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Posted on Date: Thursday, 28 June 2007
The morning brought disorientation for Kitty. One of those mornings, where no matter how much sleep one had had, one still wanted more. It had taken her several moments to process that she was in her bed and that she must rise and face the day.
Kitty managed to dress herself but she was unable to make it out of her chamber before Mrs Wilson had bustled up the stairs clutching the mail, a breakfast tray and a request for Kitty to help her pass judgement on some petty squabble between the exuberant Kate and another maid, Sophie.
“I do think, with your permission, ma’am, that I shall turn out the house while you and the master are visiting with Mr Bingley.”
Kitty nodded, wishing Mrs Wilson wouldn’t ask her permission just as she was taking a bite of toast.
“Of course we’ve already done our spring cleaning, but if you’ll beg our pardon everything was topsy turvy from trying to present it at its best to you when you first arrived that – “Mrs Wilson threw up her hands, “Ah well.”
Kitty smiled, “Do not concern yourself, Mrs Wilson, I hardly noticed.” She didn’t add she hardly noticed anything when she’d first arrived.
“Well, I think you would have been too good to say anything, Mrs Darcy.”
“It would more be that my mother’s idea of organising a turning out of the house is not equal to yours, so naturally I was dazzled.”
Mrs Wilson laughed, and fussed about the tray.
“Mrs Wilson, I have been thinking about Kate. Do you not think that she would feel more at home at Pemberley?”
Mrs Wilson stopped putting the dishes back on the tray, “I did not like to say, but I think that London is too tempting for her. I have heard her speak to Miss Darcy in a manner that was not improper but not precisely proper either.”
“If that is the case, then when we return to Pemberley, if she is not adverse to it, perhaps it would be best if we took her with us.”
Mrs Wilson nodded, before leaving with the tray.
The talk and organisation with Mrs Wilson had put Kitty behind in her day and she’d not had the time to open the personal letters. She’d had to put them out of reach until she’d finished the menus with Mrs Wilson and the other daily tasks she had to carry out.
Finally, however she could almost tear them open in excitement. Mrs Calens had kept Kitty sporadically updated with news from Lambton, particularly noting the exodus of families. Kitty had only briefly seen the Middletons in town, and apparently according to Miss Almesbury (also an infrequent correspondent) Miss Middleton had been in danger of contracting a very ineligible match and had been whisked away to an obscure seaside resort where the fashionable young fribble could not in conscience set foot even for Miss Middleton’s beauty.
Mrs Calens had also written about the school. While the school had been close to starting its first classes as Kitty had left for London, Mrs Calens wrote that they had run into a few difficulties. The local rector had been incensed he had not been asked for advice where Reverend Spinney had been, even though he had not supported their initial idea (preaching that the uneducated were irreclaimable) nor did he have any experience is setting up such a venture. As such it had taken all the powers of persuasion of the remaining ladies of Lambton to cajole him into a malleable temper. For the clergyman had the ear of the Parrish council and the local gentlemen, and was liable to remove permission to use some of the village and church buildings for the classes.
Kitty folded up the letter and put it in her dresser but not before making a note for herself to pen a reply, not only to Mrs Calens but also to the petulant rector.
Kitty’s timing had been perfect. As she had left her room Robert had been ascending the stairs.
“Forgive me, Ma’am. I told her ladyship that no one was at home but she did not believe me.”
“Which ladyship?” said Kitty, feeling a sense of impending dread.
“Lady Matlock. I’ve put her in the parlour,” Robert sounded most apologetic.
Kitty knew she could not hide. Not matter how much she wanted to do so. Lady Matlock had never liked her, but now with her son’s disgrace Kitty did not want to think what her thoughts were now.
Lady Matlock would not blame her son and Kitty did not blame her for that. Mothers, it seemed, could forgive their children anything, but Kitty did not think motherhood provided an excuse to then blame others for one’s children’s mistakes. And this was what Kitty knew that Lady Maltock would do. Somehow every falsehood, every treacherous act, every throw of the dice, would be attributed irrationally to her.
“You dare show your face?”
Lady Matlock had been pacing around the sofas, but upon Kitty’s entrance she had turned on Kitty drawing herself up to her full height.
“I thought that you wished to see me, my lady,” said Kitty.
“See you! You are nothing more than a treacherous snake lying in wait to ruin my family. Snitterton saw through you and now –“ Lady Matlock broke off in some distress.
Kitty only felt a small pang of sympathy for her. It must be hard to be parted from your child, no matter how grown he was. Yet any feeling of charity towards the countess was rapidly eroded by that lady’s past and present behaviour.
“Lady Matlock, you must understand, that I had nothing to do with Lord Snitterton’s distress – “
“See how she lies!”
Kitty thought this was an odd thing to say, it seemed peculiarly dramatic to speak to an invisible audience, but a movement in the corner of the room made Kitty realise that they did have an audience.
A lady about the same age as Lady Matlock was sitting imperiously by the fireplace. Her clothing bespoke her situation in life and the expression on her face proved her to be a friend of Lady Matlock’s.
Nevertheless Kitty dropped a small curtsey in her direction, “I beg your pardon, ma’am, I did not see you there.” Kitty expected Lady Matlock to introduce her but she did not.
“You feign ignorance of what your husband has done at your bidding! I do not know what arts you used to tempt and lure him into banishing my son – “
Kitty was taken aback at this and if it wasn’t quite so ridiculous she would have laughed. The idea that she could use any arts to tempt or lure Darcy into doing anything – that any woman could do so was preposterous.
“Lady Matlock, your son cheated at cards. I cannot see how you can place that action at my doorstep.”
“I am sure Snitterton never entered such a hell before you,” sniffed Lady Matlock.
There seemed no point in talking to the Countess any longer; her comments were irrational and illogical. Instead Kitty pulled the bell that would call the servants.
This caused the lady in the corner, who had previously been silent, to stand and looked outraged. “You think to throw us out of this house?”
Kitty would have liked to, but it would be ill-mannered and Kitty wouldn’t stoop to their level. “No, I was merely calling for some refreshment. I have been impolite.”
The lady sniffed. “You know who I am, of course?”
Kitty looked bewildered.
“I am Mr Darcy’s aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. As such I am entitled to know his concerns; I have been alarmed at his rapid spiral into the depths of the abyss. You seem content to ruin him and everyone associated with him! I expected no less of such a woman.”
Kitty felt she should have recognised the infamous Lady Catherine the moment she’d clapped eyes on her. She looked exactly as she should have: all outrage and ostrich feathers.
“Your name does not deserve to be mentioned by any of us! You will never henceforth be noticed by any of us! Not only have you been the means of preventing a union much hoped for by my dear nephew’s mother, but you have polluted the shades of Matlock. The merest hint of scandal was never attached to the name Darcy or Fitzwilliam until you took it upon yourself to scheme your way out of your sphere.”
Kitty had taken a seat at this point; there seemed no way of stopping Lady Catherine’s diatribe. When Lady Maltock had become tired and emotional, the plan had clearly been for Lady Catherine to take over berating. Kitty did not see what outcome either lady was hoping for unless it was for her to keel over and perspire of shame or boredom. Kitty could only sit in silence and let such talk wash over her.
It was all nonsense. Kitty had met more highly bred ladies than either Lady Matlock and Lady Catherine, and she had come to the conclusion that the majority of people concerned with status and its trappings weren’t those with the most. She’d noticed also that women like Darcy’s aunts would bemoan the vulgarity of the gentry and the ‘cits’ in their slavish devotion to decorum and attempts to ape their betters. Yet what was the difference with what they were doing?
The true leaders of the ton didn’t give two figs for their money or status, of course that was because they expected it to be there and would be in for a sad time of it if the Exchange crashed or their crops all failed. But nevertheless they found it in themselves to be quite affable and not at all starched to their collar points.
