Chapter 17

Drawing Room

Longbourn

Two Days Later

Tuesday, 10 th December, 1811

The clicking of knitting needles was just barely audible over the crackling of the fire, the only sounds perceptible in the drawing room save Lydia’s occasional grunt of annoyance as she dropped a stitch. Elizabeth glanced over to see Kitty sitting with her knitting in her lap while she leaned forward, the better to watch Mary, while Lydia peered closely at her own tiny mess of yarn – which bore little resemblance to the infant sock it was supposed to be.

She was still baffled at her youngest sisters’ sudden desire to learn to knit, but she was certainly not going to hinder them in learning a useful skill. As neither Lydia nor Kitty seemed to need her instruction right then, Elizabeth took a second to look out the window.

A little thin sunlight was leaking through the clouds now, like water seeping through a thick cloth, but it could not touch the frost permeating the ground and the trees and the glass panes, while the breath of the servants outside rose in thick clouds.

It was, at least, no longer as miserable as yesterday. Everyone had huddled inside the day before as the heavy gray clouds dumped snow and icy rain, which had then been caught by angry bursts of wind and thrown around in tempestuous flurries. Jane had been serene throughout the day, but her glance had strayed ever and anon to the window with a longing look in her eyes.

Nonetheless, it was still rather unpleasant for traveling, and Elizabeth was therefore surprised when the butler opened the door and stepped inside. “Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy, Miss Darcy,” he announced, and stepped back, as three familiar figures entered the room.

“Good morning!” Elizabeth said, rising hastily to her feet. “It is so good to see you after yesterday’s weather!”

“It was a good day to stay indoors,” Mr. Darcy agreed, his eyes fixed on Elizabeth’s cheerful face.

“Where is Jane?” Charles demanded, too much in love to care a great deal about courtesy.

“I believe she is with our mother discussing the wedding breakfast with Cook and Mrs. Hill.”

“Oh,” Bingley said, looking disheartened.

“I am quite certain that she would appreciate being interrupted, though,” Elizabeth continued, her eyes dancing. “Mr. Ayles, would you kindly escort Mr. Bingley to the housekeeper’s room?”

“Yes, Miss.”

Bingley turned on his heel with alacrity and followed the butler out of the door, leaving the Darcys with the four younger Misses Bennet.

“What are you doing?” Georgiana asked curiously of Mary as she went back to knitting vigorously.

“Lizzy and I are making baby booties for some of the tenant families,” Mary explained, though rather breathlessly. She knew that while fine needlework was considered an appropriate accomplishment for a lady, plain knitting was less impressive.

“I think that is delightful,” Georgiana replied, to Mary’s great relief. “Is it difficult?”

“Yes,” Lydia said with a rather loud chuckle. “I feel like I have far too many thumbs.”

Elizabeth, hoping that she was properly reading the expression on Miss Darcy’s face, said, “Would you like to try, Miss Darcy?”

Georgiana looked startled and then smiled slightly. “I would, though I doubt I will do very well.”

“Except for Lizzy and Mary, we are all beginners,” Lydia said. “Do sit down and work with us.”

“You can use my needles,” Elizabeth offered, handing over the ivory needles which had been a gift from her Aunt Gardiner. She would never lend them to Lydia, who was apt to be reckless, but Miss Darcy struck her as a timid soul who would be appropriately careful.

“Oh, thank you,” the girl replied, her face pleasingly flushed. Elizabeth smiled encouragingly at Mary, who began her knitting lesson, while Elizabeth retreated to a writing desk across the room, opened the drawer, and pulled out a piece of paper.

She was suddenly aware of a presence nearby and looked up in surprise to see that Mr. Darcy had followed her across the room, apparently with the express purpose of staring at her intently. In the past, she would have assumed he was judging her form, features, or dress, and finding them wanting, but given the discussions of the last days, perhaps she was wrong.

“Mr. Darcy?” she said in a questioning tone.

He looked startled, reddening slightly before shifting his gaze to the paper on the table. “Are these further gifts for the tenants?”

“Of Longbourn, yes, and the servants too. As you are doubtless aware, it takes time to arrange for presents.”

