The combination was disconcerting, to say the least.
“I have always admired gentlemen in red coats,” she added.
As always, Mrs. Bennet must talk. This meant sharing every foolish thought that came into her head.
“Would that include hunting pink?” The words were out before Darcy could stop them. He encountered a quelling look from his wife.
Mrs. Bennet gave a trilling laugh. “Good gracious, no. What can you be thinking, Mr. Darcy? Everyone knows that sort of coat is scarlet, not pink.”
“I stand corrected,” said Darcy humbly.
Colonel Fitzwilliam gave an ill-concealed choke of laughter.
“My military son-in-law—who is married to my youngest daughter—is with a regiment in the north. I daresay you have heard of him, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Wickham is his name, and he is a very fine officer. He is a credit to us all.”
Darcy saw Fitz’s smile vanish. Oh, he had heard of Wickham, but not in the way Mrs. Bennet supposed. “As you say, ma’am,” Fitz said stiffly.
A glance down the dinner table confirmed that Darcy’s sister had not heard Wickham’s name. She was deep in conversation with Mary Bennet.
“It is a great pity that he is stationed so far away,” continued Mrs. Bennet. “We do not see him nearly as often as we would like.”
After the ladies retired to the drawing room, Fitz rounded on Darcy. “If ever a man were the devil incarnate! Why must that woman bring Wickham up?”
“Nothing can cure Mrs. Bennet’s fondness for him. I have tried.”
Fitz refilled his glass and Darcy’s. “Are Wickham and his wife to join you at Pemberley for Christmas?”
“Not then or at any other time. Mrs. Bennet spouts a myriad of silly ideas, but she knows better than to make that particular request.”
“Come now, hasn’t she pleaded with you to change your mind?”
“She is not such a fool. It goes without saying that she herself is angling to come for Christmas.”
“Not a welcome proposition?”
“Last year was—unavoidable.”
Darcy had no intention of repeating that debacle. The widowed Mrs. Bennet fled from Longbourn House long before it was necessary, and this meant a full three months at Pemberley. The experience was unnerving, both for Darcy and his new wife.
“Bad luck for you, the way Bennet passed just before Christmas.”
“On the contrary,” said Darcy. “If he had done so before we were wed, Elizabeth and I would have had to wait the year.”
“I suppose. A shame about Georgiana’s come-out, though.”
“A year’s delay makes no difference. The fact that Wickham is married and cannot attempt another elopement is gratifying.”
“I’d not thought of that.” Fitz cocked an eyebrow. “Speaking of marriage, have any suitors come calling?”
“No one remotely appropriate.”
“So, the fortune hunters are out in full force, are they? No wonder you’re keen to return to Pemberley.”
“Elizabeth and I are very much looking forward to it.”
“Without dear Mama and the sisters. Puts your wife between a rock and a hard place, I expect.”
“Mrs. Bennet’s lodgings in Meryton are comfortable, but in her eyes, they are altogether unsatisfactory. We cannot have her in London whenever we are here, which is the dearest wish of her heart.”
“And yet, here they are.”
“There are only so many polite refusals we can offer.”
Fitz leaned back in his chair. “The solution is simple, my dear. I marvel that you haven’t thought of it.”
“Pray enlighten me.”
“Marry her off.”
Darcy gave a crack of laughter. “Mrs. Bennet? To whom?”
Fitz spread his hands. “To a fortune hunter, of course.”
“She is anything but wealthy, which is perhaps a very good thing. You are single, and thus are kept from temptation.”
“Me?”
What else could Darcy do but laugh? “I beg leave to inform you,” he said, “that I do not fancy you for my step-papa.”
“Ha,” cried Fitz. “I am not so desperate as all that. Even so, she must have some money.”
“Only what is settled on her daughters.”
“Then she must snare a gentleman with her beauty.”
“A knacky notion,” said Darcy dryly.
“Now you must admit, for a woman of her age, she is remarkably well-preserved. At one time she must have been very pretty. She comes out of mourning soon, does she not?”
“What difference does that make?”
“Black is not an attractive color for a woman.”
“Fitz, Mrs. Bennet spends money like water. The reason her daughters have so little is that she ran through every penny of Longbourn’s yearly income.”
“Then she must marry a rich man.”
Darcy quirked an eyebrow. “She talks everlastingly.”
“Then you must take care to find one who is deaf.”
Darcy threw back his head and laughed. For the remainder of that evening, it was all he could do to keep from grinning. A husband for Mrs. Bennet? Impossible.
Never mind that London was filled with locations of interest to visitors; Elizabeth’s mother was caught up with only one sort of outing: shopping. The next morning, while Darcy’s sister was busy with her lessons, Mrs. Bennet and her daughters were intent on once more scouring the shops.
Elizabeth was apologetic. “I’d so like Mama and my sisters to have something pretty for Christmas. I hope you do not mind the expense, dearest?”
“Not at all. Anything to help your mama catch a—” Darcy stopped.
Elizabeth caught the amusement in his voice. “To catch what?” she asked merrily. “Surely not a cold?”
Darcy leaned in. “A husband. According to Fitz, that is the solution to all.”
Elizabeth’s musical laughter was a delight. “Mama, marry? Has he any suggestions?”
“Not a one.”
“Poor Mama. What an idea!”
Darcy dropped a kiss on Elizabeth’s cheek. “Shopping shall surely cheer her up. What you spend today is not to come out of your allowance, is that understood?”
“You are the best of husbands, Fitzwilliam. How do you spend your morning?”
“I am off to my club.”
She twinkled at him. “Seeking refuge from a busy household in gaming?”
“Not White’s, but the Alfred.”
“With the gentlemen scholars. I see. How unfortunate that we shall have the carriage!”
“It is a fine morning. I do not mind walking.”
Sometime later, as Darcy was strolling along Albermarle Street, he heard his name.
“Good gad,” the voice added, “is that really you?”
He turned to see a dark-haired fellow of about his age. His hand was extended in greeting. “Knightley?” said Darcy.
“Which one? Applies to both of us, don’t you know? Hallo, old boy. I say, you’re looking well. You remember my brother George, of course.”
Darcy shook hands with John Knightley’s companion. “I do indeed,” he said politely.
“Imagine, meeting you like this,” said John. “It has been an age. What have you been doing with yourself?”
“I have married,” Darcy began.
“So has George! To my wife’s sister! And we are beset by in-law troubles, let me tell you.”
Darcy saw George Knightley wince. Apparently, his brother had put his finger on a sensitive spot. “You have all my sympathy,” Darcy told him. “I find myself in a similar situation.”
“Do you now?” said John. “Extraordinary. I say, have you eaten? Do join us.” He gave a sidelong look to the passers-by and lowered his voice. “We shouldn’t converse about this on the street.”