It was funny what money and elevation did to people. Sir William Lucas had felt it necessary to give up his trade when he had been knighted at St James. If he had not given up his trade he could have given his daughters better portions and Charlotte Lucas would not have ended up marrying Mr Collins, instead she would have married that young man who had courted her when Kitty had been thirteen. It also caused the Bingley sisters to forget they had made their money in trade. Kitty had been most surprised when Bingley had revealed this to her; the way his sisters carried on she had thought they would not have even spoken to anyone who knew someone who owned a shop. More so, it meant that Lady Catherine and Lady Matlock thought they had some right to speak to her as they did.
Of course Darcy would have picked this morning to ride; in fact she was not sure she put it past either of his aunts to have not been waiting around the corner to pounce when they saw he was not at home.
The ladies in the room were still speaking, interjecting when the other spoke to place their unique form of barb. They were a united front and Kitty had no hope of relief. Georgiana was certainly in the house but Kitty would not for the world pray for relief from that quarter; no, she must remain in ignorance. Kitty could only assume that both ladies had been reading of Napoleon’s exploits and had learned much from that gentleman’s (although she hesitated to use the word) exploits on the battlefield.
“It is not to be borne!”
Kitty looked up; this seemed to be the end of Lady Catherine’s speech. It still seemed amazing to her that this woman in front of her was the sister of Lord Matlock. Of course one did not expect a man’s wife to necessarily be anything like him, but a sister? The Bennet sisters were all varying but there were points of commonality. Lady Catherine seemed a stranger bent on battle. Kitty could only behave towards her as Wellington would to Napoleon and his allies: rout their forces. Except she was no Wellington.
“Of course not,” said Kitty serenely, clearly confusing Lady Catherine. “But there is one thing I do not understand. I thought that the Viscount had been in debt long before I even met Mr Darcy?”
“Nonsense,” said Lady Matlock
“My nephew would not be so foolish.” Lady Catherine fixed her eye upon Kitty
“Oh. I cannot believe that your brother would lie, Lady Catherine.”
“Edwin! Lie! That is impossible.”
“Then he must have been misled.”
“My brother, the Earl of Matlock, misled. A ridiculous notion! “
“Then he must not be misled about his own son’s conduct …” said Kitty trying to look innocent.
Lady Catherine did not seem to know what to say to that. Lady Matlock was not silenced however.
“Matlock has always despised my darling Snitterton! Just because he has no depth of feeling – “
“Enough, madam! The house of Matlock will not be disparaged in this way,” interjected Lady Catherine. “Perhaps my nephew did indulge in some sport. Why my father, the late Earl, was a known gambler in his youth. It is nothing more than youthful high spirits to be expected in a nobleman.”
“Indeed,” said Kitty helpfully. “But is not Lord Snitterton past thirty; perhaps it is merely my age, but I had not thought that young.”
Lady Catherine seemed to consider this. “My nephew clearly has inherited the lamentable trait inherent in all my nephews of keeping bad company.”
Lady Matlock seemed to wish to argue this, but decided against it.
Kitty ignored the veiled commented directed at her – after all she must be the bad company that had corrupted Darcy. “It is a pity that Lord Snitterton did not pay more attention to you, Lady Catherine. I am sure if he listened to your advice then he would have realised the ruin that would come from keeping such company. But then I understand he did not visit you in Kent very often? I know that Darcy was so very upset that he had offended you so deeply that he was unable to visit. And Colonel Fitzwilliam has visited you twice this year.”
Lady Catherine looked mollified. “Indeed, their attachment to Rosings grows each year.”
“I cannot wonder at it. Darcy has spoken so affectionately of it and so constantly. I cannot believe Lord Snitterton did not enjoy it!”
“I do not understand it either. If he had come to me then he would not have found himself in such disgrace for I would have told him the correct way to play cards.”
“Catherine!” said Lady Matlock. “Snitterton is not to blame.”
“If he would not listen to guidance, then he has no one to blame but himself,” said Lady Catherine, clearly forgetting for the moment that this stricture covered not only Snitterton but Darcy.
“I will not have you speaking about my son in this manner!”
“I will speak how I find! If he has lost himself so much as to forget what he owes himself and his family! If he refuses the claims of duty honour and gratitude! He has brought shame upon our family and I shudder to think that he will one day wear the garb that my esteemed father wore.”
The colour drained out of Lady Matlock’s face until there were only two burning red spots remaining. “You have no right to speak! Sir Lewis de Bourgh marrying the only daughter of the Earl of Matlock! You married to suit yourself and not your family. How dare you claim my son does not understand the responsibilities of his name. In comparison to you!”
“My husband was not my most titled suitor, but he was the most eligible in wealth and consequence,” said Lady Catherine acidly.
“A union that produced an ill child that cannot even be presented at court! She will never bear a child and Rosings will fall to some unworthy distant scion of the de Bourgh household.”
“Anne is an accomplished young woman! She understands her position in the world – “
“I cannot see how, since she cannot leave her room and is so nearsighted that she confused me for Mrs Jenkins last time I visited. I have always said blood will out! But I will make no comment on whose blood that might be.”
Lady Catherine’s teacup was shaking in her hand as she looked as if she might keel over from an apoplexy.
“Indeed. I often wondered at how solicitous you were over Lord Meltcalfe’s girls! I cannot imagine why unless you perceived a close connection.”
Kitty could not help widen her eyes at this exchange. Clearly Lady Matlock and Lady Catherine were only united when there was a joint enemy to engage with! She was even more struck by how deluded Darcy must have been if he thought her family worse than his!
Kitty could not imagine her mother telling Aunt Gardiner to her face that she suspected little Edward was Mr Beaumaris from down the street’s child. Not even her mother would be that vulgar.
“Leave. Leave this house at once!” Lady Catherine boomed. “Your mother’s father was a mere shopkeeper. I told my brother you smelt of the shop.”
Kitty fervently hoped this was not the point where Lady Matlock turned to her for support. But Lady Matlock merely grabbed her reticule from where it had lain on the sofa and stalked to the door. She turned to make her parting shot. “I take no leave of you and send no regards to your daughter; you deserve no such attention!”
Darcy could not believe he was relieved to be finally setting out for Hertfordshire, probably not as much as Bingley was, but nevertheless he would breathe a sigh of relief when he set foot in Netherfield once more.
The descent of his Aunt upon London had set the fox among the chickens in the worst way. It would take some time for Darcy to recover from the sight of his wife and Lady Catherine calmly discussing curtains in his parlour. He’d burst in, ready to engage with his aunt, after Roberts had informed him of Lady Catherine’s presence.
Of course his aunt had not accepted Catherine. She’d quite pointedly told Darcy as she’d been leaving that his wife, while far more polite, poised and intelligent than she expected, was still a blight upon the noble houses of Fitzwilliam and Darcy.
Then again Lady Catherine had been under the impression that Darcy’s prime topic of conversation was Rosings. Darcy could only marvel at the level of his aunt’s delusion. Rosings was her home and thus everyone in the world must covet it.
Anyhow Darcy was relieved that Lady Catherine appeared no longer to be quite so vehemently against his marriage. That this had come at the cost of her relationship with Aunt Matlock was another thing. He’d never thought about his aunts’ relationship with each other; he’d assumed it was cordial. He’d never seen evidence of it being otherwise, then again he’d rarely seen them together and if they had been together he avoided them. Two aunts were rather worse than one.
Apparently, this cordiality was another misconception of his. The curt letters sent to his house and the almost permanent visiting of Colonel Fitzwilliam told the true story. His cousin had also requested permission to cling on behind the carriage as they went to Netherfield. That or fold himself into one of the trunks. Darcy didn’t blame the Colonel at all.
Naturally the family turmoil was only expressed privately. Darcy realised how hypocritical that was. It caused him almost to long for the society of Meryton where everyone spoke their mind, if not in word but in expression.
