Darcy & Elizabeth: A Season of Courtship (Darcy Saga Prequel Duo)

  Provided I am allotted the chance, that is.

  Anxiety rose another level. Then her eyes fell upon his left hand.

  Two fingers curled tightly around the edge of his jacket, the fabric being rhythmically kneaded into tiny wrinkles, while the other two fingers and thumb twitched and tapped against his thigh. It was a peculiar gesture she had noted a time or two before, without consciously tying the mannerism to an emotional state. Could it be a nervous habit? His hands involuntarily acting in defiance of the tight rein placed upon the rest of his body?

  “I pray the unexpected inclusion of Mr. Darcy for dinner is not a burden. He insisted on paying his respects to my future family, his desire such that he risked censure for lacking a proper invitation. For Darcy this is a major indication of his goodwill!”

  Bingley’s declaration and accompanying laugh startled Lizzy. She lifted her eyes just in time to encounter Mr. Darcy’s penetrating stare before he jerked and swiveled his gaze toward Bingley and then Mrs. Bennet, when she replied with conviction, “Oh! We were expecting Mr. Darcy for dinner, naturally! Why, Lizzy made that clear, passing the information to Hill as soon as she returned to the house this morning. My apologies, Mr. Darcy, if you were not properly invited. Oh my! Lizzy can forget the proper way of things, although I am sure she will catch on quickly as to how the mistress of a fine manor should conduct herself in due time. Have no worries, Mr. Darcy, in that regard. Our Lizzy is a bright girl and—”

  “I believe, my dear, that Mr. Bingley’s statement is due to his unawareness of the situation rather than Mr. Darcy not knowing he was expected for dinner.”

  Darcy cleared his throat and visibly collected himself as he turned to address Mr. Bennet. “Indeed, I must apologize to Mr. Bingley for misleading. As it happened, our reception at Netherfield this afternoon was…unfavorable for imparting news of this nature. Afterward, I confess that announcing my great fortune while amongst all of you seemed appropriate.”

  “Plus, you are enjoying Mr. Bingley’s confusion and relish the drama of his shock when he hears our news. Is that correct, Mr. Darcy?”

  “I daresay, Miss Elizabeth, that vision did add to my decision to remain silent. Quite astute of you to analyze my true motives.”

  “Thank you. Although perhaps I am not astute so much as you are simply more transparent than you believe.”

  “Doubtful, otherwise you would have deciphered my sentiments some time ago, without needing outside interference.”

  “Point accepted. So now, the challenge is for me to discover where I went wrong before and why I easily gleaned the truth this time.”

  “I have never known you to fail a challenge, Miss Elizabeth, but I promise to assist in this particular endeavor, as it benefits me equally.”

  Six pairs of eyes flipped back and forth between Darcy and Lizzy, both of whom appeared to have forgotten they were not alone—and standing far across the room from each other. So focused were they that Darcy missed the drama of Bingley’s confusion rolling into dawning enlightenment, and then the anticipated shock.

  “Hold on! Is there an…understanding between you and Miss Elizabeth, Darcy?”

  “I suppose it can be referred to as such, although I much prefer to state it plainly so as to leave no room for doubt. Today Miss Elizabeth Bennet accepted my proposal of marriage. Now you are in competition for who is the happiest man in Hertfordshire, Bingley.”

  Moderate pandemonium erupted at that point. Darcy said little else as he was congratulated by Bingley and lavished with praise by Mrs. Bennet. Lizzy was freshly engulfed by delighted sisters, all three of them—even Mary—acting as if news of her betrothal was revealed that moment. She never made it closer than five feet to her future husband before again being separated when called into the dining room.

  Mrs. Bennet had been busy that afternoon, despite her claims of being overwhelmed by nerves and anxiety at Lizzy’s choice for a husband. The dining room was polished until every last surface sparkled. Their finest china, tableware, linens, silver, and serving implements were in use, and the candles were brand-new. Freshly cut flowers and fragrant herbs were arranged in decorative vases strategically located around the room. The cook, Mrs. Price, who in Lizzy’s estimation always served tasty dishes, had outdone herself with cuisine visually pleasing when served and divine when upon the palate.

