Mr. Darcy Came to Dinner

by Jack Caldwell

  “Quite,” said the colonel sharply before turning to the window, staring out into the darkness. “Oh, I long to leave this miserable wilderness and return to civilization! How can you bear it?”

  Darcy was surprised at the earnestness in his cousin’s tone. “This is a dark mood! I thought you enjoyed the countryside.”

  His back still to Darcy, the colonel replied, “I spent too much of my time ‘enjoying the countryside’ from a tent in Spain. I think I shall go to Town for a few days.” He swallowed the rest of his drink, turned, and smiled. “Forgive me for distressing you. I shall be all smiles from now on.”

  Darcy thought the colonel’s explanation was too glib by half but kept his observation to himself as his cousin moved to the sideboard and refilled his glass. “Have you heard recently from your brother?”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam was surprised by the question. “Horace? I saw him before I left London. He and the viscountess are well.”

  “And how are things at Argyle Manor?”

  “Short-handed as usual. He never can make up his mind about staff. It drives Lady Eugenie to distraction.” He laughed. “I am not saying that is a bad thing.”

  Darcy knew well the mutual loathing between the viscountess and the colonel. “Do you think he would take on a new cook?”

  “If it would make dinners at Argyle more palatable, he should jump at the chance. Do you have someone in mind? You know he can deny you nothing.”

  “As a matter of fact, I do — a local woman with excellent references. She has a daughter trained as a maid and a grown son — hard-working, but he has lost an arm in the factories. I would hope he could take the lot.”

  “There is room for extra staff at Argyle, I am sure. The son lost an arm, you say? Horace would probably make him a footman and tell everyone the man was a veteran of the wars just to irritate me.”

  “Good. I will write him tomorrow.”

  The colonel frowned. “Why are you concerned with Horace’s domestic deficiencies? What is this unnamed family of servants to you?”

  “You recall the maid attending me — Sally? I speak of her mother and brother. They are facing hard times as the mother lost her position when her employers left Hertfordshire.”

  “Anyone with common sense should leave this wretched place. Ah, here you go again, saving the world! I wonder at you, Cuz. One of these days, your intrusion into other people’s business will get you in trouble.”

  “It has done me no ill yet. Will you take my letter to the viscount?”

  “I suppose I can suffer a half-hour’s visit with my dear brother and sister. I will be your courier.”

  “Will you return?”

  “Yes, in a few days. I shall not abandon you or Georgiana.”

  “Thank you. One last request: Bring two or three of my horses back with you.”

  The colonel nodded. “I planned to bring Georgiana her horse — hold, you said two or three? Why? You cannot ride.”

  Darcy smiled. “Just do as I ask, please.”

  Chapter 13

  THE NEXT FEW DAYS were little changed from the ones before them. The weather remained mild for November. Elizabeth never missed a morning ramble while Darcy spent his time after breakfast outdoors in the Bath chair, posing for Georgiana and Kitty’s amusement, often with Cassandra in his lap. In the afternoons, Mary, Elizabeth, and Georgiana practiced with Mrs. Annesley. Jane would sit and listen, working on her embroidery. Lydia would disappear for hours at a time, and only the groom and Darcy knew where she was to be found.

  Like clockwork, Mr. Bingley would arrive for tea, the only event save meals that could coax Mr. Bennet to abandon his book room. Colonel Fitzwilliam had left for London, but he was expected to return, to the relief of the younger members of the Bennet household. Of Miss Bingley or the Hursts, nothing was seen, but only Elizabeth and Jane showed any concern over their absence. Mrs. Bennet, good hostess that she was, would normally be curious about Mr. Bingley’s missing relations, but she was too occupied entertaining the gentleman himself, thereby helping her eldest daughter secure the lessee of Netherfield.

  Mrs. Bennet was also pleased at the affability between her second daughter and their august guest. True, Mrs. Bennet often found herself confused and sometimes shocked listening to their strange exchanges, which to her mind sounded like arguing. They were certainly nothing like the gentle conversation shared between Jane and Mr. Bingley. That was proper courting. Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy seemed to be debating most of the time. What sort of courtship was that? However, the two seemed to enjoy their discussions — Elizabeth was all smiles, and Mr. Darcy was very pleasant as he spoke to Elizabeth — so Mrs. Bennet was only somewhat alarmed.

