Page 14 of May I Have the Pleasure
Regarding the list, he reckoned if he was forced to be sociable, he may as well be useful while he was at it, and there was a certain thrill in a challenge. It was not as if he expected any intellectual stimulation at Netherfield. Since he would be in the area for two months without much to do other than spending an hour or two a day trying to pound some sense into Bingley while avoiding Miss Bingley, he should be able to accomplish something. It had been some time since he really challenged himself.
It took about twenty minutes to establish that Miss Amy Long was not his angel, primarily because that was how long it took to get her to speak enough words above a whispered monosyllable to make the determination.
At first, he dismissed the possibility out of hand because anyone who would not speak to a gentleman in polite conversation would certainly not be capable of attacking him from behind, without an introduction, to correct a megrim. He was, however, reminded of the wife of one of the Pemberley tenants. She was quiet as a mouse unless someone was sick in her company, at which time she became as domineering as a drill sergeant—and Lord Help You if your compliance with her instruction was not quick enough for her liking.
He persevered with Miss Amy because her awkwardness was not her fault, and that was how a true gentleman should act. He took to the problem in his usual methodical (or plodding) manner until after a half-hour he found a novel she shared an interest in with his sister, Georgiana. Since Darcy had read it to see if it was suitable (barely), he could speak with some authority. She was clearly not his angel, but by then she had made enough good points that Darcy thought to use some of them in a discussion with his sister. Since she had yet to recover from a terrible betrayal during the summer, Darcy was happy for any morsel he could use to cheer her up or at least distract her from her woes momentarily.
About halfway through his discussion, just when it was getting interesting, they were joined by Master Jason Browning, who listened for a few minutes before venturing his opinion.
“I cannot abide such rubbish. Give me Tom Jones or Tristian Shandy any day.”
Darcy was annoyed to see much of his progress over the previous half-hour destroyed with one comment, and an interesting discussion reverted to stuttering monosyllables.
He asked rather snappishly, “I see! I suppose you found no interest in the contrast between the main character’s rationalapproach to marriage and Lady Delacour's tumultuous personal life.”
“What do you mean?” Browning asked confusedly.
“I mean—we are discussing one of the main plot points of Belinda. Since only a muttonhead would presume an opinion on a book they have not even read, let alone understood, you must have a more nuanced view than simply calling it rubbish. I only ask because my experience at school showed that to be a common failing among men who prefer to belittle things they do not understand. Naturally, I would never accuse you of any such thing—I simply invite you to explain your view in sufficient detail for Miss Long to debate your points.”
The man seemed nonplussed as expected, so Darcy ignored him thereafter. The discussion went on for another few minutes, but before he left, Miss Long was speaking well again.
It would be some months before Darcy learned he had inadvertently triggered a courtship by calling a man a muttonhead.
~~~~~
Darcy found himself thinking hard over the next week or so about the rather intractable problem of Miss Mary Bennet. Her skills at the pianoforte were more than adequate when she had the right music, but she made poor choices that matched neither her skill nor her audience. The same could be said for her voice, though even more emphatically. The issue was how to tell her that without giving offense, or worse yet, causing her to redouble her efforts in a direction that would never be productive, when more appealing choices were readily available.
He was perfectly well aware that a month earlier he would have simply sat in judgement, or worse yet, ridiculed her with Miss Bingley. However, with his newfound ambition to earn the respect of his unknown angel, he was finding thechallenge more exhilarating than annoying, much to his surprise and chagrin.
The conundrum was extended when Miss Lydia convinced Miss Mary to play for dancing, though he had a hard time deciding if Miss Lydia was being cruel or playful (he occasionally found about half the ladies beyond his comprehension). With the introduction of music, he saw one more thing that might have annoyed him a month earlier, but now it just amused. It was not as if he was having fun or progressing in his search while he sat around thinking about Miss Mary’s playing and moralizing.
His observations of the dance were interrupted by Sir William. The former mayor was a little bit silly, and a touch pompous, but then again,aren’t we all.They spoke of houses in town and St James. Darcy thought he had done the gentleman a good turn by politely listening, at no real cost to himself, because he could still devote half his mind to his conundrum.
He was slightly startled, but not especially displeased, when Sir William abruptly changed from a flanking attack to a frontal assault.
"My dear Miss Eliza, why are you not dancing? Mr Darcy, you must allow me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. You cannot refuse to dance, I am sure, when so much beauty is before you." And, taking her hand, he would have given it to Mr Darcy who, though surprised, was not unwilling to receive it.
In truth, Darcy had no objection whatsoever to dancing with Miss Eliza Drake. He had met her earlier in the evening and learned she was a pleasant young lady of decided opinions. He found it refreshing, especially after an evening with Miss Bingley agreeing with everything he said, even when he contradicted himself twice in a row.
“It would be my pleasure, Miss Eliza,” he replied gallantly. Just because she was not his angel did not mean she was not worth the trouble of dancing with, and it was not as if his conversation with Sir William was all that scintillating.He also knew she had two sisters he had yet to meet, and it was entirely possible one of them was the woman he sought.
Miss Mary was playing shorter dances than at assemblies so people could change partners more frequently. He soon found himself dancing a lively reel with Miss Eliza, with very little time to talk. He would have considered the silence a boon for most of his life, but he was now finding it less to his taste because it did not advance his project. After all, listening to other dancers was as good a way to hunt angels as any.
That said, with a bit of strategic eavesdropping, he was slightly amazed to learn that he had somehow, some way, managed to convince the entire neighbourhood that he was amiable yet unavailable for matrimony. He could not remember anything specific, but as he overheard whispers here and there it seemed most were convinced that he was a pleasant dance and conversation partner, but not one to get attached to. He wondered if he would manage to replicate his success in future (though in his fondest dreams he had an entirely different solution to the matrimonial intent problem).
At the end of the reel, he bowed and offered his partner refreshment, but she had other ideas.
“Mr Darcy, you seem like a man who likes to solve problems.”
“I find that truer than not lately, though I have not always been thus,” he added ruefully.
“May I speculate that a man like you might enjoy a challenge?” she asked rather impertinently.
Darcy laughed slightly, and indicated she was welcome to do her worst.
With that, she took his arm and led him across the room to two other ladies watching the next set form.
“Mr Darcy, may I present my sisters, Miss Evelyn Drake and Miss Edith Drake?”
