Chapter 9

Fitzwilliam Darcy once again found himself retreating to the edge of the gathering. How had he ended up in the situation? A casual, yet genuine, agreement to assist an old friend made six months earlier had turned into this ordeal. Bingley was in no way responsible for the situation with his sister, Georgiana. It was the timing that was the issue. His sister had shown little sign of improvement in her demeanour over the summer and his aunt had all but insisted that he fulfil this obligation. It was her hope that his sister would start to recover without him hovering over her. His absence was to be for two months, he could only add his hopes and prayers to those of his aunt.

So Darcy had been out of sorts before he even left London. But now he was stuck somewhere between the third and fourth circles of Hell, faced as he was with daily reminders of Hurst’s gluttony and Miss Bingley’s greed. As he thought about the journey to Netherfield Park he had to shake his head and acknowledge his own stupidity as well. What had he been thinking when agreeing to transport Bingley’s two sisters and brother in law? Clearly, he had not been thinking at all.

But the journey had set the tone. They had only been in Hertfordshire for 10 days, they had not even managed to get to a fortnight, and it felt like months. Mentally retreating into himself further Darcy wondered how he would survive the nine week visit. That he was already counting down to his escape was a sign, and not a good one. Darcy also knew he was advancing to a fork in the road, and seemed unable to halt that progress.

Family was of the utmost importance to Darcy, he did not need to consider that for even a moment. With both his parents dead, the guardianship of his 15 year old sister was the most important thing in Darcy’s world. They were the only immediate family that each other had. There were aunts and uncles and cousins, but Darcy’s family centred on Georgiana. Which was why he was so tormented at his failure to protect her adequately. Bingley’s parents were also dead, leaving him and his two sisters. One had already married a gentleman, even if only a minor one. And they travelled with Bingley and the other unmarried sister, inflicting Hurst’s gluttony on the company. But whereas Georgiana Darcy was a gentle soul, quiet and studious, Caroline Bingley was, well first of all she was not gentle, quiet or studious.

Darcy mentally sighed, there was no point in thinking about Caroline Bingley. He was exposed to her on a daily basis at present, and it was a trial. Having already thought of Dante his mood lightened as he now turned to Peisander; Caroline Bingley, the 13 th labour of Heracles. Given the importance of his own sister in his life Darcy was never going to make Bingley choose between his own sister and Darcy. But Darcy’s patience with her was rapidly running out. He started to list her faults but he stopped himself. What was the point? He was a guest of Bingley and was scheduled to be so until the end of November. If he stayed the full nine weeks it would be in the constant company of Caroline Bingley. Bah!

He stopped his mental introspection and turned his attention back to the present company. It was small soiree at the home of Sir William Lucas, the only knight in the area. He was a ruddy faced gent with a booming voice and the tendency to describe everything as ‘capital’. He looked around the room, there were perhaps 22 to 25 people present, and he immediately spotted his own party. Hurst was at the refreshment table, no surprise there. The Bingley sisters were standing together, whispering rudely and tittering at their own inane drivel. And Bingley was standing talking to the prettiest woman in the room, the tall blonde oldest Bennet sister. Darcy looked at Miss Jane Bennet and could see that she was exactly Bingley’s type, when back at Netherfield he was constantly talking about his angel.

A sudden loud shriek caught his attention and he turned his gaze. Ah, just as 10 days previously at the Assembly, here was the evidence that Miss Jane Bennet did not come without embarrassing relations. In this instance it was the mother, but it could have been one of the two youngest sisters. The three of them appeared to be in a contest to see who could make the biggest scene. Turning away from the spectacle Mrs. Bennet was making he scanned the room. He knew through Miss Bingley that were five sisters but he did not know which of the women in the room were the other two. A quick mental elimination of the various ladies he had been introduced to left him with only two. The assumption being these were the missing Bennet sisters.