  Sitting catercorner across the table from Mr. Darcy—purposely assigned the chair to the left of Mr. Bennet—Lizzy covered her annoyance at being unable to easily converse with him by using the position to observe frankly. He ate with refined movements and precision pacing, but consumed every last morsel, as only a man with a hearty appetite and good food can manage. He spoke sparingly, as was his natural way Lizzy now understood, but seemed relaxed enough, even when conversing with Kitty, who sat beside him. Often he turned his eyes toward Lizzy. His gaze and expression were guarded in the mixed company, but he was unable to completely hide the love that sent tingles spiraling up and down her spine.

  Taken together, Lizzy felt tremendous relief that his first dinner at Longbourn as her betrothed was not too uncomfortable for him—or an embarrassment to her. After dining at Pemberley, where Lizzy suspected ultra-formality was normal even if only Mr. Darcy and Miss Darcy were present, and at Netherfield where Caroline Bingley not only insisted on high dining style à la Française, but also commented on each detail to prove her cultured superiority, Lizzy knew the Longbourn dining experience would fall short. In this she was correct, just not as drastically as feared. She made a point of whispering her sincere appreciation to Mrs. Bennet.

  Mary landed in the spot between Lizzy and Mr. Bingley and was the only person at the lively table who genuinely appeared miserable. She kept her head bowed as she ate and responded to the few direct comments from Mr. Bingley with nods of her head or monosyllables. Before the soup bowls were whisked away, he gave up and turned his attention to Mr. Bennet. The older gentleman devoted his conversation primarily to Mr. Darcy.

  Kitty was clearly thrilled to be seated between Jane and Mr. Darcy. Her juvenile chatter and inane queries caused Lizzy to cringe and stifle a few groans, but aside from a handful of rapidly hidden surprised reactions from Mr. Darcy, he replied with serious deliberation and respect. Once deciding to ignore the somber Mary, Mr. Bingley became especially jolly. He laughed sunnily at Kitty’s innocent quips, and gaily jumped in with answers to Mr. Bennet’s subtle prods for information about Mr. Darcy. Lizzy saw through her father’s casual repose and harmless promptings. She did not begrudge his mission, had agreed to it in fact, and was relieved to witness it unfolding in a nonchalant manner versus an inquisition.

  Lizzy doubted Mr. Darcy was fooled by the carefree attitude from his future father-in-law. He replied succinctly and with traces of humor, although the bulk of the time he remained silent while Bingley and Kitty chattered on. The glances shared with Lizzy hinted of his comprehension and tolerance for Mr. Bennet’s investigation. How long his good humor and forbearance would last was another matter entirely.

  “Why, Mr. Bennet! I have had the most amazing idea!”

  “If it is amazing, Mrs. Bennet, then by all means, do share it with the rest of us immediately.”

  “Jane and I have been discussing plans for the wedding, Lizzy too when she can remove her eyes from Mr. Darcy and pay attention”—Lizzy blushed and ducked her head—“and we were considering the practical benefits, as well as the romantic notion and delight to the community, if Jane and Lizzy were to be married in a joint ceremony. Is that not a fabulous idea? I think it best to avoid a date too close to Guy Fawkes Day, but shortly thereafter will give us plenty of time to prepare and announce the banns—”

  “I see no reason to discuss the specifics at this point, Mrs. Bennet. There is no need to be hasty when Lizzy and Mr. Darcy have been betrothed for less than a day. Mr. Bingley has been promised to our Jane for over a week, and has yet to place demands upon wresting her away from the family. I am sure Mr. Darcy possesses the same pa
tience and understanding of parental hesitation. And now”—Mr. Bennet stood, having not looked at either daughter or future son-in-law to verify their thoughts on the subject—“the gentlemen shall join me for a glass of port in my study while the ladies enjoy a respite from male conversation. I know it is fruitless to command you not to talk wedding folderol, so will merely caution against establishing concrete details as of yet.”

  Bingley and Darcy rose from the table after a slight hesitation, performed proper bows and expressions of thanks for the meal, smiled warmly at each fiancée, and moved to join Mr. Bennet where he had paused in the doorway.

  “I promise not to keep them long, girls. Lizzy, if you can delay your ritual after-dinner stroll in the garden, I bet Mr. Darcy can be enticed to join you. With Jane and Mr. Bingley, of course.”

