The footnotes will be quite important in this chapter. If your confused, give them a read.

Recap: Due to an epidemic of scarlet fever, which kills Mr. Bennet and Mary, the eldest Bennet daughters' stay at Netherfield is extended (November 1811). Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy strike up a cold and dysfunctional tactile relationship, before he leaves suddenly for London, frightened by the strength of his feelings for her (December 1811). After reconnecting with Mr. Darcy at Rosings, Elizabeth becomes alarmed by his attentions. He finally confronts her when she is alone at the parsonage and proposes (April 1812). He is disbelieving of her refusal. Their argument soon develops into a passionate, but angry, kiss and they have intercourse for the first time in Elizabeth's bedroom. During the act, Kitty and Mr. Collins come home and Darcy must hastily hide under the bed from Kitty. He overhears the ladies disparaging him and he and Elizabeth argue again once Kitty leaves. They fight over Wickham and Darcy's involvement in Bingley leaving Netherfield. Darcy accuses Elizabeth of using him to satisfy her baser urges and she begins to feel sorry for this. Her attempt at apology, however, involves another kiss. Darcy refuses to continue until he can clarify her feelings for him. She is blunt in her dislike of his haughty behaviour and he leaves declaring he will never see her again. He has Colonel Fitzwilliam deliver a letter to her the next day in which he explains his involvement with Wickham and Bingley. The pair leaves the next day and Elizabeth leaves Kent a fortnight later. Elizabeth and Jane both return home to Longbourn where Elizabeth tells her about her affair with Darcy. Jane is initially angry, but tries to see the problem from both sides. She is convinced of Darcy's love for Elizabeth, but Elizabeth is still sceptical. They have a conversation in bed at night, in which Jane, criticises Elizabeth's treatment of Darcy. While holidaying with her aunt and uncle in Derbyshire (July-August 1812), she encounters a changed Mr. Darcy at Pemberley. He asks to visit her and introduce his sister.

Chapter 18

Mr. Darcy and his sister were prompt in their promised visit and, the next day, arrived at the earliest acceptable hour- the lady having just alighted from her own carriage north. To Elizabeth's surprise they brought with them Mr. Bingley, who was among a number of Mr. Darcy's friends visiting Pemberley. His oblique inquiries gave Elizabeth to believe that he had not yet forgotten her sister.

She could not quite forgive him his lack of constancy or determination, whichever was responsible for his abandoning Jane, but the anger of eight months ago could hardly stand against such unaffected cordiality as he exhibited on bouncing into the room.

Mr. Darcy watched their discussion closely, but showed no sign of distress or disapproval and was either complacent that Bingley could not be tempted back to Miss Bennet, or did not care to stop it. Elizabeth had never lost her scepticism of Mr. Darcy's involvement and motivation for his part in removing Bingley from Netherfield. The man who could do such a thing, seemed so far removed from Mr. Darcy's current behaviour—if she could trust it to continue.

Miss Darcy was perfectly polite, if a little too quiet for such a lively gathering. That she had received a positive impression of Elizabeth was certain, given her eagerness to, if not speak to her, at least stand near her, occasionally peeking out from under her bonnet to smile at anything she said. This impression could only have one source, Elizabeth suspected. She appreciated Mr. Darcy's generosity in overlooking the past and allowing her to know this delicate flower.

The visit was a lively one; the presence of Messrs. Bingley and Gardiner ensured that. Although neither of the Darcys could be described as loquacious, both were eager to be pleased and Darcy was determined to take part. Elizabeth was on tenterhooks and her interest was only on him. No matter how mundane his conversation, it surpassed her own, and her eyes continuously wandered in his direction, to the extent that her aunt jovially abused her stupidity and inattention.

The party from Pemberley did not remain long, as the Gardiners, not expecting their visit so soon, were going out. In the noisy bustle of both parties taking leave, Mr. Darcy prompted his sister to invite the party to dine at Pemberley and the next day was settled on for the occasion.