  Fanny Bennet understood she was not an astute woman. Her husband was considered by all of Meryton exceedingly intelligent for all the good it had ever done him, and she knew Elizabeth was Mr. Bennet’s equal. Mr. Darcy’s intellect was undisputed. Mrs. Bennet expected that Elizabeth would never be happy if she did not esteem her husband. She considered Mr. Darcy her daughter’s superior in wealth and learning, and if debating was how clever people made love in a crowded sitting room, who was she to gainsay it?

  As long as there was a marriage at the end of it.

  Now you, gentle reader, might think that Elizabeth and Darcy were well on their way to an understanding. Alas, you would be wrong. For, you see, as intelligent and perceptive as these two persons were, pre-conceptions continued to cloud the pair’s thinking.

  Elizabeth’s esteem for Darcy grew by the day. Truly, she thought, he was among the best men she had ever met. In fact, he was fast becoming her secret ideal of perfection, and he was in danger of being placed on a pedestal to be worshiped from afar — afar because Elizabeth presumed there was no future for the two of them. This good, decent, generous, and handsome man was one of the richest landowners in Britain. According to something Colonel Fitzwilliam once mentioned, Mr. Darcy’s family came over with the Normans in 1066. The history of the family spanned that of the kingdom. He was a consort fit for the daughter of a duke.

  Elizabeth took care not to fall in love with the gentleman; for the child of an obscure country squire to even dream of something more than friendship was simply absurd.

  Darcy’s thoughts were less conflicted. He had surrendered to his desire for Elizabeth Bennet. He had fixed the idea in his mind that he would have her as his wife. He was humbled by learning of her previous opinion of him and his manners. He labored to prove himself to her, and as the days passed, he thought he was making extraordinary progress in changing the lady’s mind.

  His attraction to Elizabeth was fueled by more than her undeniable beauty; he had put his stupid statement at the assembly completely out of his mind. She was witty, learned, charming, and kind. She loved the countryside as much as he did. He also perceived that she possessed the proper strength of character he desired in the future mistress of Pemberley. Darcy wanted no shrinking violet as his bride, forever hiding in his shadow. No, he wanted and needed a woman who would be his partner and confidant, as well as his lover and the mother of his children — someone who could manage his house, stand up to the slings and arrows of society, and provide the love and serenity he craved.

  And why should he not marry Elizabeth? He was only a gentleman, and she, a gentleman’s daughter. She was certainly his equal, no matter what others, particularly his Aunt Catherine, might say.

  Darcy was pleased that Elizabeth seemed to enjoy his company. There were times he was tempted to express more of his admiration — indeed, even to flirt — but he checked himself every time. Darcy was a proud man, and he would not make love to his choice while he was a helpless invalid. To rouse her pity was his abhorrence.

  And though he would not admit it to himself, he was also reluctant to risk a considerable improvement in their dealings with one another by being more open. He was, in a word, scared.

  Darcy should have remembered his family motto, Fortune Favors the Bold. It would have saved muc
h heartache later.

  * * *

  The Bennets dutifully promenaded to church on Sunday, the matriarch of the family proud that their number included the illustrious Miss Darcy of Derbyshire. The young lady even sat in their family pew, and the group enjoyed the adjacent attentions of the Bingley party. The service passed either quickly or slowly, depending on the participant’s point of view, and at the appointed time, the congregation gathered outside the church for fellowship and gossip. The air was abuzz with talk about the absence of a certain clergyman from Hunsford.

  The seemingly recovered Miss Bingley thanked Mrs. Bennet for the invitation to Sunday dinner at Longbourn, and were it not for some undisclosed matter at Netherfield, the Bingleys and Hursts would have been more than happy to accept. But decline they must. Elizabeth did not need a gypsy’s crystal ball to tell her that Mr. Bingley was not happy about his absence from the Bennet table.

  This turn of events gave Elizabeth leave to accept an invitation from Lady Lucas for dinner. Permission was quickly secured from Mrs. Bennet, and soon Elizabeth was in Charlotte’s bedroom in deep conversation, the subject being the abandonment of Meryton by Mr. Collins.

