Chapter Twenty-Nine
Maria curtseyed politely. "Begging your pardon, ma'am, but I think it's highly unlikely that the company will be returning anytime soon – not with snow like this."
"What? What snow? What do you mean, snow?!" Caroline cried. She rushed to the window, which until now she had not noted, and was horrified to see the white blanket of snow which had covered every space of the grounds. She could hardly see further than the garden for the whirl of snow.
The ensuing shriek could be heard as far as the kitchens – and there, sitting at the desk in her office sipping a cup of tea, Mrs. Nicholls smiled.
Dinner at Longbourn was astonishingly cheerful and polite – the Bennet sisters were themselves astounded by how radically conversation could be influenced by the introduction of a few new characters and the loss of a few old ones. Mary and Miss Darcy seemed to be positive influences upon each other, each encouraging the other to become more engaged in the conversation at large and, at the very least, making the other feel comfortable enough to converse quietly at their end of the table. The meal was, as always, of an excellent standard, and Jane simply glowed in the presence of Mr. Bingley – who, naturally, was glowing right back at her.
"So, Mr. Darcy," Mrs. Bennet smiled, unwilling to interrupt the adoring looks being exchanged between Jane and Mr. Bingley, "it is such a delight to meet your sister. You simply must tell us more about your family – I'm sure your parents must be quite accomplished to have raised two such handsome and credible young people!"
Her compliments were rather mild in comparison with her usual effusions, for which Elizabeth was immensely grateful. She dreaded to think of the Darcy siblings' reactions to her mother's typical dramatics.
"I believe they were quite accomplished," Mr. Darcy acknowledged, stiffening his shoulders. "However, my mother passed away shortly after Georgiana's birth, and my father about five years ago."
Mrs. Bennet's smile slowly faded into a concerned frown, her brows knitting together with worry. Elizabeth felt herself catch her breath – she had known that Mr. Darcy was excessively devoted to his younger sister, but she had not realized that he was, in fact, her guardian and the only other member of the Darcy family! To lose her sister had been difficult, but to lose a parent … how much worse would that be? Elizabeth attempted to imagine her life without her father, but shuddered and could not. Life without her mother was something which, she would admit to no one but herself, she dwelt upon more often than she ought, but now seemed similarly unbearable. Who had helped Georgiana through her first courses? Taught her to dance? To sew?
Elizabeth felt a sudden sympathy for the shy, pretty young girl, and then a rather surprising sympathy for the poor girl's brother – for whom else would she turn to in her time of need? 'Twas hardly surprising that the girl looked to him for everything with such adoring eyes. She wondered, carefully keeping her laughter within her mind, how the stern Mr. Darcy had reacted when his young sister had first approached him with fear in her eyes after experiencing her first bleeding … the idea was, indeed, diverting! She then, of course, scolded herself for thinking such things amusing when they no doubt caused both parties a great deal of suffering.
"I believe Miss Bingley has often spoken of your estate with great fondness," Elizabeth noted before her mother could respond to Mr. Darcy's statement, taking complete advantage of her mother's shock and sympathy. "As I recall, it is in Derbyshire? Our aunt grew up in that country and speaks of it with great affection! I would be very interested in hearing more about it."
This statement, in equal measures polite and interested, drew smiles of relief and delight from both of the Darcy siblings. Miss Darcy's eyes darted to her brother briefly before she opened her mouth to speak.
"Indeed, we love Derbyshire! We have the most beautiful Christmases with snow and ice!" she exclaimed, eyes bright with remembrance. "I confess, I spend most of my time in London with my companion for the convenience of the masters, but I do long for Derbyshire and its wild peaks!"
Mr. Darcy seemed surprised by his sister's enthusiasm, but he smiled his agreement. "It is a beautiful place, although quite different from the Hertfordshire landscape. I believe many would find it rather bleak, but I know of no other scene better suited to my tastes."
"Our aunt speaks in a very similar way," Elizabeth said. "She has often told me that London seems quite stifling at times, and on certain days she can hardly contain her desire to find an open space and climb a rock!"
Mr. Darcy laughed. It was not a loud, garish noise, but merely a deep chuckle that came bubbling up from within his chest. The entire table stared at him in shock, uncertain how to react to such unexpected merriment from the typically stiff man. Miss Darcy smiled at him, eyes brimming with delight in his delight, and laughed as well, her higher-pitched laughter like a tiny bell providing a melody to accompany his harmony.
