The sisters sat in appalled silence. Elizabeth had resettled herself when Marcus Hurst entered the room. “Ah, Mr Gardiner,” he began, “do you suppose we shall be fed the trout we caught yesterday?”
“I certainly hope so, sir!” was the amiable reply.
Hurst was introduced to Mrs Gardiner just as servants entered with a variety of beverages. Everyone advanced for refreshments to the round table in the centre of the room except Bingley’s sisters.
“We are awaiting one more person,” Darcy said to Elizabeth in a low voice as he handed her a cup of wine punch. “I have invited the vicar of Kympton. He was appointed three years ago, Miss Bennet, and I thought you would be interested in meeting him. I think you will enjoy making a study of him and how he compares with others who could have taken that position.”
Elizabeth nodded, an eyebrow raised knowingly. It was the living that might have gone to George Wickham had he been a better man.
In just moments, the vicar was announced and introduced. Shortly thereafter, the butler entered to announce supper would be served, and footmen opened the doors into the dining room.
Darcy took Elizabeth’s arm and seated her to his right. The Gardiners followed, and Darcy indicated they should sit on his left. Bingley escorted Georgiana to the hostess’s end and then, by pre-arrangement with Darcy, sat to Elizabeth’s right. The Hursts came in together, and Georgiana asked them to sit on her right. The vicar, a Mr Egerton, stood dumbly for a moment before offering his arm to Miss Bingley, who wordlessly accepted it and found herself seated between the vicar and her brother and across from Louisa. She felt she was being spontaneously punished for her rude remark, it not being in her nature to apprehend that Darcy and his sister must have arranged the seating plan earlier when they finalized the menu with the butler and cook.
As the first course was served, Elizabeth turned to Bingley. “I have had a letter from my sister Jane today, Mr Bingley,” she said, smiling brightly. “Imagine her surprise when I respond that I have had the pleasure of your company. She will be so pleased to be remembered to you and to know you and I have rekindled our friendship.”
Darcy was pleased at what he was hearing, even as he saw Bingley’s blush and wary glance. He turned his attention to Mrs Gardiner. “I understand Miss Bennet is tending your young children, Mrs Gardiner?”
While Bingley longed to listen to that conversation, he responded to Elizabeth in a low voice. “I think there are some who might not wish her to be remembered to me.”
Elizabeth held her smile steady. “Perhaps, but I believe they sit nearer the middle of the table, sir, and not at the head of it.”
Bingley now looked completely surprised. “Indeed?”
“Yes! Mr Darcy was saying this morning that he hopes to visit Hertfordshire again for the sport after you have been to Scarborough. I know Jane would be pleased to have you both return to the neighbourhood.”
“You are full of wondrous information, Miss Elizabeth.” Bingley looked self-satisfied, as if trying to suppress a grin.
Elizabeth nodded, accepting the compliment. “I am glad you find me so.”
Bingley and Elizabeth then addressed themselves to their food, listening to Mr and Mrs Gardiner discuss the high regard their children had for their cousin Jane. The opposite end of the table was nearly silent, with the exception of Mr Hurst asking after the courses yet to come, to which Georgiana quietly responded.
The soup arrived, a simple consommé flavoured with herbs. As Darcy ate, he absently touched the lavender flowers at his lapel and smelled his fingers, a faint smile evident by his dimples. Elizabeth watched him and wondered whether he had ever noticed her scent was lavender and if the association was the reason he wore those particular flowers. She mustered her courage. “Mr Darcy, I see you are wearing lavender tonight. Are you fond of the scent?”
Only then was he aware that he had absently touched the flowers to release their fragrance. Mrs Gardiner glanced at him then to her niece. She nudged her husband’s knee under the table; he understood he should attend and followed his wife’s eyes to their object.
Darcy looked into Elizabeth’s dark eyes and felt himself quite lost in their bright quizzical expression. “I am, Miss Bennet. It first became attractive to me last autumn. Now I find I am fonder of it than ever…certainly more fond of it than I was in, say, April.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened, and she felt her cheeks grow warm. She inhaled and almost forgot to exhale. Is he telling me he still loves me? She caught the corner of her lower lip between her teeth to keep from smiling and tried to appear as if she was considering her reply.
