12. Twelve

Twelve

S ir Thomas blinked, his baffled gaze shifting from Darcy to Bingley as if he had not heard them correctly. “Stay on? You… both of you wish to remain at Netherfield?”

Bingley nodded. “Yes, precisely. We thought we might stay a while longer, come to know the neighborhood, see a bit more of the house.”

Sir Thomas’s eyebrows drew together. “Stay on… Well, now, I did hear you properly, did I not? I had assumed—well, I assumed that once you understood the state of things, you would be more eager to… distance yourselves from my circumstances.”

“On the contrary,” Darcy replied. “There is much to recommend the area, and for ourselves, it would be time well-spent. We will pay handsomely for your trouble, of course. You’ve no idea the bother you would save me by letting Bingley exhaust this bit of a whim. Forever trying to get me out of London, he is, and now, you see, he has got me out of London, and I am quite terrified to return too soon, lest he scheme up something far more inconvenient.”

“Besides,” Bingley interjected, “we rather like it here. The neighborhood has a… a lively atmosphere. You would be doing us a favor, really. Come, man, look at my friend here. Have you ever seen a fit man of eight and twenty with such a pallor? I daresay, any moment I can get him out of his study—and away from his plots and plans to grow our little empire—well, I shall not be the man to turn that opportunity down.”

“But to stay here , as if I were any other host and you were any other guest…” Sir Thomas cleared his throat. “Forgive me, Mr. Bingley. I would not have you think yourselves unwelcome—far from it! It gives me immeasurable delight to see you both again. But… well, I say, sir, you would not find many people here willing to accept my hospitality. Not without… reservations.”

“That is precisely why we want to stay!” Bingley exclaimed, nearly rising from his seat. “Good heavens, man, do you know what a fearful bore Darcy can be when he thinks he shall be set upon by mercenary ladies? He shall have a natural sort of protection here. I might even get him out of doors for some skating or sleighing or something even more sociable like dancing and wassailing.”

Sir Thomas’s face paled. “Wassailing! You mean to stay on through Christmas?”

Darcy sighed. “What my friend is so clumsily trying to say is that, indeed, we would be deeply obliged if you found it within your means to permit us some… liberties. No expense is too great, sir. I would not have you put to the slightest inconvenience on our behalf, and nor would we wish to displace even a single one of your… ahem… what do you call them? Residents?”

Sir Thomas blinked vaguely. “I… we simply say, ‘the household.’ I was not aware I needed a formal name for the persons who inhabit my home.”

“And so, you do not. Very well, we would not wish to inconvenience you or your household. In fact, we hope to make ourselves welcome by more means than simple good manners and cheerful characters.”

Bingley made a snorting noise. “As if Darcy knows what a cheerful manner even is. I daresay, I thought he had nearly forgot how to smile at all until the other day, when—”

“I am sure Sir Thomas can have no interest in that ,” Darcy interrupted.

“I… I still do not understand,” Sir Thomas protested. “What is your intention? You mean to secure the house for… what? A temporary stay? A long-term lease?”

Darcy frowned and arched a brow at Bingley.

“Oh, I should say a deal more than that!” Bingley enthused. “Why, does it not strike you that this house is nearly the most scenic setting one can imagine for a bit of winter revelry? Why, apart from Pemberley—and you will not get Darcy that far from London just now—I never saw a happier situation for a grand party.”

Sir Thomas shook his head. “Scenery, it has in abundance. A party… why, that requires people.”

“With all due respect,” Bingley returned, “DarBing Enterprises never lacked for people willing to join their cause.”

Sir Thomas closed his eyes for an instant, and when he opened them, it was with a long-suffering sort of resignation. “You may be wizards in business, the both of you. But I think you will find that the stench of associating with Netherfield will cling to you no matter what ‘revelries’ you attempt to indulge in in Meryton.”

“And I think you will find that when a single man of good fortune declares himself in want of a party, there tends to be no lack of applicants,” Darcy replied.

Sir Thomas kneaded his forehead. “Darcy… Bingley… I know—or, at least, I think I know—what you are trying to do here. I assure you, the effort is not unappreciated, but I think you underestimate the difficulties. You will find not even one family who would stoop to accept the invitation.”

Darcy and Bingley shared a glance. Bingley, for once, gave the faintest shake of his head, as if to beg Darcy to speak first. Darcy thinned his lips and turned to address Sir Thomas.

“People simply do not know your intentions here. The good you have accomplished. If they did—if they had any notion of what you do and why—I am sure the town would not remain so distant.”