There was no time to repay the visit before that dinner and Elizabeth's next view of Pemberley was in the torchlight at dusk as they rounded the drive. Mr. Darcy was there to greet them, along with Miss Darcy, pre-notified by some unseen servant of their arrival. He handed Mrs. Gardiner down to her husband before grasping Elizabeth's hand lightly, placing it on his arm and, with Georgiana on his other, walking them into the house.

Along with Mr. and Miss Bingley and the Hursts, whom she had expected, Elizabeth was introduced to a roomful of other guests on entering the drawing room. Ladies were in the minority, with only the sisters of a number of the gentlemen present. Mr. Darcy's friends looked to be about his age, none were married, other than the Hursts and there was an air of vitality and virility in the room.

Mr. Darcy was a considerate host, introducing them to a group including the Bingleys, before another gentleman claimed his attention and drew him away.

They were not long in the drawing room before the dinner gong was struck. and the guests began to gather in a body ready to enter the dining room.

Mr. Darcy would escort one woman into dinner, but Elizabeth could not determine who would hold seniority. There was a mix of people in the room, some, like Mr. Bingley, relatively new-moneyed, while the rest included the son of a viscount and several from old families of the ton. She could not quite remember which sister belonged to which gentleman and could not determine precedence. Darcy himself seemed to waver but a moment; the setting of his shoulders, the outward sign of his resolution. He strode in Elizabeth's direction, in that way of his—purposeful even in this negligible journey—and her heart clenched, thinking that he would stop before her. He walked past her, however, and bowed before her aunt, wordlessly offering her his arm (1).

Elizabeth found herself on the arm of Mr. Tattersall as they made their way to the dining room and were seated in the middle of the table. Mr. Tattersall was the grandson and son of the racehorse auctioneers, but, far from being the horse-mad bore that Elizabeth feared, he was engaging and charismatic, with a charming smile (2). All the usual civilities were exchanged between them, with enough consideration and wit to leave both with a favourable impression of the other and he continued to amuse her throughout dinner, with anecdotes from, what she gathered to be, a very active London social life.

That gentleman's sister was seated across the table. She was a perfectly adequate young lady, with a certain fashionable malaise that Elizabeth suspected was entirely feigned. Her conversation was pleasing enough for a dinner companion, as light and instantly forgotten as sweetmeats (3).

Elizabeth sat as far from Mr. Darcy as possible, but was pleased to see him carrying on a friendly, if not entirely relaxed conversation with her aunt. When not otherwise engaged, she snuck glances at the head of the table and, when she feared being caught in this pastime, played with her food, or contented herself with returning Mr. Tattersall's frequent volleys of urbane, if somewhat self-congratulatory wit.

After dinner, the ladies withdrew and spent a rather dull half an hour together after the animated exchanges in the dining room. They perked up at the entrance of the gentlemen and a certain vigour returned to the room. The gentlemen had been drinking and spirits were high. Card tables were brought out and conversation sprung up in pockets around the room. Georgiana was in a barely controlled panic at the commotion of the gentlemen's return to the party, seeking to do her duty: organising the activities while avoiding engaging with any of the gentlemen.

When the games were over, she chose a place near Elizabeth and the pair were attempting to conduct a conversation around the pontifications of Miss Bingley and nodded concurrences of Mrs. Hurst. The former was staying close to Elizabeth, feeling that it was better to keep her rival near and poison her exchanges with Georgianna. At length, Miss Darcy did get a word in and turned to Elizabeth to ask her if she would grace them at the piano tonight.

"I do long to hear you play," she admitted with a blush.

"I am afraid my performance by no means justifies such anticipation. You would do better to ask Miss Bingley. Her playing is finer than mine ever shall be," Elizabeth replied seeking to volley Miss Darcy's interest to a more appreciative recipient.

"I have had the honour of hearing Miss Bingley on several occasions and she does play beautifully; but..."

"Oh Georgiana, you are too kind," Miss Bingley interrupted. "Of course that praise means so much more when coming from a proficient such as yourself." She turned to Elizabeth with a sharp look.

Georgiana smiled in acknowledgement of the compliment to herself, though clearly alarmed by the enmity she sensed towards her companion. She showed a rare flash of determination and carried on.

