Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy was disgusted with the inhabitants of Meryton. They were country bumpkins with no manners or fashion.
He had come into the neighbourhood to assist his friend Charles Bingley in learning how to run an estate. Bingley was the son of a successful tradesman, who wanted his son to raise the family into the gentry by purchasing an estate. On Darcy's advice, Bingley had leased Netherfield Park as a chance to find out if he were suited to be the Master of an estate.
Darcy had been the Master of Pemberley, one of the largest estates in Derbyshire, since the age of twenty-two when his father died. In the five years since that day, Darcy had become accomplished in managing his responsibilities, making Pemberley even more profitable than it had been.
The first evening when Mr Darcy had arrived, Bingley had dragged him to a local assembly. Admittedly, Darcy could have stayed behind at the estate, but in that case, Bingley's youngest sister, who was acting as his hostess, would have insisted on keeping Darcy company. The thought of that occurrence was worse than attending the assembly. At least in a crowd, there was safety in numbers, since Darcy would not put it past Miss Caroline Bingley to claim a compromise to ensure she became the Mistress of Pemberley.
The assembly had been as bad as he had feared. They had been there barely five minutes, when he heard the whispers of ten thousand a year. Darcy was sick and tired of going to functions, and having all those matchmaking mothers discuss his income and throw their daughters at him.
Bingley had been no help. He had pestered Darcy to dance with his own partner's sister. When Bingley had refused to take no for an answer, Darcy lost his patience and told his friend that the indicated lady was tolerable but not handsome enough to tempt him. That comment at last was strong enough for Bingley to desist.
In the days since then, Darcy had been happy that Bingley was eager to explore his estate and learn how to manage the day to day operations. On those few occasions that they had met any of the people of Meryton, Darcy had been content to let Bingley interact with them, while he stayed in the background.
But tonight they were again at a function, this time at Lucas Lodge, which Bingley insisted that they had to attend. Their host, Sir William Lucas, greeted the party affably and introduced them to the officers of the militia, which had recently come to be stationed near Meryton.
Soon, the party from Netherfield separated, and Bingley sought out the company of his latest angel, Miss Jane Bennet. The Bennets owned Longbourn, the estate neighbouring Netherfield Park. The family was blessed with five daughters, of which Jane Bennet was the oldest. Since the family had no sons, and the estate was entailed to the male line, Mrs Bennet was desperately trying to find husbands for all her daughters.
Darcy remembered the woman as being the most vocal about the wealth of the newcomers. He hoped that his friend would not raise the expectations of the lady, since he was convinced that Mrs Bennet would force her daughter to accept any man who could provide for her.
Since he could not avoid being here, Darcy drifted around the edges of the room, where he heard snippets of conversation. It also put him in a position to observe Miss Elizabeth, the lady whom he had spurned at the assembly. He saw her in animated conversation with her friend, Charlotte Lucas, and realised that he had made a mistake.
While the lady was not conventionally beautiful like her sister, she had beautiful eyes which sparkled with intelligence and good humour, and her vivacity made her whole face light up.
Darcy suddenly realised that the lady had noticed him looking at her and scowled. While he had to admit that Miss Elizabeth was far more than tolerable, it would not do to give her even the slightest cause to believe him to be interested in her. He was tired of ladies fawning and simpering over him.
He moved on until he came to a stop near a doorway, where a shadowy corner mostly hid him from view, but allowed him to observe the other guests. He saw that Bingley was still deep in conversation with Miss Bennet. Both of them were smiling, and Darcy feared for the worst.
During this observation he had not paid much attention to the conversations about the room, until the mention of his own name jolted him out of his musings.
'… Mr Darcy thinks himself so high and mighty that he can insult anyone he chooses. While he is correct that Lizzy is not as beautiful as Jane, and with her bookishness and hoydenish ways I fear she will never find a husband, HE has no right to say so, especially in public. I do not care how much money he has, he could be as rich as Croesus, but I have forbidden all my girls to speak to him.'
'You are quite correct, Mrs Bennet, it is intolerable the airs he gives himself. I cannot think of anyone in Meryton who would let their daughters have anything to do with that man. I have never encountered a more rude and objectionable man in all my days. He may call himself a gentleman, but his manners impress me with the fullest belief of his arrogance, his conceit, and selfish disdain of the feelings of others. He claims that Miss Lizzy is tolerable. Well, I say that he is intolerable. The sooner he leaves the county the better pleased I will be. We do not need to endure such ungentlemanlike behaviour.'
'Oh, I would not say that all parents would object to the man. I believe Mr Browning has a daughter,' a third voice cut in.
'He does indeed, but it is hard to tell the poor girl from the pigs he raises. They are all equally dirty.' Female titters could be heard at this witticism.
To say that Darcy was shocked was an understatement. What would these backwater savages know about manners and civility? How dare they imply that only the daughter of a pig-farmer would be suitable for him. These people did not deserve the honour he bestowed upon them by being in their midst.
His scowl deepened and he drew himself up to his full height.
Darcy was about to step through the doorway to give these harridans a piece of his mind, when he heard a quiet sarcastic chuckle from behind him.
Unnoticed by himself another gentleman had taken refuge in the shadowed corner, although this man had the sense to take his ease in a comfortable chair.
'Heard enough yet?' the man smirked. 'I thought you might,' he added when Darcy was too dumbfounded to answer. The gentleman rose and suggested, 'come with me.'
He led a dazed Darcy through another doorway which opened into a corridor, and from there he made his way to what appeared to be a study. 'Sir William will not mind if we use his study for a conversation.'
He went to a sideboard and poured brandy into two glasses. He handed one of them to Darcy. 'You look like you need this,' he said, as he sat down in a comfortable chair in front of the fire.
Darcy took a big swallow. 'How can these women be so rude and insulting…'
'You mean, utter insults without worrying who can hear them? Like calling someone tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt?' The gentleman raised a challenging eyebrow and smirked.
'Miss Elizabeth heard that?' Darcy was mortified for an instant. 'Well, she should not have been eavesdropping,' he blustered, unable to acknowledge his bad behaviour.
'Pot, kettle, black.' The gentleman chuckled. 'It is hard not to overhear something that is said at full volume within a few feet of yourself, would you not agree?'
Darcy had the grace to blush at the reminder.
But another thought occurred to him. 'Who are you? Why are you speaking to me?'
'I wanted to have words with the man who insulted my favourite daughter,' said Mr Bennet. 'Preferably with a horsewhip.'
The only thing Darcy could think at the moment was a monosyllable unfit for polite company.
~~~o~~~
Listener (working title) by Sydney Salier, Copyright © 2021