“Curious, is it not?”
For the moment, Emma appeared mollified. George gave a sigh of relief. His old father was right: a gentle answer did turn away wrath, especially when it came to dealing with women!
Meanwhile, in a deserted passageway upstairs, Darcy was encountering a little trouble of his own.
“Fitzwilliam, how could you?” whispered his wife.
He was mindful to keep a gentle smile in place. “I beg pardon?”
“How could you encourage a creature like Mr. Coxe to dangle after Georgiana?”
“Is that what he was doing? Making a fool of himself is what I would call it.”
“He is what you would call a money-grubbing cit.”
“He isn’t even that, my love. As a country lawyer, he hasn’t much to offer.”
“And our Georgiana does!”
“Is she taken in by him? I thought not, but you know best.”
“She is not. However. . .”
“Elizabeth, it shall not harm Georgiana to learn how to repress suitors. She will face her share of them this spring.”
“I suppose you are right,” she said slowly. “The man is not at all handsome.”
“Thank goodness for that. Who knows? He could fancy Mary instead.”
“Mary? What has she to offer him?”
“A fine mind and an excellent morality. Moreover, she is not penniless. A country lawyer would be a fool to turn up his nose at a thousand pounds.”
“Which he shall not have until Mama dies.”
“Well,” Darcy admitted. “There is that.”
Elizabeth brought her hands to her hips. Her dark eyes bored into his. “Why did we come here, Fitzwilliam?”
Darcy was beginning to wonder this himself!
“To meet the incomparable Mr. Suckling, of course,” he replied. “According to Mrs. Elton, he should arrive tomorrow. We are in for a treat.”
“Oh, you!” She gave his arm a thwack.
Was this a good sign? Darcy rather hoped so.
Chapter 7
The next morning, John rode over from Donwell. Darcy saw him cross the drawing room to speak with his brother. At length they joined the others.
“I have come,” said John, “to invite the ladies to Donwell today in order to talk over the arrangements for the ball. Mrs. Bennet,” he added, “would you oblige us and remain behind with Mr. Woodhouse?”
“I should be delighted,” said she. “Mary will join me, of course. We shall have a charming afternoon, I am sure.”
“Actually,” said John, “Miss Bennet is needed to choose the dancing music.”
“Nonsense. The musicians will do all that. They know which tunes are the most popular.”
“Please, Mama,” said Mary. “I would very much like to go to Donwell with Elizabeth and Georgiana and Emma.”
“For that matter, so would I,” said Mrs. Bennet tartly. “However—”
George Knightley intervened. “To be frank, ma’am, we men are in need of your protection. You see, Mrs. Elton has promised to call.”
Darcy broke out coughing to cover a laugh.
“You are the most experienced hostess among us,” George added gravely.
“Are you able to prevent her from playing the pianoforte?” faltered Mr. Woodhouse. “Mrs. Elton will do it and with such energy. The noise is almost unbearable.”
“Upon my word! She insists on playing, even when you request otherwise?”
“Mrs. Elton is not one to take a hint,” said Emma Knightley.
“And we cannot be rude,” added her father.
“Of course you cannot. You are kindness itself, Mr. Woodhouse.”
“As you see, we quite rely on you, ma’am,” said John. “I expect you are a dab hand at depressing pretension.”
“I am well up to the task, Mr. Knightley. However, Mary is needed here.”
Darcy now joined the conversation. “This is an excellent opportunity for Mary to further her friendship with the Knightley women. Do you not agree?”
To her credit, Mrs. Bennet did not immediately dismiss Darcy’s suggestion. At length she said, “Very well, Mary may go. It is no trouble to spend the day with Mr. Woodhouse. He is the kindest of men.”
“I—am glad to hear you say so,” said Emma Knightley.
“Oh my dear, it is very true. I have, most unfortunately, been accustomed to a sharp wit and merciless teasing. How my nerves have suffered! But here at Hartfield, my nerves have not plagued me at all. It is a wonder.”
Darcy could not help but notice Elizabeth’s astonishment.
“If only my evening gown were to arrive today,” added Mrs. Bennet, “I should be anxious for nothing. Now then, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just speak to your housekeeper about refreshments.”
“Not cake,” protested Mr. Woodhouse. “Cake is not good for the digestion. It is sure to disagree with people.”
Mrs. Bennet responded with a warm, genuine smile. “You are very right, sir. However, if our intention is to repress Mrs. Elton, I can think of nothing better. Cake will do the trick. You, of course, are too wise to partake. But is she?”
To Darcy’s great surprise, Mr. Woodhouse gave a giggle. “Not the double-frosted cake, my dear.”
A gleam came into Mrs. Bennet’s eyes. “Ah,” said she. “Then that is precisely the kind we shall serve.”
The good understanding between Mr. Woodhouse and Mrs. Bennet continued into the afternoon. Darcy and the Knightley brothers remained in the drawing room as chaperons. Not one of them dared to say a word, and the pair talked on.
They spoke of childhood memories, a thing the present generation could not appreciate. Then the story of Mrs. Woodhouse’s final illness was poured out into Mrs. Bennet’s sympathetic ears. Later, she detailed her continual attempts to keep Mr. Bennet in good health.
“Would he eat the proper diet, Mr. Woodhouse? Mind his sleeping habits? Stroll about in the fresh air, as you are mindful to do when you take your daily constitutional? No. Mr. Bennet remained in his library, hour after hour, with his books and his pipe.”
“I wonder what Mr. Perry would say to that?”
“If only we had such excellent medical advice! Mr. Jones, who is what Meryton has to offer, is not at all reliable, in my opinion. But would Mr. Bennet have listened to your Mr. Perry? I think not.”
“We gentlemen,” said Mr. Woodhouse gently, “are sometimes quite stubborn.”
“There is that,” she agreed. “The irksome truth is that Mr. Bennet was never ill, until at last he was. And after he passed, I was the one who paid the price for his demise! He went to his eternal reward in the heavenlies, at least I hope he did. . .”
The opening of the drawing room door put an end to this fascinating confession. Darcy saw Mr. Woodhouse consent to receive the callers, after sharing a twinkle with Mrs. Bennet.
Presently the housekeeper returned to announce, “The Reverend Mr. Elton, Mrs. Elton, Mr. Suckling, and Mrs. Rudolph Suckling.”
John looked out from behind his newspaper. “Mrs. Who?” he whispered to Darcy.
It appeared that young Hervey had brought along his widowed mother. Or perhaps it was better said that she was the one who brought him. Darcy was not taken in by her insincere smile. This sort of woman was everywhere to be found in London society.
Hervey Suckling was small and thin. Dark hair hung to his shoulders, framing a pale face. The effect was rather startling.
Introductions were made, but it was Mrs. Bennet who said, “Do be seated, if you please. We shall have refreshments brought in at once. Serle has made her famous cake.”