  “Eliza, I must thank Mr. Bennet for his counsel to my father. He would not tell me what he was told, but whatever it was, it was enough for Father to be distressed by Mr. Collins’s attentions towards me. On Friday when Mr. Collins came for tea, Father had him come into his study for a private talk. We in the parlor could not make out the words, but we soon heard raised voices. We grew alarmed, and my brother was about to see what the argument was about when the door flew open and Mr. Collins emerged, his face very red. He did not take his leave of us but quit the house directly, mumbling to himself. We learned later that he left the inn at Meryton in an angry mood that very evening, taking the mail coach to London. It is believed he has returned to Kent.”

  “My goodness!” cried Elizabeth. “How very singular! Did Sir William say anything about his conversation with Mr. Collins?”

  “No, he did not, except to say that Mr. Collins was persona non grata, and he was not permitted to enter Lucas Lodge again. Father so much as commanded that should Mother, Maria, or I encounter him in the village, we were not to speak to him but rather cross the street directly and either seek shelter in a shop or return home.”

  Elizabeth allowed this was an extraordinary demand from the habitually affable knight.

  “It was,” Charlotte agreed. “Father only uses Latin when he is most upset.”

  Elizabeth was pleased that her father had kept his promise to warn Sir William about Mr. Collins, but she was concerned. For Sir William to grow so incensed about the clergyman, Mr. Bennet must have told him about his attempted assault on her. Sir William Lucas was a good and kind man, but he was not known to keep a confidence. Could Elizabeth depend upon the knight not to spread tales about Mr. Collins’s perfidy all about Hertfordshire, using her own unfortunate interactions with the man as an example?

  Charlotte continued. “Mother was, of course, taken aback by this turn of events. I am afraid that she had set her cap on my catching Mr. Collins. But after a long, private talk in my father’s study, she seemed more sanguine over the incident and has not spoken of it since. Maria is full curious but can get no details from our parents. Eliza,” she took Elizabeth’s hands into her own, “I believe your father must have shared some of your adventures with Father, but do not fear. Not a word of them shall leave this house, I am persuaded.”

  Elizabeth was relieved to heard Charlotte’s words.

  “But I have a question.” Charlotte’s brow wrinkled. “I said that Mr. Collins was mumbling to himself in an angry manner when he left the house. I could not make out anything he said, save two words: Mr. Darcy.” She turned to her friend. “Whatever could he mean?”

  Elizabeth was astonished that Mr. Darcy’s name was mentioned in this matter, but she was able to maintain a reserved countenance as she replied that she had no idea to what Mr. Collins was alluding. It was a lie, of course. Elizabeth knew full well why Mr. Collins spoke his name.

  Her father must have given a full accounting of Mr. Collins’s actions at Longbourn, including Mr. Darcy’s spirited defense of her. This was distressing news indeed! Elizabeth had not yet come to a satisfactory conclusion over the meaning of Mr. Darcy’s words and behavior then or of his actions since. Until she did, she would be mortified if all of Meryton became acquainted with the incident.

  Elizabeth was unhappy about deceiving her friend, but there was nothing for it. She was not prepared to speak about Mr. Darcy to anyone, and this was intelligence that must be contemplated in detail at a more appropriate time.

  * * *

  As it was Sunday and he could not attend services, Darcy thought he might as well read some Scripture in observance of the day. He looked up from his Bible just as a giggling gaggle of pretty young ladies burst into his room, still in their bonnets and coats. Cassandra, who had taken her usual place in his lap, was not disturbed by the interruption of her mid-morning nap.

  “Oh, Mr. Darcy, wait until you hear what we heard!” cried Kitty.

  “You will never guess,” proclaimed Lydia. “It is all too funny!”

  “No, you will all get it wrong,” Mary declared. “I should tell Mr. Darcy.”

  “Oh, Brother,” said Georgiana, who knelt by his chair and took his hand, “it is all over Meryton that Mr. Collins has been chased away from the neighborhood!”

  “Georgie! I wanted to tell him!” Kitty took Darcy’s other hand. “We heard that Sir William Lucas turned him out of his house.”

  “Denny said Mr. Collins was running through the streets like a dog with his tail between his legs!”

