A look of apprehension crossed Georgiana Darcy’s face.
Mr. Woodhouse kindly intervened. “Another time, perhaps,” he said. “No doubt you are fatigued from your journey.”
“Why, you must certainly play for us, Miss Darcy,” cried Mrs. Elton. “I hope we shall have many sweet little concerts together during your stay.”
Miss Darcy was now blushing. “I—that is—”
Mrs. Elton waved the girl’s objections aside. “I live for music. I simply cannot do without music. It is a necessity of life to me. Mr. Elton knows that I have always been used to a very musical society, both in Bath and at Maple Grove.”
Mrs. Elton’s expression changed. “Speaking of Maple Grove. . .” She turned to her husband. “What a delightful Christmastide is before us! But we cannot stay; we must be off at once. Mr. Elton, I have just now recalled a message that must be sent to my sister. You shall not mind the expense of an express.”
“But Mrs. Elton,” he protested.
She lowered her voice, but George was near enough to hear. “Hervey simply must join us for Christmas.”
“Hervey?” Mr. Elton whispered back. “Hervey Suckling? What do we want him for?”
“We simply cannot allow him to be ensnared by Miss Tupman. So ignoble! It will be much better if he is here with us.”
George had a sudden curiosity to know more of the ignoble Miss Tupman, but Mrs. Elton did not elaborate.
She abruptly rose to her feet, which prompted George and Darcy to do likewise.
“We shall certainly arrange a card party at the vicarage,” she said. “That is, if Mr. Woodhouse is feeling well enough to join us.” She turned to him and added, “My dear sir, you mustn’t get up on my account. There is no reason to stand upon ceremony among friends.” She gave a trilling laugh.
Soon she and her husband were gone. George breathed a sigh of relief.
“Not get up?” cried Mrs. Bennet as soon as the door was closed. “I like that. As if you are an elderly man, Mr. Woodhouse, which anyone can see you are not.”
Mr. Woodhouse gave a start of surprise. This was not what he was accustomed to hearing!
George Knightley hid a smile. On the whole, he was impressed. Darcy’s wife was lovely and so was his shy sister; Emma was clearly delighted with them. Miss Mary Bennet did not put herself forward, which was no bad thing. By Darcy’s account, her garrulous mother would more than make up for what she lacked. Mrs. Bennet certainly seemed good-natured.
Nor had Darcy led him astray about her appearance. For her age, Mrs. Bennet was quite fetching. If she were a day over forty-five, George would be surprised.
At the moment, Mrs. Bennet was looking thoughtful. “So that is your vicar,” she said at last. “If a certain clergyman had been even half as good-looking, I daresay Mr. Darcy would be doomed to disappointment. And I would be living at Longbourn.”
“Mama, really,” cried Mary Bennet.
Mrs. Bennet’s only response was to smile.
Chapter 5
Mr. Woodhouse seemed fond of society, but his horror of late hours, large dinner parties, and troublesome food surely made hosting guests a challenge. Darcy had never encountered so much concern over matters of health, not even in Mrs. Bennet! At dinner, which was served rather early, Mr. Woodhouse felt obliged to caution his guests.
“My dear Mrs. Bennet,” he was now saying, “let me propose your venturing on one of these eggs. An egg boiled very soft is not unwholesome. Serle understands boiling an egg better than anybody.”
This was hardly a conventional topic for dinner conversation! How would Mrs. Bennet respond?
Mr. Woodhouse warmed to his subject. “You need not be afraid. They are very small, you see. One of our small eggs will not hurt you.”
Mrs. Bennet gave him a kindly smile. “Mary,” she called down the table, “you must mind what Mr. Woodhouse says and take an egg.”
Darcy saw Mary sigh, but she reached for the dish of eggs. Obviously, compliance was easier than disputing with her mother.
Later Mr. Woodhouse struck up a conversation with Darcy’s sister. “My dear, let Emma help you to a little bit of tart—a very little bit. You need not be afraid of unwholesome preserves here. I do not advise the custard.”
Georgiana kept her composure, but Darcy could not miss the twinkle in her eye.
Even he did not escape the man’s gentle solicitude. “What say you to half a glass of wine, Mr. Darcy? A small half glass put into a tumbler of water?”
George Knightley began to protest, but Mr. Woodhouse would not be deterred. “I do not think it could disagree with you, sir,” he said.
It was all Darcy could do to keep from laughing. He dared not look at George. Thank heaven John was not here!
After dinner, Mr. Woodhouse went into the drawing room with the ladies, leaving Darcy and George Knightley to linger over their port. Before long the door banged open, and John Knightley came in.
“Sorry for the delay. Difficult for Isabella to leave the baby, you know. Mother-love and all that.”
John poured out a glass of wine for himself. “This,” he announced, “is very welcome. Tea might be the order of the day in the drawing room—although I daresay it is hard on the digestion—but this puts heart into a man.”
“A small half-glass, put into a tumbler of water, will not harm you,” quipped George.
John gaped at his brother. “Did our dear papa say that?”
“I’m afraid so. To Darcy.”
John cast his gaze to the ceiling. “You see how it is. The man is impossible! How did your mother-in-law respond?”
“With equanimity.”
“Did she indeed? Could romance be about to bloom?”
It was now Darcy’s turn to sigh. “My mother-in-law is seeking a husband for her unmarried daughter, whose fortune is modest. Are there any younger gentlemen available?”
“A few,” said George. “It depends upon your requirements. As to character, my rector is a good fellow.”
“But Mr. Elton is married.”
“Thank heaven for that!” cried John. “Donwell is in a different parish, Darcy. George would never have given the living to someone like Elton. How he can sit under the man’s smug sermonizing, Sunday after Sunday, is beyond me.”
“Yet another motive to remove to Donwell,” said George lightly.
“At any rate,” said John, “I expect the news is all over the village by now, including the fact that your sister is an heiress. Now you’ll see the parade.”
“The Eltons came running,” said George. “No doubt Mrs. Elton was desperate to be first.”
“And then, to gloat about it while she condescends to share the news with each of the neighbors,” said John. “I see how it is.”
“Actually,” said Darcy, “I would like to know something about Hervey.”
“Who?”
“The brother who has been summoned for Christmas. By express, no less.”
“So, you overheard that?” said George. “Mrs. Elton’s sister is married to a man named Suckling, the owner of Maple Grove.”
“That place,” scoffed John. “Mrs. Elton crows everlastingly about it, as if it were the Taj Mahal. Suckling’s father purchased it and then promptly died, rescuing his progeny from being labeled as what they are: upstarts. They are known to be an old established family. After living at their precious Maple Grove for a mere handful of years!”
“You are so crude, John,” complained George. “Hervey Suckling must be a younger brother. Unmarried, I presume.”