A frog in his throat meant he needed to get a glass from the refreshment table. Leaving the safety of his corner resulted in capture by the enemy, well Sir William at least. This gentleman preceded to recount his knighthood ceremony at St. James’s Palace, and given his fluency Darcy surmised this was not an infrequent event. While they talked an area of the room was cleared for dancing and someone started an air of the piano. Darcy hoped that Miss Bingley would not want to dance in such an environment.

“Ah Colonel Forster, allow me to introduce a guest of Mr. Bingley’s at Netherfield Park, Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy, this is Colonel Forster, the officer in charge of a Militia Regiment that is to be quartered in the area this autumn and winter.”

Darcy was looking forward to discussing the current situation on the Peninsula, anything was preferable to Sir William’s anecdotes, or worse in having to dance. But before he and Forster had done anything but bow to each other the Colonel was called away by his wife. Darcy tried to think of something, anything to break free from Sir William. Then his worst nightmare appeared in the shape of a young woman, one of the unknown Bennet sisters.

“Ah, Miss Eliza, why are you not dancing? Mr. Darcy, you must allow me.”

The avuncular knight got no further.

“Excuse me Sir William. I have not been introduced to this gentleman and I will allow nothing.”

With the merest smidge of a curtsey she was gone, not once having looked at him. Darcy was taken aback, a combination of mortified and outraged at his treatment.

“You were not introduced to Miss Elizabeth Bennet at the Assembly? I distinctly remember them greeting you but…”

Sir William trailed off, and Darcy winced internally. He had not been introduced to the Bennets because he had walked away during the introduction. He had been properly introduced to the mother, oldest and two youngest sisters later over the course of the evening. None of the blame could be deflected, not to any of the locals, not to the other members of his own party, this was on him.

“No Sir William, the introduction was not complete. May I ask of your assistance, perhaps later, in the evening to affect an introduction?”

Sir William immediately returned to his ebullient best.

“Of course Mr. Darcy, it would be my pleasure. Capital, capital.”

They parted allowing Darcy to retreat and lick his entirely self-inflicted wounds. He was trying to process the whole incident. Nobody ever refused to dance with him. Technically he had not been turned down for a dance, but rather the young lady had not even acknowledged him. That was so much better! Did she not know who he was? He was the grandson of an Earl, the nephew of the current Earl.

Darcy stopped. He needed to be outside, alone, on the back of his favourite stallion letting the wind and the cold and the exercise blow his mental cobwebs away. If for no other reason than he was starting to think like his Aunt Catherine. That prompted another mental shudder, at least the third of the evening. He thought back to the two sentences Sir William had managed to utter, ‘Miss Eliza’. So this young lady was the second of the sisters, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

Getting himself back under regulation he considered the short meeting. The Darcy name was known throughout society, but did that knowledge extend to this country backwater? He had been full of his own consequence, he had even said so to Bingley. His calm reflections came to a screeching halt and he sought out the last sister, Miss Mary. She was at the piano providing the music for the dancers and he could see her face. It was the same lady that he spoke about to Bingley. Had she heard? There would be no introduction this evening, he needed to talk to Bingley.

Right at that moment he cursed his April agreement to assist Bingley.

He was stuck here for at least another hour. Where was that Colonel? He could have a discussion with him, stay focused on the War and avoid thinking about Hertfordshire. He edged round the wall only to realise that the one person he wished to avoid, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, was talking to the Colonel. And, he was startled to learn, with confidence and knowledge of the situation in Spain and Portugal.

“So you were with General Moore on the retreat to A Coruna?”

“I had that privilege.”

“Do you mind my asking about your recollections of the battle? I know it must be difficult given that so many fell.”

“Thank you for the courtesy of asking Miss Elizabeth. So many people just demand the information. I understand the curiosity, the fascination even over the events. As for myself, I was on the staff of General Napier with the 50 th Infantry of Foot. It was a tough retreat, most of all in the hills above A Coruna itself. I was shot but was lucky, the bullet merely grazed my side. It stung like the devil at the time but given General Napier was badly wounded and thought dead I had nothing to complain about. We were heartened to hear he had been saved by the French and he made a full recovery. He was paroled back to us, but that was much later.”