  “Lydia, how rude! I am sure that Mr. Denny knows nothing about it. But it is true, Mr. Darcy, that Mr. Collins has quit Meryton. He did not even stay for Sunday services! Is that not strange for a man of the cloth?”

  The girls were all talking over one another, and Darcy found he could not get a word in. It was left to Jane to restore sanity to the scene.

  “We should not judge other people’s actions, Mary,” she said as she entered the room, her coat and bonnet already handed to a servant. “All could be perfectly reasonable. What is not reasonable is that you have assailed poor Mr. Darcy while still in your out-of-doors clothes. Pray give the man some air.”

  “Yes, yes, Jane has the right of it!” cried Mrs. Bennet. “Where are your manners? You act like wild savages in your bonnets and coats — except you, Miss Darcy, of course! Why, no one could accuse you of uncivilized behavior, I am sure.”

  “Actually, I believe you were correct in your first observation, Mrs. Bennet,” said Mrs. Annesley. “Come, Georgiana, please restrain from assaulting Mr. Darcy until you are more presentable.”

  Mrs. Bennet gathered her brood in, chattering all the time about preparations for Sunday dinner and how sad it was that Mr. Bingley could not attend and good riddance to Mr. Collins. Georgiana obediently followed her companion from the room, leaving only Jane and Mr. Bennet with Darcy and the maid Sally, who was puttering about.

  Darcy spoke to the gentleman. “Is it true, sir, that Mr. Collins has quit Hertfordshire?”

  “Yes,” Mr. Bennet quipped. “It seems my talk with Sir William Lucas had a most stimulating influence.” The grin slipped from his features. “I am more determined than ever to postpone the event that places that man in charge of Longbourn, as I am certain he has no kind feelings towards his family or neighbors.”

  “Amen to that. If there is anything I can do — ”

  “You have done quite enough already!” Mr. Bennet said gruffly. He seemed to catch himself. “I thank you for everything you have done, but this matter should fall to its proper place. Well, I will be in my book room. I shall see you at dinner.” With that he left the room.

  “I am sorry, Mr. Darcy,” said Jane. “My father is — ”

  “Say no more, Miss Bennet, I quite understand. We all have our pride. Indeed, I sho
uld act in exactly the same manner, should the tables be turned.”

  “Somehow, I doubt that.” She gave him a small, sisterly smile, and then glanced at the creature in his lap. “You have made a conquest of Cassandra. Lizzy will be jealous. Is your leg giving you much pain today?”

  Darcy reported he was well, and the two fell into an easy conversation, Jane making herself comfortable in a nearby chair. It was not long before Darcy asked about Bingley, and he was able to comprehend the disappointment hidden in Jane’s expression as she relayed Miss Bingley’s excuse for her family’s absence from Longbourn that day. Darcy was more convinced than ever that Jane had feelings for his friend and hoped, rather than expected, that they were of the most fervent kind. He practiced patience — it would not do to openly question the young lady about Bingley — and was soon rewarded.

  Jane absentmindedly picked up a book and fiddled with it before remarking, “I believe you are very fortunate in your friends, Mr. Darcy. Colonel Fitzwilliam has been most obliging, going to Town on your behalf. And Mr. Bingley — he speaks about you constantly, singing your praises.”

  Darcy smiled. “Bingley is very kind. I am sure I deserve no special commendation.”

  Jane glanced at him. “He says you are his dearest friend and ablest counselor. He looks to you as an elder brother. I do not believe he is given to hyperbole. How long have you been friends?”

  Darcy explained that they had met at Cambridge, when Bingley was just starting his terms, and Darcy was an upperclassman. Something drew Darcy to the younger man. He took young Bingley under his wing, and they had been fast friends ever since. “Bingley was new to society, and there were many pitfalls. I was able to advise him.

  “You must understand,” Darcy was quick to add, “Bingley is an excellent fellow. He has great natural modesty with a stronger dependence on my judgment than on his own. He wishes to be a gentleman, and he is afraid of making a mistake. But his principles are of the highest quality. I am proud that he is my friend.” Jane smiled a little, and without knowing why, Darcy blurted, “He is a deliberate man, but once he makes up his mind, he is unshakable. He would never mislead someone.”