Page 19 of Eavesdroppers Never Hear
Once again, Elizabeth performed introductions. “May I introduce Mr Darcy? Sir, these are Mr and Mrs Sullivan. Their children are all grown and have sadly moved away. They own the mercantile, and if you bring your sister to Meryton, you will no doubt become familiar. Mr and Mrs Sullivan, Mr Darcy is a distinguished gentleman with a fine estate in Derbyshire.”
Once again polite bows and curtsies were exchanged, and Darcy showed himself well able to speak amiably when dealing with polite and knowledgeable people. He passed what sherather unfairly thought of as a test, by speaking with tradesmen with the same aplomb as gentry. Elizabeth noticed that speaking of his sister brought a noticeable warmth to his voice that had never appeared previously in her experience—although to be fair, she doubted she would have noticed if it had, since it contradicted her narrative.
Elizabeth kept the visit brief as they were running short on time and dragged the gentleman away with a promise to bring his sister shortly upon arrival.
It only took another twenty minutes to introduce him to her Uncle Philips, another gentleman who was alone at church because his wife was visiting, and the blacksmith. Each new acquaintance was greeted warmly, suggestions of future engagements were discussed with approbation, and the gentleman was even invited to join in a hunt two days hence.
When Jane and Mary joined, she realised two things. The first was that Mr Darcy was perfectly capable of being amiable; and as he had earlier admitted, he had simply chosen not to. Whether his behaviour was a survival tactic for life in the ton, shyness, awkwardness—or the more likely culprit of laziness—was of no importance. He could be cordial when he chose, and he had chosen to do so that morning. Since his behaviour at its worst was only marginally below her own father’s (if at all), she decided to just let bygones be bygones and proceed with her day.
Upon her sisters’ arrival, she found herself astonished that the entire operation had taken about an hour. Her mother’s diatribe followed by Mr Darcy’s abject apology and subsequent discussion had taken barely twenty minutes. Another forty to introduce him to a half-dozen people, and his reputation was fully rehabilitated. Elizabeth thought she, Jane, and Mary could congratulate themselves on a job well done, once they were in private.
The churchyard was mostly clear by then. The youngest Bennet sisters had spent the first half-hour after church gossiping with their friends, and they appeared to have entrapped a few officers while Elizabeth was introducing Darcy around. The officers were in a precarious position. They ate three times better when they were invited to an estate, and the path to invitations was to put up with the silly younger daughters (and occasionally mothers). It was a price Elizabeth would not pay, but then again, she was not a starving lieutenant getting by on a dozen or two pounds a year and eating in the officers’ mess. Some of the officers had independent incomes, but most just scraped by until they made colonel or higher.
Elizabeth assumed Jane and Mary had supplemented her efforts by feeding good thoughts about the gentleman to Lady Lucas and a couple other unrepentant gossips to make sure the rehabilitation of his reputation was complete—but there was no need to beat him over the head. The sisters’ efforts were likely successful, so long as the gentleman’s improvements survived the day. They had done all they could, and the rest was up to him.
Darcy said, “Ladies, I must thank you from my heart. As Miss Elizabeth suggested, I have looked and learnt. I must admit to being impressed with how you repaired my reputation in less than an hour. My cousin is a colonel in the regulars, and I suspect he will be impressed when I relay the order of battle.”
Mary laughed but seriously replied. “You give us too much credit, sir. Without your apology, the job would have been nigh on impossible, if we even tried it, which we would have had no reason to do. After that, all Lizzy did was make a few introductions.”
“Accept the accolades, Miss Mary. You have earned them,” Darcy said with a smile that made the sisters laugh.
Jane said, “Mr Darcy, since you are alone at Netherfield, you are welcome join us for dinner at Longbourn if your tolerance for silliness has improved sufficiently for such an ordeal.”
Darcy smiled. “I should tell you about my aunt. My mother’s elder sister is Lady Catherine de Bourgh. She is widowed and runs her estate called Rosings in Kent. My cousin and I visit for a fortnight or so once a year to aid her.”
“I am intrigued,” Jane said, though in reality, she had no idea what he was driving at.
Darcy blithely continued. “In a silliness contest, I am not certain Mrs Bennet could even compete, let alone win.”
He gave a good laugh, and the sisters surprised themselves by joining in nervously. They suspected he was just making light of what he expected, or perhaps he was simply girding his loins for battle; but in the end, it was sufficient.
When they finished laughing, Jane clarified, “So you will come?”
“It will be my pleasure.”
Jane took Mary’s arm, and they walked over to drag their youngest sisters from some officers they had entrapped—mostly to make certain their exit was timely, and the officers were not invited.
Elizabeth stood with Darcy as he flagged his coachman who had been sitting peacefully on a nearby bench carving a stick. When the man approached, Elizabeth gave him instructions about getting his own meal at Longbourn and where to park the coach and horses. Once that was sorted, Darcy offered his arm, and she took it without qualms. They followed Jane and Mary, who were herding their younger sisters much like a pair of awkward sheepdogs.
Elizabeth found herself pleasantly surprised by their conversation on the walk to Longbourn. There was an embargo on anything the least bit distressing. Instead, they discussedwhat was likely to happen at Longbourn after dinner, how the Bennets typically spent their Sunday afternoons, favourite games and their relative skill, and other topics of mild but general interest.
Darcy admitted that he sometimes suffered from a bit of malaise on Sunday evenings, and it happened often enough for Bingley to tease him about it. Elizabeth replied that he might wish to curtail mention of the Bingleys, even though he might have to resort to being taciturn to do so. Darcy laughed, and Elizabeth found that she liked the fact that she could tease him about his manners with impunity. She would never have predicted that—not in a thousand years.
As they approached Longbourn, they made a last-ditch attempt at propriety by entering by seniority. Although he, as both a guest and ostensibly the highest ranked member of the group should have preceded Jane, he solved the conundrum by offering Jane one arm and Elizabeth the other, with the rest of the sisters trailing behind.
A maid took their outer garments, while Elizabeth, Jane and Mary gritted their teeth waiting for Mrs Bennet to start speaking.
Much to their surprise, all she said was, “Welcome to Longbourn, Mr Darcy. Mr Hill will show you where to refresh yourself and direct you to the parlour. Dinner should be in half an hour.”
11.Dinner
Fitzwilliam Darcy entered Longbourn’s parlour feeling disoriented.
So far, the day had gone an order of magnitude better than he had any right to hope. He realistically expected to spend at least a month in Miss Elizabeth’s brown books, if not forever. However, the elder Bennet sisters, much to his chagrin, rescued him from his own foolishness in about an hour; and the only cost was a minor blow to his pride.
He found it humbling that he had spent the better part of a month criticising the local populace, when in fact, the only ones truly worthy of censure resided at Netherfield. Miss Elizabeth had generously refrained from mentioning much of what he said at the Meryton assembly. His specific disparagement of her own person had obviously been spread with vigour, but he suspected she had left off the fact that he had said, “You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room.”
He tried to imagine what he would do if some clodpoll said the same withinhissister’s hearing, and he had a tough time imagining any outcome short of violence. Of course, ladies seldom resorted to physical violence, so he imagined Miss Elizabeth used the tools at hand. She sank his local reputation with a few well-chosen words, allowing him to reap what he had sown, although he was too wilfully blind to even recognise the crops in the field right in front of his face.
