Page 16 of The Cat Who Loved Mr. Darcy (Pride and Prejudice Variation)
“If I might also take the liberty of making an announcement,” he said, smiling widely, “I wished to let you all know that the renovations at Netherfield Park are nearly complete. And as Hertfordshire seems so fond of its assemblies, I intend to host a ball in the last week of November. Please consider this your early invitation, all of you here. Miss Bennet learned of this first just minutes ago and agreed it was an excellent idea.”
Jane confirmed this with a gentle smile toward her father and Elizabeth.
Mr. Bingley beamed around the room before adding with earnest hopefulness, “And I do hope Mr. Darcy might prevail upon his sister to accompany him. Miss Georgiana would be most welcome.”
Elizabeth’s eyebrows lifted a fraction in clear surprise, but she quickly composed herself and offered a gracious nod. “How generous of you, sir. I am sure many will be delighted.”
Mr. Bennet tapped his fingers on his chair arm with dry amusement. “A ball, eh? You are determined to make yourself beloved of every mother with daughters in the county.”
Bingley’s laugh was unrestrained. “If it makes for good neighbours, sir, I shall bear the burden bravely.”
Jane’s cheeks coloured prettily. She lowered her eyes with quiet pleasure, murmuring, “It will be lovely to have another occasion to gather. Thank you, Mr. Bingley.”
Darcy inclined his head gravely. “Your kindness does you credit, Bingley. I shall certainly inform my sister of your invitation. She would no doubt find it... interesting.”
At that understatement, Elizabeth bit back a smile.
Mary, perched on her chair with prim composure, cleared her throat. “I hope,” she said with solemn precision, “that it will be conducted with suitable decorum.”
Bingley, unruffled, gave her a cheerful nod. “I shall see that the musicians know all the proper dances, Miss Mary. And perhaps we will even manage a hymn or two before supper, if it would please you.”
Mary blinked, uncertain whether to be gratified or scandalised, and subsided with a dignified sniff.
Mr. Bennet’s lips twitched. “Well, Bingley, I hope Netherfield will prove equal to so many eager dancers.”
Bingley laughed. “I shall do my best to make it so, sir—though I fear the floorboards may complain.”
Elizabeth cast a sidelong glance at Darcy, who met her eyes briefly, the faintest glimmer of reluctant amusement in his gaze.
Mr. Bingley, satisfied with the general reception, settled back in his chair with boyish delight. “Excellent. Then it is agreed. A ball it shall be.”
And for a moment, the room hummed with the pleasant stirrings of anticipation. They had just begun to settle into more relaxed conversation when a maid tapped discreetly at the door and curtsied.
“Beg you pardon, sir. Mistress and the young ladies have just returned from Meryton.”
Mr. Bennet raised his brows. “Have they indeed? Excellent timing.” He turned to his guests with dry civility. “Gentlemen, if you can endure it, I beg you to wait a moment longer before taking your leave. It seems my household is about to be fully reunited.”
Bingley, delighted as ever, beamed and assured him, “Nothing would please us more, sir.” Darcy merely inclined his head gravely but did not object.
Moments later the parlour door opened wider and in swept Mrs. Bennet, flushed from the brisk journey, followed by Lydia and Kitty, who were pink-cheeked and breathless from the cold, chattering excitedly about shops and soldiers.
Mrs. Bennet fanned herself with one hand, peering around the room with gleaming eyes. “Well! What company! Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy—such a pleasure to see you here! I trust you have been made comfortable.”
“Most comfortable, madam,” Mr. Bingley assured her with a sunny bow.
Mr. Darcy followed with a more measured, correct inclination of the head. “Madam.”
Fully aware of what was bound to follow, Mr. Bennet waited patiently, then cleared his throat and spoke with deliberate meaning.
“Come now, my dears, do sit down. I have two announcements to make—if you can restrain yourselves for a moment from extolling bonnets and the virtues of militia officers.”
Mrs. Bennet bristled but subsided onto a chair, waving her daughters to sit around her. Lydia and Kitty obeyed with poor grace, already exchanging gleeful giggles.
Mr. Bennet folded his hands atop his cane, eyes twinkling. “First, you will be delighted to know that Mr. Bingley has informed us Netherfield’s renovations are nearly finished, and he intends to hold a ball in the last week of November. We are all invited.”
Mrs. Bennet gasped so audibly that Darcy started slightly. “A ball! At Netherfield! My dear Mr. Bingley—what an honour! We shall be most delighted to attend!”
Kitty clapped her hands. Lydia squealed outright. “A ball! Oh, how wonderful!”
Bingley’s answering smile was wide enough to split his face. “It will be my pleasure entirely.”
Mr. Bennet allowed the happy noise to subside before lifting one hand. “Yes, yes, enough squealing, my loves. Now for my second item of business—if you will be silent enough to hear it.”
He let the hush settle just long enough before continuing.
“I must also inform you that Mr. Darcy has done me the honour of asking permission to write to Elizabeth from Pemberley, where he returns tomorrow. He made the request properly, here, in company, and both Elizabeth and I have accepted it with gratitude.”
The silence was instant and total for half a second—then Mrs. Bennet gave an incredulous little squawk.
“Write to Lizzy? You mean—letters? Oh!” Her eyes flew wide as if the very concept overwhelmed her.
Her husband’s mouth twitched. “Yes, my dear. Letters. From Derbyshire, no less.”
Mrs. Bennet blinked at Mr. Darcy, comprehension dawning, then gratitude, then something perilously close to rapture.
“My dear Mr. Darcy!” she cried, leaping up from her chair in a complete abandonment of etiquette. “Oh—you excellent young man—how generous—how respectful—oh, bless you—bless you!”
And before anyone could stop her, she had crossed the room and actually embraced him.
Darcy went utterly rigid, eyes wide, arms pinned to his sides as the lady clung to him, murmuring incoherent thanks.
Elizabeth turned scarlet and half-rose from her seat. “Mama!” she gasped in mortification.
Jane exclaimed faintly, “Mother—please!”
Bingley was speechless, blinking rapidly at the tableau before him.
Even Kitty and Lydia fell into shocked giggles at the sight.
Mr. Bennet merely leaned back in his chair, watching the scene with malicious pleasure.
When Mrs. Bennet finally let go, dabbing at her eyes with a crumpled handkerchief, Mr. Darcy cleared his throat with heroic restraint, smoothing his coat and attempting to recover his dignity.
Mr. Bennet gave an elaborate sigh. “Well, Mr. Darcy,” he drawled, “now you see precisely where our poor cat Sophocles gets his habit of demonstrating proof of effusive affection in the most public manner possible.”
Elizabeth let out a strangled laugh despite her burning cheeks.
Darcy, after a beat, gave a stiff but unmistakable nod. “Indeed, sir,” he said dryly. “I believe I understand perfectly.”