“They do not wish to know,” Sir Thomas replied. “I cannot force their understanding.”

“True,” Darcy said, “but we might tempt them into a better understanding, if given a chance. Mr. Bingley and I have discussed it, and we thought… perhaps a large Christmas party—too large to be ignored, for all of your neighbors. To give Meryton’s residents a chance to come into your home, see things for themselves.”

Sir Thomas stared at them. “A Christmas party! At Netherfield. For all of Meryton?” He sounded as though Darcy had suggested inviting the House of Commons for tea.

“Oh, indeed, yes!” Bingley jumped in. “It would be festive, welcoming, and no one would wish to miss it!”

Darcy nodded, glancing at Sir Thomas’s incredulous expression. “A large affair would serve many purposes. The season alone would excuse it, and every corner of Meryton could feel invited.”

Sir Thomas was silent for a moment, his eyes searching each of theirs. “Meryton would never agree to it. They would not attend.”

“They would,” Darcy countered. “If it were open to all—if everyone knew they were welcome, if the food were abundant and the, er, libations flowed freely, and it were held at a house as grand as Netherfield. They would come because… well, because they would not wish to be left out.”

Sir Thomas folded his arms, watching them carefully. “And you believe this will change their opinion of me and of Netherfield?”

“It may not happen overnight,” Darcy replied, “but it would be a start. It would give the people a chance to see the house and meet those who live here—see them, not as rumors or as threats, but as… as neighbors.”

Sir Thomas exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “Meryton has always been wary of me, but this…” He paused, his gaze sharpening. “They will think me mad! Where is the money to come from? You know everyone will talk. It is hardly a secret that I can hardly keep my own board from being bare.”

“That, Sir Thomas, shall not be a problem.” Darcy nodded toward his friend. “Bingley and I will see to every expense, down to the very particulars and beyond. It is, after all, the least we can do for inconveniencing you so by asking to host a party in your home.”

Sir Thomas gaped at each of them, something like hope flashing in his eyes, quickly replaced by a shadow of doubt. “Darcy! You are the least likely fellow I ever saw to be hosting a party. I have not forgot how you used to find the most private nook in the house when your fellows were drinking and carrying on. You would sit in the corner with a book and watch it all, hardly letting yourself be drawn in. And you wish to convince me that this is your idea, for your pleasure?”

“I take pleasure in a great many things besides reading,” Darcy said, a little defensively.

“He is lying about that last bit,” Bingley put in, “but I am not. Come, man, what of it?”

“Bingley, it all seems improbable.” Sir Thomas shook his head. “And how are we even to plan such a thing? I have no wife to serve as hostess. I would not know where to begin. I am an old bachelor, gentlemen; I am no expert in local customs or social niceties. I would not know how to make such an affair palatable to the town.”

Bingley grinned. “That, sir, is easily solved. We had thought—well, that is—Darcy and I had discussed it, and we wondered if there might be a particular family… some respected local household, with social standing…”

“Someone the people already trust,” Darcy continued, finishing Bingley’s thought. “And someone, perhaps, whose family already views you in a somewhat more generous light than others. If you had their support, they would bring others along by association.”

Sir Thomas raised his eyebrows, waiting for them to continue.

Bingley leaned forward. “The Bennets, sir. You know them, do you not?”

Sir Thomas considered. “By reputation only. I believe Mr. Bennet keeps somewhat to himself. But the family is respected, yes. Their elder daughters are quite well-regarded by those who speak of them, both for their beauty and their characters—the elder two, at least—and I…” He cleared his throat. “Well, that is, I have my suspicions that they have done a kindness or two for the girls here. My maids certainly seem to know who Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth are.”

Bingley nodded eagerly. “Exactly so! They are sensible, practical women. We have spoken to them at length, and they seem to have a good understanding of the town’s… sentiments.”

Darcy added, “And Miss Elizabeth mentioned that the Bennets are well-acquainted with the social scene here. Their family has lived here for years, and they are nearly the center of the neighborhood.”

Sir Thomas looked between them, a faint smile growing. “So, you would enlist the Bennets to help manage this gathering? What gives you the impression that they would agree?”

“Call it a hunch,” Bingley said.

“Well,” Sir Thomas sighed, “what do I know of such things? It is not as if I have something to lose in the affair, so you may as well please yourselves. And I suppose…” He glanced thoughtfully between them. “It would give you the chance to make the ladies’ acquaintance.”

