Mr. Darcy Came to Dinner (16 page)

“I am sure your companion is well and has enjoyed her short respite from her duties,” said the colonel. “She will join us once the weather clears. That reminds me.” He moved to the window and looked outside. “Yes, I
thought
the weather was letting up. We should return to Netherfield before the rains return in earnest.”

Georgiana was not happy. “I want to spend more time with Brother!”

Darcy’s heart was touched by his sister’s devotion. “As much as I enjoy your company, my dear, our cousin is right. You must not endanger your health.”

“I am not like Anne; a little rain will not bother me!”

Darcy could hardly believe how quickly Georgiana’s sprits had revived in Hertfordshire. It made him almost happy that he had broken his leg — almost. “If my sister should fall ill, it would bother me a great deal. Please do as I ask.”

“Oh, very well.” The girl pouted for a minute before an idea seemed to occur to her. “If we must go, I should take my leave of the Bennets, especially Mrs. Bennet.” She stood and, with an insincere smile, said, “It would not do for me to fail to thank her for her hospitality. I should not be a moment!” The two gentlemen watched her depart.

“She is going to grow to be a handful, I think,” observed the colonel. “I do not envy you.”

Darcy was too happy to see his sister smiling again to be concerned about such things. “She has been through much. I can indulge her a little.”

Mrs. Hill came in. “Begging your pardon, sirs, but I just spoke to Miss Darcy, and she said that you were preparing to leave. Shall I have Mr. Hill fetch the carriage?”

Darcy was pleased at the efficiency of the housekeeper. “Very good, Mrs. Hill. Directly, if you please.” A quick curtsy and the servant was gone.

Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam spent a little time talking over politics until Georgiana’s return with Mrs. Bennet and Jane. The Bennet ladies bade their visitors goodbye at the door while Darcy wondered why Miss Elizabeth had not joined them.

Darcy’s thoughts had become increasingly occupied by fine eyes, curly hair, and impertinent remarks. He thought he had been winning his struggle against Miss Elizabeth’s now undeniable attractions, but the incident with Mr. Collins overthrew such fantasies. He was lost — he had as much as declared himself during his defense of the lady. There was nothing for it but to make clear his intentions in form.

And why should I not?
he asked himself. She was a gentleman’s daughter and, therefore, his equal. True, she had not the benefit of a season in Town, but what of it? In Darcy’s opinion, society had ruined more ladies than it helped. Elizabeth was kind and intelligent, not the least bit mercenary, and she possessed a quality missing from many: courage. Her strength of character stirred his blood as thoroughly as did her light and pleasing figure. She was just the sort of companion his dear sister Georgiana needed — and himself.

The lady was not indifferent to him, he knew. The spark in her eyes just yesterday as she helped him back to bed sent a jolt through him that left him speechless. He was bewitched by her plump, moist lips; he ached to taste them — to lose himself in her arms.

Just then, Mrs. Bennet returned, and Darcy was glad for the blanket across his lap. Otherwise, he was sure to be ashamed of himself.

“Are you feeling any better today, Mr. Darcy?” asked the matron. “I must say, you are looking well, as is your sister — a lovely young lady. You should be very proud of her. She is welcome anytime to Longbourn — and your cousin, the colonel.

“I understand you enjoyed the dinner. I shall tell Cook that you were pleased. It is important to set a good table and impress one’s guests, as I have constantly instructed my girls. Oh, they all know their duties, I can assure you! Lizzy is particularly attentive to such things, but then, so are all the girls. Yes, running an estate like Longbourn is not very different from Netherfield or even Pemberley, I daresay. Why, they are all houses, some larger than others. The only difference is the size of the staff. You are satisfied with the attention we have shown, are you not?”

The lady’s transparent fawning and boasting almost undid Darcy, but he was able to marshal his expression into a properly appreciative visage though he did have to bite his tongue to stop from snickering.

“I have no complaints at all, madam. Mrs. Hill and Sally have been most attentive. And I shall say that the food is as good as I have had in any house I have visited.”