Although Darcy wondered what their reaction would be when the Darcys returned to Netherfield. Both the Miss Bennets had returned to Longbourn and he was sure that either of the sisters, in fact maybe both of them, would make some effort to smooth over any gossip and whispering that might be attendant on their return. Either way it could not be worse than the current situation where Darcy felt he was in the middle of a battle where he could not win. Unpleasantness would abound no matter which ‘side’ he chose.
Darcy put on his coat and hat, left his final instructions with the servants for any business that might not directly go to Netherfield.
The Bingleys had brought their carriage around. Mr and Mrs Hurst had decided to continue with their seaside holiday (although it was not quite summer yet) and only attend the wedding, not the preceding weeks of preparation. Darcy suspected that Miss Bingley would have joined them, except for the fact that without her Catherine would have been Netherfield’s hostess. Miss Bingley’s pride would most definitely not survive that!
However their voices appeared to be raised as in unison as he approached the carriage.
“Charles, that is the fourth time you have stepped on my gown, do you know how much I paid for this!” Miss Bingley sounded agitated.
“I do not think there is room!” Catherine sounded equally as annoyed.
“No, no we just move it this way…” Bingley sounded his normal affable self, if slightly flustered.
“Charles!” shrieked Miss Bingley.
“Charles, you almost caused Miss Bingley an injury – Oh do not swing it that way.”
“Why must this be in the carriage? I am sure someone can strap it to the back of the carriage. If our footman is too incompetent to do it, I am sure Darcy’s is not!”
“But I must have it in the carriage, Caroline.”
“Why? What conceivable use can you have for a portable writing desk?! I do not even know why anyone would wish to write in a carriage!”
Catherine seemed to agree with this.
“Darcy has still not read the marriage settlements!”
Darcy groaned at his friend’s comments. Bingley had become slightly calmer over his impending marriage (although it was not as if it was to be tomorrow Mrs Bennet had apparently planned a whole series of celebratory events to be got through first!) but the settlements were still weighing on his mind.
“Darcy must read them and make notes!”
“Notes?” said Miss Bingley in some alarm. “You cannot be serious in allowing an open pot of ink in a moving carriage! These seats have just been redone, Charles! It would be most inconvenient to have to recover them. Not that we could not afford it.”
“Not to mention we’ll end up black from head to toe before we even arrive at Netherfield.”
“We shall look a sight!” Miss Bingley sounded more horrified than ever.
“But you must understand, Darcy – “
“Hang Darcy!” was his wife’s uncharitable response.
Darcy opened the door to the carriage, and took in the sight within. The portable writing desk did not look as though it was at all portable and if it ever had had any practical use it would not be in a carriage with four occupants.
“I do not think this necessary, Bingley. I may read the settlements at Netherfield.”
“But I am sure Mr Bennet will expect me to be organised. You cannot wish me to make a bad impression.”
“I do not think Papa will even read them,” injected Catherine. She was more than likely right but Darcy did not think that would help soothe Bingley.
“I may read them in the carriage; I do not need this contraption to read, Bingley.”
“You will wish to make notes!”
“I shall endeavour to remember them and add them on our arrival.”
With the carriage now freed of awkward woodwork, they were finally able to set off.
Miss Bingley adjusted her bonnet, which seemed most ornate for a country trip but Darcy suspected she wished to storm Meryton just as she had done so last September when Bingley had taken possession of Netherfield.
“Your wife has just been telling us of her most interesting way of ridding herself of you,” said Miss Bingley, leaning forward conspiratorially. “She thinks you fit for the gallows.”
“Caroline you know that Kitty did not mean - “ injected Bingley. Darcy wondered why Bingley bothered; if was not as if his sister would let him change the course of the conversation.
“So what do you say to that?” Miss Bingley finished archly.
Darcy had nothing to say to that.
“Well maybe Mr Darcy was born to hang,” said Catherine. Darcy looked up from Bingley’s papers with a curious expression.
“Oh!” exclaimed Miss Bingley with a titter, “Never! Mr Darcy commit a crime. How abominable of you to say so!”
Catherine looked innocent, but gave him a quick look before answering Miss Bingley. “I merely meant his proclivity for wanting to shoot things might lead him into trouble.”
“Hunting is a gentleman’s sport,” said Miss Bingley incredulously. “Perhaps you do not know a great deal of gentlemen but I assure you it is certainly not a crime.”
Darcy found himself hiding his smile behind the dreary legal terminology, and avoiding Bingley’s questioning eyebrow that clearly wanted to know the joke that his sister had so completely missed.
Darcy sighed as he tipped his head back into the warm water. It had only been a twelve mile journey and had not even taken the whole morning, but it was with a feeling of great relief that he felt able to submit to the soothing water. Any sort of carriage ride where he had to be shut up in close proximity to Caroline Bingley was likely to bring on a headache. Add to that trying to read a document that was written by a man who wished to prove why one was giving him a great deal of money to write it! He should have ridden, but Darcy was not sure he even could have combined holding the reins and reading settlements.
Hertfordshire was supposed to be a blessed relief from the chaos that was London. For one, his aunt’s weeping at Snitterton’s impending departure had grated on Darcy’s nerves. While Darcy had no real reason to think that Fitzwilliam or his uncle would fail in their mission to put Snitterton on that ship, Darcy would not sigh a final sigh of relief until he’d opened the letter that definitively said his cousin had left England’s shores.
Nevertheless Darcy’d found himself unconsciously rubbing the back of his neck for the last stages of their journey. Thus he was unaccountably glad that Edwards first suggestion upon arriving was to fetch his master up a bath.
Darcy had been half expecting Mrs Bennet and her daughters to be in residence upon their arrival, but the house had been blessedly quiet. Bingley of course wanted to ride over immediately (particularly after Darcy had reported he had no changes to make to his and Miss Bennet’s marriage settlements) it had only been the sudden thought that he might pass his beloved on the way that made him wait.
Darcy approved of Bingley’s enthusiasm in theory but in practice it was prone to become overwhelming.
“Edwards, I must commend you on this excellent idea,” said Darcy, shaking his head, as his valet bustled around the small enclave in his chamber. Darcy had no idea why the dressing enclave would be at this end of the room for it was quite at the front of the house and overlooked the drive. It was a very pretty and practical view that seemed wasted for an area used solely for bathing and dressing. “I hope it was not a burden.” While it was Edward’s job to look after his master, Darcy did not wish him to be unnecessarily inconvenienced.
“No, sir. Netherfield’s servants were most organised. I cannot, however, take credit for the idea. Mrs Darcy indicated you were subjected to a most uncomfortable journey.”
Darcy tapped the edge of the tub lost in some thought. He was only distracted by the faint sound of something rumbling up the driveway outside and then Bingley’s shout for his servants to stand to attention.
Darcy wondered if he just put his head under the water, could he claim not to have heard the Bennets’ arrival? He would have thought Miss Bennet, if she could prevent her mother from insisting on greeting them, would have managed to restrain her until at least the morrow. The house was still being uncovered! Darcy did not understand that since Bingley had given plenty of warning for his arrival! But he should not judge, since the house had been without a competent mistress for some time, unlike Pemberley and his town house.
Edwards indicated that he was going to fetch more hot water, but before he could exit, pitcher in hand, Catherine burst through the connecting door, making Edwards give an almost imperceptible jump. Darcy was not quite so lucky: he lost his grip on the tub and almost very ungracefully slid under water.
She clearly wished to take advantage of the superior view from the windows in the room and did not notice his or his valet’s surprise.
“Oh! It is not Mama at all. It is Sir William!” she said, turning back to the room. She then appeared to take in the scene around her. “Oh!” she exclaimed again looking slightly flustered – “I had thought you would – “She didn’t finish her sentence and resolutely turned her eyes back to peering out of the panes of glass.
