Mr. Darcy Came to Dinner

by Jack Caldwell

  Fitzwilliam Darcy was not like other men. For a Darcy to complain was ungentlemanly; such had been his lesson from a young age. Besides, his mind was exceedingly — and distressingly — preoccupied.

  “Sir,” asked Bartholomew, “shall we return to your bedroom?”

  “No,” said Darcy at once. “I need a change of scenery. Pray take me somewhere else.”

  Bartholomew pushed Darcy into the sitting room, and the manservant was happy to see a fire in the grate. Positioning his master in an armchair and footstool close to the fireplace and told by the same that he wanted nothing but peace, the valet returned to the parlor sickroom and his duties there.

  Darcy stared at the coals, continuing his contemplation of the conversation he inadvertently had heard in the garden. The two ladies may have spoken in low tones, but the slight breeze carried every word to Darcy’s increasingly distraught ears.

  Miss Elizabeth hated him! It was inconceivable, but it was true. He had heard the lady’s denouncement of him from her own lips! She found him proud, aloof, and overbearing — his manners bad, his actions painful, and his attentions to her ignored. How could this have come to pass?

  Darcy saw at once the seeds of his disappointment — his own unthinking words to Bingley at that blasted assembly! Darcy disliked public gatherings generally and crowded dances particularly, both in Town and in the country. He was always uncomfortable with strangers and distant acquaintances. He never knew what to say; he had no ear for conversation like Bingley or Fitz. He had borne this cross all his life.

  The Meryton event was untimely as well. It had been mere weeks since Ramsgate, certainly less than two months. He only said what he did to Bingley to have his friend leave off. He would have said the same about a princess of the realm. Darcy did not intend that the lady would hear his words, but he had no idea that she would have taken them so seriously. Why had he spoken so loudly?

  Was it any wonder Miss Elizabeth gave no credence to his attentions? She had taken his words to heart. She had disliked him from the very beginning. His joke about his “tolerable leg” had fallen as flat as he had from his horse.

  But what of their conversations at Netherfield? He treated her as he treated no other woman in his life. He tried to be careful, tried not to raise expectations, but he could not help himself. He listened to her, debated her, and laughed with her.

  Darcy reconsidered Miss Elizabeth’s actions. Perhaps she was laughing at him.

  “Mr. Darcy has done nothing but impress me with his conceit and selfish disdain for the feelings of others,” she had said. How could he have done that?

  Snippets of conversations with Miss Elizabeth returned to him — of dances refused, of accomplishments of women, of implacability of temper, of whether pride could be held under good regulation.

  “Your defect is a propensity to hate everybody,” she had said. Had she really believed that about him?

  Apparently she did.

  Oh, good God!

  Darcy fell into a temper, a debate raging in his mind. Justifications for his actions and conduct warred with the reality that the perception of his character by the one woman in the world he wanted to impress was unfavorable. His headache only added to his misery.

  It was during this silent struggle that Darcy’s solitude was broken by Miss Mary Bennet. She entered the room with a sheaf of music under one arm, obviously intending to practice upon the pianoforte in the corner. She started at Mr. Darcy’s presence.

  “Oh, you are out of your room! I did not know you could — pray, excuse me. I shall practice another time.” While her words were all that was correct and polite, her tone was not. She was disappointed and peeved at the hindering of her intended activity.

  Darcy heard the unpleasantness in her voice, and his initial inclination was to thank her for leaving, but just then Miss Elizabeth’s words returned to haunt him. “Conceit and selfish disdain for the feelings of others.”

  Is that what you believe, Elizabeth, my fine country beauty? Well, we shall see about that!

  “No, Miss Mary, do not leave, please,” he said kindly. “This is your house, and you obviously look forward to your time with the instrument. I am the guest here. Pray, come and practice. I hope my presence does not disturb you.”

  Mary looked askew at Darcy, her expression clearly saying that she was surprised at his statement. She paused for a moment and then slowly made her way across the room to the pianoforte. She sat down, ruffled through her music for a selection, and proceeded to play.

