Assessing Mr Darcy

by Leenie Brown

  He touched his hat and gave a nod in greeting but said nothing. He could not. His tongue seemed to be stone. Thankfully, Bingley’s tongue was as loose as ever.

  “We were just inspecting this side of the property since a ride after being confined in a carriage seemed to be a most refreshing activity.” He looked at Darcy and tipped his head toward the Bennets.

  “Indeed, it is,” Darcy managed to say.

  “Elizabeth loves to ride nearly as much as she enjoys walking,” William said. “Jane prefers riding, and I could not choose one over the other even if forced.”

  “Do you ride here often?” Bingley directed his question to Miss Bennet.

  Darcy breathed a sigh of relief, strangely happy that Bingley had not selected Miss Elizabeth.

  “Is something amiss, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked.

  Darcy’s eyes grew wide, and he shook his head. “No, why do you ask?”

  “You were frowning.”

  “Was I?”

  “You are doing it again.”

  “I am?”

  Next to Darcy, Bingley chuckled. “You will have to excuse my friend. He often looks displeased when he is contemplating something. I assure you he is far more pleasant than he appears and often more civil than he sounds.”

  Darcy scowled at Bingley.

  “That,” Bingley said triumphantly, “is a truly displeased expression.”

  Darcy opened his mouth to hand Bingley a retort he well-deserved, but Elizabeth’s laughter stopped him and caused his lips to curl in pleasure.

  “I thank you for the demonstration, Mr. Bingley,” Elizabeth said. “I shall now know the difference between when Mr. Darcy is pensive and when he is vexed.”

  Bingley, gallant, helpful friend that he was, nodded his acceptance of Elizabeth’s thanks.

  “If you spend enough time with us,” Darcy said, arching a brow at his friend, “I am certain you will have ample practice distinguishing the two expressions since Bingley seems to enjoy vexing me. He is such a trying fellow. You have no idea how he tries one’s nerves.”

  “I do not,” Bingley retorted.

  “Our mother says the same thing about our father,” William interrupted.

  “Our father intends to call on you tomorrow,” Jane inserted.

  “I shall look forward to his arrival,” Bingley replied. “We do not wish to take you from your ride.”

  Darcy did not believe a word of it. Bingley looked absolutely smitten and in no rush to leave Miss Bennet.

  “You are not,” that lady replied with a small duck of her head. “We were only going to ride a bit further and then turn back. This respite has been quite pleasant.”

  “Indeed, it has been,” Bingley replied with one of his charming smiles that he used when speaking to any particularly pretty young woman who had captured his fancy.

  “Do you ride here often?” Darcy repeated Bingley’s question from before, which had not yet been answered.

  “Not so often as I wish,” Jane replied. “However, we do take frequent walks along the path to the knoll. The aspect is quite lovely from there. William was thinking of building a bench under the oak tree, as it is Lizzy’s favourite place to hide away with a book.”

  “Perhaps one day you can show me the aspect,” Bingley offered. “However, I am not a great reader, so I shall not be carrying a book, although Darcy may bring one with him. And he is often looking for a quiet spot to read. I am afraid I am not overly good at providing such, and my sisters are even worse.”

  Darcy grimaced. “Indeed,” he said dryly.

  William laughed. “Sisters can be trying.”

  “Almost as much as brothers,” Elizabeth retorted.

  “Ah, but there is only one of me and five of you.” William turned to Bingley and Darcy. “While they can be trying, I would not trade them for the world, for they are all delightful in their own way.”

  Darcy could hear the edge of a warning in the man’s voice. Not one of the Bennet ladies would be left unprotected. Mr. William Bennet would see to that. It was a sentiment that Darcy could both sympathize with and respect. “I feel the same way about my sister.”

  He held William’s gaze for a moment, earning himself a small nod of the man’s head.

  “We should return home and allow you to continue your inspection.” William touched his hat. “Until tomorrow.”

  Darcy watched as the Bennets rode across the field.

  “Miss Bennet is an angel,” Bingley said.

