs delightfully,” Sir William continued, after a pause, on seeing Bingley join the dancers with Miss Bennet at his side, “and I doubt not that you are an adept in the science yourself, Mr. Darcy.”
“Indeed,” Darcy said coolly. He did not in the least wish to be paired with one of the local ladies, and he hoped that Sir William would get the hint from his tone. Given that the man was not sophisticated, Darcy was not confident of this. Well, if necessary, he would give the man a set down.
“My dear Miss Eliza, why are you not dancing?” Sir William cried out, and Darcy turned in surprise, which gave way to pleasure as Elizabeth Bennet halted a few feet away, a startled look on her face.
“Mr. Darcy,” Sir William said, turning back to him with a cheerful smile, “you must allow me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. You cannot refuse to dance, I am sure, when so much beauty is before you.”
He took the lady’s hand in his own and would have given it to Mr. Darcy, who eagerly reached out a hand to receive it. Of all the ladies in the room, Miss Elizabeth was the only one with whom he would enjoy dancing and talking with.
To his astonishment, she instantly drew back and said with some discomposure to Sir William, “Indeed, sir, I have not the least intention of dancing. I entreat you not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg for a partner.”
“It would be my honor to dance with you, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said immediately, taking a step toward her, and Sir William declared, “You excel so much in the dance, Miss Eliza, that it is cruel to deny me the happiness of seeing you, and though this gentleman dislikes the amusement in general, he can have no objection, I am sure, to oblige us for one half hour.”
The lady took two steps closer, looked up into Darcy’s face, and said in a soft voice, “My apologies, Mr. Darcy, but while you are tolerable, you are not handsome enough to tempt me.”
He froze, stunned by her words like a bullock struck by lightning in a field, and watched silently as she turned back to Sir William, who had obviously not heard her, since he was still smiling.
“Sir William, I fear I must return home as I need to consult with Mr. Wallace about an emergency with one of the tenant families. Thank you for a most delightful party.”
“My dear,” the man replied, now looking concerned. “I worry that you are working too hard. You are quite certain you cannot stay longer?”
“I cannot, but I will call again soon, and thank you for your kind invitation.”
“Of course, Miss Eliza,” their host remarked and held out his arm to the young woman, who took it. Together, they walked toward the door, with Darcy staring after them.
What had just happened?