“I remember reading that the 50 th were in the rearguard, you must have been among the last to embark and escape.”

“We were loaded on the penultimate day, our Spanish allies stayed and allowed us to retreat.”

“Do you remember where you embarked?”

“Do you know A Coruna harbour Miss Elizabeth?”

Darcy was patently eavesdropping now. He saw Miss Elizabeth flush at the question.

“No, although I have seen the chart. My uncle is involved in the shipment of grain to our Spanish allies and one of the captains involved in the transport came to dinner one evening.”

Darcy was mostly standing behind Miss Elizabeth but he could see the edge of her smile as she remembered the occasion.

“I rather disrupted the separation of the sexes with so many questions. I was lucky that he had some of his charts with him in his map case. It was fascinating as he described the bay, and the harbour. As I looked at the chart I was also thinking of the reports at the time.”

Several people had joined the group and Darcy could see that Colonel Forster was pleased at the questions, and the recognition. And he had every right to deserve the recognition. Wounded in action while conducting a fighting retreat, that was always something to be proud of. Forster continued.

“We were rowed out from the beaches and jetties on the north side of the bay. We were in the lee of one of the defensive works for the harbour, Castillo de San Anton. I have always remembered the name, as one of my captains was Anthony Smyth,”

“Well thank you for sharing a few of your memories Colonel. We all here are in your debt.”

Darcy had to step sharply back as Miss Elizabeth stepped away from the circle around the Colonel. He watched her walk over to the daughter of their host. In doing so Darcy was acutely aware that Miss Elizabeth was a lovely woman. Different in physique, and temperament, to her older sister but no less beautiful. And she was extremely well read. The battle of Corunna was nearly three years ago. Darcy got no further. Miss Elizabeth had called the town by its Spanish name, A Coruna, rather than the anglicised name of Corunna. She also remembered a specific regiment. That was quite remarkable. He would test his cousin the next time they were together, he doubted Richard would have that level of recall.

And she was utterly open about her uncle being in trade, making no effort to disguise the fact. Shipping grain from the Americas was a significant undertaking. Her uncle’s business was clearly not a small enterprise. Yet it was also stark evidence of his status as being in trade, which in turn would limit his niece, all the sisters, when they were being courted. Few gentlemen would connect themselves to a family with such close, and well known, ties to trade.

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Fitzwilliam Darcy thought of himself as a rational man, he was renowned within his friends for being overly analytical, yet he found himself thoroughly confused by a young woman. A week after the event at Lucas Lodge it was the turn of the Long family to host a dinner. For once Miss Bingley had not made them ‘fashionably’ late and they arrived with the throng of other guests. He had watched Miss Elizabeth give a bottle of brandy to their host. Mr. Long’s reaction was one of extreme gratitude but the arrival of so many of the guests at the same time delayed further comment.

Later Darcy observed an animated discussion between Mr. Long, Sir William Lucas and Miss Elizabeth. He wished that he could have been closer to hear what was being discussed, and significance of the gift of brandy. What the evening did allow for was a very belated introduction to the two Bennet sisters he had not yet formally met, Miss Mary and Miss Elizabeth. Despite the social lubrication of a verbose Sir William it was stilted and awkward. Miss Mary fled from his presence almost immediately, and he used that word advisedly. Whereas Miss Elizabeth seemed to take great delight in being dull and, he would swear, deliberately obtuse. He knew that she was well read, had an impressive memory and was always at the centre of conversation. Yet with him she gave him no openings. What was worse was that as soon as she was free from his presence she immediately returned to her normal behaviour.

Later that evening, sitting swirling a glass of port, he came to the inescapable conclusion that Miss Mary had heard his dismissal of her at the Assembly. Judging by the behaviour of the rest of the family he did not think the event had been recounted to any of them, other than Miss Elizabeth. Miss Mary avoided him completely whereas Miss Elizabeth had been as rude as permissible within the confines of polite discourse. What he was struggling with was how to fix this? And why he felt the need to fix it?

