Chapter 1.12 #2
Mr Darcy’s jaw opened visibly at these new questions, whose answers he would not attempt to voice, and he could hear Elizabeth chuckling at his right.
Becky’s new question came forcefully. “So, Mr Darcy, it is proper to do some things only when not in public and when someone is ill?”
“Uh…yes, some things, yes,” he admitted reluctantly, though fearful of what she would ask next.
“I see…” She seemed pleased with his answer, and a light glinted in her eyes as a new idea crossed her mind.
Without any connexion to the previous topic, she continued, “You are not scary at all, Mr Darcy!”
He furrowed his brow and looked at her. “Did you believe I was scary?”
“Yes I did! We saw you when you left yesterday, and we all believed you looked scary and Mr Bingley looked nice.”
“Becky! You are being unacceptably rude. Apologise to Mr Darcy immediately!” Elizabeth bore the offence in his stead; however, he seemed not affected, even managing to smile.
“Do not worry, Miss Elizabeth. I am accustomed to the fact that everyone likes Mr Bingley better than me—and understandably so. He is indeed much more agreeable.”
“Oh, but I do not like Mr Bingley better. I like you better,” was the girl’s reassuring answer.
“Thank you.” He decided it was best to say as little as possible and not to encourage her further.
“I do not like Mr Bingley at all.”
“Why not?” he answered, utterly surprised.
“Because he has blond hair,” whispered the girl.
“Uh, I see. And blond hair is not good?”
“No, it is not, because he looks just like my brothers, and I am upset with all of them.”
Mr Darcy could not remember the last time he was so amused.
“Well, Becky, I am happy you do not think me scary anymore, but I am sorry you do not think Mr Bingley is nice, because he is indeed.”
“Oh, but I do think he is nice. I just don’t like him.”
After a short pause, she looked attentively at his face and then continued.
“He is nice, but you are very pretty.”
All Mr Darcy’s self-control vanished, and he could restrain his laughter no longer, desperately hoping no acquaintance was around to see him.
“Well, Becky, I have been told many things in my lifetime, but I have never been told I am ‘pretty.’”
“But pretty is good, you know?”
“Yes, indeed,” he answered, laughing, but he stopped, feeling her little finger pressing his cheek.
“What is this?”
“I do not know. What does it looks like? Is my face dirty?”
“No, it is something very funny indeed. What is it?”
Clueless, he turned to Elizabeth, silently asking her opinion. Becky’s little finger still punctured his face, but Lizzy was flustered and tried not to look directly at the spot to which the girl pointed.
Eventually, she managed to articulate an answer, wondering whether she could possibly be more embarrassed. “It is a dimple,” came the answer that took him quite unprepared.
Becky was only half content, though, and needed further explanation. “Dimple is good?”
“I do not know!” Mr Darcy laughed again. “It is not for me to say.”
She turned naturally to her cousin. “Lizzy, dimple is good?”
She closed her eyes, breathing deeply and trying to avoid his eyes. Suddenly, she looked straight at Becky.
“Yes, Becky, dimple is very good,” she responded emphatically, causing Mr Darcy to redden unexpectedly.
“I am afraid you have distressed Mr Darcy more than is acceptable with your questions. I do not think he will ever call on us again.” She spoke more to Mr Darcy than to her cousin, but the little girl became alarmed.
“Did I distress you, Mr Darcy?”
“I confess you did, but it was a pleasant distress, Becky. I do not think I have ever received so many compliments in one day.”
She smiled contentedly. “A compliment is when you say something nice about someone, is it not?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Well, if you come to visit us again, I shall give you even more compliments, Mr Darcy,” concluded the girl, happy to find a way to tempt him not to leave forever as Lizzy had implied.
Both Elizabeth and Mr Darcy chose not to say anything, relieved that they had reached the Gardiners’ house.
The gentlemen declined to enter and bid their good-byes, Becky bestowing a sweet kiss on Mr Darcy’s cheek. Then, politely, under Mrs Burton’s vigilant eyes, she took a very nice farewell from Mr Bingley too and entered the house.
Elizabeth and Jane remained outside a few moments to see the gentlemen into their carriage, still marvelling at their present bliss. A mere two days before, both were heartbroken and hopeless. They could not believe their happiness and good fortune.
∞∞∞
The gentlemen sat comfortably in the carriage.
“Darcy, you seemed to become a favourite of another young lady.”
He looked at Bingley, and a huge smile spread over his face.
“Well, Bingley, what can I say? Your misfortune is that you have blond hair, and blond hair is not good.”
“I beg your pardon? Darcy, are you all right?”
Bingley was concerned by his friend’s shocking peals of laughter, not ever remembering such a sight. Eventually, Darcy regained control of himself.
“Oh my, Bingley! I absolutely have to tell you this in every detail! And tell my cousin and Georgiana, as well. By the way, did you ever notice that I am pretty?” Bingley’s eyes and mouth flew open.
As Darcy related his talk with Rebecca, Bingley’s laughter brought tears to his eyes. It was indeed fortunate that none of their acquaintance encountered the carriage and heard them express their amusement in such an ungentlemanlike manner.
∞∞∞
The next day, Mr Darcy arrived at the Gardiners’ house to escort them to his home. It was still early for dinner, but the hour had been established previously as Mr Gardiner was desirous to consult a few books in Darcy’s library; a short visit with Miss Darcy was also scheduled.