“Bless you, sir, but it is nothing!” Mrs. Bennet simpered. “It is just a matter of proper household management. As I told Mr. Bennet, ‘We do not have to worry over our girls, for wherever they go, they shall run the finest house in their neighborhood!’ Well, I should leave you to rest. I shall let your man Bartholomew know your relations have departed.”

Mrs. Bennet closed the door behind her, leaving a very pleased Darcy. He expected that Mrs. Bennet would not be averse to having Miss Elizabeth become Mrs. Darcy, but to have her so blatant about it was actually comforting. All that remained was to get well enough to propose to the charming Elizabeth.

Darcy smiled, anticipating her response.

Chapter 9

T
HE RAINS FINALLY ENDED
; the sun shone merrily the next morning. Elizabeth could hardly restrain herself long enough to make a proper toilet and choke down a bit of breakfast before seeking the solitude and serenity that only a walk in the countryside could provide.

The air was cool and still, and the woods were ablaze with color. Elizabeth’s shoes made an agreeable crunch on the new-fallen leaves as she progressed on her ramble. Finally, assured she was indeed by herself, she turned her thoughts from a simple appreciation of nature to the issues that had plagued her sensibilities during the past week.

She disliked Mr. Darcy, and he disliked her. Until his accident, nothing could have been more firmly decided in her mind. He was snobbish, proud, disagreeable, and worst of all, he had insulted her appearance. The man was above his neighbors. He paid no attention to anyone who was not part of his immediate party, and when he did, it was only to observe their faults with a satirical eye. It was the reason Lizzy accepted Mr. Wickham’s tale of woe so readily.

Now, almost every expectation was exploded. Since his injury, Mr. Darcy had been undeniably correct and polite to almost everyone and treated the staff of Longbourn with kindness and consideration seldom seen from one of his station. He took the blame for his accident upon himself, at least publicly. Even when addled by laudanum, his outbursts were not directed at the Bennet family and their staff, but in their defense. Mr. Wickham’s story was proven to be a lie. Mr. Darcy had practically thrown his unpleasant and overbearing aunt out of the house. Miss Darcy proved to be sweet, devoted, and painfully shy — not proud at all. The gentleman’s cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, was steadfast in his praise of the man. And most unsettling of all, Mr. Darcy had gallantly risked his health to defend Elizabeth against the unwanted advances and outlandish insinuations of Mr. Collins — for all intents and purposes naming himself the protector of the Bennet family.

Elizabeth was coming to the uncomfortable conclusion that she may have been wrong about Mr. Darcy. For a person who prided herself a careful observer of others, it was a painful supposition. Lizzy knew few who were her superior in understanding though her father and the Gardiners quickly came to mind. She valued Jane’s saintly sweetness and consideration for others, but there were times when Lizzy considered her sister naïve in the ways of the world. Owning much affection but little respect for the rest of her family, she depended upon her own wit and intelligence to guide her through life.

To be so wrong in her opinions when she had been so certain was a hard business with which to wrestle. Every time a small voice in her head said that Mr. Darcy was a good man, her darker feelings reasserted themselves.

No matter his present manners, Mr. Darcy had been silent, grave, and indifferent almost every time they had met publicly. In more private settings such as Netherfield, he impressed her with his arrogance and condescension. Boasting of knowing only a half-dozen truly accomplished woman, indeed! Who were these paragons of womanhood? Certainly nobody Elizabeth had ever met!

Perhaps he meant his sister
, her better angels whispered.

Well, yes, maybe — but what of the others? Viscountesses and ladies of fortune, no doubt — the cream of the First Circles of society in London. No wonder Mr. Darcy so despised the people of Hertfordshire. How else was one to explain that he could sit next to poor Mrs. Long for a half-hour without once speaking to her?

That annoying inner voice spoke again.
Are you not protesting too much?

No, of course not! In fact, she cared not a whit about the tall, proud man! He had been exceedingly rude to her father. Mr. Darcy acted as if he was the master of Longbourn rather than a guest. What sort of gentleman diminishes his host?