  Almost at once, Darcy regretted his gallantry. Mary had selected a ponderous religious canticle, and unfortunately for Darcy’s ears, the chord changes were beyond the lady’s talents. What was worse, Miss Mary thought she could improve her performance by attacking the keyboard. Gritting his teeth, he tried to suffer through her recital, but the loud poundings from both the pianoforte and his head were too much for him.

  Mary must have noticed his discomfort, for the music ended abruptly, her face flushed in mortification.

  “It is apparent you are not enjoying yourself, sir. I think it best that I leave.”

  Darcy was determined to prove Miss Elizabeth wrong. He would be a pleasant gentleman, no matter how it hurt. “I am afraid I must admit to a headache. I regret that such a . . . passionate . . . performance is more than I can bear at present.”

  “I am very sorry,” she mumbled, her eyes watering.

  “But stay, I beg you,” continued he. “I am sure that music is just the thing I need to soothe my head. Perhaps something lighter and softer?” Please!

  “Are you certain?”

  “Yes. My sister’s playing has had just that effect, and I suspect yours will, too.”

  Mary frowned, doubt written on her face, but she dutifully searched through the music before her. “Here is a lullaby that might serve.”

  The room was soon filled with a light and cheery air, played at a soft volume, and to Darcy’s surprise, the pain in his head did lessen somewhat. He sat back in the armchair, the sounds washing over him, and felt rather pleased with himself.

  The music done, Mary asked with trepidation, “Is your head any better, sir?”

  “Indeed it is,” Darcy answered truthfully. “You played that piece beautifully.”

  “You . . . you liked it?” It was apparent that Mary did not hear much praise for her playing.

  “Yes. Would it be too much to ask for another?”

  Mary’s eyes opened in astonishment before a bright smile broke out. It made her look rather pretty, Darcy considered. The girl immediately searched the pages for another lullaby, eager to fulfill her audience’s request.

  As she bent to her music, Darcy surreptitiously observed the young lady. Her eager desire for approval was much like Georgiana, he saw, although her talents were not of the same caliber. But, did not Georgiana practice constantly, and had she not the benefit of music masters? Mrs. Annesley aided his sister in her studies of languages, art, and music, as well as serving as her companion. This poor girl lacked his sister’s advantages. How much might Miss Mary improve with help? Darcy lightly applauded at the conclusion of the song.

  “You liked it, too?” Mary clasped her hands together in elation. “Oh, I am so glad!”

  “I did. You enjoy playing very much, I see.”

  “I do, but I do not receive many requests to continue.” Mary looked at him with big, watery eyes. “You are the first.” Her lip trembled.

  His heart breaking, Darcy replied, “I am honored to be the first of many, I expect.”

  Mary made a sound half-way between a sob and a giggle. “Would you like another song? I am not tiring you?”

  Darcy smiled. “I am at your disposal.”

  Mary took a breath to collect herself and had just begun playing when they were interrupted by Mrs. Bennet and, to Darcy’s surprise, Georgiana.

  “There you are, Mr. Darcy!” Mrs. Bennet cried. “Who is that playing? Mary? My goodness child, why are you bothering Mr
. Darcy?”

  Darcy interjected before Mary could take offence. “I have enjoyed the concert very much. Georgiana, welcome!”

  “Brother, I am so happy to see you up and about.” Georgiana had a mysterious twinkle in her eye as she gave Darcy a kiss on the cheek. “Miss Mary, please do not stop. That song was very pretty.”

  “I thank you, but surely you wish to spend some time with your brother.”

  “I shall — after my trunk has been unpacked.”

  Darcy’s ears pricked up. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Your room is all ready,” Mrs. Bennet gushed. “Mrs. Hill had the staff clean the guest room from top to bottom after that unpleasant Mr. Collins quit it. You and your companion shall be as comfortable in there as any room in all of Hertfordshire, I declare!”

  Georgiana smiled. “I am sure of it. Thank you for all you have done.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Darcy repeated sharply.

  Mary brightened. “Are you staying at Longbourn, Miss Darcy?”

  “Yes!” said the heiress. “Perhaps we may play the pianoforte together. My companion, Mrs. Annesley, will be coming soon. Would you care to join me for my music lessons?”

  Mary was beside herself. “What a wonderful idea!”

  Darcy lost his composure. “Will someone please tell me what is going on?”