“I am ashamed to say that my only role at Pemberley has been to pay for the items given to tenants and servants; my housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, manages the purchases and packing herself, with help from other servants, of course. You and your family are to be commended for your diligence.”

“Thank you!” Elizabeth replied, and felt her heart twist within her. She had always thought Mr. Darcy an attractive man, with his tall figure, broad shoulders, handsome face, and dark, wavy hair, but with a smile on his lips and genuine admiration on his face, he was truly the best looking man she had ever met.

“I know Bingley is also grateful for your assistance at Netherfield,” he continued. “Miss Bennet is fortunate to have loyal sisters to help her in correcting what has been neglected for so long.”

“Yes, fortunate indeed,” Elizabeth said, casting a doubtful look at Kitty and Lydia, who were toiling away with Georgiana on knitting. Given the laughter, it appeared that all three beginners were struggling, but fortunately no one seemed unduly frustrated.

“I have been wondering if you would be willing to lend Georgiana your copy of Evelina ,” Darcy continued. “That is, of course, if your father does not mind.”

Elizabeth gestured to a pair of chairs placed moderately near the fire. “Shall we not sit down, sir? As for Evelina , by all means. My father prefers histories to novels, though he has been kind enough to acquire many of the more famous novels for his daughters.”

“That is considerate,” Darcy said. At the sight of the lady’s uncertain expression, he continued, “As should be obvious from our visit to the bookstore, I do not disdain novels in the least.”

“Yes, but do they allow a woman to be truly accomplished by improving her mind through extensive reading?” Elizabeth inquired archly.

Darcy stared at her, and then, to his surprise and hers, laughed openly. “Miss Elizabeth, I do apologize for my part in that absurd conversation at Netherfield when your sister lay ill. I do not remember entirely what was said, but I know it was ridiculous.”

“According to Miss Bingley, in order for a woman to be truly accomplished, she must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages, and she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be but half deserved. You then added, all this she must possess, along with consistently improving her mind by extensive reading.”

Darcy groaned and shook his head. “Yes, entirely preposterous. I believe in such a case as this, a poor memory is better than a perfect one.”

“You have truly changed your views, then?” Elizabeth asked suspiciously. “And if so, why?”

Darcy turned away from the lady’s intent gaze and stared out the window. In truth, his change of heart was largely spurred by his deep and growing attraction for Elizabeth. But his views had changed for logical, intellectual reasons as well. He could admit to that, at least.

“I have come to realize that while there is benefit to singing and dancing and … and all those other attributes, it is more important for the lady of an estate to attend to those under her care. I am confident that Miss Bennet will be a marvelous mistress of Netherfield; she cares deeply for Bingley, she cares for the servants and tenants, and she is well aware of how to manage a household.”

“She is all of those things,” Elizabeth agreed, and when Darcy looked back at her, he could see the love and affection as she spoke of her elder sister. “Jane is not accomplished in the ways that Miss Bingley deems necessary, but she is kind and diligent, and yes, she loves Charles very much.”

Darcy’s throat clogged at these simple words even as he felt a sudden, irrational surge of envy. He wanted what Charles had, so very much – the love of a good and godly woman, a woman who cared about more than money and connections and…

The door opened, and Mrs. Bennet surged into the room with Bingley and Jane, hand in hand, at her heels.

“The wedding breakfast will be the most lavish meal that our neighbors have ever seen, Mr. Bingley,” the matron declared, her face flushed with delight. “I know the neighbors are terribly envious that my Jane won the master of Netherfield, and I want everyone to know that she is worthy of such a high position!”

“Indeed she is,” Bingley said genially. Elizabeth, blushing a little at her mother’s vulgarity, glanced at Darcy and was surprised to see that he was regarding her with a wrinkled brow, as if he were trying to solve some puzzle.

“Is something the matter?” she asked in confusion.

He blinked and shook his head and smiled. “My apologies. I was woolgathering. Do you have any other ideas for books that my sister might enjoy?”

“Has she read Robinson Crusoe ?”