  * * *

  Mr. Bennet’s study dually served as the Longbourn library. Open-shelf cases jammed with books covered three of the four walls, and encompassed the large desk sitting near the lone window. A narrow commode, overstuffed sofa, small wood-burning stove, and two worn chairs occupied the remaining area. Every inch of space was filled with a book or stack of papers. Odd personal items were strewn on top of or in between the books, adding to the impression of cramped disorder.

  The room where Lizzy’s father frequently retreated was a third the size of Mr. Darcy’s spacious business chamber at Pemberley. In fact, the Derbyshire manor’s library was so massive that a size comparison was ludicrous. Amazingly, while Mr. Bennet’s study lacked the sophistication of expensive furnishings arranged with consideration for organization and pleasing presentation that Darcy’s office possessed, the room was functional and well appointed.

  Earlier that day, upon his first ever visit to Mr. Bennet’s private sanctuary, Darcy’s frazzled nerves prevented him from paying attention to his surroundings. On this night, with his happiness and inner calm at a supreme level, he was free to gaze with interest at a room he suspected Elizabeth passed substantial amounts of time in. In sharp contrast to what he might have surmised, based on his previous state of anxiety, Darcy realized with a start that the cluttered chamber was homey in an elemental way. Mismatched furnishings, many of which were worn and scraped, somehow blended to convey a sensation of comfort. The impressive volume of dog-eared books added to the ambience. Even the cluttered desk was soothing, but that was more due to familiarity since Darcy, despite his obsessive need for order, kept a cluttered desktop as well.

  The biggest surprise, however, was the eclectic assortment of books. And, as Darcy discovered when he crossed the room to investigate—rather than sitting, as Mr. Bennet invited he and Bingley to do—a large number were rare publications. It was enlightening, and sobering, to recognize a kindred spirit in the elderly gentleman he had once dismissed as foolish and minimally educated. Clearly Mr. Bennet was a man who appreciated fine literature as well as educational books spanning a wide range of topics. Presuming he had read many of the books in his library—a logical conclusion based on the bent pages, finger smudges, and frayed bindings noted on nearly each book—and that Elizabeth had probably read a goodly number of them as well, Darcy’s opinion of his future father-in-law started to shift.

  Better yet, the information helped him formulate a plan.

  “Your library is impressive, Mr. Bennet.” Darcy used the glass of brandy Mr. Bennet handed to him to indicate the shelves as he spoke. “I see you have all of Mr. Wordsworth’s volumes, including Laodamia, which I have yet to acquire, and this collection of Shakespeare is of a rare binding. I know because I have the same set, and it was a costly acquisition that took me six months to track down.”

  “I am fortunate to have certain connections at Oxford,” Mr. Bennet said with a soft laugh. “All those hours passed in the library, when I should have been attending a boring lecture, proved invaluable in establishing a lifelong friendship with the master librarian.”

  “I attended enough boring lectures to know the truth in that. Not all professors or subjects taught were useless, of course. Nevertheless, I can attest to the ofttimes superior education gleaned from a well-written and researched book.”

  “The reading of all good books is like conversation with the noblest men of the past centuries.”

  Darcy was not surprised Mr. Bennet could quote Descartes. The philosopher’s writings were widely distributed and discussed, if not universally embraced. He did wonder how far-reaching the older gentleman’s delving into philosophy was—especially in how deeply Elizabeth may have studied—so he returned the quote with another.

  “Read not to contradict and confute; nor to believe and take for granted; nor to find talk and discourse; but to weigh and consider.”

  Mr. Bennet acknowledged his recognition of Sir Francis Bacon’s words with a commentary. “Bacon’s personal life was questionable, and I will argue some of his liberal philosophies. Yet one cannot deny he encouraged inductive reasoning. We are, to this day, seeing his influence as England enters an age of scientific experimentation.” Mr. Bennet cocked his head. “Do you embrace progress, Mr. Darcy? Does the possibility of industrial advancements, with the potential for alterations to our society and class structures, worry you?”

  “It is a double-edged sword to my way of thinking,” Darcy answered carefully. He was loathe to veer the conversation away from Elizabeth and the subject of their wedding. Then again, sharing a discussion on philosophy was enjoyable, and it could lead to better understanding his future father-in-law, as well as his betrothed.

