Then there was Lizzy with her dark hair and eyes, so unlike her fair sisters. In the privacy of their bedchamber, Mr. Bennet occasionally teased his wife about their second daughter, accusing her of having had an assignation with a Spanish wine merchant that had resulted in their dark-eyed daughter.
Lizzy was certainly pretty enough to attract a suitor, but it was her habit of expressing her own opinions that would prove to be her downfall, and there was no hope of improvement in that area as no one seemed to intimidate her—not even Mr. Darcy. Lizzy’s conversation, in which she had teased that gentleman about his knowledge of dancing, had been overheard at Lucas Lodge and widely remarked upon. That type of banter was perfectly fine once you were engaged, but totally at cross purposes before an offer was made. No man wanted a wife who was smarter or wittier than he was.
And was her obstinacy more in evidence than when she had refused to even consider Mr. Collins when he had come to Longbourn for the purpose of finding a wife from amongst his cousins? When Mr. Collins had learned that Jane was shortly to become engaged to Mr. Bingley, he had turned his attention to Lizzy. But any conversation that had so much as a hint of a future together was met with stone cold silence. Instead of marrying Lizzy, he had marched over to Lucas Lodge and proposed to Charlotte Lucas, and they were to be married in a month’s time. That piece of good news was repeated at every opportunity by Lady Lucas.
Since there was nothing to be done about Lizzy, she would concentrate her efforts on Kitty and Lydia. Mrs. Hill, who excelled in doing the girls’ hair, was now assigned to the two youngest Bennets, and when Lizzy saw Mrs. Hill walk past their bedroom with the jewelry box, she started to laugh. “Jane, Mama has determined that I am a hopeless cause, and that she will waste no more time on me. I hope I do not come to regret my decision to refuse Mr. Collins.”
Jane only smiled at the absurdity of her sister’s comment because she was attempting to tame Lizzy’s unruly tresses, and after many minutes of effort, she finally suggested that her sister wear her hair down. They agreed upon a green ribbon that framed her face nicely, allowing her luscious dark hair to fall freely upon her shoulders. Lizzy, who had a bad habit of playing with her curls, did not know if this was a good idea.
“Yes, it is true that you play with your hair when it is down,” Jane agreed, “but you are forever tucking your curls back into place when you wear it up. Since you will be playing with your hair in either case, to my mind, there is no one prettier in all of Hertfordshire when you wear your hair down. The green gown you have chosen complements you greatly, and you will be la belle de la danse.”
“It is my favorite gown.”
“Yes, I know,” Jane answered, aware of the reason why Lizzy had chosen that particular dress. “You will have every man at the ball asking you to dance.”
But Lizzy did not care if she had every man in the ballroom asking for a dance. She cared only about one man—Mr. Darcy. This might very well be their last time together until Jane and Mr. Bingley’s wedding and that was many weeks in the future.
At that moment, Lydia and Kitty came into their sisters’ room to urge them to hurry. Lydia was sure that many of the officers were already at Netherfield dancing with Maria Lucas and Mary King. As Lizzy stepped out of the front door and onto the gravel path, a full moon appeared on the horizon, casting its soft glow over the landscape. The ball would last into the early hours of the morning, and Lizzy intended to dance every dance and to wear out her slippers. Because she would be so agreeably engaged, she would not think about the few hours left to her before Mr. Darcy returned to London and Miss Montford. Those thoughts were for another place where no one would see her tears.
Mr. Darcy had instructed Mercer, his manservant, to put out his very best evening clothes, and the effect of the green jacket with the black waistcoat and beige breeches was more than satisfactory. There was nothing conceited in his appraisal as he knew that he was handsome in an imperfect sort of way. A broken nose, a result of a sparring match at Jackson’s Boxing Academy, had forever altered his profile, but his dark hair and gray-green eyes seemed to have appeal for the ladies, or so he had been told.
Mercer, who had been in Mr. Darcy’s employ since his return from the Grand Tour five years earlier, was adept at sensing the changes in his moods. But, of late, even he was surprised by the range of his master’s emotions. The day after the assembly, Mr. Darcy had ridden to Longbourn for the unpleasant task of apologizing to a young lady for a statement he had let slip as a result of his desire to be anywhere other than at an assembly in a country market town. Mercer had been anticipating that his master would return in the same mood in which he had left, but, instead, he had entered the house in a joyful mood and had climbed the stairs, taking them two at a time. The dramatic fluctuations continued, depending on whether he was discussing Letitia Montford or Elizabeth Bennet.
Pulling on his waistcoat and tightening the knot on his neckcloth, Mr. Darcy took one last look in the mirror and said, “Mercer, do you recall the saying, ‘Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die’? In my case, I would say, ‘Eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow I must go to town,’” and out the door he went in search of diversion from the events that awaited him in London.
Chapter 11
When Jane had written to Aunt and Uncle Gardiner to announce her engagement, she had also mentioned that there was to be a ball at Netherfield Park. Mr. Gardiner, having once kicked up his heels in the manor house before moving to London, was mildly interested in attending, but after thinking about days spent away from his business, arranging for the carriage, and having to ask his mother-in-law to come to stay with the children, he decided to stay put. However, when Mrs. Gardiner read the same letter, she started to think about what she would pack for their journey.
“My dear husband, it is not just a matter of attending a ball at Netherfield Park; you must understand that Mr. Darcy of Pemberley will be there. I grew up not five miles from his great estate, and I have very fond memories of harvest festivals held in late summer at the manor house. Although I cannot picture Miss Darcy, I do recall the young Fitzwilliam Darcy, a handsome boy, and I would very much enjoy seeing him now that he has grown to manhood.”
Mrs. Gardiner continued on with detailed descriptions of Sunday strolls along Pemberley’s many streams, but it was only when she mentioned that her father had occasionally fished in the estate’s waters that her husband’s interest was piqued. There was nothing that gave him more pleasure than a day spent fishing, as it was the one sport that allowed him to forget about his business and all it entailed.
“Of course, it was necessary to apply to the steward for permission to fish on the property,” Mrs. Gardiner cautioned her husband, “but I cannot remember it as ever having been denied.”
“I wonder if the young Mr. Darcy is of a similar mind? Since we are to visit Lambton in a few weeks’ time, it would be beneficial to know if that were the case. If so, I could write to the steward, and if I were in a position to mention Mr. Darcy by name, that might do the trick.”
Mr. Gardiner went to the bookcase and removed Isaak Walton’s The Compleat Angler, a book nearly as dear to him as his Bible. After scanning a number of pages, he looked up and smiled at his wife. “Mrs. Gardiner, please send word to your mother that we are in need of her assistance.”