“I do not think she has! Yes, that is a most captivating story…”

/

Elizabeth’s Bedchamber

Later

Elizabeth dipped her pen into ink and turned her attention onto the creamy paper awaiting her.

Tuesday

Longbourn

Dear Aunt Gardiner,

It is a trifle absurd to write when you and your family will be journeying to Longbourn only next week, but I need to warn you that you will be entering a frenetic hive of activity as soon as you step down from your carriage. Mamma is so excited about Jane’s upcoming wedding that she rises early and goes to bed late, harrying Jane about wedding clothes, and the cook about the wedding breakfast, and Father about marriage settlements. Speaking of the latter, that is all arranged and Mr. Bingley is being very generous, which is no surprise.

I know I have mentioned Mr. Darcy to you previously, and did not have a single good word to say about the man. I must acknowledge that I was very much at fault in my previous assessment of him. Yes, he did insult my beauty the day we met, but he has apologized for that. Moreover, he is intelligent and diligent, a good brother, a hard worker, and plays an excellent game of chess. I like his sister very much too; she is currently staying at Netherfield, and is a gentle and sweet young lady.

The door opened, and Elizabeth looked up from her letter as Lydia pranced into the room with a smile on her face.

“Lizzy?” she asked, coming to a precipitous halt.

“Yes, Lydia?” Elizabeth said, carefully setting her letter aside so that it would not be drenched by ink if Lydia carelessly knocked over the well.

“Do you know how to make wreaths using evergreen branches?”

Elizabeth regarded her sister in open bewilderment. “What?”

“Do you know how to make wreaths out of branches?” Lydia repeated patiently. “I was telling Miss Darcy that some of the local families decorate at Christmas with wreaths, and she said that they do so at Pemberley, and we thought it would be pleasant to make some for Netherfield and Longbourn.”

Elizabeth blinked, and blinked again, and then said, “Erm, I do not know how, but perhaps Mrs. Hill does? I seem to remember that we had wreaths around the house when I was young, but Mamma gave them up for some reason or another.”

“I will ask Mrs. Hill,” Lydia said and turned on her heel so quickly that she was nearly at the door before Elizabeth said, “So you like Miss Darcy?”

“Yes,” Lydia replied, turning around again. “She is quite pleasant, surprisingly so given that she is rich and highly connected. She is not as proud as I thought she would be.”

“I think she is rather shy.”

Lydia frowned thoughtfully and nodded. “Yes, I think that might be true. She seems hesitant to speak, which is very odd to me.”

Elizabeth could not help but silently concur with that statement. Lydia had started talking in full sentences by the age of two and had never shown any hesitation in sharing her views with anyone who was willing to listen.

“So you are … friends with Miss Darcy?” she asked cautiously.

“I would like to be. Just think what it would do for my plans to find a good husband if I were a friend of Miss Darcy of Pemberley!”

Elizabeth opened her mouth in protest and then shut it just as quickly. She was vaguely appalled that Lydia’s newfound decorum was tied into her desire to find and ensnare a wealthy man, but if greed and self-interest encouraged Lydia to behave in a ladylike way, it would be foolish to discourage her.

“Good night, Lizzy!”

“Good night.”

Elizabeth watched the door close, her brow creased in thought. She was quite in agreement that Miss Darcy was a charming girl, but more and more, she was finding her thoughts dwelling on the young lady’s brother. Mr. Darcy was not perfect – no one was – but she was beginning to wonder whether he might be perfect for her. His temperament and understanding were different than her own, but she suspected that she would do better with Mr. Darcy than a man who was too much like her. As for Mr. Darcy, her own ease and liveliness might well be a benefit…

At this juncture, she called a stern halt to her runaway and rather silly thoughts. Mr. Darcy, nephew of an earl, one of the wealthiest men in all of the kingdom, was hardly likely to choose the daughter of a country squire for a bride, especially when said daughter had close ties to trade. Furthermore, according to Mr. Collins, Mr. Darcy was engaged to the heiress of Rosings, his cousin Anne de Bourgh.

She sighed regretfully and shook her head in an attempt to rid her mind of romantic thoughts and turned back to her letter.