"I believe that your aunt and I share very similar temperaments," he quietly confessed as explanation for his uncharacteristic outburst, his dark eyes warm on Elizabeth's face even as he seemed to blush for his own exuberance.
"Indeed!" Mr. Bingley cried, happiness written across every feature. "Now the mystery is solved! I have oft wondered what he thinks of as he paces my floor of a Sunday evening or stares out the window of an afternoon! I now know the cure for all his moods – I must, quite simply, acquire a variety of large rocks to have installed in my garden for his convenience, to climb at his leisure!"
The table laughed, including Mr. Darcy, although Miss Darcy's laughter was rather more hesitant as she watched her brother for any sign of offense.
"I confess, that is a fashion in gardens which I have yet to see come into vogue," Mr. Bennet noted wryly, a teasing glint in his eye. "You may find that your sister is less pleased with the idea than Mr. Darcy may be – and, as she is the one who lives with you, perhaps you ought to merely send Mr. Darcy back to the peaks where he belongs rather than attempting to bring the peaks to Hertfordshire."
"I do rather believe it would be quite difficult to replicate the peaks of Derbyshire in a Hertfordshire garden, although I should love to witness the attempt," Mr. Darcy agreed. "No, we shall simply bide our time until the spring – the peaks will still be there. Your aunt – you never mentioned where in the district she calls home – does she often visit?"
"I'm afraid not," Elizabeth shook her head. "My uncle's business allows them very little time to travel, and they like to see places which they have not seen before. I believe their intent this summer is to tour the Lakes District, provided he can take the time. I doubt you would know the village – my aunt claims it be a very small, quaint village of little note, by the name of Lambton?"
Miss Darcy's face lit up. "Why, but that is our village!" she cried happily. "That is to say, the nearest village to Pemberly! Oh, what a happy coincidence!"
Once established, this mode of conversation kept the company quite happy for the rest of dinner. Mrs. Bennet asked after the people whom she had heard her sister-in-law mention (of which the Darcy siblings were acquainted with very few), Mr. Bennet asked after the geography and respective heights of various peaks which he had read about in his books, Elizabeth had great interest in the differences between northern and southern landscapes and views, Mary asked questions regarding the particularity of certain flora in the region, while Jane happily added her approval to everyone else's whenever she was trying to avoid staring at Mr. Bingley. Mr. and Miss Darcy were equally delighted to share their knowledge and affection for the area, and Miss Darcy came quite out of her shell in her florid descriptions of Pemberly in the various stages of the seasons – although, in fact, words completely failed her when she attempted to describe the Pemberly gardens at springtime, and she insisted that it simply had to be seen to be believed. If the young girl occasionally implied that the Bennets would have the chance to see these wonders in person when visiting Pemberly, the rest of the company carefully ignored it as the words of a young, over-excited girl eager to share her home with others in spite of her lack of familiarity with them. Until the offer came from Mr. Darcy himself, which none expected to be forthcoming, the company was careful to avoid confirming such a scheme as either desirable or possible, although Mary very nearly did when Miss Darcy exclaimed over the delights of her music room with such gorgeous views of the grounds.
After dinner, the gentlemen separated to leave the women to their own devices. If Mr. Darcy seemed concerned to leave Miss Darcy on her own with four women with whom she had only recently become acquainted, he did not show it by more than a lingering look in her direction. Miss Darcy comported herself with admirable equanimity, graciously accepting a cup of tea from Mrs. Bennet with a very slightly shy smile, once again rather intimidated now that the discussion of Pemberly had died and the company sought a new topic of conversation.
"Miss Darcy," Elizabeth said, carefully balancing her cup and saucer, "I believe you had mentioned that you are in London a great deal for the benefit of the masters?"
Miss Darcy acknowledged the truth of this statement.
"My sisters and I are self-educated – which is why my skills on the piano-forte are so very poor! We have all been encouraged to pursue our own interests to the best of our abilities. I find I am very curious about your education, having experienced something rather different. I sometimes find that I wish I'd received a formal education, and then other times been very grateful to have escaped the tedium of studying subjects which hold such little interest for me! Have you an opinion on the subject?"
