Mr. Darcy Takes the Plunge Page 7

  The Bennet sisters told their friends they had each recently purchased a couple beautiful dresses upon their arrival in London, and they only had one final fitting at the modiste before taking possession of the creations. The next step was to decide which of the two to wear. Elizabeth then asked, “What of you, Georgiana? Have you something spectacular to dazzle the eyes of a certain young man who is currently courting you?”

  Miss Darcy admitted she was very much looking forward to seeing Mr. Ellis Fleming again. She then rather boldly asked whether Jane and Elizabeth had formed any attachments while residing in Town. Georgiana crossed her fingers and secretly hoped her brother and Elizabeth might make a match; she was, therefore, somewhat surprised and alarmed when Miss Bennet spoke.

  “Lizzy certainly has an admirer in the city. Lieutenant-Colonel John Dun has been trying to win my sister’s regard for quite a while, though they hardly ever see one another. We do not spend much time in London, as you know. That said, he has already called five times since our arrival last month.”

  “Oh.” The disappointment was evident in Georgiana’s voice. I must find a way to let Fitzwilliam know he had better step up to the challenge before it is too late. Oh no! I wonder whether Richard has invited many of his officer friends to the ball and if this nefarious Lieutenant-Colonel Dun might be one of them.

  The shopping expedition became a search for accessories for the ball, and it continued most of the afternoon with only a brief stop for tea and sweets. Before parting company, the four had each purchased new gloves after a hands-on attempt to find the perfect fit. They discovered the clerk at the jewelry shop had a heart of gold, and they used common scents when purchasing expensive perfume. Georgiana had suggested a certain fragrance to Elizabeth and hoped it would prove to be a powerful in-scentive if and when her pernickety brother asked that particular lady to stand up with him.

  I hope Elizabeth’s costly Eau de Cologne shall not be wasted on that prosaic, colourless Lieutenant-Colonel Don Juan, er, John Dun, Georgiana thought.

  Chapter II

  A Picture Hanging in a Gallery is Worth

  a Few Off-the-Wall Comments

  Jane patiently waited for Rachel, the maid whose services she shared with Elizabeth, to put a few finishing touches on her sister’s upswept chestnut curls.

  “Those two little blossoms look very charming in your hair, Lizzy. Your handsome barbarian will be quite undone by your pretty flowers and flirty powers.”

  “Thank you for the compliment, I think. I shall not allow it to go to my head; in fact, I doubt it will even find its way in through all these thick curls. By the way, whomever it is you are talking about, he is certainly not my handsome barbarian. Now, which bonnet will best perform the task of hiding what Rachel just spent such a prodigious time and effort perfecting?”

  “Decide quickly, silly sister, or we shall be tardy. You would not want to sully the impeccably prim and perfectly proper impression you left on whomever’s parents the night before last.”

  “Oh, do leave off, Jane! I am embarrassed enough already at that absolute bumble-broth. Although Georgiana and Anna said nothing disparaging yesterday, I wonder what their parents must think. What must he think of me?”

  “Are you referring to Mr. George Darcy or his son? If the latter, it is blatantly obvious what he thinks, Lizzy.”

  Elizabeth blushed, snatched up a bonnet at random, and hurried down the stairs. She and Jane encountered their father in the foyer as he was preparing to join some London friends at his club.

  “Pleasure-bound again, girls?” Mr. Bennet greeted his girls. “I happened to notice a carriage with a certain rather impressive crest on its door parked at our curb. Are you leaving us to spend more time with the rich and illustrious Darcy family?”

  When his daughters acknowledged they were, indeed, invited on an outing with those friends, Mr. Bennet said, “As I understand it, George Darcy is richer than Croesus, who, by the way, was the king of Lydia … but I digress. George Darcy is so wealthy … ”

  “How wealthy is he, Papa?” Lizzy dutifully asked.

  “He is so wealthy that when it rains, he spreads out large books for his guests to wipe their feet on; and those are the tomes that dry men’s soles.”

  “I am embarrassed to admit I am not familiar with the reference,” Jane said.

  Lizzy stopped giggling and explained, “‘These are the times that try men’s souls’ is a quote from The American Crisis by Thomas Paine, Jane.”