Here his pride was rebelling against the obvious solution of apologising to Miss Mary Bennet. She was quiet, he had not spent sufficient time with her to really get a read of her character. He had not spent much time with Miss Bennet but he had observed Bingley with her, and listened to his daily panegyrics on her angelic qualities. And of course he had spent too much time thinking about and observing Miss Elizabeth. All three young women comported themselves as was expected of gentle-born ladies. But it was not these three that were giving him pause. The language, the behaviour, the sheer volume of the mother and the two youngest sisters, he struggled to understand how the oldest three were related to the rest of the Bennets. And then there was the missing father. Darcy had met Mr. Bennet for less than five minutes when he had accompanied Bingley to visit Longbourn. Darcy had no feel for the man at all, other than judging him on his absences rather than his attendance. It was the behaviour of the rest of the family that his pride could not overlook. He had an apology to deliver, but something was holding him back.

All of that was well and good. But now, sitting at a dinner with the officers of the Militia Regiment and various local gentlemen, Darcy’s understanding of the local society was disrupted anew.

“Gentlemen, I have been fortunate to be gifted several bottles of ‘blood brandy’, the first new brandy to be legally imported since Amiens. Shall we partake of this fine gift in the knowledge that French blood was spilled to acquire it?”

Colonel Forster’s cheerful speech was greeted enthusiastically. And so it should. ‘Blood brandy’ was the name given to a shipment of brandy from Spain. In the eight years since the end of the Peace of Amiens most cellared stocks had been consumed. And with the embargo on trading with the French, brandy had become increasingly hard to acquire, and involved dealing with smugglers. Near the end of the previous year it had been announced that a shipment of French brandy had been legally imported from Spain. And what gave it the name ‘blood brandy’ was the accompanying news that each case had been liberated by Spanish guerillas, killing and wounding the French guards on the supply wagons. There had even been cases of brandy from the supplies of the puppet king, Napoleon’s own brother. When the Spanish won several victories and approached Madrid in 1809 he had fled, allowing his personal supplies to be plundered. That any survived from the hands of the conquering troops was a miracle.

Darcy himself had purchased several cases when it was announced in December of 1810. There had been a mild frenzy as supplies were limited and everyone wanted to obtain at least some of this bounty. The total cargo had only lasted six weeks, by the end of January of the current year it had all been sold. So who had gifted a minor Militia colonel several bottles of this rare treasure? He did not have to ask the question himself, several enquiries were made by his fellow officers, and Hurst.

“They were a gift from one of the local families. From my understanding several of the gentlemen here this evening have also received such a gift.”

Forster had not named the family, presumably to stop people importuning them to receive a gift. But Darcy thought back to the dinner at the Longs, and Miss Elizabeth Bennet presenting Mr. Long with a bottle of brandy. He joined the disparate threads, and realised that he himself had met Miss Elizabeth’s uncle. Edward Gardiner of Gardiner Import/Export was the uncle in trade. He leant back and listened as the various gentlemen of the neighbourhood present confirmed that they too had received a gift of ‘blood brandy’. As usual Mr. Bennet was not in attendance but both Sir William Lucas and Mr. Long confirmed receipt, neither naming the family that gifted them the brandy.

Darcy was even more confused. Every young lady he met in town was jockeying to get married, far too often they had set their cap on him. The matchmaking mamas were even worse, displaying a frightening lack of subtlety in promoting their offspring. And everyone spent inordinate amounts of effort to ensure that there was no taint of trade upon them. He just had to look at Bingley’s sister to see a classic example of that. Yet here was a young woman who was unconcerned about that convention. Frankly she appeared to be flaunting her ties to trade, rather than downplaying them. Darcy just did not understand this behaviour.

And that was before the very pertinent point of who was gifting the brandy. It was not Mr. Bennet; the man was a virtual recluse. It appeared to be directly from Miss Elizabeth. Did her parents even know? It appeared that her uncle had gifted her at least a case of brandy, but why Miss Elizabeth and not her father. For someone who assiduously avoided his company Darcy was spending a lot of time thinking about her. She was interesting, fascinating and yet completely unsuitable. Darcy was vexed.