"I confess, I have never truly considered it," Miss Darcy replied thoughtfully. "I have been very blessed to have been able to pursue my primary interest in playing – the master with whom I study is very kind, and I do enjoy my time with him. French I find a satisfying study, although I often wish I were able to apply it more in my own life – German, as well, I find interesting in its contrast to French. I will admit, however, that I find my other subjects quite dull indeed, and I do wish I could give them up! Singing I detest, and dancing, for I become entirely overwhelmed by the complications of the steps, and drawing is my most dreaded enemy. My brother allows me some freedom of choice, but certain things he considers absolutely essential – he gives me ever so many books to read, and I'm afraid I have little patience for them!"
Miss Darcy blushed for her monologue, but the Bennet ladies only smiled warmly at her.
"How very interesting!" Jane declared. "It is such a curiosity, is it not, how people find satisfaction in such different pursuits? As one of five – four – sisters, I have often marvelled at how different we all are from each other. I enjoy embroidery, whereas Lizzy can barely sit still long enough to embroider a handkerchief. Lizzy loves to read, whereas I rarely can complete a chapter before my attention wanders. Mary practices endlessly on the piano-forte, whereas neither Lizzy nor I can play for more than half an hour at a time before becoming weary of the pursuit."
"Have you ever attempted painting, Miss Darcy?" Elizabeth asked eagerly, interest on her face. "You have mentioned your dislike of drawing, but I wonder if that extended to watercolours?"
Miss Darcy nodded, puzzled by the specific line of questioning. "I had several years of instruction, but I confess that I have no natural talent in the subject. Indeed, I rather despised it! There is so little room for error! I could not produce any works of note, but I could certainly discuss the mechanics of it with relative ease."
"I only ask because I have recently taken up painting myself," Elizabeth explained to ease the girl's confusion. "I have never attempted it before, but I decided to try my hand at it and rather wondered if you might be able to provide me with any words of wisdom. There do not seem to be many books written on the subject – or at least, not written as instruction for students."
"I should be happy to provide whatever wisdom I can," Miss Darcy agreed happily. "Although I will warn you that I cannot provide a good example!"
Thus the ladies found a topic rife for discussion, that of art, and followed it up with that of music, so that the time before the gentlemen's arrival seemed to pass altogether too quickly – except, of course, for Jane.
Mr. Bennet was absolutely fascinated.
This Mr. Darcy character was much more interesting than he had originally given him credit. Mr. Bennet had come to expect, from his own observations and from the words of his wife and daughters, quite a caricature of the typical wealthy landowner – stiff backed, sneering, and imperious. His first words of note being an insult of his favourite daughter had not endeared the man to Mr. Bennet, and he had been quite prepared to enjoy laughing at his expense.
Of course, his interest in laughing at Mr. Darcy had disappeared quite quickly after the man's untimely and rude interruption of his daughter's wake to be replaced entirely by indignant offense. He found the man's manners cold, his expression haughty, and his presumptuous self-importance entirely irritating. The way he finagled himself into their family affairs was positively obnoxious, and he was only prepared to put up with the man for the sake of the investigation and Mr. Bingley.
Over the past week, he had to admit to some admiration of the man's integrity. The addition of the Colonel to the party, along with the evidence of Wickham's misdeeds, had shed some light on why the man had been so furious to rush back to Meryton and become involved in the investigation. Mr. Bennet could admit, after some long hours of contemplation, that he would likely be inclined to suspect such a man as well if he, too, had known the man and his proclivities for so long. Not to mention that there was clearly some rancour between the two which was settled much deeper than either man would allow to come to the surface so easily – it was evident in the looks which Mr. Darcy and his cousin shared. There was more to the story than he knew, and his curiosity knew no bounds, but that was far too momentous a topic for an acquaintance to be informed of such a thing. Still, he wondered …
And now he was beginning to see a very serious … devotion in Mr. Darcy. Yes, Devoted Darcy. Not just to himself, as Mr. Bennet had originally supposed, or to his wealth or family status; rather, his devotion seemed to be to others, to their protection, and to … honour, perhaps? He had diligently pursued the investigation, in spite of his lack of necessary involvement once Mr. Wickham had been dismissed as a possible suspect, even to the point of persuading Mr. Bingley and Miss Bingley to accompany him on calls around the neighbourhood in search of the murderer. Not only was this something which Mr. Bingley would not have done on his own (a decent man, but entirely too in love with Jane to spend so long out of her company without significant inducement), but it is also something which Mr. Bennet knew he could not have done on his own – not only because his daughter was the one who had been murdered, and therefore his presence would put the man on guard, but also because of his own decided lack of social graces. While it had, admitted, turned over a disappointing lack of clues, the act itself could not be lightly dismissed. Mr. Bennet felt the weight of that debt.