  “Well, I do not know of which times that author was speaking, Lizzy. But you and another Thomas are trying my soul right now; so please refrain from being a pain before we cause an English crisis. The carriages are waiting. Make haste.”

  A footman opened the door to the Darcy barouche, and the Bennet sisters were surprised to find only Georgiana and Anna inside. Elizabeth beckoned her father over and made the introductions. With his easygoing, open and friendly manner, Mr. Bennet quickly gained the admiration of the occupants. He handed his daughters into the carriage, wished them all a pleasant day, and entered his own equipage. The Darcy siblings expressed their delight at having met the gentleman and were further pleased by Jane’s next words.

  “Our mother also wishes to make your acquaintance, so kindly pass along this invitation to your parents.” Jane retrieved the note from her reticule and handed it to Miss Darcy. “In it she asks your family to dine with us within the week, if you have an evening free of engagements. Any night shall be fine with Mama. Your family has been very kind to us, and we hope to return the hospitality.”

  Lizzy impatiently asked, “Yes, but will your parents and brother not be joining us today?”

  “Jane, Elizabeth, I am so sorry. There has been a slight change of plans.” An exasperated glance passed between Georgiana and her sister. “Our widowed aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, is rather … unwell. Our cousin, Anne, lives at Rosings Park with her; and there are times when she requires assistance from the family. Mother and our uncle, the Earl of Matlock, take turns attending to the, ah, matter. As it was our mother’s time to go to Kent, she and our father were summoned by express just this morning. But as soon as Fitzwilliam completes a couple of errands, he will be meeting us at the Royal Academy.”

  Miss Bennet said, “I hope the poor dear lady has a speedy recovery from her malady.” Her comment was met with looks of skepticism from the Darcy sisters.

  Lizzy also expressed her regret their aunt was afflicted and then remarked that the Darcy family and their relatives seemed particularly partial to the names Anne and Fitzwilliam. “I would imagine the similarity might become somewhat confusing.”

  “Not really, Elizabeth. You see, Anne and Anna were so called after Mother; and I obviously have the feminine form of George, for my father. As to ‘Fitzwilliam,’ in our family, the heir’s Christian name honours his mother’s maiden one.”

  “So, let me get this straight. If your brother married, say, a Miss Darby, would their first-born son be referred to as the darling Darby Darcy of Derbyshire?”

  “Lizzy!”

  “Jane, I meant no disrespect. All the same, I admit I am quite curious. Please forgive me, Georgiana and Anna.”

  Georgiana giggled. “It is not an unbendable rule set in stone, Elizabeth, just a tradition. At any rate, I am rather hopeful my discriminating brother will marry someone with a last name that would also serve nicely as a first, such as Grant, Blake, or Nelson. Why, I believe Bennet would even be a very nice given name for a boy.”

  Elizabeth blushed and quickly changed the topic. While they made their way to the Royal Academy, the young ladies discussed a subject that always made them energetic – the upcoming ball.

  A dapper gentleman paced at the main entrance of the Royal Academy. When the awaited carriage came to a halt, he waved away the footman and helped his two sisters and Miss Bennet alight. Miss Elizabeth was the last to exit, and he held her hand a little longer than necessary and gently stroked the back of it with his thumb. Ev
en though they both wore gloves, he and she momentarily forgot to breathe while they enjoyed the thrill of that first fleeting caress. He reluctantly released her, bowed, and greeted the ladies politely; but his gaze never strayed long from the pretty brunette with the sparkling, intelligent eyes. Fitzwilliam Darcy considered Elizabeth the very epitome of femininity, and they exchanged admiring glances and shy smiles until Georgiana spoke.

  “So, brother, did you successfully complete your errands?”

  Darcy grudgingly tore his eyes away from Elizabeth and replied, “Yes, Georgie. I first stopped at Fletcher & Byrd, the new plumassier, and am embarrassed to admit I became quite adrift. The fledgling business is located in a-loft; and one must follow the arrows up several flights of stairs and down a long corridor to the building’s oldest wing. I took several wrong terns before entering the correct doorway, which was so low I had to duck. I feathered their nest with a swift purchase of a large clutch of ostrich and peacock plumage but was in a hurry and may have been gulled by their soaring prices. I managed to swallow my spleen and sign my name with an ornate goose quill, and then the owlish Mr. Fletcher perched himself on the counter and had the pluck to say our patronage would be a feather in his cap. Mr. Byrd, the pompous coxcomb, agreed and crowed that customers would soon flock to their shop. To be honest, Georgie, I found both men to be quite flighty; and they may, in fact, have been robin me.