"My brother says he has rarely heard anything that has given him more pleasure than your playing, Miss Bennet."

Before Elizabeth could query this remark, Mr. Darcy himself approached the group and Elizabeth was afraid that either Miss Darcy or Miss Bingley would ask him to confirm his sentiments. She could not stand the embarrassment, neither his, nor her own. Fortunately, the ladies were both afraid to broach the subject with Mr. Darcy, one of exciting his disapproval, the other of drawing his attention to Miss Bennet.

Mr. Darcy immediately engaged Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst in conversation and the trio conversed almost exclusively for some time. Initially feeling his neglect, Elizabeth contemplated whether Mr. Darcy's civility had run its course, but soon found it to be a happy arrangement that would allow her to converse freely with Miss Georgiana.

A minute's attempt at private conversation was enough to determine that Georgiana Darcy was painfully shy. She did seem to wish to speak to Elizabeth though, and was surprisingly candid when she could be coaxed into conversation: she was a sixteen year old girl looking for a woman to emulate and befriend. That woman would not be Miss Bingley, judging by how Georgiana visibly shrivelled on her returning to the conversation once again. Mr. Darcy had moved on to speak to a group of gentlemen across the room.

The guests were clearly still on Town hours, and it was late when supper was rolled out. Elizabeth could not work up an appetite at that time of night and stood back from the bustle at the sideboard.

Mr. Darcy, of whom she had been aware all night, who had taken every effort to forward her conversation with his sister at the expense of talking to her himself, approached Elizabeth where she stood by the window. He didn't carry a plate, but offered to fetch one for her. She declined. When pressed, however, she expressed an inclination for some fruit, which he went to procure.

He arrived back with a plate filled with grapes and nectarine slices, along with a ring of some pitted yellow fruit. To Elizabeth's astonishment, she discovered, on looking up at the beautiful pyramid of fruit, that the oddly-decorated, spiky oval, which had been so clearly on display—in pride of place, first on the dinner table, and now on the sideboard- had been dissected and was currently being cut into chunks by the attending footman. The other guests were equally astonished, even, she noted, the son of the viscount. They stared from her plate to the disassembled chunks, before- allowing only enough time to nod at politesse- a queue began to form at the sideboard; everyone was eager to take a piece (4).

Mr. Darcy's amusement at her flabbergasted expression would have been highly irritating had he not paid so handsomely for the privilege. Elizabeth began to splutter her refusal to take the fruit, which he would not entertain. She offered to share her piece with him, also declined, and finally, with Mr. Darcy's eyes glued to her face, she brought the succulent fruit to her lips to have her first taste of a pineapple.

The moment the meaty fruit touched her tongue, an explosion of flavour assaulted her. The flesh—not as stringy as it looked and with a pleasing bite—was deliciously sweet with just enough of a tart aftertaste to balance the flavour. Elizabeth savoured the experience, cherishing the juices that swirled around in her mouth.

She did not realise that she had closed her eyes, until she opened them again, just before swallowing. That action was stalled by the sudden realisation that Mr. Darcy was almost salivating at the sight of her pleasure. He did not release her gaze as she slowly swallowed, noting the flavour still lingering in her mouth.

She ate the rest of the fruit in silence, regularly glancing at Mr. Darcy dropping her eyes at the intensity. Their gazes were always drawn back to each other as she ate, until only the juice on her fingers remained. What could she do, but suck them into her mouth one by one, rather than waste any of the precious syrup? She began to enjoy the effect it was having on Mr. Darcy. When she had finished, he wordlessly took her plate and placed it on the nearest table, before returning to her side.

Miss Bingley followed him, holding her own plate: she could not miss the opportunity to praise their host. Never had she spent such a pleasant evening, nor used such pretty china, nor enjoyed such delicate victuals as at this present moment (5). From her flattery, you would think the pineapple had been cut just for her.

When Miss Bingley had finished her plate, Georgiana, having clearly balled up her courage, stood and, without guile, asked Miss Bingley, in a voice wavering, but carrying around the room, to perform for their pleasure. Miss Bingley was gratified in the extreme and willingly relinquished her place by Mr. Darcy.