What sort of husband diminishes his wife as my father does?

Elizabeth groaned aloud. This sort of musing only served to increase rather than alleviate her confusion. She vowed to think upon the man no more and instead enjoy what was left of the autumn foliage. She expected that Charlotte would soon be at Longbourn, and they had much to discuss.

* * *

Darcy had just finished his breakfast when an excited Mrs. Hill opened the door. “Oh, sir! Begging your pardon, but there is a wagon outside just come from Town with something for you!”

Darcy had no idea what it could be, but with his injury, he could only wait until Mr. Hill brought in a large wooden object. It was a plain wood chair, straight-backed with arms, not very different from what he had seen in a poor farmer’s house. What made it different was attached to the bottom of the four legs.

“Here it is, sir, although I’ve never seen th’ like before, or the other one too,” the servant said. “There be wheels on the legs.” Indeed, there were four small wheels affixed to each leg.

“It is a wheel-chair,” explained Darcy as Hill placed the chair before him. “Bartholomew, see to the driver.”

“There’s a note too, sir,” said Hill. He handed it over as Mrs. Bennet came into the room.

“Oh, Mr. Darcy! What an ingenious thing — a wheel-chair! Mrs. Golding’s father used one years ago before he died. Consumption — a sad business. I remember the family burning the bedding afterwards.”

Darcy looked up from the note. “It is from Mr. Macmillan, and he mentions two chairs. Where is the other one, Hill?”

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “That one’s outside, as it’s too big fur th’ house, I’m thinkin’.”

The mystery was solved by Bartholomew. “There is a Bath chair outside, sir. I have paid the driver.”

“A bath chair?” cried Mrs. Bennet. “Why would anyone need a chair to take a bath?”

“Seems a bit too big ta take a bath with, ma’am,” observed Hill.

Darcy somehow prevented the rolling of his eyes. “It is a Bath chair — a rolling chair used in Bath to transport invalids or people affected by gout to take the waters. Help me, Bartholomew.”

At once, the valet grasped Darcy under one arm, and he was joined the next instant by Hill. Together, they maneuvered Darcy into the wheel-chair with only a small gasp from the patient. Once a blanket was draped about Darcy’s shoulders, Bartholomew pushed the chair on its small, rickety wheels towards the still open front door. Outside was a large wheeled contraption made of wicker, shaped like an overgrown slipper. Two large carriage wheels adorned either side of the vehicle, while a smaller third wheel extended from the front, a long rod rising up and back from it.

“Goodness me!” cried Mrs. Bennet. “How does it work?”

“One sits in the chair,” Darcy explained, “and a man pushes it, while the occupant steers it by way of that rod, like a rudder on a boat, only in reverse.”

“How very clever indeed! I should have seen one before, for I always wanted to go to Bath, but Mr. Bennet is not fond of crowds and would not make the trip.”

Darcy had a sudden urge to escape the house and enjoy the outside air. He disregarded the pleas from Mrs. Bennet that it was too cold and had Bartholomew and Hill help him into the Bath chair. He suffered to have Mrs. Bennet stuff additional blankets about his person before ordering Hill to push him towards the rose garden on the side of the house.

Hill parked the chair beside a very thick rosebush, one not yet pruned back for winter. He was in the warm sunshine and still in view of the house. Hill then excused himself to return to his usual chores, alerting the nearby gardener to save an ear for Mr. Darcy.

Darcy looked about and could just make out a set of benches on the other side of the bush. He thought this would be a pleasant spot, especially when the bush was in full bloom, and the blossoms gave up their scent. He wondered whether it was the same fragrance Elizabeth wore.

He chuckled. Would she be surprised to learn that he had paid her such attention as to attempt to guess her choice of rose water? No, not surprised, not her! Flattered yes, but not surprised. She was as sharp as she was beautiful, and his attentions had been too marked.

Darcy settled back into the chair, allowing himself to daydream about roses and Elizabeth.