Darcy sat up and motioned to Edward that he would like his dressing gown.
Edwards held the garment up for Darcy to wrap himself in as he climbed out of the bath.
Sir William Lucas had not impressed Darcy; then again very few of the Meryton residents had done so. His sudden desire to completely turn his back on his previous life, his overzealous affability – they weren’t grievous faults but they grated. He did feel a sense of disappointment, he would have thought Sir William sensible of the proprieties – if not the courtesy – of leaving a man some time to settle back into his home before paying calls.
“I expect he wishes to be the first to congratulate Charles.”
Darcy blinked. Had he been speaking out loud? Catherine had finally turned from the window now that he was at least semi-clad.
“It is still the height of bad manners,” replied Darcy.
“You needn’t go downstairs to meet him. He’ll only want to see Charles,” Catherine spoke quite blithely.
Yet it nettled Darcy slightly. The implication that he must feel that to submit himself to Sir William’s company was beneath him. It might be the truth but Darcy resented the idea he was so transparent. That his foibles were so transparent!
“Darcy! Sir William has come to call!” said Miss Bingley unnecessarily and Darcy suspected she only spoke in order to mock.
That worthy man did not seem to notice. Either he was not quick witted enough, in which case it was cruel to ridicule him, or he was too polite to show his understanding, in which case he was a far better man than Miss Bingley was a lady.
Darcy bowed. “Sir William, it is a pleasure to see you again.”
“Yes! Yes!” Sir William looked somewhat nervous now. Darcy wondered if this was the reaction he would receive throughout the town.
Darcy made a polite observation about the weather and asked after Lady Lucas.
“Oh yes she is quite well. You must have heard that my eldest daughter was recently married - not long after – well quite!”
“I have had the pleasure of my aunt’s company in town, Sir William, and she assured me Mrs Collins is very much enjoying her new position. I understand you visited her for some time?”
This innocuous line of conversation was sustained for some time.
“I believe Mrs Bennet has many plans for the happy day! Such a blessed union!” said Sir William, looking warmly at Bingley.
Bingley beamed and looked ready to say something but Sir William continued. “I’ll wager a pretty sum that you’d wish all her parties and dinners to the depths of the ocean because they extend the time before you can bring your Mrs Bingley home! Such a desirous event!”
Bingley demurred.
“Mrs Bennet has the happiness of seeing two of her daughters marry well; it has quite transformed her,” said Sir William confidentially. “Mrs Darcy is quite well?”
Darcy who had begun to tune out Sir William’s raptures, in practice of having to hear them repeated constantly in the weeks leading up to the wedding, started at the question directed to him. “Very well.”
“Capital! Capital! What congratulations will flow in when more desirable events come upon us – eh Darcy?”
Darcy stiffened. Sir William could not be referring to what he thought he was referring to! The open conversation rather suggested it could not be, but the nodding and inclination of Sir William’s head suggested otherwise.
Sir William did not dwell on that line of questioning, instead asked Miss Bingley if she had yet had a chance to visit St James.
“It is intolerable. We are not five minutes in the house when we are inundated with a man who thinks that he could introduce me at St James Court! I could hardly keep my countenance. He must be highly forgetful because he has made me that offer before.”
“Caroline,” said Bingley wearily, “I expect he was merely being helpful.”
“Helpful! Do not be so stupid, Charles.”
Bingley made some retort that was out of character for him, but Darcy suspected Bingley was out of sorts because Sir William’s visit had made it almost impossible for him to attend to the business of Netherfield, overseeing the unpacking and deciding upon the feasibility of some renovations he had planned before his marriage and ride over to Longbourn.
Mrs Bennet would have been happy to see him at any hour, but Bingley was conscious of not wishing to appear completely devoid of sensibility to foist himself upon a family that was not expecting him. Or at least appear arrogant in making the assumption that they were expecting him.
Darcy made the silent prediction that the morning would either bring Mrs Bennet to Netherfield in the early hours saying that she had ordered dinner for Bingley and he was heartless for not arriving for it, or bring Bingley to Longbourn at the crack of dawn to hear the same reproach. Darcy could only be glad Bingley had not asked his advice on whether to ride over to Longbourn and thus he could not be blamed for the outcome.
Dinner was a subdued affair as Miss Bingley seemed to wish to vent her spleen in order to prepare herself for the privations of company she seemed to think she was about to encounter. Darcy wished he could openly roll his eyes as Catherine appeared to be doing.
Bingley sighed with relief when the ladies departed, “I know she is my sister, Darcy, but I do wish she could have gone with Louisa! I wish to enjoy my time with Jane before our marriage, not to wonder at who my sister has offended now!”
Darcy sipped his wine. “Where your sister offends – “ Darcy spread his hands wide “You can but remedy.”
Bingley cocked his head to one side.
“I think the society here will forgive your sister much because you are so very amiable to be marrying one of their Belles.”
“With that logic, Darcy, even you will be accepted!” said Bingley with a smile.
Darcy laughed.
Bingley went to join the ladies but Darcy decided his threshold of exposure to Miss Bingley’s wit had been reached and climbed the stairs to his chamber. Edwards was not expecting him but that did not prevent Darcy stripping off his jacket and removing his cravat.
The morrow would bring Mrs Bennet and the other worthy ladies of Meryton. He half hoped they would be as Bingley had described, or at the very least like Sir William – wary but affable. Although perhaps not as outspoken.
The door was pushed open slowly. “Darcy?”
“Yes?”
“You could not stand Miss Bingley’s company any more either?”
“No,” said Darcy honestly.
“I just wished to tell you before tomorrow to not mind Mama. Do not let her offend you. Most of the time she does not mean it.”
“Most of the time?” queried Darcy.
Catherine laughed. “You refused to dance with Lizzy. Not dancing with one of her daughters? That is a mortal sin from which you will never recover.”
Darcy snorted. Catherine moved from the door and reached up on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “Good Night.”
“Good Night, Catherine.”
Posted on Friday, 6 July 2007
“I understand from Aunt Phillips that Meryton thinks that Mrs Darcy would never patronise one of their unfashionable stores. Particularly since Jane bought most of her trousseau in town,” Lizzy whispered, amused.
“Well then!” said Kitty, linking arms with Lizzy. “I’ve always wanted to spend what I wanted in Warpole’s!”
Kitty and Lizzy had walked into Meryton. It had only been mere days since their arrival but Kitty was already feeling that it did not matter how much space there was, nowhere was big enough when Caroline Bingley was under the same roof.
Bingley had wished Jane to oversee some of the changes being wrought to Netherfield, since they were being made for her benefit; the changes to the mistress’ bedchamber and so forth. Jane of course was very happy to look through magazines and help pick out furnishings. So too was Mrs Bennet who had been denied the pleasure of helping with the wedding clothes as much as she would have liked.
Caroline Bingley however had strongly resisted, claiming that poor Jane should not have to shoulder such a responsibility, and insisted on being involved. Except of course when any decision had to be made she would absent herself, which meant that in the last three days no decision had even been made as to the colour of the new curtains in the breakfast room.
The fuss that was occurring quite overwhelmed Kitty and made her somewhat fondly think of the considerable lack of excitement over her own wedding. It had not been the ideal wedding preparations but at least it had not involved a committee of people arguing over whether chintz, damask or brocade was the best covering for the new dining room chairs.
Miss Bingley had declared herself the true arbiter of fashion. Jane in her goodness did not resent her soon to be sister’s involvement (an understatement in the extreme others; would say she had taken over). Mrs Bennet ignored this, merely continuing with her own plans. Only Lizzy truly disliked it and fully felt the barbs that her sister brushed off and her mother was incapable of seeing.