While she was playing, Elizabeth glanced out of the window at the moonlight reflecting on the water. The windows were open in the summer heat and a cooling breeze wafted through.

"Did you have a chance to see much of the grounds?" Mr. Darcy's voice startled her—she had almost forgotten his presence.

"Not very much. We stayed near the house for my aunt's comfort."

"And what were your impressions?"

"I had imagined the gardens would be more regimented, more ordered."

Mr. Darcy frowned in contemplation. "You did not anticipate liking them?"

"No, I wouldn't say that. My aunt was in raptures before we came, describing their beauty." She did not dare to say that the soft and balanced grounds were not what she had expected from him.

"You expected a rigid and measured type of beauty, I suppose," Mr. Darcy said, with a sad smile.

She did not deny it. How well he now knew her opinions of him. Would that he had been so prescient when she had truly believed them.

"Nothing could be further from the truth, though," she said gesturing towards the view out of the window.

"But you are a Romantic, are you not?" Mr. Darcy asked with renewed energy, after a pause. "I should think you would prefer a rather more sublime picture: is Pemberley not too pretty for your tastes? (6)"

"I am not such a pedant that I would reject this paradise, simply because it doesn't fit a certain archetype. I am amazed by how picturesque it is. The view from any window or prominence within the park is fit for a painting (7)." Mr. Darcy was very pleased at her judgement, she could tell. He was not content to leave it there, however.

"Ah, so you do suspect me of fabrication- according to Gilpin's rules, perhaps?"

"No, indeed. There is nothing so systematic at work here: none of the absurdity of carefully placed rocks."

She liked this Mr. Darcy, she found. A little absurdity became him.

"But could it not be improved upon, in the manner of the picturesque? I could add a gothic ruin or two, or some other symbol of decaying beauty? Should you not like to take a mallet to one of Pemberley's gables? (8)"

Is he teasing me? Who is this man? Elizabeth hoped that her incredulity did not show on her face, but, long ago conditioned to her father's bantering, quickly replied, "I am not so naïve as to believe that every view has been produced entirely organically. I am sure there has been some planning in the garden's composition, but it is done so sympathetically, and the natural beauty of the place has not been ruined. That is what makes it truly picturesque. If I were more of an artist, I should love to paint it."

"I'm sure Georgianna would join you—she has all the oils and pigments you could need. Just say the word- I'm sure we can find you a Claude glass from somewhere (9)."

Elizabeth burst out laughing at the image of herself, back to the view, peering through a small mirror to capture a moody version of Pemberley; it was the first time he had consciously made her laugh and both marked it. They enjoyed the amity between them for a moment.

He then changed tack. "Can we convince you to play for us this evening?"

"Your sister has already tried, but someone has been misrepresenting my talent to her. So now, you see, I could not play even if I wished to." He had the good grace to appear abashed at her allusion. "She is expecting a virtuoso and has shared her expectations with the other ladies. Should they then have to sit through my playing there would be uproar. Now, do you regret falsifying my abilities to your sister?"

Mr. Darcy's reply was all that was courteous and sincere, but he refused to renege on his sentiments.

"And where did you come by these outlandish opinions? You cannot have heard me play more than twice."

"I have witnessed you playing in company several times: at Sir Lucas' party, at the beginning of our acquaintance; and at Rosings, also. But I am, in fact, more familiar with your playing than that. I know that you sometimes went into the drawing room at Netherfield to practice in the mornings, when the other ladies were still in bed; that you prefer an Irish air to a Sonata and that when frustrated you would stamp your foot so loudly that I could hear it from Bingley's study."

Elizabeth turned away, embarrassed at her lack of refinement and troubled again by her complete ignorance of his previous interest. How could she have been so dense?

"It seems you have been very attentive… to my musical habits" she said without meeting his eye.

"Clearly not enough," was Mr. Darcy's only reply

This last was said, not with the bitterness that Elizabeth might have formerly expected, but with a resigned acceptance—an aside, more for his benefit than hers. By the time Elizabeth looked up to meet his eyes, he was no longer looking at her, but at Mr. Tattersall, who was coming to join them. Mr. Darcy smiled slightly at his approach, and showed no trace of his recent feelings.

