Page 46 of Count the Cost (The Secrets of Elizabeth Bennet #2)

D arcy sat in the carriage, wondering why he was really going to Longbourn.

He had spent a number of days determined to clear the waiting pile of correspondence from his desk; but for the first time in his life, he was unable to put all other thoughts aside.

Miss Elizabeth’s face had remained in his mind, and his work had suffered for it.

She would not accept Collins, would she?

Bingley had called at Darcy House last night, to say that he thought that Longbourn was rather in chaos while Mr. Collins was there.

“He is an odious man, Darcy! I did not want to leave Hertfordshire, but I needed to come to town to arrange the settlements. My dear Jane and I wish to marry soon.”

Darcy rose to his feet and poured them both a measure of whisky. “I have been wondering whether to call on Mr. Bennet and tell him what Lady Catherine is like and that whatever Collins thinks, there is no Bennet daughter who could possibly be happy in Kent.”

Bingley looked like a hopeful puppy. “Oh, would you? My dear Jane is so anxious for her sister, and dreads the day he will offer for her.”

He leaned forward. “With the early darkness, you cannot make the journey both ways in one day, but Netherfield is available for you — although you must take your valet to sleep in your chambers as usual, as Caroline is there with the Hursts.”

So Darcy was sitting in the comfort of his coach, scowling into the distance while he wondered what he would find.

It was late morning when the coach drew up outside Longbourn, and he knocked on the front door.

The door was opened by the houseman, who looked harried for some reason, and merely dipped his head to the familiar guest and gestured towards the sitting room, and for the first time, Darcy became aware of gales of laughter from a number of young women.

It was unexpected but full of joy, and he found himself — surprisingly — rather charmed.

The door was ajar, and Darcy hesitated, pushing it open slightly.

A stranger, dressed in parson’s black, was sitting glowering in a corner with an expression like a thundercloud.

The eldest Miss Bennet was seated closest to the door, but she was turned slightly away, and didn’t see him.

Darcy was about to clear his throat when his gaze was caught by Miss Elizabeth, beaming with joy, and draped in what looked like an old curtain, with Miss Lydia by her side, who was wearing the oddest makeshift costume consisting mostly of tassels.

Miss Kitty was holding a tablecloth aloft, assisted by a maid, who was unable to keep a straight face.

Was that the backdrop of the scene in play?

For that is what it seemed was happening.

Mr. Bennet sat in an armchair by the fire, watching the scene with apparent joy and good humour.

He was speaking, amused. “Lydia, if you knock that chair over once more, I will make you act the donkey in the next scene.” Then he cleared his throat, repressively, and Miss Lydia looked a trifle abashed.

Bennet looked at his second daughter. “Start that again, Lizzy.”

Miss Elizabeth drew herself up, and looked coldly at her youngest sister. “I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior Benedick — nobody marks you.”

Darcy stilled, the energy and fire in her acting voice cut through his reserve. In just that instant, he knew he was in even more danger than he had thought.

He heard a disapproving mutter from the stranger in the corner. “Impertinent wit. She must be cured of the fault.”

Mr. Bennet snorted at the interruption and rolled his eyes.

Miss Lydia threw herself into a dramatic pose, arm outstretched, and spoke Benedick’s next line.

“What, my dear Lady Disdain! Are you yet living?” There was laughter throughout the room.

Miss Kitty dropped the tablecloth to fan herself; the tablecloth enveloped Miss Lydia, who threw it off herself with a glare at her sister.

Miss Bennet murmured something to Miss Mary beside her.

Darcy was startled. Miss Mary was laughing too. He had never even seen her smile.

But Miss Elizabeth had taken everyone’s attention with her stillness and the force of her presence.

Her brow arched. “Is it possible disdain should die while she hath such food to feed it as Signior Benedick?

“Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come in her presence.” She had half-turned to the audience, a gleam in her eye. Darcy was mesmerised; she had thrown herself into the part of Beatrice with all the vigour that was so fascinating in her.

But Miss Lydia stamped her foot on the floor with an echo like a whip-crack, grinned at her eldest sister and patted her hair.

“Then is courtesy a turncoat! But it is certain I am loved of all ladies — only you excepted; and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart, for truly I love none.”

Elizabeth raised her arms in an improvised surrender.

“A dear happiness to women! They would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that.” Her voice became vitriolic.

“I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me.”

Most of the audience erupted in laughter, but Darcy froze. She wasn’t looking for a husband. Would she really not welcome any sort of offer? He glanced at the clergyman, this must be Mr. Collins and Miss Elizabeth certainly wasn’t playing to his favour; the man looked quite scandalised.