Mrs Gardiner glanced at her husband, who had nudged her knee in return, and his eyes were questioning. She shrugged, not knowing what to make of Darcy’s odd references to the times of year when he enjoyed the scent of lavender. It was evident from Elizabeth’s response that she knew exactly what Darcy meant.
Darcy watched Elizabeth as she bit her lip; she intoxicated him. As she breathed deeply, her creamy bosom rose and fell beneath the garnet cross on a thin gold chain that she never was without. He wanted to believe she took his meaning, although he was aware he had been wrong, very wrong, in such beliefs in the past. But now her teeth released her lip, which he had every inclination to kiss, and she smiled at him. It was the sort of smile any other man, even a simpleton, would recognize as the smile of a lady in love.
“Are you aware, Mr Darcy, that lavender is considered one of the soothing herbs?” Elizabeth asked.
“Is it indeed? I own I find it more stimulating than soothing.”
Elizabeth’s blush deepened.
Bingley watched the exchange, and although not an unusually perceptive man, he knew what he was seeing. He had sensed in Meryton that Darcy had formed a reluctant and guarded admiration for Elizabeth Bennet, as she was the only local lady with whom Darcy had danced at the Netherfield ball. At the time, Bingley did not think Elizabeth cared for Darcy in the slightest, although she did seem challenged by him and was moved to retort whenever Darcy made one of his pretentious statements. Bingley found their conversations fraught with a certain hostility from whence he could not identify the source, but for Elizabeth’s part, he assumed it had sprung from Darcy’s ill-tempered remarks at the Meryton assembly. At that time, he had the discomforting sense Elizabeth had overheard Darcy — the truth of which was later confirmed by Jane — and Bingley could not blame Elizabeth for being insulted. However, from the current turn of her countenance, one could surmise she undoubtedly had buried her grudge.
Bingley stopped eating and stared at Darcy, having reached a much fuller realization. He now saw that in the days after the ball — when Darcy left Hertfordshire as if chased by demons — Darcy was trying to convince Bingley of Jane Bennet’s indifference because Darcy felt himself in danger from her sister. If I had continued to pursue Jane, Darcy would have seen much more of Lizzy. All that cant about their lack of family connections and Jane not caring was just so much twaddle, excuses to keep from falling in love with Elizabeth. But now he has! He assumed I was merely infatuated again, but he now sees I still love Jane, and he loves Elizabeth. That must be why he is no longer concerned about Jane being spoken of so freely. Bingley determined to speak with Darcy directly after the evening’s guests departed.
The fish course arrived, composed of the boned fillets of the trout caught the day before in a light almond sauce. Elizabeth thought it heavenly.
“Have you made much study of the uses and meanings of herbs, Miss Bennet?” Darcy asked, once all his guests had been served.
“Yes, I have. I find I quite enjoy it. I have taught myself to make a tea my mother finds most soothing, which she takes in the evening. And I make scented oils and eau de cologne for myself and all my sisters.”
“So, you make your own scent?”
Elizabeth looked down, her lashes appearing to rest on blushing cheeks. Oh, now Lizzy, you reveal much too much. And he already knows the answer. Do not ask me the next
question, sir; please do not ask me… She willed Darcy not to inquire what scent she had chosen for herself. He knew perfectly well, and she did not wish to speak it aloud. She saw her aunt and uncle taking a great interest in the conversation, and she had very little left to hide from them. If only I could stop blushing at everything he says. Why am I being so silly?
“Yes, I do,” she murmured.
Darcy was pleased; he had teased her successfully and knew he needn’t push the point further. He lowered his voice in mock conspiracy. “You know, I believe my sister would be quite delighted to have a scent of her own. Her seventeenth birthday is approaching, and what a marvellous gift it would be! How long does it take?”
Elizabeth looked up, and her eyes warmed into his, thanking him silently for taking another path without an obvious change of subject. “Not so very long. The dried ingredients are combined and bottled and then must sit to gather strength. When is her birthday?”
“It is mid-month, August, and you are to be in Lambton for another week. Could I persuade you to make use of our stillroom? I am sure we could arrange that Georgiana not know you were here.”