The gentlemen spoke more to each other than to her, their discussion of the upcoming racing season not one to which she could much contribute; but they answered her questions patiently and included her when they could. She was at leisure to look around the room and saw that the suspicions of the entire party had been alerted in the most dramatic way by her fruit-eating adventure with Mr. Darcy. The ladies at the fire were furious in their speculations and, when at length their carriage was called, and Mr. Darcy escorted Elizabeth out, every eye watched their backs in their withdrawal from the room. There were no witnesses, however, when, as he handed her into his carriage, Mr. Darcy tentatively massaged the back of Elizabeth's hand with his thumb.


Footnotes:

1) Strict precedence was observed in the order of ladies procession. It could be awkward with seniority of age conflicted with seniority of rank. Women gave way to guests in their own home: Jane Austen and Food; Lane, M.; 1995.

2) Richard Tattersall was a real person. His grandfather, also Richard, founded the famous racehorse auctioneer's that is the main seller of racehorses in the UK and Ireland to this day. He would have been 27 years old at this time. His personal details are fictional.

3) Sweetmeats were candies, cakes and light pastries.

4) The pineapple was the ultimate status symbol at the time. It was difficult to grow, taking three years. A perfectly ripe pineapple could cost up to the equivalent of £10,000 in the Georgian era as they had to be imported (quickly) from the Americas. They could, by this time, be grown in specifically made, constantly heated and humidified hothouses, or pineries in the UK, but were still very expensive and a great luxury.I found an article about a pineapple grown recently using the same traditional methods and it would apparently today still be worth £10,000 due to its rarity and the energy and resources it took to grow: .

Because of the exorbitant expense, people milked each pineapple for all it was worth, displaying it for guests and even bringing it around to parties with them. It would only have been eaten once it had started to go off. In the 1995 P&P, you can see pineapples intact on the supper tables at the Netherfield ball.

If you had delusions to grandeur, without the resources to back it up, you would rent, rather than buy a pineapple, sometimes for only a matter of hours. The pineapple was passed around from renter to renter for display, until finally being sold to eat. Most people who had come into contact with a pineapple during the Regency period had never eaten one and even renting was out of reach for the vast majority.

I can imagine Darcy wanting to please his sister, as well as his guests with a taste of a pineapple. I also imagine he may have the resources to grow his own, so I don't think this one is rented, but the guests would have been shocked that it was eaten so soon, on the day after their arrival, and at the behest of Elizabeth.

5) Victuals, pronounced 'vittles': food.

6) The Romantic movement had taken London society by storm and paintings, poems and novels of the period were full of dark brooding ruins, mediaeval towers and ancient pagan temples: Jane Austen's Regency World Magazine, Blake, S: . Darcy is also referencing to their argument on poetry at Netherfield.

7) The word picturesque means literally "in the manner of a picture; fit to be made into a picture". Jane Austen makes explicit reference to the principles of the picturesque in the scene at Netherfield, where she and Miss Bingley come upon Mr. Darcy and Mrs. Hurst in the gardens. She refuses to join them and justifies this by saying, "You are charmingly group'd, and appear to uncommon, advantage. The picturesque would be spoilt by admitting a fourth." She is referencing a book by William Gilpin, in which he explains the problem of grouping twos and fours in a painting, but that 'with three you are almost always sure of a good group.' The joke Jane Austen is playing, is that Gilpin was actually discussing the grouping of larger cattle.

8) In one much-quoted passage from his book 'Observations on the River Wye and several parts of South Wales, etc. relative chiefly to Picturesque Beauty; made in the summer of the year 1770', Gilpin takes things to an extreme, suggesting that "a mallet judiciously used" might render the insufficiently ruinous gable of Tintern Abbey more picturesque.

9) A Claude glass was a small mirror used to simplify and darken the colours of a view to give it a painterly quality. They were famously used by picturesque landscape painters. The user would turn their back on the scene to observe the framed view through the small tinted mirror.


This is the first of two chapters that will be posted this weekend.