This evening had been quite enlightening for Mr. Bennet. He had known Mr. Darcy to be a man of sense and education, but he had never seen such expression in the man's eyes – expression which had shown him to also be a man of sensibility and consciousness. He had noted the man's passion, a deep-dwelling fire of enormous heat, sparking in his eyes as he spoke of his home with pride or looked upon his sister (and Elizabeth, which was rather worrying to an old father) with fierce emotion. He noted the man's stiffness at the mention of his parents, although had yet to determine whether than was merely due to reluctance to discuss the subject or reluctance to see his sister pained by the discussion of the topic. Considering that it was Devoted Darcy, Mr. Bennet was rather inclined to believe the latter.
Now, as the man browsed the bookshelves of Mr. Bennet's study with obvious interest and knowledge, nursing a glass of port in one hand and resting the other comfortably in the small of his back, Mr. Bennet enjoyed pondering the mystery of the man in front of him.
His manners, he decided, were those of a gentleman raised to believe himself important. He could not hold that against him, not only because he was important but also because one cannot always help how one is raised. Habits are notoriously hard to break.
His interests were refined – the man was clearly intelligent, educated, and inclined to thoughtful consideration of any matter at hand.
He was passionate. Not in an unbridled way, but in an almost worryingly restricted way, as if he believed that any show of emotion was shameful. He had laughed at dinner, and quickly become shy until Mr. Bingley's teasing comment had brought him round again. (He was beginning to see, at last, why Bingley and Darcy were such friends.) Mr. Bennet imagined that Mr. Darcy did not laugh very often, which was a shame – for he dearly loved to laugh, and he pitied those who did not. He rather imagined that Mr. Darcy was capable of great wit and humour, but he wondered how often such wit had been allowed, much less encouraged, in his childhood. A passionate nature hidden by a placid, stern demeanour; great humour hidden by a serious mien – the man was a contradiction, and Mr. Bennet was beginning to understand that he had misunderstood the young man.
Mr. Darcy reached out to pluck a book from the shelf, studying the front cover with appreciative eyes.
The man had lost his parents at a very young age. He had taken upon himself a great burden. Mr. Bennet knew the difficulties of raising women, and it was not something which, at Mr. Darcy's age, he would have been capable of. Even now, after twenty-odd years of being a father, he doubted his ability to raise his daughters well. And yet, Miss Darcy was a model example of a young lady. She seemed happy and healthy, well-educated and well-regulated. What sacrifices had Mr. Darcy taken upon himself to make it so? How quickly had he grown up?
Devoted Darcy, indeed. Was he only so devoted to those he loved because he had already lost two such important loved ones? Was he only so devoted to his principles because he wished to protect and nurture his young sister? When was the last time he had devoted any time to himself?
"You have an excellent collection, Mr. Bennet," Mr. Darcy noted, looking up from the book in his hand to offer Mr. Bennet the compliment sincerely. "Might I borrow your copy of Plutarch? I have been looking for just such a compilation for some time to add to my own library."
"You are most welcome," Mr. Bennet assented happily. "There is certainly a long night yet ahead of us. If you like the copy, do mention it. My brother Gardiner is in the trade and often acquires specific selections for me when I cannot find them locally – I confess, I am quite spoiled and rarely buy books anywhere else."
"Thank you, sir," Mr. Darcy said, almost with a smile but not quite.
"You will be much more familiar with the local weather than I am," Mr. Bingley interjected here, picking up on Mr. Bennet's reference to the weather. "Do you think it likely that we will be able to leave tomorrow?"
Mr. Bennet shrugged and sighed, pushing himself to his feet. "My dear Mr. Bingley, I daresay that even my vast years of experience cannot predict the weather. Hertfordshire is known for rather more mild winters, so it is possible, but this storm is rather marvellously terrible. You may yet be stuck here a few days more. Shall we not return to the ladies? I believe, Mr. Bingley, that your company, at least, will be missed – perhaps Darcy and I shall hie ourselves to a corner with our books and leave you to the ladies."
Mr. Bingley blushed but grinned, and Mr. Darcy merely raised an eyebrow. Mr. Bennet smiled and led the way out of the study. Yes, he had learned a great deal about Mr. Darcy tonight, but he had to confess that there was much more he had yet to learn. Discovery is only made through observation and experimentation, and Mr. Bennet had high hopes that tonight would prove admirable conditions for many such observations and experiments … especially with Elizabeth.