  Fortunately, I was also able to obtain the desired cake just one block away. The package is being dispatched tout de sweet, my errands were completed more rapidly than expected, and I was able to meet, at the appointed hour, four very lovely ladies.”

  His gaze naturally settled upon one particular lovely lady again; and her cheeks grew rosy as he performed a head to foot, and back again, appreciative appraisal of her person. Lizzy was not affronted and thought he was quite justified in his scrutiny in return for the way she had overtly ogled him at Pemberley.

  With a glint in her eye, Anna explained, “My brother went shopping today because we are often asked to forward certain items from Town to Rosings Park in order to appease, er, satisfy the rather eccentric demands … I mean, the discriminating tastes of Lady Catherine de Bourgh … a nutty fruitcake … and large bird feathers. You see, our aunt really takes the cake for being plume crazy.”

  The five entered the Royal Academy building. Lizzy, being a painter, was eager to view J.M.W. Turner’s recent Mercury and Herse plus several other of his newest works. She and Darcy stood in front of the masterpiece while the others went in the opposite direction to view portraits.

  “Are you familiar with the depicted mythology, Miss Elizabeth?”

  “Somewhat, Mr. Darcy; I admit I much prefer Ovid’s ‘Metamorphoses’ over alternative versions of the story, as it is less tragic.”

  “Indeed, madam, for in Ovid’s version Mercury, or Hermes, falls in love with Herse upon first seeing her in Athens and asks for her hand, which I agree is highly preferable over an insane Herse leaping to her death from the Acropolis.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “I always enjoy a tale in which the hero and heroine live happily ever after, sir, even if they do have to suffer some misunderstanding, separation, and angst along the way.”

  “Ah, but the misunderstanding, separation, and angst are what make the ‘happily ever after’ more worth the earning, Miss Elizabeth; and a romance story would be quite lacking without it. Shall we move on?”

  “Yes, I am rather curious to see why so many people are gathered in front of a canvas in the alcove over there. It is obvious the artist can certainly draw a crowd.”

  “Is that an intended pun, Miss Elizabeth? If so, I am surprised you would stoop to, as Dr. Samuel Johnson called it, ‘the lowest form of humour.’”

  “Shamefully, I must confess it was intentional, Mr. Darcy. Please forgive my flippant folly; for I fear I am fated to foolishly follow in the fallible footsteps of my fantastic but formidably farcical father, who is a fancier of the foible and fatuously fond of tomfoolery. Oh, fie! I feel you are fully fed up. I will finally finish with a flourish and thank you for your forbearance. I forthwith promise to forgo and forsake further frustrating frivolity for now but, unfortunately, not forever.”

  Darcy stared incredulously at Elizabeth, cleared his throat, and said, “Miss Elizabeth, you must allow me to allay and also alleviate any alarm about an altercation over your alacrity for aloud alliteration. Although allegedly always appearing aloof, I actually ardently admire and approve alert and amusing allegorical allusions. All along, it has been apparent our minds are alike and I, alone, am already an ally and offer my allegiance and alliance. I alternatively allude to your altogether alive, altruistic, and appealing allure. Alas, my allocated allotment of allowable alliterations is almost accomplished. All right, shall we amble along to another alcove of artwork?”

  They grinned at one another and strolled over to the depiction that had been so admired by the crowd. Darcy contemplated the lavish banquet on canvas and said, “Now, this painting has taste, and the artist obviously used his palette wisely.”

  “Mr. Darcy! Upun my word, sir! How very unrepentantly unsophisticated and laughingly lowbrow of you, sir.”

  The gentleman attempted a straight face as he asked, “Whatever do you mean, madam?”

  As Lizzy Bennet and her companion turned toward one another and smiled, the room, the Royal Academy building, and then the entire world around them, vanished. Darcy longingly stared at her mouth and thought, Yes, smile, Elizabeth. It is the second best thing you could do with those luscious lips. He raised his gaze, dark eyes locked with dark eyes, and he slowly moved in closer, breathed in her enticing scent, leaned slightly forward and said in a low, husky voice, “Miss Elizabeth, you must allow me to … ”

  “Mr. Darcy! Yoo-hoo, Mr. Darrrceeey.” A woman’s shrill voice pierced their bubble of sensuous solitude.