Mr. Bennet had drawn his handkerchief and was wiping his eyes. “That is you all over, Lizzy. You, all of you , are dreadful.”

At that moment, Miss Elizabeth saw Darcy standing in the doorway. She became still for a heartbeat and he saw her smile fix. But then she stood tall, and held his gaze, unembarrassed. She is magnificent .

She turned back to the impromptu audience. “We have a guest.”

Mr. Bennet turned his head towards him. “Mr. Darcy. Well, sir, how do we compare to Drury Lane?”

Miss Bennet had risen to her feet and shook her head at her father. “Papa.” The gentle remonstrance sounded more loving than vexation. Then she turned to him.

“Do come in, Mr. Darcy, and take a seat. I will bring you a cup of tea.”

Darcy gratefully accepted the cup of tea, but declined the offered chair next to Mr. Collins, who had seemed to suffer a great shock when he heard Darcy’s name, and whose gaze seemed to be shuffling between him and Miss Elizabeth with a horrified expression.

Darcy did not desire any sort of conversation with this man — he knew, too well, the sort of man his aunt favoured for the living she controlled.

So he stood behind the row of seats that formed the impromptu auditorium, and watched as Miss Elizabeth, accompanied by her sisters, threw themselves into performing the rest of the scene.

He could not articulate to himself how much he admired her.

She did not play to him as a wealthy man; she did not tone down her exuberant acting just because he was there; in fact he thought she rather overplayed it.

His lips twitched, was she trying to scandalise him?

Miss Bennet leaned back in her chair towards him, and he bent towards her.

“You have caught us rehearsing for our own amusement. I do hope you weren’t expecting a quiet genteel call.” Her gentle humour helped him to smile and allow himself to relax.

“I have not yet had the opportunity to wish you joy, Miss Bennet. Bingley is a good man, and I am sure you will be very happy.”

She blushed. “I thank you, Mr. Darcy. I am determined to make Mr. Bingley happy.”

“I am certain you will.” Darcy smiled at her and straightened.

He wondered what Bingley was going to do about protecting his betrothed from his own sister.

He thought that Miss Bingley might make the new Mrs. Bingley’s new life rather difficult.

He decided to speak to him about the matter when they next met.

As the scene came to an end, with all the sisters laughing cheerfully, and hugging each other, Darcy watched, quite unsure how he was feeling.

He had never seen any of this sort of unconditional love and affection between members of his family, this ability to laugh with each other without laughing at them.

The younger sisters are ill-disciplined and unrefined.

Yet they have this inner confidence that they are loved and accepted.

That is what Georgiana needs, I believe.

But I cannot imagine any families in the first circles do this.

Or do they, and it is kept a secret within that family?

I cannot remember ever hearing such joy in laughter before.

It is not what is accepted in society. But I want it.

Mr. Bennet stood beside him, interrupting his thoughts. “Thank you for accommodating our home entertainments, Mr. Darcy. Not many people from outside our community here might be so accepting.”

Darcy smiled tightly. “Not at all, Mr. Bennet. I am grateful for the opportunity to see how … how joyful and accepting your daughters are to each other. It is good to see.”

He didn’t want further questions, and he had noticed an absence. “Does Mrs. Bennet not enjoy the performances?”

Bennet chuckled. “Yes. Usually she is here and can sometimes even be tempted to join the cast. However,” he sighed “she is attempting to stay on the right side of…” he lowered his voice “…our guest, and therefore has to seem to disapprove. So she decided to visit her sister in Meryton this morning.”

This was Darcy’s cue. “And, on that note, Mr. Bennet, I wonder if I might have a word in private?”

But Mr. Collins was beside them. “Mr. Darcy, sir! I am so happy to have the opportunity to speak to you. I am hoping you can tell my cousin how dreadfully wrong it is to allow my young cousins to act in this unmannered and intolerable way. Lady Catherine would never approve of their behaviour!”

Darcy regarded the man thoughtfully. He would not comment on the man’s bad manners in not seeking an introduction first. That would delay his opportunity to speak to Mr. Bennet.

But he waited for a moment, all the time steadily regarding the man, who began to wilt under his gaze.

Finally, he spoke. “Lady Catherine has no authority on matters so far outside her purview, sir.” Then he instantly turned away, making it clear he did not wish a reply.

“Come into my study, Mr. Darcy. We can speak privately there.” Mr. Bennet was trying not to show his amusement.

Darcy looked over at Miss Elizabeth as he followed her father out of the door. Her eyes were on him, and he felt his soul warm. Perhaps he could spend a few days here and ensure her safety.