CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE Dinner with an Earl
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Dinner with an Earl
The Bennets had dined with the Earl and Countess of Matlock several times during Darcy’s illness, but those meals had taken place under the strange truce created by fever, physicians, and the possibility of death.
A formal engagement dinner was different. Mrs. Bennet worried for three days. “Which fork does one use for fish if there are two?” she demanded at breakfast.
“The one nearest the plate,” Mary said.
“No, the outermost.”
“That is what I meant.”
“It is not.” Kitty said,
“What if there is no fish?” Lydia said, “La, I shall use whichever fork I like. If an earl objects to my fork, he is a very dull earl.”
Mr. Bennet folded his newspaper. “An excellent principle. We shall extend it to spoons.”
Mrs. Bennet glared at him. “You will not encourage them.”
Elizabeth, who knew Lady Matlock had once eaten cold pie standing in Longbourn’s kitchen because she had missed luncheon while sitting with Darcy, refused to be anxious. “Lady Matlock likes you, Mama.”
“That is because I have never dined at her table as her nephew’s future mother.”
“You were still his future mother when she ate your seedcake.”
Mrs. Bennet paused. “That was very good seedcake.”
Netherfield’s dining room was arranged for twenty. The Matlocks had returned from London for the final fortnight before the wedding, bringing one of Richard’s brothers and his wife. Georgiana sat beside Mary by choice. Bingley placed Jane near himself with all the subtlety of a lighthouse.
Darcy escorted Elizabeth in. She looked up at him. “You are nervous.”
“No.”
“You are holding my hand too tightly.”
He loosened his grip at once. “Sorry.”
“Why?”
Darcy’s eyes moved toward the table. “My family and yours have different habits.”
“So?”
“I would prefer the evening to go well.”
Elizabeth smiled. “That is almost sweet.”
“Almost?”
“I must preserve standards.”
The first ten minutes went well. Then Lydia asked the Earl whether he had ever shot a man.
Mrs. Bennet dropped her spoon. “Lydia!”
The Earl looked delighted. “Yes.”
Lydia leaned forward. “Truly?”
“Twice.”
“Were they French?”
“One was.”
“What was the other?”
“A very poor shot.”
Richard choked on his wine.
Mrs. Bennet looked horrified.
The Earl winked at Lydia.
Conversation thereafter became impossible to regulate.
Kitty asked Lady Matlock whether court presentations were frightening.
Mary discovered Richard’s elder brother had read the same treatise on moral philosophy she had.
Mr. Bennet and the Earl began discussing estate entails.
Mrs. Bennet, once reassured that no one was measuring her forks, became animated on the subject of tenant cottages.
“We replaced the roof at the Parkers’ last summer,” she told Lady Matlock. “Mr. Bennet said it might last another year, but rain does not ask permission before entering a nursery.”
Mr. Bennet said, “I remember the discussion differently.”
“You remember everything differently when it costs money.”
Lady Matlock laughed.
Darcy sat very still. Elizabeth leaned toward him. “You are doing it again.”
“What?”
“Thinking loudly.”
He looked down the table. His uncle was arguing amiably with Mr. Bennet.
His aunt was asking Mrs. Bennet about the Parker children.
Georgiana and Lydia were whispering, with Mary pretending not to listen.
Richard had somehow persuaded Kitty to try a bite of something she had declared suspicious.
“I had imagined this dinner many times,” he admitted.
“And?”
“None resembled this.”
“Are you disappointed?”
Darcy looked at her. “No.”
After dinner the gentlemen did not remain over port long. Bingley abandoned the dining room first. Richard followed. The Earl observed that he had no intention of being left with two fathers discussing marriage settlements and escaped too.
In the drawing room, Lydia persuaded Georgiana to play a country dance.
“No dancing,” Mrs. Bennet said automatically.
“Why not?”
“Because—” Mrs. Bennet looked around. “Because we have just eaten.”
Richard held out a hand to Lady Matlock. “Mother?”
She laughed and accepted. Within minutes the carpet had been rolled back. Darcy could not dance properly yet.
Elizabeth stood beside him as the others formed sets. “Does this pain you?” she asked.
“My leg?”
“No. Watching.”
He looked at her. “Less than before.”
“Why?”
“Because I know I shall dance with you again.”
Her expression softened.
Darcy offered his hand. “We can manage the final turn.”
“Dr. Morrison—”
“Is not here.”
“He will know.”
“How?”
Elizabeth smiled. “I shall tell him.”
“Cruel woman.”
But when the music ended and everyone joined hands for the final figure, Darcy stepped carefully onto the floor with Elizabeth. He could not turn quickly. He could not cross with the others. So they made their own small circle at the edge of the room.
No one laughed.
Not even Lydia.
When Darcy bowed to Elizabeth at the end, applause broke out anyway.
He looked appalled. Elizabeth laughed until she could scarcely breathe.