He looked first at Fitzwilliam, whose head had shot back with laughter at his aunt’s remark. Mr. Bennet liked Fitzwilliam immensely, admiring his disarmingly easy manner and gentle wit.
He cast his gaze at his son-in-law, who had become a constant source of friendship and strength to him. It was evident now that the proud, arrogant man Mr. Bennet had feared would dominate his beloved daughter had never really existed at all. In reality, Darcy was a well-read, educated gentleman, and more importantly, someone who adored Lizzy, providing her with a happy, secure home.
He looked across at Darcy’s sister, Georgiana, normally shy and modest away from her brother’s side. She was relaxed and laughing heartily here, a reclusive beauty emerging in their midst.
Finally, he looked to his side at his beloved Lizzy, happier than he had ever seen her. What a shame her mother could not be here with us, to see that our daughter is so blessed. He felt suddenly overcome with the grief of his recent loss.
“Mr. Bennet,” called Aunt Catherine. “No introspection is allowed at table this visit. There will be no serious thought tonight in deference to the youngsters with whom we find ourselves. We would not want to call attention to their intellectual inferiority in any way. We are family and will enjoy the time we have together, for too quickly it can be taken from us.” Aunt Catherine looked meaningfully at him. She understood the devastation in losing a spouse, no matter how tenuous or difficult the relationship. It was half of your life that would never return.
“My very thoughts, Lady Catherine,” replied Mr. Bennet after a moment’s pause.
“Tell me, Mr. Bennet, how can we amuse you during your visit? Do you hunt?” Lady Catherine was spooning her turtle soup, blowing delicately to cool it.
“No, Lady Catherine, I am afraid I do not,” Mr. Bennet replied, also sampling his soup. “I am certain an animal would sooner die of laughter than gunshot wound if I even made the attempt.”
“Excellent, excellent. I abhor blood sports of any kind, animals being far superior to many people of my acquaintance.” She selected a small roll and broke it, dipping it deftly into her soup.
“Charades? Do you enjoy charades, Mr. Bennet?” Motioning to a footman, she signaled him to clean up the crumbs that had mysteriously appeared around her plate after she broke open the roll.
“Unfortunately, I detest them, your ladyship.” Mr. Bennet nodded when asked if he would like more soup, and his wineglass was again filled. “More often than not, I shout out the answer so that I can return to my seat and then feign embarrassment at my faux pas. With my advanced years, younger people usually assume me to be lack-witted and forgive me.”
“Wonderful. Very clever.” She was beginning to warm tremendously to her guest. “Anne thinks they are absolutely ludicrous, and I am in complete agreement with her. Even though she would be an excellent player, if her health would permit it.”
They all glanced over at Anne, who blushed at the attention being shown her and then spit something she could not chew into her napkin.
“Cards, Mr. Bennet? Do you play cards?” Lady Catherine was pointing energetically to him with the leg of a small capon. “Answer this correctly, Mr. Bennet, and we have the promise of an exceptionally enjoyable two weeks ahead of us.”
“I am afraid, your ladyship, that I tend to drift off while playing cards. At least I make a concerted effort to, and then I deliberately snore very loudly in the hopes that I will be thought enfeebled and asked to retire early.”
Lady Catherine was overjoyed. “Thank heavens. Ladies and gentlemen, I believe we have the perfect houseguest in our midst, and I was afraid this was going to be a taxing two weeks of nonsense. Now we can just relax and do whatever we want. I, for one, plan to read, eat, and sleep, hopefully not all at once.”
Mr. Bennet relaxed visibly. “I believe I know now why Lizzy loves this family so well.”
Darcy had little prepared Lizzy and Mr. Bennet for the quality of service and the quantity of food served. There was at least one attendant for each person at table, and a stream of servers coming and going with all variety of removes—exotic meats and strange vegetables, out-of-season fruits, and generous libations. There was even a string quartet in attendance, playing at the far end of the room.
Mr. Bennet watched amazed at the carefully orchestrated ballet of service. If they were not so professional, he could easily have expected flying trays and dropped puddings, he mused.
“Darcy, I see you two have the imperial apartments up there in the golden tower. Quite an improvement, or so I was informed by your valet.” Fitzwilliam had finished up his meal and was leaning back in his chair. “While you are dreaming happily in the suite usually reserved for royalty, try to keep in mind that I am located over the poultry house. It is just as you remember, I am sure—thumbscrews, the rack, chains on the walls. You both must come and visit me there once the ice lining the hallway thaws. Bring a physician.”
Lady Catherine was unsympathetic. “When you finally marry—and you will marry, Richard, even if I have to drug you—you also will have the use of one of the larger suites. Until then, you will have to make do with the rooms you have always occupied.” She leaned over to feed pâté to several of the whimpering dogs who had gathered at her feet. “I’m not made of money, you know.”
“Well, I was thinking, dearest Aunt, that since I am now a famous and decorated war hero, you would feel obligated to accommodate me with one of the grander suites, a suite befitting my new stature and popularity.” Fitzwilliam grinned devilishly at his aunt, who was summoning her faithful retainer, Jamison, to her side. She handed the man three of the dogs, one at a time.
“Well, I am surprised, Fitzwilliam. I am truly surprised.” Catherine motioned for the fruits and sweet desserts to be brought in by the waiting footmen.
“What surprises you—that I would attempt to capitalize on my newfound fame in order to upgrade my rooms?”
“No, my dear, merely that you were thinking.”
Amidst the groans and the laughter, Catherine raised her hand to protest. “No, I am quite serious, Richard. One hears such shameful reports about the conduct of our army, and you and your little flock of associates in particular were most scandalous.”
“Yes, Cousin,” beamed a mischievous Georgiana. “There were some very outrageous incidents hinted at in the papers. One in particular I always wondered about—did your officers really smuggle in ten opera dancers disguised as French prisoners?”
The shocked and discomfited look on Fitzwilliam’s face made Darcy light up with amusement. He had heard the story two years before over an entire night of drinking when Fitzwilliam was home on leave. “Yes, old man, please tell us the story of the ten opera dancers.”
Fitzwilliam shot him a daggered look. “It was not ten!” he declared, incensed. As they all waited in silent suspense for his further explanation, he exhaled a disgruntled breath. “All right, all right. There were only eight of them, and it was not as unseemly as you imply, brat!” He squirmed at the laughter now incapacitating them all and looked away, fighting his own laughter. In point of fact, it had been worse than unseemly, it had been downright debauched. The women actually were common Portuguese whores disguised as French prisoners, had been paid by a pool of money collected in a hat passed by him and his fellow drunken officers (eager to take advantage of the women’s generous holiday rates) and then, to the accompaniment of their giggles, the women had been used as dinner plates. He vaguely remembered a drunken moment in which he was eating fried eggs and kippers right from within a naked woman’s…