Page 22 of The Briar Bargain (The Rom Com Collection #3)
"Miss Elizabeth raises an excellent point," he said when it appeared Miss Bingley was about to reply. "I have observed that the most successful households are those where the mistress commands respect through competence and consideration."
“Hosting parties and making visits,” Hurst scoffed. “Useless.”
"Naturally." Miss Bingley spoke over Hurst, seeming determined to have her say. "Those of us who have had the advantage of managing sophisticated establishments understand the delicate balance required."
Bold words from a woman with less than two months as mistress of Netherfield, and who had done nothing to support the people who depended upon the estate though the need had been great.
“But surely aptitude can precede appointment,” he said as though Miss Bingley’s point was merely the start of a discussion.
“My sister has not yet taken on the duties of an estate, but having been brought up on one she understands them well.”
“He has you there, Caroline,” Bingley said cheerfully as he speared a carrot with his fork.
Miss Bingley's smile grew strained. “Dear Georgiana. I do so anticipate seeing her in London.”
The second course arrived shortly thereafter with some fanfare, and Darcy was amused to see Hurst's expression brighten considerably at the sight of a properly roasted joint of beef.
"Now this is more promising," Mr. Hurst declared with evident satisfaction, immediately applying his knife with vigorous enthusiasm. "Though I wager it is as tough as leather. Nothing like venison from a proper hunt. Blasted weather keeping us cooped up like chickens."
"I am sure Cook has done well," Mrs. Hurst said with strained patience, clearly accustomed to her husband's culinary pessimism .
"She might do as she will, there is no substitute for fresh game," Mr. Hurst replied, sawing determinedly at his portion.
Darcy watched this exchange with growing appreciation for Hurst's remarkable ability to remain completely oblivious to any conversation that did not directly concern his immediate comfort.
Miss Bingley offered a sweet but brittle smile as she lifted her wineglass. “I do wonder, Mr. Darcy, whether you find such entertainments as we have enjoyed here to be quite tolerable. Of course, we lack the diversions of Town. No opera, no exhibitions, no balls.”
Darcy dabbed his mouth with his napkin and set it aside. “I must confess, Miss Bingley, balls are not my preferred way to spend an evening.”
“Come now, Darcy,” said Bingley, “surely even you must miss the amusements of Town.”
“I do,” said Darcy. “The museums, the theatre, my club, the ability to meet with friends who live in faraway counties. But I must say I do not miss the dances or many of the larger parties. Those I find unrivalled in their ability to make one long for the quiet of the countryside.”
Miss Bingley’s eyes narrowed, though her smile did not slip. “Still, to be away from Town at this time of year is no small thing. One does not wish to be forgotten.”
“I have never known society to suffer any lasting injury when one of its number takes a short absence,” Darcy replied with a lift of his brow.
Miss Elizabeth met Darcy’s eyes briefly, and the glimmer there was nothing but pure delight. He allowed himself the smallest quirk at the corner of his mouth.
Mrs. Hurst tried to rally. “Of course, no one expects a country household to rival the refinements of Town, but I do think Caroline’s improvements have lent an air of distinction. ”
Darcy nodded gravely. “Indeed. The grape leaves moulded onto the butter were particularly striking.”
Miss Bingley seemed uncertain whether to feel complimented or insulted. “How very observant of you.”
“The butter is excellent,” said Hurst, reaching for another roll.
The rest of the course passed with fewer sallies.
Miss Bingley redirected her efforts to Miss Bennet, whose gentle but firm replies made for a far less combative target.
Hurst spoke only of the roast. Bingley made a brave attempt at describing his plans for a ball when all the roads were restored, but was soon drowned out by his sisters’ argument over whether the parlour would benefit from blue or sage curtains.
Why they were discussing redecorating when their brother did not own the home, he had no idea, but he was not inclined to inquire.
Darcy offered an opinion when prompted, but his thoughts had largely turned elsewhere.
He had not expected this dinner to entertain him.
He had expected it to tax his patience, to test his promise to Miss Elizabeth, though she was more than capable of launching her own defence.
Her wit was far sharper than any of theirs.
But shielding her from petty jabs, and earning that fleeting gleam of gratitude in her eyes?
That, he decided, was no burden at all. He would attempt to make the separation of the gentleman and the ladies this evening a short one.
At last, the final course was cleared, and Miss Bingley rose with a little tilt of her chin. “Shall we withdraw?”
The ladies stood. Miss Elizabeth, as she passed behind his chair, whispered a hasty thanks.
Darcy dipped his head in a silent reply.
When they were gone, Hurst sighed deeply and reached for the port. “Well,” he said, “that was a reasonable dinner. ”
Darcy just swirled the wine in his glass.
He sipped, then leaned back, letting Bingley’s chatter wash over him.
His friend was now explaining something about having the remaining food sent over to the families living in the servants’ quarters before moving onto the topic of gravel.
Darcy nodded when addressed, murmured agreement where necessary.
But his thoughts had already strayed from the dining room.