In truth it was both Kitty and Lizzy who found themselves in the role of attempting to keep the peace, with such different methods of doing so. Kitty’s efforts had exhausted her and she saw her sister’s temper rapidly fraying. So the walk into Meryton was proposed.
It was a relief to be able to pick some fabric without having an argument over it.
“I think it will do very well,” said Lizzy as they walked out of the shop, the wrapped parcel of fabric in Lizzy’s basket.
“Yes, but very well for what? It was very pretty…maybe I shall give it to Georgiana and she can make something of it. It would make a nice bonnet trim perhaps?”
Lizzy laughed, “Do not think of practicalities. Relish the fact we just decided on something without the walls of hell closing in upon us!”
The two girls continued their way up the street of Meryton. They’d stopped and talked politely to everyone who had greeted them upon entering the town and thus were not accosted as they made their way to the path that would lead them back to Netherfield.
Except of course for one man.
Lizzy had stiffened upon seeing him and Kitty had tried not to stifle a laugh.
“Miss Bennet, Mrs Darcy,” Mr Devinsham’s leg was executed with style.
“I had not thought to see you here, Mr Devinsham,” said Lizzy.
“You and your aunt were so eloquent on the beauties of this area that I had to come and see them for myself. I had intended to pay my respects to you at your home, but I see fate has intervened.”
“Yes, and I am afraid we are most busy, sir. The preparations for my sister’s wedding.”
“I thought that was some weeks away?” said Mr Devinsham, puzzled.
“It is, but my mother has planned a veritable gala of events,” smiled Kitty. It was like Lizzy to be so provoking to the poor young man. Lizzy was never good with young men who liked her very much indeed. “I am sure you will be welcome to join us, if you make our mother’s acquaintance.”
Kitty did not react even when Lizzy surreptitiously pinched her hand.
“Good day, Mr Devinsham,” said Lizzy brightly.
“Good day, Miss Bennet. Mrs Darcy,” he dipped his hat to them as they continued past him.
“Do not look at me like that, Lizzy! You never know, he may fall in love with Mary. Though I think it would be a poor exchange in his eyes.”
“He is not in love with me.”
“I think he likes you very much. He has followed you from town.”
Lizzy laughed. “Should I encourage him out of a sense of gratitude? No, I am not the sort of lady who torments a respectable young man.”
Kitty remained silent.
“I am almost one and twenty and have received no proposals of marriage,” said Lizzy almost to no one in particular.
“It is not so very old. Charlotte Lucas was twenty-seven,” commented Kitty.
Lizzy made a face. “And the man is everything that is conceited, pompous, narrow-minded and silly!”
Kitty wondered if it was a bad thing she was ticking off some of those flaws in her own husband.
“She wished only to be comfortable and respectable. I told Jane once that I could only marry for the deepest love. Charlotte disagreed with me. She said happiness in marriage is entirely by chance! That you always contrive to grow sufficiently unlike afterwards to have your share of vexation! That is what she said to me. I shall never forget it.”
“Because you were so disappointed that she did not think as you did,” said Kitty, squeezing Lizzy’s arm.
‘I expect so.” They walked on a bit further before Lizzy continued. “With Jane marrying we will be parted.”
“By three miles!” laughed Kitty, puzzling at her sister’s sudden thoughtfulness but also joyful that she had chosen to share it with her. That she accepted that Kitty could understand her thoughts and feelings.
“Jane will not be at Netherfield for long. Too close to Mama.”
“I hope it is not a short stay! Otherwise we have spent all this time preventing a feud over chairs and curtains that will soon be covered in cloth and used by someone else!” Kitty paused, “No, this is their own furniture is it not? For Bingley could not change the furniture as it exists if he is merely the tenant.” She stopped short.
“Kitty?”
“Where is all the current furniture going to be put?” Kitty almost wailed at the idea of Caroline Bingley foisting on her the responsibility of finding a place in Netherfield to put all the current owner’s furniture. Bingley was more than likely completely oblivious to the fact that everything would have to be moved somewhere. He was after all a man.
“Why do you think I was counselling Jane and Bingley to wait? But no, Mama must have new chairs for her newly married daughter!”
“Hang Mama,” said Kitty petulantly.
Lizzy laughed, “Kitty. You should not speak so!”
“No, I should not,“ she agreed. “But we were speaking of you.”
“We were indeed.”
“Being parted from Jane – though you are such an excellent correspondent.”
“True. But Jane was not so obliging as to fall in love with a member of parliament or a peer of the realm and thus we shall have to pay for the privilege of the post. I shall be lonely.”
“In a house with Mama, Papa, Mary and Lydia? Granted Papa and Mary make little noise unless Mary is playing the pianoforte, but Lydia and Mama cannot be said to be silent!”
“I was speaking of a different sort of silence.”
“Of course. I was merely trying to turn your mind to better things. Jane will wish you to visit her constantly.”
“Then I must ask myself whether I can be the means of ruining my sister’s happiness,” said Lizzy lightly.
“I do not think your presence can be considered any more harmful to marital felicity than the constant companionship of Caroline Bingley!”
“Yes, but could I hold my tongue in her presence?”
“I wish you would not.”
“Jane would wish that I would!”
“But you may stay with me. I have no Miss Bingley, only a Miss Darcy who is the dearest thing. And I can just as easily throw you into the path of other rich men as Jane will be able.”
“I do not think Mr Darcy would wish for such a long term guest.”
“He may easily avoid you. There are many cupboards,” Kitty consoled Lizzy.
Lizzy looked incredulous and Kitty had to shake her head and ask that Lizzy inquire no more. Not that Darcy would really hide in the cupboards from Lizzy. He’d been scrupulously polite to Sir William as far as Kitty could tell and the other people he had interacted with over the last days were the family from Longbourn and she could not blame him for avoiding her mother. Kitty was trying to avoid her mother.
“Are you sure you are quite well, Kitty? You do look a little pale.”
Kitty was surprised, “No, I am quite well. I am not used to such a walk of course. Mama will never forgive me if I fall ill.”
“I am not sure she will notice. I think she has forgotten that she has other daughters. Lydia is most put out, of course.”
“The soldiers are still encamped. She has distractions enough, although they leave soon do they not?”
“Lydia bore the removal of – “Lizzy paused.
“You may say his name. He holds no power over me.”
“…Wickham very well, as she always does. Out of sight, out of mind.”
“Just like me!” said Kitty. The limited letters she had received from her younger sister had been no surprise to Kitty. Neither was the sudden passion for her company when she had returned. Of course Kitty could not be the companion to Lydia that she had been when she had not been married. Indeed she did not wish to be that companion. Kitty wondered if Lydia realised this, since their interaction had only been confined to a tour of Netherfield and a fashion parade of Lydia’s new bonnets.
They were approaching Netherfield when the sound of horse hoofs made them turn. Darcy was thundering out of the forest; he’d clearly sought to escape too.
“If only Bingley had a docile mare, I could escape the house in that way too,” said Kitty.
Lizzy looked dubious. “Do you not mean if you could ride well enough?”
“Oh did I not tell you in London?” Kitty supposed she had not since that period of time was so confused and tumultuous. “Sir John taught me to ride, well to ride better than I could before!”
Kitty was glad she could say his name without betraying herself; betraying her ultimate folly to her sister who would not understand.
“Then it is a pity Mr Bingley does not have a suitable mount!” Lizzy put her hand over her eyes to watch the path Darcy was taking with his horse. The stallion seemed fidgety and he was clearly working out his fidgets by riding around somewhat aimlessly.
Of course, a lady had no such licence to remove her frustrations and Kitty commented as such.
“Well if there is no one to see…”
When they had been much younger and Kitty had preferred rocks and mountains to flirtations, she had walked more with Lizzy. Of course Jane and Lizzy would walk together with their heads pressed together, but occasionally when Jane was older and required by their mother Lizzy and Kitty would walk alone. Lizzy enjoyed running and frolicking about, and Kitty was quite sure she continued her exertions even now she was a grown woman. Sometimes Lizzy had teased Kitty into chasing her, but Kitty could never catch her.
