Page 8 of Such Persuasions as These (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

CHAPTER SEVEN

“ W hat an excellent table you set, Mrs Bennet,” Darcy said, having been coached on what his hostess would most like to hear.

The day before, as he had spoken with Miss Elizabeth after church, he had enquired as to whom he would encounter at Longbourn this night and how he might ‘become interested’ in them, as she had so boldly challenged him to do.

His inability to feign curiosity in new acquaintances had long been his standard excuse for not speaking any more than absolutely necessary, but Miss Elizabeth had vanquished such reasoning with one arch eyebrow.

Her logic was irrefutable. If he were to call himself a gentleman, he would need to depend on more than just his good breeding.

He would have to show himself more genteel.

That was not to say he found the task an easy one.

The inane drawing room chatter constantly pressed upon him would never fail to grate on his nerves.

However, this was an entirely different thing—actually learning something of the persons surrounding him and choosing to find something interesting about them.

He was glad that Mrs Bennet, in whose character, habits, or understanding, he could find nothing worth noting, was a fine hostess.

“Why, Mr Darcy,” she said with a blush, “coming from one who is no doubt accustomed to the very best, that is high praise indeed.”

“Not at all, Mrs Bennet. The entire meal was delicious.”

“And lovely to look at, as well,” Mr Bingley said from his seat beside Jane. “The pattern on this silver is exquisite.”

Miss Bingley’s ill-concealed sneer made it clear she was not nearly as impressed with the victuals or their presentation as he and Bingley were, although at least she had come; Mrs Hurst had claimed a sick headache and refused.

Darcy had expected such a response, as the lady had refused half of what she was offered, and what was on her plate, she seemed to but push about with her fork.

“Yes, well, we shall make use of it while we can,” Mrs Bennet answered with a theatrical sniff.

Darcy’s brow must have puckered at her statement, for Elizabeth leant towards him and explained, “Longbourn is entailed away from the female line. As my mother was so unfortunate as to bear only daughters, this, as you can imagine, is a constant affliction.”

He nodded in genuine sympathy and contemplated what this would mean in practical terms. Five unmarried daughters would be a burden on any mother, but having so many in one’s charge along with the prospect of living out one’s dotage in the hedgerows or dependent on the charity of family members must affect a woman acutely.

No wonder Mrs Bennet was so eager to place her daughters in the paths of Bingley and himself .

Darcy was not surprised when Mr Bennet chose to forgo the separation of the sexes after their meal was cleared away.

He did not seem eager to converse while there were ladies about; why should that change upon their removal?

Darcy was glad of it; he did not wish to give the teasing man any more fodder for his sport.

As cards had yet to be announced, Darcy stood near the entrance, observing the Bennet ladies and pondering the regrettable circumstance of having their home entailed away to a distant relative.

They were worse off even than he had assumed.

He felt pity for Mrs Bennet, living each day with the knowledge that much of what surrounded her belonged ultimately to another, that even her knives and forks might be taken from her upon her husband’s demise. It was a sorry state of affairs.

He hoped Miss Elizabeth’s betrothed would indeed find success in his career, for he had heard of some naval men bringing home tens of thousands of pounds in prize money. The Bennet family would certainly need that kind of security.

Miss Elizabeth must know how fraught her circumstances are , he thought. Perhaps that is why she has agreed to this unusual engagement .

The youngest Miss Bennets, on the other hand, seemed not to have a care in the world, laughing and teasing and giggling over the militiamen they had encountered on the High Street that morning.

He shuddered as he heard them speaking of getting up a flirtation with one or the other of the redcoats.

If they only knew how vulnerable they were to the machinations of immoral men, they might be more circumspect.

But, perhaps, that was just his own unhappy experience speaking.

Not all young ladies became the object of unscrupulous men, he was sure.

Perhaps these young ladies were better protected than…

“I can see where your thoughts lie, Mr Darcy,” Miss Bingley said, her intrusion both welcome and not.

He did not wish to give himself over to contemplations of betrayals and heartbreaks, but he wished they had been interrupted by anyone else.

“Allow me to say I agree completely. All this talk of officers—so uncouth. How unbearably tedious I find this company. As do you, I am sure.”

“No, indeed,” he replied, eager to disabuse her of the notion that they shared any feelings whatsoever in common. “I was simply deciding with whom I might partner when the card tables appear.”

“You need wonder no more, Mr Darcy, for I—” she began, but just at that moment, Elizabeth passed before them, and he lifted an elbow towards her.

“Might I engage you to partner me at whist, Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy asked, relieved to have had such a pleasant alternative present itself before he was forced by politeness to bend to Miss Bingley’s wishes.

Miss Elizabeth’s eyes sparked as they moved from himself to Miss Bingley and back again. She must have seen the pleading in his countenance, for, with a gracious smile, she accepted his invitation.