Bingley cleared his throat, glancing sideways at Darcy. “Yes. We thought that, if you were to invite Mr. Bennet… perhaps he might bring his family to call. After all, what gathering could be successful without the right ladies to guide it?”

Darcy gave him a measured look but said nothing. Sir Thomas only chuckled. “Very well. If this is the approach you both believe will sway Meryton, I shall send Mr. Bennet an invitation. He may think me mad, but I doubt he will refuse outright.”

E lizabeth had settled herself with a book in the drawing room, curling up in her favorite chair by the hearth while Jane worked at a bit of embroidery on the sofa. It was an exceptionally cold afternoon, and the fire scarcely kept pace with the chill seeping into the room from the windows. As a consequence, their mother and younger sisters had returned upstairs directly after nuncheon, claiming the comforts of thick quilts and downy beds for the rest of the day.

Elizabeth’s gaze had drifted off the pages and into the dancing flames. She had fully intended to read a bit more of The Vicar of Wakefield —at least through the part about the Primroses being forced to move from their home—but her attention felt thin and fickle as the wisps of fire flitting about the brick. Thanks to that one particular—

“Lizzy, you look five miles away,” Jane observed from the sofa. “Or… perhaps only three miles.”

Elizabeth cleared her throat and drew her shoulders back. “Sorry?”

Jane’s mouth turned up on one side. “You were very coy about what the gentlemen said when you went to Netherfield. You must have seen them, I assume.”

“Only Mr. Darcy.”

“Oh! Why, that is… oh, dear, that does not sound very promising.”

Elizabeth shot her sister a glance. “If you had left well enough alone, I might not have had to anger the gentleman when I went to explain everything to him.”

Jane sucked her lip between her teeth. “Truly! Oh, I feared as much. I had thought… well, bother what I thought. Was he very angry?”

Elizabeth closed her book and set it on a table beside her. “Not really, but the fact that you feared he might be ought to be enough to chastise you properly on the matter. I still cannot fathom what you were thinking, Jane.”

“Thinking! Why, I was thinking that Aunt had a dazzling idea.”

Elizabeth blinked, her expression deadpan. “To trick two wealthy, single gentlemen into pairing off with her nieces at dinner?”

“Oh, pish-posh, Lizzy, do not be so silly. She has known both those gentlemen for years—both personally and by reputation. She knew very well that they might come to Netherfield—”

“After you tempted them.”

“— and ,” Jane continued without missing a beat, “that they might be induced to do something for Sir Thomas—”

“After you put them in a position to feel guilty for imposing on the man.”

“Now, Lizzy, you know very well that I never… or hardly ever do anything unseemly. This was just a bit of a push. And if the gentlemen truly are offended, what have we lost, hmm? Sir Thomas will hardly be worse off than he was before.”

“What have we lost?” Elizabeth arched up in some incredulity. “What about our dignity?”

“Mine is perfectly intact. I took the advice of our aunt, a lady I respect, to bring a good man with a good cause to the notice of two supposedly kind and very wealthy benefactors.”

Elizabeth sighed and kneaded her brow. “I cannot brush it off so easily as that.”

Jane lifted her shoulders and looked as though she meant to invent some other outlandish bit of reasoning when their father entered, a sealed note in his hand and a skeptical look in his eye. Without ceremony, he settled himself in the chair nearest the fire and cleared his throat.

“A note from Sir Thomas Ashford,” he announced, flicking his gaze between Jane and Elizabeth. “He invites me to dine at Netherfield this evening.”

Elizabeth felt a flutter of something—not quite hope, but certainly curiosity. “Dinner at Netherfield?”

“Indeed, I’ve no idea what occasioned it, but it appears our ‘scandalous’ neighbor has decided to make a formal attempt at civility.” He unfolded the note and squinted at the contents as if to reassure himself that he had read them aright. “Though why he would wish to waste an evening on me, I cannot imagine. He already claims to have two other visitors at present—now, let me see. A Mr. Bingley and a Mr. Darcy, both of London. Never heard of them.”

Jane smothered a beam of triumph behind her prim smile. “Oh, perhaps he does not consider it a waste at all, Papa,” she said, her voice a little too light. “It may be just a friendly attempt to strengthen ties with the neighborhood.”

“Perhaps,” Mr. Bennet agreed with a wry look, “but I hardly think your mother would approve. Though I daresay I could benefit from a change of scene. I wonder if Sir Thomas still has any of those Havana cigars he used to be so celebrated for, or if he has parted with them over the years.”