  He groaned and muttered, “Oh, God. Please, no.”

  A tall woman of questionable fashion approached with another young lady in tow. The gentleman gritted his teeth, bowed, and greeted the newcomers. “Miss Bingley, Miss Dalrymple, what an unexpected … pleasure. Ladies, may I present Miss Elizabeth Bennet from Hertfordshire. Miss Elizabeth, allow me to introduce to you Miss Caroline Bingley. You met her brother, Charles, at Pemberley. And this is her friend, Miss Sarah Dalrymple.”

  All the ladies curtsied. The orange-clad Caroline Bingley snootily said, “Oh, have you had the privilege of visiting the magnificent Darcy home, Miss Elizabeth? Is it not the most beautiful and noble place you have ever seen? I keep telling Charles he must make a purchase in that neighbourhood and take Pemberley for a kind of model. There is not a finer county in England than Derbyshire, I have often remarked. Were you on a tour of the grand estate, Miss Elizabeth?”

  Caroline looked down her hawk-like nose at the young woman’s simple ensemble of an ivory dress of good-quality linen trimmed with ecru ribbon. Over it she wore a pretty fringed beige shawl of fine wool embroidered in metallic threads with tiny flowers in shades of gold, bronze, copper, and green. Fortunately, the soft coppery cloth bonnet Elizabeth had hurriedly grabbed, almost without looking, matched her outfit quite well.

  “No. Initially I was visiting Mrs. Reynolds with … ”

  “Mrs. Reynolds? Why, is she not the estate’s housekeeper? You were at Pemberley to visit a servant?”

  “Why, yes. The amiable Mrs. Reynolds is a dear friend of my aunt, with whom my sister and I were traveling … ”

  Caroline ignored the rest of the insignificant chit’s words, turned her eagle eyes toward her prey, and dug her talons into his forearm. “Are you here unaccompanied, Mr. Darcy?”

  The gentleman extricated his sleeve from her clutch and exclaimed, “Miss Bingley! As you can see, I am here with Miss Elizabeth; and her sister and both of mine are roaming about somewhere as well.”

  “Oooh, dear Georgiana and Anna are here? Where are my dearest friends? I absolutely must pay my respects.” The ostrich-feather-festooned,
turban-headed woman in the outrageous orange organza outfit swivelled her head in an owl-like manner, searching for familiar faces in the crowd while Darcy dodged being whipped in the face by the long plumage.

  “Yoo-hoo, Miss Darrrceeey, Miss Annnaah!” As Caroline waved her fan aloft in an attempt to gain the attention of his sisters, Darcy boldly latched onto Elizabeth’s hand and pulled her away from the two unwelcome birds of prey. The startled young lady blushed at his forward action as she was pulled along behind him.

  They came to a halt around a corner, in front of an unappealing canvas depicting an unappetizing bowl of fruit and berries. Once again, Darcy very reluctantly and slowly released her hand.

  “Good God. What a monstrosity. I do not know which is more disconcerting, Miss Bingley or this painting. Miss Elizabeth, I apologize for that unpleasant encounter, for my impulsive and presumptuous action, and for stopping at this particular piece of cra ... aft. Who would dare have the audacity, not to mention bad taste, to actually create, frame, and hang such a garish eyesore?”

  Elizabeth squinted and scrutinized the squiggly signature. “His name is unknown to me; and I must agree the rendering is a rather peculiar piece of cra ... aft, with no depth, no sense of perspective, or lighting. Where is the texture of the strawberry? Er, that is supposed to be a strawberry, is it not? And the gaudy colours are all wrong. Perhaps the poor fellow is actually colour-blind. Really, I do not care to boast; nevertheless, I could do better justice to the subject matter than has this painter. I hesitate to refer to him as an artist, because … ”

  “Yes, yes, I get the picture, Miss Elizabeth; you do not care for his style either. Did I not say our minds are alike?”

  “Well, we are certainly in agreement, sir, that such a distorted display of still-life art is not at all moving.”