Darcy and Elizabeth looked at Mrs Gardiner hopefully, aware she was listening to their discourse. “One does not like to impose upon a new acquaintance, Mr Darcy, but perhaps, if you were to invite my husband to go fishing again, Lizzy could come with him unannounced?”
Darcy leaned to Mrs Gardiner. “Consider it done! Tomorrow? The day after? We have nothing fixed for the next few days, and on quiet mornings, Georgiana practices at her harp or pianoforte for hours at a time.”
Mr Gardiner pricked up his ears. “Either would suit me!”
Mrs Gardiner reminded her niece and husband they were to spend the early half of the following day with her former schoolmistress. “…so it must be the day after tomorrow. Oh! But that is Sunday! How one loses track of the days when one travels.”
Darcy paused, considering. “When will you be free tomorrow? After what time?” He addressed the whispered question to Mrs Gardiner.
“The engagement is in Lambton, a brief walk from the inn, and my husband and niece need not stay for the whole of it. May they arrive late morning? Would eleven o’clock suit?”
Darcy smiled and looked from Elizabeth to her uncle. Mr Gardiner spoke up, “I must confess, Mr Darcy, I have been hoping for such an opportunity. You see, sir, I indulged in a treat for myself. I bought a new rod from a local craftsman this afternoon. A Mr Tilney?”
“Oh, ho!” Darcy chuckled in appreciation. “Hurst! Listen to this! Bingley, are you attending? Mr Gardiner has been to Tilney’s and has made a purchase.”
“Lucky man!” Hurst leaned around his wife to grin at Mr Gardiner. “He does not always have rods on offer. Most are bespoke.” He raised his wine glass to Mr Gardiner’s good fortune.
“I was indeed lucky. Someone had ordered the rod and then found it did not fit. The customer did not like the heft. I tried it in the shop, flung it about a bit with some line and found it admirable.” Mr Gardiner smiled, his eyes merry.
“You are most forbearing, Mrs Gardiner, to allow so much fishing whilst on holiday,” Louisa Hurst remarked.
“It makes him far more bearable once we are at home if I show forbearance now,” replied Mrs Gardiner with the good humour of a knowing wife.
“So it is a settled thing, Mr Gardiner; you will join us for more fishing tomorrow?” Darcy asked in a louder voice to ensure Georgiana would hear.
“Indeed, sir.”
At that moment, Georgiana, who had been concentrating on her fish, noticed the vicar had not eaten so much as a bite. “Reverend Egerton, you do not like fish?”
Just then, there happened to be a lull in the conversation and all heard his response. “Indeed, Miss Darcy, I never take it. Fish are God’s wild creatures and I find their means of death so violent that I cannot tolerate it. I only take flesh when I know it to be domestic and killed quickly.”
Elizabeth raised her napkin to her mouth to hide her response, and Darcy could not meet her mirthful eyes, though he longed to, knowing they would both laugh.
“Killjoy,” Mr Hurst was heard to mutter.
“Let me assure you then, sir, the duck we are about to be served is from the Pemberley domestic flock. They were killed with all due dispatch,” Darcy informed the vicar.
Georgiana glanced up at her brother, aware his tone was light, even — dare she say it? — a little amused.
“Thank you, Mr Darcy, for informing me,” replied the vicar seriously. He then looked down, embarrassed to think his patron had heard his unguarded remark.
The table was quiet until the fish course was cleared away. Some guests left portions on their plate but Darcy was pleased to see Elizabeth had eaten all of hers. “You like fish, Miss Bennet?”
“I am particularly fond of trout when I know my uncle has provided it.” She smiled across the table to her relative.
During the poultry course, Miss Bingley had sufficiently recovered from her earlier mortification and censure to ask, “Mrs Gardiner, I understand you spent some portion of your youth in Lambton?” At that lady’s nod, she continued, “Did your family enjoy the patronage of the Pemberley estate?”
Mrs Gardiner eyed Miss Bingley calmly but warily. “My father’s business was patronized most frequently by the next estate over, Broadvale, and the Wentworth family — an estate smaller than Pemberley but populated by a larger family. My father was a wheelwright and trained apprentices. When he had the opportunity to buy a business in London, we moved to the city, and there I met Mr Gardiner.”
