Page 10 of Mr. Darcy's Folly
“Oh, do forgive me.” Miss Elizabeth nodded gravely. “Of course. Do you know, Mr. Collins was just telling us yesterday how particularly gratifying he finds the tending of the hives. That must be due to your guidance and solicitude.”
“Indeed it is!” Mr. Collins straightened importantly. “Your ladyship’s guidance in all matters, even those concerning the humblest of God’s creatures, has been most enlightening. Why, only last week as I was observing the bees’ industrious nature, I was moved to compose a sermon on the very subject.”
His aunt, predictably diverted by this more familiar channel of adulation, turned her attention to Mr. Collins. “A sermon, you say? I trust you will submit it for my approval before Sunday?”
“Most certainly, your ladyship! I would not think of delivering it without first benefiting from your superior understanding.”
As Mr. Collins launched into an elaborate description of his planned sermon, Darcy noticed Miss Elizabeth exchange the briefest of glances with Mrs. Collins, who replied with a subtle nod of gratitude.
Fitz touched a napkin to this mouth and cleared his throat. Even Anne’s usually placid expression held a hint of a smile, though she quickly resumed her customary air of fatigue when her mother glanced her way.
“I must say, Miss Bennet,” his aunt said later, as the footmen began serving the final remove, “you show a gratifying attention to the principles of household management. Though of course, you still have much to learn.”
“Indeed,” Miss Elizabeth said with a solemn nod. “I find one’s education in such matters is never entirely complete, for every day brings some new understanding.”
Her tone was perfectly respectful, even humble, yet Darcy caught the double meaning. His aunt, of course, inclined her head regally, choosing to hear it as deference to her superior knowledge and not a suggestion that even the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh might yet have new things to learn.
“Just so,” she said with great condescension. “Though of course, years of experience do provide one with a certain authority on such matters.”
“How could they not?” Miss Elizabeth agreed sweetly, before turning to ask Mrs. Jenkinson her opinion of the dishes being served.
Mr. Collins beamed at this exchange, and Darcy wondered how often Miss Elizabeth employed such clever tactics in managing the social dynamics around her. The skill with which she had redirected his aunt’s attention, without giving the slightest cause for offence, spoke to an understanding of human nature that he found fascinating. It was the same skill Fitz’s mother the countess used when in London, but he had never seen Miss Elizabeth employ it before. He realized the difference between the two women very quickly—while the countess used it to purvey gossip and ridicule those she thought less deserving, Miss Elizabeth had manipulated her cousin and Lady Catherine but had not done so for any personal gain. She had done so only in the defence of a friend.
Lady Catherine, thoroughly satisfied with having instructed the entire table in the proper care of both linens and beehives, turned her attention to critiquing the musical education of young ladies in the neighbourhood.
“Quite promising, that girl,” Lady Catherine pronounced later, lingering a few moments after the carriage bore the party from the parsonage away and Anne and Mrs. Jenkinson had retired. “Somewhat impertinent, but not unintelligent. It is a shame her father has nothing to give her.” Then she too withdrew.
Chapter Four
DarcyandFitzmovedto the library, where his cousin poured them each a measure of brandy. The familiar scent of leather bindings and beeswax mingled with the rich aroma of the spirits. He had just settled into his favourite chair when Fitz crossed his legs and spoke.
“How long have you been in love with her?”
Darcy set his glass down with a thump. “I beg your pardon?”
“Miss Bennet,” his cousin replied as though Darcy were a dolt. “Delightful creature. You could hardly take your eyes from her all evening.”
“You are mistaken,” Darcy said stiffly. “I merely find her conversation engaging.”
“Engaging?” Fitz laughed. “Darcy, I have seen you ‘engaged’ by conversation before. This is well beyond that. When she managed to turn the topic from Mrs. Collins’s housekeeping to the keeping of bees, I thought you might actually smile at Lady Catherine’s dining table. In company, no less.”
“You exaggerate,” Darcy muttered, though he could feel the back of his neck growing warmer.
“Do I? Shall we catalogue your behaviour this evening? The way you watched her step down from the carriage from where you stood sentinel at the window? Your expression when Lady Catherine insisted on you taking Anne’s arm to dinner? The way you pressed your lips together to keep from laughing when Miss Bennet had my aunt claiming to have authority over the very bees in the hive?” He sipped from his glass. “You can be rather obstinate, you know, on certain subjects. The folly is one—”
“Fitz—” Darcy warned.
“I begin to think Miss Elizabeth is another.”
“Even were you correct, which you are not, it is impossible,” Darcy said, more to himself than his cousin. “Miss Bennet has little fortune and no connections at all.”
“Ah yes, the great Mr. Darcy of Pemberley cannot possibly form an attachment to an unconnected gentleman’s daughter.” Fitz’s tone held a hint of challenge. “Tell me, what precisely is the correct price for happiness these days? How many thousands a year must a woman bring to the marriage to make love acceptable?”
“That is not fair,” Darcy protested. “You know as well as I that marriage in our position carries obligations beyond personal inclination. You yourself look for a well-connected, wealthy heiress to wed, do you not? And there are other responsibilities to consider. The estate, the family name—”
Fitz shook his head. “Leave me out of it. I am not in your position. The Miss Bennet I watched tonight would be a match for any woman in the ton, including my mother. And most importantly, you cannot keep your eyes from her.”
Darcy stared into his brandy. “It signifies nothing.”