Jane folded her hands, her voice taking on a tone of practiced innocence. “Papa, I cannot help but think how inconvenient this dinner might be for you. Who will manage all the proper social pleasantries? Surely you do not expect Sir Thomas and his soldiers—assuming some of them are at table with you—to endure your wit without some form of softening influence?”

Mr. Bennet snorted. “My dear Jane, do you suggest I am incapable of carrying a conversation with a baronet? My ego hardly knows how to survive such a blow.”

Elizabeth stifled a laugh and turned to her sister. “Jane, truly, if you mean to manipulate Papa, you ought to be subtler. He is, after all, the master at the art. This is as transparent as glass.”

Jane ignored her, leaning slightly toward her father, her smile unwavering. “Not at all, Papa. I simply mean that if there are other guests present—Mr. Bingley, perhaps? Mr. Darcy? —a lady’s touch could be of service in balancing the conversation. A well-prepared hostess, after all, ensures the success of any evening.”

Mr. Bennet stroked his chin as if considering the argument. “Hmm. And do you propose that I cannot manage these gentlemen alone, without being overshadowed by their youth, fortune, and charm?”

“Not at all,” Jane said sweetly. “But surely even you cannot deny that Elizabeth and I might make the evening more… agreeable. For everyone.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Jane, you are as subtle as a sledgehammer. We have not been invited! Jane, this is not an evening with the Lucases. It is Netherfield. A formal invitation, with Sir Thomas, Mr. Bingley, and Mr. Darcy—”

“Oh, that is what makes it so interesting,” Jane replied. “Surely it would not hurt to expand our acquaintance?”

Mr. Bennet held up a hand. “Elizabeth is quite right, Jane. For my part, I hardly think Sir Thomas is in a position to refuse company, and though I ought to put my foot down, I find the prospect vastly amusing.”

“Of course, you do,” Jane wheedled. “And it is you who are inconvenienced by this invitation, after all. What possible grounds has Sir Thomas to protest?”

Their father grunted. “Your mother says often enough that I care too little for forwarding the interests of my daughters, and I ask you, what more promising opportunity than meeting these two gentlemen he speaks of? Perhaps they are wealthy and in search of wives, eh? Would not your mother be pleased?”

“Too pleased, Papa,” Elizabeth protested. “How do you propose to just leave with us, with no explanations?”

“Indeed, indeed. You would have to find a way past your mother. A feat which, I need hardly tell you, is beyond most mortal men.”

“But it would be easy enough if we were clever about it,” Jane insisted, turning to Elizabeth with a sparkle in her eye. “We need only tell Mama that we are dining with Charlotte. That ought to suffice.”

Elizabeth could only gape at her sister. “At Lucas Lodge! Jane, there will be snow this evening, and Papa will surely take the carriage himself.”

“As if Mama will even notice Papa is gone! She shan’t even know that he left, but will assume he is in his library like always.”

“Jane!” Elizabeth hissed. “Why, you are at it again! Papa, you see what she is attempting, do you not?”

Mr. Bennet braced both hands on the arm of his chair. “Oh, I see it plainly, Elizabeth. And yet, I find myself curious to see if she will manage to convince your mother to let you out of the house in the first place. That, my dear Jane, will be the true test of your persuasiveness.”

Jane’s lips curved in triumph, and she shot Elizabeth a look of quiet satisfaction. “I shall take that as permission to try.”

Elizabeth groaned, throwing her hands in the air. “Papa, you are encouraging her.”

“I am encouraging entertainment,” Mr. Bennet replied, folding his note again to slide it into his jacket pocket. “And Jane’s attempt promises to be highly diverting.”

“Jane, I beg you not to tell Mama,” Elizabeth began, shooting her father an imploring look, “it is highly inappropriate for young ladies to join gentlemen for such an affair.”

Mr. Bennet snorted, shaking his head. “Well, well. If you can devise a scheme that will satisfy your mother, I am prepared to be impressed. But mark my words, you are in for a task.”

“Then it is settled!” Jane said cheerfully, rising from her chair and clasping her hands. “Elizabeth, we have much to plan.”

Elizabeth stared after her sister, half in admiration and half in dismay. As Jane swept from the room, she turned to her father, who was already rising from his chair with an amused grin.

“You are encouraging this,” she said, exasperated.

“Only because I believe it shall end in magnificent failure,” Mr. Bennet replied with a chuckle. “But you may surprise me, my dear. Now go on—I expect you will need the whole remainder of the afternoon to contrive an escape.”