“Our grandfather was a carriage-maker, Mrs Gardiner!” Bingley cried, delighted. “He invented a cunning axle, so I am told, and therein lies the Bingley fortune.”
Caroline’s eyes widened before lowering, annoyed with her brother for announcing the family history so forthrightly. Louisa caught her sister’s eye and shrugged, hoping Caroline would throw off her pique and make some attempt to be entertaining. It was perfectly clear to both Elizabeth and Louisa that Caroline was attempting to remind Darcy of the low connections of the Bennet family but only succeeded in giving her brother the opportunity of honestly delineating that the Bingley connections were neither significant nor historic.
The roast veal added no revelations or uneasiness to the evening. Georgiana was relieved no other wild game was served to disquiet the vicar and spoke primarily to him. Bingley and Elizabeth talked of the beauties of Pemberley, which Darcy was pleased to overhear, and Bingley asked what she had seen on her tour before arriving at Lambton. The Gardiners’ comments added to the conversation by enhancing details supplied by their niece.
The topic of travel continued into the dessert course of fruit and the local Stilton, when Darcy asked Mrs Gardiner, “So you have already been further north, well into the Peaks?”
“Indeed, we have. I could not wait to see them again and share them with my niece. Lizzy is a good traveller and delights in wild country. You should have seen her, Mr Darcy, scrambling over the tors as if born to it. You would not know she was raised in such mild country as Hertfordshire.”
Elizabeth half-smiled at her aunt but with a scolding shake of her head. “Now she will start telling tales of me, Mr Darcy. I implore you not to believe half of what she says, although I fear all of it will be true.”
Darcy smiled at Elizabeth then turned to Mrs Gardiner. “Tales about Miss Elizabeth Bennet? I do hope they have the potential for her embarrassment.”
Mrs Gardiner chuckled. “It is I who should be embarrassed for being so silly. Lizzy is exceptionally sure-footed, but she did climb very high, and I took a fright. I had a sudden vision of having to confess to her father that she was injured in a fall! I made her come right down. I do hope you were able to enjoy something of the view, my love, before I took a panic?” Mrs Gardiner addressed the last to her niece.
“Indeed, I did, Aunt. As I climbed, I paused from time to time to ascertain how much further I could see. And, of
course, with this fine weather, it was spectacular.” Her eyes bright with the recent memory, she turned to Darcy. “If I may say, sir, you live in breath-taking country.”
Darcy was momentarily tongue-tied. The image of Elizabeth cresting the Peaks like winged victory, the wind whipping her skirts, her escaping curls caught in the breeze, looking on his home county with excitement in her eyes; yes, he could imagine it all very thoroughly. He blinked. Was the present reality any less thrilling? That she was sitting at dinner with him at Pemberley, the woman he loved, and looking so exquisite in her pale yellow gown? She had smiled at him, he thought, with something like friendship, or at least easiness. He heard her praise his home and Pemberley woods to Bingley. And she would be back the very next day.
It was all too easy to let hope run away with him, and Darcy tried to settle his thoughts. He cleared his throat and gathered himself. “Yes, Miss Elizabeth, you may say it as much as you like! But do I infer correctly that you have made other journeys with your aunt and uncle?”
“Only one, and not so long as this, but three summers ago, we ventured west to Stonehenge. The three of us discovered we travel rather well together,” Elizabeth replied, looking fondly at the Gardiners. “That journey was their gift to me when I came out at age 18.”
“Ha! Most young ladies flock to London for their coming out, but Elizabeth Bennet left it! You are always unique!” Darcy chuckled. “But I thought you were not yet one and twenty?”
“I have had a birthday since we met in April, sir.” Elizabeth looked down, not liking to refer to their last meeting in Hunsford. She found herself wanting only to speak of that which would increase his good opinion of her.
There was a silence during which Caroline Bingley rolled her eyes to her sister in deep resentment.
Finally, Darcy restarted the conversation. “And what did you think of Stonehenge, Miss Elizabeth?”
“Most evocative! Spiritual, yet somehow dangerous… We can only guess what the Druids did there, but it is clearly a place of profound meaning and a marvel of stonework.”
The Red Chrysanthemum Page 3