With that remark Lizzy laughed and started towards the house. Even as a child she’d rarely given warning. There was little Kitty could do but, in the most lady-like fashion imaginable, lift up her skirts and run after her.
Kitty was sure she should not be quite this out of breath. She had not even been running fast!
“Lizzy, I do believe that was cheating!”
Lizzy looked impish as she stood on the lower steps leading into Netherfield.
“I thought the aim of a race was to be first at the finishing post; if so then Miss Bennet cannot be said to have won either,” Darcy had clearly returned to the house faster than either of them, as he stood on the landing.
“You had what I believe is called an unfair advantage,” retorted Kitty.
“Nevertheless – “
Anything he had been about to say and Kitty was not sure whether it would have been light teasing (of which he was rarely capable) or a remonstration that Mrs Darcy should not be haring about the countryside like a hoyden was cut off by Mrs Bennet bustling out the door.
“Heavens! Where have you been, child! And what have you been doing!”
Kitty had thought Mrs Bennet would have departed for Longbourn by now; after all it was there she was holding her dinner: the one that Bingley had promised to attend all those months ago before he had departed for London. It was only that thought that mollified her into not insisting on throwing the party from Netherfield itself.
“Mama, should you not be – “
“My turtle! Mr Smythe assured me that it would arrive! And now it is all ruined.”
“Mama I do not think we need discuss this now,” said Lizzy. Kitty noticed her watching Darcy warily.
“When shall we discuss it then? When everyone comes to my turtle soup dinner and finds no turtle! I shall be ruined.”
“Mama I doubt – “ Kitty could hardly get an word in edgewise but she forced herself into the flow of words babbling out of her mother’s mouth – “cannot you make mock turtle soup?”
“Mock Turtle Soup?! What a notion. You think I should want people to think that I cannot afford turtle?”
Kitty wished very much to tell her mother that she couldn’t afford turtle. Kitty had been aghast (almost as much as she had been when she’d seen such a recipe existed – after all who wanted to eat such a creature?) at how much money one would cost when she’d seen the recipe in one of Mrs Wilson’s book and asked Mrs Wilson why it was such an extravagant dish.
“But if you do not have one – “ Kitty tried to reason with her mother.
“I am afraid I cannot abide turtle. It makes me most unwell – “suddenly interjected Darcy.
“Oh. I did not realise,” said Mrs Bennet, suddenly noticing her son-in-law for the first time. “Of course we cannot have such a dish; everyone will understand the change now!”
Now the problem seemed to be what to serve. Kitty sighed as she accompanied her mother into the house. Kitty was sure she had brought the recipe for the soup she’d so admired at numerous houses; it was apparently brought back from India so it would be exotic enough for Mrs Bennet’s tastes. If only they had all the ingredients.
Sally unwound the curl and let it bounce into place; “There! Despite our obstacles you look very well.” Sally of course meant the fact that the whole house had been in such an uproar that Kitty had had barely enough time to dress herself before they were to depart. “If you do not mind me saying so, I suspect you will be above pleased when you return to London.”
“Oh do not tempt me, Sally, when there are so many more weeks! I love my family dearly but Mama is zealous.”
Sally smiled, “I shall just fetch your cloak, ma’am.”
Kitty had a change of heart over the necklace she was wearing and placed several others up against her neck to admire them in the mirror. She could hear Sally’s greeting of Darcy behind her, and saw her quick curtsey in the reflection.
“I shall not be much longer.”
“It does not much signify,” replied Darcy.
“Thank you for your help with Mama.”
Darcy twisted his signet ring. “I do not suppose it will stop Miss Bingley insisting on holding her own turtle dinner now.”
“You will have to remember not to have any.”
“That shall be easy. I was not lying; I cannot abide the dish.”
“I will endeavour to remember it,” said Kitty, who rejoiced in the notion she would not have to ever serve such a dish.
Darcy seemed slightly aimless, fingering the package for Georgiana that was still lying wrapped upon the dresser. “I hope Georgiana will be able to join us soon.”
“Indeed,” said Kitty, “I miss her.”
“Perhaps her improved spirits can only but help your sister in her battle of wills against Miss Bingley and Mrs Bennet.”
“Jane has never engaged in any sort of battle!”
“It is to her detriment. Though I suppose they are both of a pair. Too obliging. Their servants will cheat them.”
Kitty laughed, “I do not think Bingley such a simpleton. Having a good heart does not require one to be stupid.”
“No, it does not,” Darcy looked thoughtful.
Kitty was still undecided over the necklace she wished to wear. Since Sally was not in the room she could only ask Darcy for his opinion.
“None of them,” was his reply.
Kitty thought she’d make a very strange sight if she wore no necklace. Neither her earrings, dress or hairstyle were dramatic enough to need no adornment. She was about to make this comment to Darcy when he placed a box in front of her. Her questioning look was only greeted with a command to open it.
Kitty opened the box and inside was a necklace. A triangular net of emeralds glittered back at her, connected by delicate silver chains. It was impressive in its simplicity. Kitty was not sure what she had done to deserve such a present. Darcy seemed to sense her slight confusion.
“I missed your birthday.”
Kitty smiled. He not so much as missed it as had behaved abominably but Kitty would not quibble. There was no question that she would wear this necklace now. Not only because it was breathtakingly beautiful but because he had made the effort and Kitty would not rebuff him.
It was easy to remove the necklace she already wore, but Kitty always had difficulty with the catches when she tried to put on any necklace.
“Here,” Darcy took the ends of the necklace from her and fixed it in place. He left his hand on her neck, idly fingering the delicate chains, as he looked into the mirror admiring both her and the necklace. “You look very well.”
“Thank you,” smiled Kitty. “I would not look half as well if I did not have this.”
Darcy shook his head, “You should learn to accept a compliment graciously.”
Kitty laughed, “You should learn to accept gratitude with equanimity.”
Darcy stiffened. “I do not think this deserves gratitude. It is only right – “
“Do not spoil the moment,” said Kitty, craning her neck to look at him properly and not through the mirror.
Darcy inclined his head at her, clearly in acceptance of the critique. Kitty smiled and turned back to examine herself in the mirror once more. A thumping sound below them made Kitty realise that the hour must be growing late.
“Once more into the breach,” said Darcy.
Kitty laughed as she stood, “It’s a dinner party at my mother’s; we are not fighting the French.”
Darcy raised an eyebrow and Kitty was forced to concede the point.
Posted on Thursday, 12 July 2007
Darcy eyed the spare pack of cards. He’d always been slightly wary of the Whist custom to have two packs of cards at play to save time between hands. Sir John had probably manipulated that spare pack of cards to implicate Snit in cheating. Darcy did not feel much guilt over the knowledge since he did not doubt it was Snit who taught Sir John. Although Darcy found now that Fitzwilliam had written of Snit’s departure, Darcy could think of him almost with equanimity.
The fact he could spend so long contemplating the customs instead of the game itself spoke volumes about his partners. He’d sat at this table because he was not under any circumstances sitting with Mrs Long. It had meant that he was partnering Mrs Goulding. Mr Robinson and Lady Lucas were also of their table.
Mrs Goulding could never remember trumps and seemed too interested in the goings on around her to actually pay attention to who had already played what card. It was only the last vestige of Darcy’s pride that prevented him from merely randomly throwing out his cards.
Mrs Bennet kept a good table and the dinner had been pleasant enough. Their cook had perhaps gone overboard in the spices for the opening soup but that was neither here nor there. The focus of the evening was not himself but Bingley and that gentlemen took the attention well.