  “I would agree,” Darcy replied as he nudged his horse forward. And her sister was a temptress, he thought, as he cast one more look at the retreating forms of the Bennets. He would be pleased to meet her father and explore her connections more fully. He shook his head. That was not a thought he had ever expected to have. However, if her connections were sound… Well, it might just be possible that he and Bingley could indeed be brothers.

  Chapter 5

  “How was your ride?” Mr. Bennet asked that evening as the family sat down for dinner. “Mary said you rode in the direction of Netherfield.” The right corner of his mouth was lifted in a small smirk, and there was a laugh lying just below his words.

  “It was most interesting,” Elizabeth replied. “Did you know that if you look at the knoll from a distance with your eyes squinched shut just so,” she demonstrated the action, “the trees look almost as if they are made up of daubs and streaks of paints? I am certain even I could replicate it with little effort.” She knew precisely what her father was asking, but, seeing as he seemed in a playful sort of mood, she thought to oblige him with a delectable piece of ridiculousness.

  Her father chuckled as he passed William a bowl covered with a cloth. “And will you make an attempt?”

  “I should say not!” her mother replied. “And you will not make that expression again, Elizabeth. You shall have lines and wrinkles before you are thirty if you continue to do so.”

  Elizabeth shared an amused look with her father. “Yes, Mama,” she replied.

  “Were the trees on the knoll all you saw?” her father asked.

  “No, we met Mr. Bingley,” Elizabeth replied, adding, “and his friend,” over the squeal of delight from her mother.

  “Was he handsome? Did he look rich?” Her mother clapped her hands. “Did he take notice of our Jane? She really is too beautiful to be poor.”

  “None of our daughters will be poor,” Mr. Bennet assured her.

  “Oh, what do you know of it?” Mrs. Bennet argued. “You rarely attend an assembly. There are so few men of acceptable means. What we need are what Mr. Bingley and his friend provide – wealthy men in want of a wife.”

  “I do believe that nearly all men are at one point or another in want of a wife whether they be wealthy or no.” Mr. Bennet placed a thick piece of beef on his plate. “And what is acceptable to you and what is truly acceptable as far as fortune is concerned are not one and the same.”

  He smiled at his wife when she gasped at his words. “However, I will agree that our daughters are deserving of the richest men in the kingdom.” He held up a finger. “But only if those men are as honorable as they are rich. No daughter of mine shall be given to someone with a healthy bank account but no heart. Nor shall I see them tied to a fool. Those, my lady, are my qualifications for any suitor for any of our daughters. No matter how dashing a gentleman might look in a uniform or what carriage he drives.”

  “But there are so few gentlemen from which to choose,” Mrs. Bennet protested. “If we were to travel to Bath, we might do better.”

  “I dare say we would only find gouty men to marry there,” Mary muttered.

  “Oh, no!” her mother said with some force. “I have heard tell of many a handsome young man looking for a wife in the Assembly Rooms. Why just last week, Mrs. Goulding was telling me about some fellow who was desperate to marry, so that he could claim his inheritance,” she put down her fork and knife and leaned toward the center of the table, “and I can tell you, his inheritance
was substantial. Sub-stan-tial.” She pronounced each syllable slowly and emphasised it with first a raised brow, then a pointed look, and finally, a vigorous nod of her head.

  “As great as Mr. Bingley’s?” Their father asked, turning the conversation back to what Elizabeth knew he wished to know.

  “Why, yes, if what my sister says is true. Mrs. Goulding told her that this gentleman had nearly six a year. Six! Can you imagine? What fine clothes his wife must have!”

  “He has no wife,” her father replied. “You said so just a moment ago. Therefore, his wife does not have fine clothes.”

  Mrs. Bennet huffed in exasperation. “If he had a wife, her clothes would be very fine. Simply the best. They must be, you know, if she is to represent her husband as she ought.”

  “Did Mr. Bingley have fine clothes?” Mr. Bennet asked Elizabeth.

  “He did. He was wearing a blue coat and black breeches with a hat to match. He looked very dapper. Would you not agree, Jane?”