  “You do not need to raise your voice,” Georgiana scolded him. “Now that Mr. Collins has left Longbourn, there is a room available for me. Mrs. Bennet was kind enough to agree to house both Mrs. Annesley and me while you are convalescing.”

  “But . . . but Netherfield — ”

  His sister cut him off firmly. “Netherfield is too far away for me to take proper care of you. And I shall take care of you.”

  “Is your companion without, Miss Darcy?” asked Mrs. Bennet.

  “No, madam, but her letter said she should arrive in Hertfordshire this afternoon. Colonel Fitzwilliam will direct her to Longbourn when she reaches Netherfield.”

  “Well, we will make her very welcome when she arrives!”

  “Georgiana, I really must protest — ”

  Georgiana would not hear his objections. “It is quite useless, Fitzwilliam; I am decided.” She turned to Mrs. Bennet. “May I see the room now?”

  “Of course, of course! Right this way. Mary, attend us. Good day, Mr. Darcy. Hill! Oh, Hill! Miss Darcy is here! See that her things are brought upstairs. Hill, where are you?”

  A moment later, a bewildered Darcy found himself all alone in the sitting room. He did not like his will overruled, but he had to be thankful that his injury had reignited Georgiana’s confidence. It had reignited his headache as well.

  It seems you were wrong, Elizabeth, he mused. If I am such an overbearing ogre, how is it that I have lost control?

  * * *

  Charlotte enjoyed meeting the calf, and the distraction gave Elizabeth time to reconsider her conversation with her friend. To her shame, she knew she had been unfair to Mr. Darcy. Yes, he had been overbearing at times, but he was in pain — because of her carelessness, she reminded herself. She also recalled that she was a less than compliant patient when she was ill.

  To give Mr. Darcy his due, he had been kind to her mother and sisters, and he had been very good to the servants. She wished Mr. Darcy would treat her father better, but Mr. Bennet had been very difficult of late. Elizabeth was still concerned over the issue of buying Mr. Wickham’s debts, but after further contemplation, she realized that no one could force her father to spend funds if he was unwilling. If Mr. Bennet had participated in helping the merchants of Meryton, she expected her father thought he could afford it.

  Surpassing all else, the service he had rendered in protecting her from Mr. Collins was so great as to make her now feel ashamed of her slights against Mr. Darcy’s character.

  She confessed all to Charlotte, and even though they still disagreed as to Mr. Darcy’s opinion in regard to herself, Elizabeth parted from her friend with a relieved conscience and a resolve to treat Mr. Darcy better.

  Elizabeth re-entered Longbourn in the middle of the hustle and bustle of Miss Darcy’s surprising arrival. She was thankful to have the opportunity to spend more time with Miss Darcy; she felt that many of the answers to the mystery of her brother lay with the young lady.

  But Mr. Bennet watched the proceedings grimly. “Well, Lizzy, what say you to this turn of events?”

  “I am sure Mr. Darcy will be pleased to enjoy more of his sister’s company.”

  “Of course. But it falls to me to have two more mouths to feed. Yes — two more. Miss Darcy’s companion is to join us before the day is done. Mr. Darcy’s misadventure is becoming more expensive by the day.” With that, Mr. Bennet retired to his book room.

  Elizabeth blanched. While the Bennets were far from destitute, surely her father would feel the additional expense. Her inattention had cost her father a great deal of money, she reflected with remorse. She decided not to bring up the subject of Mr. Wickham’s debts.

  All of Elizabeth’s sisters greeted their new guest warmly, save Lydia. With the news of Wickham’s fall from grace, which she alone bemoaned, and wary of offending the heiress again, Lydia gave the girl a wide berth and remained uncharacteristically silent when in the same room. Lydia’s pouting face was an embarrassment to Elizabeth, but Miss Darcy showed her good breeding and pretended not to notice.

  Every moment Elizabeth spent in the young lady’s company raised her opinion of Mr. Darcy’s sister. She was good natured and unpretentious, and the initial shyness displayed upon her introduction to the Longbourn family was much reduced. Miss Darcy was a wonderfully charming girl of sixteen and, unlike Lydia, had no intention of acting as if she were older. By the time tea was called, Elizabeth was well on her way to loving the girl as much as if she were a sister.