Darcy had been alternatively surprised and unsurprised by the townsfolk’s reactions to his presence that evening. Some whispering, but not as much as had occurred in town; when they had seen that he was not adverse to conversation – not that anyone had engaged him in a conversation deeper than that of the weather – even that had ceased. He would never be a favourite and that did not worry him a great deal, but he was reassured that their behaviour would not upset Georgiana when she arrived and nor would it upset Catherine.
Of course this was only their specific behaviour towards himself and his wife; as to their general behaviour they were as much as they ever were. Lady Lucas had asked him outright about Bingley’s plans for purchasing an estate, and Mrs Goulding had hinted that perhaps Mrs Bennet was exaggerating Mr Bingley’s worth.
Darcy had directed their attention back to the game, perhaps not as skilfully as others may have done, but he hoped he had not given offence.
“Oh!” cried Mrs Goulding when they lost yet another trick.
“Another game lost, Mr Darcy,” said Lady Lucas. “Though I expect you play for higher stakes in town.” Lady Lucas appeared to think it unfashionable to play for such low stakes.
Darcy did not agree with the sort of gambling that was rife amongst his peers but he was not adverse to playing at his clubs on occasion. Nevertheless the enjoyment should be drawn from the game, not the potential winnings.
“I am afraid if I did, Lady Lucas, I would find myself in difficulties.”
“I do not believe that, Mr Darcy. If you but had a better partner!” cried Mrs Goulding.
“You give me too much credit,” replied Darcy.
Mrs Goulding laughed. “I was not at all paying attention. I would have played Lottery tickets, but I thought that best left for those who are far more boisterous than I.”
Lady Lucas continued upon this theme, “I never guess correctly. If one has a good memory than one might guess later on in the game but…”
The conversation strayed to the types of games preferred by the young and this allowed Darcy the chance to look around the room without seeming as if he was doing so.
Apart from the whist tables and the lottery table, the rest of the party seemed content to make conversation.
“My husband may wish to join the game – “ suddenly commented Mrs Goulding managing to translate the body language of her husband standing stiffly on the other side of the room. “I expect he has just spoken to Sir William about the fields. I wish they would not talk such business at a dinner engagement, it always ends in hurt feelings!”
Lady Lucas agreed, and Darcy took it as a sign to relinquish his seat to the older gentlemen. Perhaps he would know his wife well enough to predict which cards she was likely to play and thus which cards were needed to win tricks for them.
Darcy accepted a cup of coffee from one of the young ladies. He had been introduced to her all those months ago but he could not remember her name. He felt embarrassed by that and resolved to ask Catherine. He was determined to behave civilly and the least he could do was know names.
“Oh Lord!” Lydia Bennet was sitting quite near him and she looked most put out. Mrs Bennet had apparently invited only Colonel Forster and his wife, thus there were no soldiers for her to flirt with. Darcy had heard her bemoaning her mother’s cruelty in not allowing her to spend all the time the soldiers had left with them. Darcy could only think that Mrs Bennet’s preoccupation with her eldest daughters marriage had lead to an excellent outcome. Even if it was unintended.
“Mary is going to sing!”
“Hush!” said Miss Lucas.
“Hush! You should tell her to hush. Kitty! Kitty! Tell Mary not to sing.”
Darcy had not seen his wife move across the room. She ignored her sister until she was closer.
“Mary would not listen to me even if I should ask her, and why should she not sing? We are all friends here.”
“She will sing something dreadfully dull.”
“It is not as if there is anyone to dance with, Lydia. Is that not what you said before dinner?”
Miss Lydia seemed put out at such logic. “Very well. But I shall not sit here and listen to her.”
It then dawned on Darcy that if he remained seated where he was, he would have to listen to Mary Bennet. Yet he could hardly move without appearing as if he was fleeing her.
“The only consolation is everyone else with manners is trapped here as well,” Catherine had joined him on the sofa.
Darcy spoke in an undertone, “Is she likely to sing for –“
“She used to practice for hours.” Darcy thought at first she was teasing him but then he realised she was serious. After all, Darcy’s only recollection of Miss Mary’s singing had been at the Netherfield Ball where she had been silenced after only a song but only by the intervention of Mr Bennet.
Indeed from the first note Darcy could tell that the song would be interminable. He recognised it as one that Georgiana had learnt to play the previous summer; he had found it long and not his tastes when she had recited it.
He attempted not to wince when she did not hit any of the right notes during one of the refrains. Why did she insist on displaying her accomplishments? Was not a lady’s true accomplishment understanding what she did best? If this required her not to sing nor play the pianoforte then that must be the case.
Beside him Catherine waved her fan, looking slightly heated. Mrs Bennet had certainly chosen the maximum number of guests for her rooms.
“It is not any worse than Miss Peaterson at Mrs Sharp’s,” whispered Catherine from behind the fan.
“Perhaps, because we are spared the harp accompaniment.”
“We don’t have a harp. Though I think Mama wishes Bingley to present Jane with one.”
“I shall exercise my considerable powers of influence and beg he will not.”
They clapped politely as Mary Bennet finished her song and hunted for the music for her next song.
“I hoped that you should.” Catherine paused looking around at the rest of the party. “At least no one has attempted to cheat at cards, cast aspersions on our lineage or wish to shoot someone.”
Darcy laughed. No, those faults were peculiar to his own family.
“If we were to stand up now we may make our escape,” mused Catherine. “Would you play piquet with me?”
Darcy looked over puzzled by her request. “Piquet?”
“You do know how to play? What a silly question; of course you do.”
“I was merely surprised at your interest. I understood you had learnt but -”
“Yes, it is not popular in Meryton, at least not at private gatherings. Though, I suspect gentlemen play it over their cups. Colonel Fitzwilliam, Mr Lewis and Sir John all had a hand in teaching it to me, but I still do not understand it at all.”
“It merely requires practice,” said Darcy. “And a piece of paper.” Darcy stood as it became increasingly obvious that Miss Mary had found her sheet music.
Catherine took his proffered arm and they went in search of cards.
Darcy patted his horse’s mane. Well it was technically one of Bingley’s thoroughbreds, but Darcy had commandeered it for the duration. Darcy remembered telling Bingley that he’d find the society around Netherfield something savage. His friend had disagreed. What they had not disagreed upon was the prospect of Netherfield although Darcy had been less zealous in his pronouncements.
When they had been here last year, the rides Darcy took around the area had increased his opinion of the area, at least of its nature. Now he had become reacquainted and he would be tempted to say it was something more than pretty if anyone asked. Nothing to Pemberley of course! But the peaks of Derbyshire were a sight not to be matched by many others.
Although Darcy had to wonder whether this appreciation for the countryside was because it represented escape! He did not have to converse with anyone as he whisked by on horseback. He could merely give them a neighbourly nod. No one could say he thought the countryside nothing at all, if he spent all his time in it.
But he could not spend all of his time riding about, it was growing late and more than one person would be displeased if he failed to present himself properly at the house.
Darcy noticed upon approach that Netherfield had visitors. The carriage and horses were being attended to near the stables. It was most likely members of the Bennet clan and Darcy reminded himself he should really learn what their carriage looked like.
However, in case it was not the Bennets Darcy chose to take the back stairs. He would rather not expose himself to ridicule by walking through the front of the house in all his dirt if the visitors were revealed to be some other worthy resident of the neighbourhood.
He took the stairs two at a time, holding his hat and crop in one hand, grasping the banister. He turned a corner and almost collided with Miss Elizabeth Bennet struggling with a chair.
“I do apologise,” said Darcy slightly out of breath.
“No need I assure you. No one was at fault.”
“You appear to be carrying a chair,” said Darcy, nonplussed.
“As you can see,” said Miss Elizabeth tartly.
“Do you require some assistance?”
“If you would be so kind,” she placed the chair back on the ground. He recognised it as being one of the ornate chairs placed along the wall in one of the receiving rooms. What use it could be being dragged downstairs Darcy did not know.