Elizabeth was pleased to take his arm if for no other reason than to rescue him from his pursuer.

He had displayed no little dismay at Miss Bingley’s efforts to catch his attention at the Longs’ dinner party the week before.

Even during her short visit to Netherfield, she had thought she had seen some irritation at the woman’s conspicuous proximity .

“Whom shall we play, Miss Elizabeth?”

“That depends upon you, Mr Darcy,” she said with a smile in her eyes. He raised a brow in question. “Do you play for amusement, or do you play to win?”

“We shall win no matter our opponents, as I am observant and you are clever,” he said evenly, as if he had not paid her a rather weighty compliment. To be thought clever by a man of such sense and education was no small accomplishment.

“You wish to play for amusement, then? Now I must ascertain what you would consider amusing. My youngest sisters are lively and boisterous players, who exclaim every victory and lament every loss. My mother is never so agreeable as when she is winning at cards, giggling and wriggling with glee all the while. But, if you are sure we shall triumph, perhaps we should choose someone else, for she is most vexed when she loses and has no compunction in making the whole world aware of her having been very ill-used.”

“Perhaps we shall play Mrs Bennet,” Mr Darcy answered after some contemplation.

Elizabeth was set to protest, for he could not know the depths of misery her mother might sink to—or put them through—were they to indeed be clever enough to best her, but then he added, “for one who can win easily can also lose easily enough, is it not so?”

“You propose that we lose on purpose?”

“In return for her kindness, it is a small sacrifice, is it not? If it will truly give her such joy.”

“I suppose that it is,” she said, unable to keep the smile from her face. “Though we may not need to throw the game, for she is a deft hand at whist.”

“Then she shall be able to take full credit for her victory.”

He walked his accomplice towards Mrs Bennet, made a slight bow, and solemnly requested her presence at their table, telling her he had heard she was a most formidable opponent.

Mrs Bennet blushed, fluttered her handkerchief, then took Mr Darcy’s other arm with a great beaming grin and allowed him to lead her to her chair.

“Oh, but I shall need a partner,” Mrs Bennet exclaimed. Looking about her, she lifted her hand towards the lady standing sour-faced near the wall and fluttered her kerchief once again. “Miss Bingley, you must join our table. Come. There is a seat for you just here.”

Elizabeth could see the chagrin on the faces of both Mr Darcy and Miss Bingley, he at having been thrust once again into the close company of one whom he wished to avoid, and she at having been so crassly summoned from across the room, Elizabeth was sure.

This shall be an interesting game , Elizabeth could not help but think.

And it was. She and Mr Darcy spent an enjoyable hour and a half trumping one another’s aces and laying down losing cards, criticising the other’s playing and pretending to be injured by the crows of their opponents.

“Oh, Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth groaned as he once again threw the trick with some small card or other. “I thought you were more observant than this. You should have known my mother had the king.”

“I do apologise, Miss Elizabeth. It seems whist is not my game this evening,” Mr Darcy said with feigned contrition.

“It would appear not,” said Miss Bingley. “What is the matter, Mr Darcy? You are usually the expert at the card table. Indeed, at Netherfield, it is an unspoken understanding that when one plays against you, we vie for second place, as first must always fall to you.”

“Is that so?” Elizabeth asked, not unaware of how discomfited he was by such assiduous praise.

“Hardly,” he answered, though she suspected he was being more polite than honest.

“No use dissembling, Mr Darcy,” Miss Bingley said with a possessive pat on his arm before turning to the others. “Why, when my brother or I challenge him at cribbage, our only goal is to pass the skunk line before he defeats us. He is quite merciless, I assure you.”

“Oh, cribbage,” Mrs Bennet said with a scoff. “That is Lizzy’s game too. None of us will even sit down to the board with her excepting her father. She is so sharp with all those fifteens and double-runs, I cannot keep up with it all. No, no. I much prefer whist.”

A squeal from another table brought their attention to Lydia and Kitty as they played against Jane and Mr Bingley.

“La, you two,” Lydia said in happy exasperation. “We have taken all the tricks while you two have attended to nothing but one another the entire game.”

Bingley’s eyes shot to the few cards left in his hand, a sheepish smile playing upon his lips, and Jane suddenly found her own cards intensely interesting as a blush crept up her cheeks.

“Lydia,” Elizabeth said, hoping her warning tone would garner some decorum in her youngest sister. When she turned back to her partner, the genial openness that had graced Mr Darcy’s face all evening was replaced by a glare of consternation as he took in the occupants of her sisters’ card table.

Is he only irritated at Lydia’s wild behaviour? Or is that a scowl of disapprobation? Surely he cannot disapprove of his friend’s preference for Jane. Who could find anything objectionable in sweet Jane?