  Tea brought several guests. Mr. Bingley came, to Jane’s understated delight, as did Colonel Fitzwilliam, which sent Kitty and Lydia into raptures. Miss Bingley and the Hursts were also in attendance, which pleased no one. They did not hide their surprise and disapprobation of Miss Darcy’s removal to Longbourn, and only the colonel’s enthusiastic endorsement of his ward’s actions stopped their subtle disparagement of the scheme.

  There was also a new addition to the party: Mrs. Annesley, Miss Darcy’s companion, had arrived from Town. She was a stately woman of a certain age, well versed in manners and conversation. Both Darcys were pleased to see her, but Elizabeth was surprised at Mary’s reaction. Seldom had her pious and withdrawn sister seemed so happy to make a new acquaintance. Elizabeth could only wonder at it.

  Still feeling guilty for her unfortunate conversation with Charlotte about Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth endeavored to atone for her lapse in good manners. She made every attempt to pay the gentleman particular attention. She tried to engage him in conversation, kept her witty observations to herself, and smiled more than usual.

  However, she was less successful than she hoped. While Mr. Darcy accepted her attentions with civility, Elizabeth could do nothing to arouse his interest. He seemed essentially as he was when he first came to Hertfordshire — coldly polite and saying only the bare minimum before falling silent. Having enjoyed his more pleasant behavior over the last few days, the lady was vexed to see him go back to his taciturn ways.

  Vexation soon turned into mortification when it quickly became apparent to Elizabeth that Mr. Darcy was only reserved with her. With everyone else, he was open and friendly. He complimented Jane on her dress, spent several minutes in conversation with Mary, and even laughed at one of Mrs. Bennet’s silly jokes! His contradictory behavior to her was so obvious that her mother sent Elizabeth a nervous, quizzical look, as if to ask what she had done to displease the gentleman.

  Mr. Darcy was an enigma, Elizabeth concluded.

  With so many talented ladies in the room, it followed that the instrument was opened and put to good use. Miss Darcy refused the opening honors, a post Miss Bingley filled with alacrity. Her performanc
e was of a kind like those in the past — technically correct, but rather mechanical and cold. It was then Elizabeth’s turn, and her playing won approval from all — it was the only spark she could generate in Mr. Darcy’s eyes that evening.

  Mary was delightfully surprising. Rather than some over-long dirge, her simple county tune was so well received that she was encouraged to play an encore. Never had Elizabeth seen Mary so happy. The strange thing was the affectionate look she sent to Mr. Darcy and the gentleman’s small smile in return. The exchange made Elizabeth wonder whether her plain sister was falling in love with their guest.

  Finally, Miss Darcy was compelled to take to the pianoforte; Colonel Fitzwilliam attended to the turning of the music. The young girl played a beautiful song from Mozart’s Don Giovanni, singing in flawless Italian. Elizabeth listened with increasing delight to the song, her mind returning to a memory. Years ago, her uncle, Mr. Gardiner, had taken her to the opera to hear Don Giovanni, and Miss Darcy’s performance was the equal of the lead soprano.

  Suddenly, Elizabeth realized something. Miss Darcy was not singing the lyrics phonically, as if they were musical notes as most ladies did when singing in something other than English. No, Miss Darcy was obviously fluent in Italian, and she performed the song as if she were a professional on the stage.

  Miss Darcy is fluent in Italian, she concluded, and I dare say French and Spanish, too. I would not be surprised that her command of the Germanic languages is just as notable. If the library at Pemberley is half as grand as Miss Bingley alluded —

  Oh, my goodness! Miss Darcy IS one of those half-dozen truly accomplished women of whom Mr. Darcy spoke! I mocked him, thinking he was exaggerating, but he was not. He was speaking of his sister!

  Abashed at her foolishness, her eyes flew to Mr. Darcy. He was sitting happily, watching his sister with unmistakable pride and affection. She did not know whether he felt her eyes on him or it was just a coincidence, but in the next moment she was locked in his gaze. His look was searching, unreadable — and then it clouded over. He frowned, broke contact, and returned his attention to the performance.