A thump came from above them, and Catherine came into view, also trying to manoeuvre a chair down the stairs. She looked hot and somewhat fatigued.
Darcy moved up the flight of stairs to carry the chair down to the landing that the other one stood upon. Whether it was to save his wife the effort or rescue the chair from the rough handling he did not know.
“What are you doing?”
Catherine gave him a look of disbelief. “Moving the furniture.”
Darcy was tempted to say he could see that. “But why?”
She looked annoyed. “Have you not been paying attention?”
Darcy wanted to ask when he had ever paid any attention to furniture but he was acutely aware of Miss Elizabeth’s presence.
“These are the chairs that Charles leased from Mr – oh whatever his name is. I can only remember that he was fa – rotund. He is buying new chairs for Jane. So these chairs must be removed.”
That Darcy could understand; what he could not understand was why they were being brought down from the upper floors.
His wife sighed. “We took them upstairs to put them under Holland covers. But apparently Miss Bingley and Mama think the room looks bare without them and the new chairs are not arriving until – “ She broke off looking at her sister.
“I beg you would not ask me!” said Miss Elizabeth. “You see, Mr Darcy, the whole house is in uproar!”
“Could not you find someone to assist?”
“Between Mama, Miss Bingley and Mr Bingley there is not a servant to be got,” replied Catherine. “It seemed easier to do it ourselves. I assure you I am quite capable of carrying a chair.”
“As am I!” added her sister, “Unless you think that country ladies are incapable?”
Darcy ignored her teasing comment. He did not think any lady should carry chairs up and down stairs, particularly ones that were not her own, because someone kept changing their mind. He could not abide that weakness of character.
“I assure you, Miss Bennet, I do not think you incapable. You will find that I am also quite capable of moving furniture. I beg that you would – “
“Escape while there is still an opportunity?” put in Catherine, looking relieved. “You do not need to ask me twice,” she replied before fleeing back up the stairs.
Miss Elizabeth curtseyed and followed her sister, a smile playing at her lips, but Darcy could not tell if it was a genuine or bittersweet smile.
So he was left with the chairs.
“Bingley, I would speak to you,” Darcy had avoided Mrs Bennet and had merely put in an appearance to wave them off, with Mrs Bennet’s regrets that she had ordered such a fine dinner of her own that she and her daughters could not stay and partake of Netherfield’s.
“Darcy! Where have you been hiding yourself? Of course I know how you detest balls and would rather go to bed, but I had thought you would like to reign in my extravagance. Although you would have a hard time in convincing me of it. I wish to show everyone my love for Jane.”
“Is it important that everyone see your love in such a way? Is it not enough that she knows it?”
Bingley smiled. “Of course it is enough that Jane knows how I feel about her. She is an angel. But I should like everyone to know what joy she brings me.”
Darcy smiled, “Very well. But I did not come to talk to about the ball.”
“It is not the settlements – “
“No, Bingley,” said Darcy.
“Then what can make you look as serious as you did when you entered the room?”
“May I ask you why I found Catherine arranging your furniture? Carrying the chairs up and down the stairs – “Darcy stopped because he saw the look of ignorance on Bingley’s face. “You have not been attending to the furniture either? ”
“I had not realised.” Bingley sat on the side of his desk and ran a hand through his hair. “Caroline insists on being difficult. Of course she is too well-bred - “ Darcy could not believe Bingley could be sincere when he commented on his sister’s breeding, but it was Bingley; maybe he could be sincere about such a thing. “ to openly flout my wishes. She just … I did not realise that Kitty was arranging the things that Caroline ought to be. She should of course only carry your chairs.”
Darcy wondered if planning a ball and forthcoming nuptials had affected his friend’s mind – “I do not think Catherine should be required to carry any furniture. At any time.”
“Of course. I will speak to Caroline.”
“Why do you not just involve Miss Bennet more? It shall be her home. I have been told that young ladies like to change things to suit themselves. This way the changes will happen once. Bingley, you cannot spend your life allowing others to dictate to you and being in love does not give you licence to neglect your responsibilities.”
Bingley nodded. “I do not wish to see Caroline’s reaction, but she shall have to come to terms with my marriage.” Bingley turned to look at Darcy, “I think that she had more hopes than you did of my marrying Georgiana.”
Darcy offered Bingley a drink.
“By the by, Darcy, did you mean that I should not allow you to dictate to me, as you were giving me a dictate?”
“I of course meant following no more dictates after you had followed mine, “ Darcy kept a straight face.
Bingley laughed then he sobered. “Why does marriage have to be so difficult?”
Mr Goulding patted the mare’s mane, and held his pipe in the other, a rather unfashionable pasttime Darcy had thought. He’d certainly seen young Mr Goulding with snuff. “She’s a good beast. My silly chit took a fall from her – her fault, not the mare’s – and now won’t even look at a horse.”
Darcy inferred that Mr Goulding was talking about his daughter, for whom the other man had bought the horse.
“I do not believe that will be of long duration. It is difficult to recover one’s pride after a fall,” commented Darcy, who was still examining the animal.
“You do not know my daughter. It is fashionable to ride, so she must ride. Of course she has little expectation of what that entails; it is not merely sitting atop and looking pretty.”
Darcy did not know Miss Goulding (except for seeing her across rooms at various gatherings) but he rather suspected he knew a great deal of women like her. “Then you had better not sell the animal.” Darcy had become entangled in a conversation with Mr Goulding at the Lucas’s as that man had wished to avoid an argument with their host. He’d been surprised that Mr Goulding had not approached him with the same superficiality that other gentleman of the area had done so. Perhaps Mr Goulding saw nothing wrong in what Darcy was presumed to have done, or he did not mind Darcy’s taciturn nature. Darcy had begun to think it was the latter which affected reactions towards him more.
Mr Goulding did not seem perturbed though and had spent some time discussing his problems with his fields and those that backed onto Sir William’s. Darcy found it comforting to know he could provide advice, and that there were those in the area that were happy to accept his advice. After all managing an estate was something he was more proficient in than others. When Mr Goulding had mentioned he was going to have to sell one of his horses, Darcy had felt no discomfort in questioning him more about the animal.
“I confess I may have had some plan in that direction,” said Mr Goulding.
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“I would be right in thinking that Bingley has no animal suitable for a young lady?” Darcy nodded. “Then I see no reason why you should not borrow mine. It is the country way.” Mr Goulding smiled widely.
“And your daughter may suddenly realise the benefits of riding once more and your expense will not be for nothing?”
Mr Goulding puffed on his pipe; “I see we understand each other.”
“Riding?” Catherine looked perturbed. Darcy thought for a moment he had overestimated her abilities, “But the ball – “
“Does not need you,” replied Darcy. His wife frowned and Darcy caught the implication of his words. “It is not your responsibility. You have done enough. “
She did not seem to need much more convincing; she returned in much less time than he would have allotted in a riding habit. It was different to the one she’d worn in London for her lessons. This one was certainly in line with the fashion for military style adornments.
“I thought you said there would be no fighting of the French?”
“It is much admired in London,” said Catherine laughing. “Georgiana has a walking dress in this fashion; Fitzwilliam said we were being suitably patriotic.”
“Fitzwilliam would say that,” said Darcy as he helped her mount and handing her a riding crop.
“It is a pity it is not hunting season,” said Catherine letting the horse fidget a little. Darcy eyed the mare warily as he hoisted himself into his saddle; he hoped that his idea would not turn out to be a bad one.
“I had thought this to be a restful activity.”
Catherine gave him a peculiar look.
“Riding is preferable to a ball, or even planning for one.”
“Indeed,” she replied. “There is a pretty little copse to the east, shall we go there?”
Darcy thought he knew the spot she meant and nodded. It was an easy enough ride and would make for a pleasant afternoon.