  With that in mind, he explained, “England has established rules that have served us well for centuries. I trust in our heritage and, as a landowner, accept my duty seriously. I have also seen the adverse effects of this so-called progress in places, such as the coal mines and mismanaged mills. They harm the landscape and, in far too many instances, do not help the workers to improve their lot in life. Despite these facts, change is inevitable. Fighting the future revolution is a fruitless endeavor, in my opinion. It is better to work with the reality, doing what is wise to balance the old ways with the new waves that will come.”

  “I quite agree, Mr. Darcy, although I cheerfully leave the future to those such as yourself who are young and energetic. I do not have the stamina, bendable nature, or inclination to willingly change my ways.” He laughed along with Darcy. “I do welcome your further thoughts on the topic, but as it is clear Mr. Bingley is not as fascinated, we can save our discussion for later.”

  Bingley flushed. “I do apologize, Mr. Bennet. Darcy has tried, without success, to ignite my passions for such matters. Alas, I am a poor student.”

  “Mr. Bingley has other passions,” Darcy interjected, smiling warmly at his friend. “He has been an apt pupil in matters of farming and estate management. In time, with fortune leading him to an ideal property, Bingley will prove his capability.”

  Bingley’s cheeks flamed redder. His expression conveyed pride at Darcy’s praise, as well as a hint of anxiety, especially in the swift flicker of his eyes toward Mr. Bennet, who was frowning minutely. Instantly it dawned on Darcy that Bingley had not shared with Jane’s family his plans to purchase an estate of his own. Surely he has enlightened Miss Bennet to the fact that she may well end up residing far away from the Bennets? Nevertheless, since none of it was technically any business of his—nor was he desirous to be in the middle of the conversation when it was broached—Darcy quickly changed the subject.

  “Ah! Here is your copy of Parzival by Wolfram von Eschenbach.” He drew the slim volume off the shelf, silently thanking the fates for drawing his eyes in a providential direction. “I named my stallion after this poem and confess to being quite startled when Miss Elizabeth instantly recognized where it came from. I greatly appreciate that your daughter is an extensive reader, Mr. Bennet, and clearly have you to thank for instilling that passion within her.”

  Mr. Bennet turned toward his desk, circling and relaxing into the chair as he replied. “Lizzy was always precocious in that way. N
o offense intended toward my dear Jane, Mr. Bingley, but none of my daughters have shown the intense interest in reading as Lizzy has.”

  “Not to worry, sir,” Bingley assured, smiling dreamily. “I am not the rabid absorber of literature as Darcy is, so it matters little to me that Miss Bennet does not read to the extent of Miss Elizabeth. Darcy, on the other hand, would have a difficult way of it with a wife who was not the bookworm he is!”

  Thanks for feeding into my plan, Charles. Darcy smothered his smile and nodded. “Indeed, Bingley is correct. It might surprise you, Mr. Bennet, but as lovely as Miss Elizabeth is, it honestly was not physical attraction that first drew me to her.”

  “I am not surprised, Mr. Darcy. After all, the people of Hertfordshire are aware that Lizzy was deemed ‘not handsome enough’ to tempt you into even a simple dance. I can only imagine the amazed speculation that will flitter throughout the countryside when your betrothal is announced.”

  Darcy stiffened and almost dropped the book from suddenly nerveless fingers. The citizens of Meryton thinking negatively about him was not a mystery, but he had no idea his rude dismissal of Elizabeth during that first Assembly over a year ago was common knowledge. Before the full impact of just how steep the hill he had to climb in order to improve popular opinion toward him—and clearly that of his future father-in-law as well—Bingley jumped in.

  “Please do not judge Darcy harshly, Mr. Bennet! He is renowned for his gentlemanly behavior, most especially to the ladies of Society!” Darcy winced, not sure how that statement would be interpreted by Elizabeth’s father. Bingley was not done, unfortunately. “His manners are normally of the highest caliber, I promise you that. So much so that he is sought by all as the perfect companion for dancing and the like.”

  Darcy fervently prayed the ground would open and swallow him.

  “It is entirely my fault,” Bingley rushed on. “I bullied him into coming to Hertfordshire last autumn. His heart’s desire was to return to Pemberley and Miss Darcy. Then, I compounded the matter by insisting he attend the Assembly. His foul mood on that occasion was an anomaly, and his words were directed at me, not meant as a personal insult to Miss Elizabeth.”