  Jane smiled down at her plate. “Indeed, I would.”

  “And he seemed to forget the rest of us were even there when he talked to Jane,” Elizabeth added. “I dare say he is smitten.”

  “He is not,” Jane refuted weakly.

  “What think you, William?” her father asked around the food in his mouth. “Was Mr. Bingley smitten with our Jane, or is Elizabeth seeing only what she wishes to see?”

  Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed, and she shook her head. Her father enjoyed teasing her about how she liked to assess the character of strangers.

  The clink and scratch of cutlery on plates ruled in the room while William swallowed his mouthful of food and washed it down with a sip of wine.

  “Elizabeth might be correct. He did seem to single Jane out during our short conversation.”

  “Oh, I cannot believe you were so fortunate to meet him and on his first day!” Mrs. Bennet cried. “Lady Lucas was certain she would beat me to it and have Charlotte married first. Charlotte is a sweet girl, but she is no Jane.” Mrs. Bennet beamed at her eldest daughter before taking a sip of her wine. “Although Charlotte may do very well for you, William.”

  Elizabeth bit back a giggle and shook her head as William leveled a glare at her instead of their mother.

  “Yes, yes, there are few who can compare to Jane,” Mr. Bennet said. “However, I should like to know what you thought of the man, William. Do I need to bother calling? Or will he do?”

  Elizabeth pulled her lip between her teeth. She was excited for Jane. Mr. Bingley seemed just the sort of gentleman that would love Jane as she deserved. She held her breath for a moment, anxious to have William share his approval but seeing a look of question pass across his face. The expression caused her to remember Mr. Bingley’s friend. Mr. Darcy was handsome, if a bit grave, but more than those things he was intriguing. He seemed to always be thinking as they were speaking. His thoughts would shadow his features, pulling at his brow, playing at his mouth, and then relaxing into indifference as whatever it was had been seemingly tucked away for the moment. It was very like what William was doing right now, although William was not so good at feigning indifference.

  “It was a good first encounter,” William said at last, “but I should be sorry to form an opinion on such a short acquaintance. If Mr. Bingley is as he appears, then, yes, he should do quite well for Jane if she will have him.”

  “Or if he will have her,” Mary muttered.

  “And why would he not have her?” Lydia asked. “Jane is the most beautiful of us all. She is even prettier than I am, though she is not taller.” She lifted her chin and looked down her nose at Mary.

  “I am only saying that a gentleman should be consulted as to his opinion on the matter of his marriage before his future lot is cast in the die,” Mary replied. “We are speaking as if the whole of his life has been decided since Jane and Lizzy find him handsome, and he is capable of speaking to them. I just think it unwise to assume the end before the beginning.”

  “Mary! I do not know where you get these ideas.” Mrs. Bennet shook her head. “Of course, he will want Jane. Every gentleman prefers a pretty wife to a plain one.” She looked at her daughters one by one. “And none of you are to look as pretty as Jane until we have secured him.” She shook her head at Lydia when she opened her mouth to speak. “I know it will be very hard for you, Lydia, but they shall do the same for you when it is your turn.”

  “They shall all be married before that,” Mary muttered, earning her a glare from her youngest sister and a giggle from Kitty.

  “If we might return to some sort of sense,” Mr. Bennet said. “I am not assuming Mr. Bingley will wish to marry my Jane, though I will find him immensely daft if he does not. I am only asking if he is a good prospect, and William has said that he might be. We shall call on him tomorrow, and then, I will add my voice to William’s assessment.”

  “He seemed very amiable,” Jane said softly as her cheeks glowed rosy.

  “I shall remember that,” her father replied with a wink and a smile. “I shall leave the house with the intention that I will like the man. Then, he has only to lose my good opinion rather than gain it. Will that be to your satisfaction, my dear?”

  “Yes, Papa,” Jane answered.

  “What of his friend?” Mr. Bennet asked, looking at Elizabeth. “Am I supposed to be predisposed to like him as well?”

  “I would prefer for you to make your own assessment,” Elizabeth replied, though she did hope her father would find Mr. Darcy acceptable.

  “You did not find him to your liking, then?”

  “I did not say,” Elizabeth replied. “You do not intend to meet him until tomorrow, so I do not wish to spoil your enjoyment.”

  “The impertinence!” her mother cried. “You shall never snare him with such saucy responses.” She looked at her younger daughters. “Perhaps Kitty would be better?”

  “No,” William said sharply, causing everyone to turn their eyes toward him. He slowly put his knife down and took a roll from the covered bowl in front of him. “I mean to say, if Mr. Darcy is worthy of any of my sisters, then it will be Lizzy. He is a serious-looking sort of fellow.”

  “He has a nicer carriage than Mr. Bingley, who has four thousand a year!” Mrs. Bennet declared. “I do not see how he cannot be worthy of Lizzy.”

  Elizabeth watched William finger his knife rather than picking it up to put butter on his roll. His eyes were looking at nothing and everything. There was something he was not saying and did not wish to say.

  “I was merely thinking of his character as Father said earlier. We must discover if these gentlemen will treat Jane and Lizzy as they deserve to be treated. I have seen many wealthy gents who showers his wife with money and clothes but neither affection nor respect.”

  “Oh, I have read stories of such in the paper,” Lydia agreed. “What is his name? Kitty and I will look tonight.”

  Elizabeth wondered from Lydia’s tone if her sister would be more pleased to find a tawdry story about Mr. Darcy than to not find one at all. Lydia loved a good story.

  “Fitzwilliam Darcy,” William replied. “I would not be at all surprised if he is mentioned somewhere in the society pages. His uncle is the Earl of Matlock, after all.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes grew wide, and her mother looked as if she was about to faint away.

  “An earl!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed.

  “Yes,” William replied. “And men with as much money and connections such as Mr. Darcy has are rarely not in the society pages.”

  “How much does he have?” Mrs. Bennet asked.

  “I have heard ten thousand a year.”

  Mrs. Bennet fell back in her chair and fanned herself with her handkerchief. “Ten thousand and an earl!”

  “Yes,” William muttered. “Which is why we need to proceed cautiously. Men of his standing are not always honorable.”

  He did not lift his eyes from the roll he was breaking into bits on his plate but not eating. There was definitely somethin
g he knew about Mr. Darcy that he was not saying. Elizabeth would not press him on it now, but later. She smiled to herself. Later, she would extract the truth from him.

  Chapter 6

  Darcy picked at his sleeves, righting every supposed imperfection, while he stood at the window in the drawing room at Netherfield. He glanced at the clock in the corner. It was two minutes past the acceptable time for callers. Hopefully, Mr. Bennet would not be too late in calling. He wished for this interview to be over. His mind had played with the possibilities of how it could go several times last night and then again this morning.

  “You seem anxious, Mr. Darcy.” Caroline said as she came to stand next to him.

  Darcy stepped one step away from her. She always insisted on standing closer to him than what he was comfortable with. However, she was right. He was anxious, and it was not her close proximity which was creating the anxiety. The source of his unease was another lady. He had spent a great deal of time pondering Miss Elizabeth Bennet last night. There was something about the animation of her features when she spoke that would not let him put her out of his mind. Her beauty, he was confident, he could eventually talk himself out of needing to admire, but her spirit was something that captivated him. He felt a deep, unsettling need to see her again. However, he was not going to tell Caroline such. Instead, he merely said what was likely obvious.

  “I am just restless.”

  “We could take a turn of the garden,” Caroline suggested. “Louisa would be happy to join us.”

  Darcy shook his head. “No, I will stay with your brother. He is expecting callers, and I wish to meet them.”

  Her brows rose. “Indeed?”

  He could well understand the skepticism in her voice. He was not known for his enjoyment of meeting new people.

  “There cannot be anyone worth meeting,” Caroline continued in a tone much sweeter than her words. “It is the country, and a dreadful looking one at that.”

  “There is more to judging an area than the number of hat shops on the high street.”

  Darcy smiled. He couldn’t help it. Bingley rarely used that tone of censure with his sister.