6. Breakfast of Champions
Breakfast found Darcy assessing his wins and losses of the previous evening.
In the win column, he had goaded Miss Elizabeth into replying to something he said. She had not spoken directly to him, of course, but it was marginally better than nothing. He was still mystified about what he had done to get in her brown books, but solving the mystery seemed a worthwhile use of his time. It was not as if he was all that busy.
In the admittedly more substantial losses column, he had done even worse than Hurst and Miss Bingley. The distraction and novelty of playing cards with the young lady, along with a rather foolish presumption about her skills, had left his five guineas entirely gone. The rest of the residents were considerably lighter in the purse as well, and he wondered about it. Her skill at both cards and distraction were worthy of a chess-master, and he had to wonder where and how she learnt. Longbourn seemed an unlikely training ground, unless her father was far cleverer than he appeared.
The lady did not appear for breakfast, but since it was only the second day of the elder Miss Bennet’s stay, the fact that she remained above stairs was hardly surprising—even discounting the fact that half of Netherfield’s residents were subtly hostile at best.
Miss Bingley naturally made the opening salvo. “Well, that was quite a show last night. It is difficult to fathom such a vulgar display.”
Darcy and Bingley frowned at the slightly ruder than usual statement, both wishing the other would say something. The reply came from an unexpected source.
“Yes, I daresay you outdid even yourself, Caroline,” Hurst said in a moment suspended between slicing his ham and taking some coffee. “Your acknowledgment of your own vulgarity shows a substantially improved level of self-awareness! It seems Miss Elizabeth’s lessons about the basic duties of a hostess are already having an effect. Your father might have been better off sending you to her for a week than all the years in that seminary.”
The room was shocked into silence for a minute, then Caroline snapped angrily, “What can you possibly mean?”
Hurst made a great show of slicing another piece of ham, “You speak of manners as if your behaviour is proper, while hers is not. Anybody with eyes and ears can see the converse is true. You are shockingly rude most of the time, and we all just put up with it because… well, to be honest, I do not know why.”
“I will not be disparaged in my own house,” Caroline snapped.
“My house,” Bingley finally contributed. “You have to admit Miss Elizabeth does an excellent job of instruction. We have been here a month, and I doubt you even have a vague idea of who our tenants are, and the fact that you cannot refrain from insulting my guests in my house says quite a bit. Why, you cannot even manage to address her properly, and as she so correctly pointed out, it is a rather rudimentary skill.”
Caroline tossed down her serviette. “I will not sit here and listen to this, nor will I be lectured to by some country mushroom!”
She stormed away from the table in high dudgeon, while the rest of the party resumed their meal in a more congenial atmosphere, though Hurst could not quite resist the temptation for one last dig. “Case in point.”
~~~~~
Miss Bingley’s exit was followed a minute or two later by the entrance of Miss Elizabeth, leaving most at the table wondering if she heard the discussion, and if so, what she thought about it. Given the abrasiveness of Miss Bingley’s voice, Darcy suspected the dogs probably heard it in the kennels, but a lady would be unlikely to comment.
She spoke brightly, “I apologise for my tardiness. Jane’s fever increased over the night, so I could not get away earlier. I hope you are all having a lovely day.”
With that, she went to the sideboard for her meal and returned to sit next to Mrs Hurst on the opposite end but the same side as Darcy.
“Is there anything I can do for your sister’s comfort,” Bingley asked nervously. “I shall be happy to call for Mr Jones again or my physician from town.”
“Neither are necessary,” she replied placatingly. “This seems more a minor setback than a relapse. Let us see how she does the rest of the day.”
With that, she tucked in, so the table resumed their discussion of generalities, with the attitude being easier than in the presence of Miss Bingley, but slightly tenser than before Miss Elizabeth arrived.
Darcy decided to try again. “Miss Elizabeth, I found your description of an accomplished woman… interesting, despite its apparent contentiousness on certain fronts.”
“I hope I did not distress anyone, as that was not my intention,” she said with a smile, though she still said it more generally to the table than to Darcy specifically.
Hurst laughed. “I suspect your intention was to distract us from our cards.”
“If that be the case, I should hardly be the one to admit it. I assure you any dispute was unintentionally done.”
Darcy doubted the veracity of that statement, and it left him wondering about Miss Elizabeth’s strategy (if she had one). If her elder sister was forming an attachment to Bingley, the obvious and smart play would be to keep her head down and not cause trouble. Given how thoroughly she ignored him without giving offence, he did not doubt she could ignore everyone else in the house just as easily. She seemed clever enough to comprehend that cleaning out the Netherfield residents while subtly lecturing them on deportment was unlikely to advance her elder sister’s suit, so why did she do it? Even though she appeared to join in a fit of pique, Darcy’s instinct told him that was more of a deliberate strategy than succumbing to temper.
Putting Miss Bingley in her place, regardless of how gently and politely it was done, was also a strategy not likely to improve Miss Bennet’s chances of—how had she put it?—catching the poor man. If she cared about her sister, why sabotage her? It made no sense. It seemed possible, though unlikely, that she was testing Bingley somehow, but he did not see how it could be.
It was all very confusing, but he supposed he did not know everything. Mrs Bennet was as big a matchmaker as he had ever seen, but with five daughters she could not afford to be lax, so he did not necessarily hold it against her (as long as she did her machinations out of his hearing, and against someone else).
While Darcy had been ruminating, Bingley was acting more Bingley than usual. “I cannot believe any such ill intent!”
Hurst laughed, apparently having the time of his life. “Who says distracting us to fleece us is ill intent? I say that is just ordinary gambling, and those who cannot keep their wits about them have no business bringing their stakes to the table.”
Bingley laughed. “Regardless, it was jolly good fun—that is all I have to say.”
Mrs Hurst had thus far said little, but never quite worked her way up to an opinion.
“What do you think, Mrs Hurst?” Elizabeth asked curiously.
She stuttered a bit before answering. “If your intent was to distract us, I should say your pile of guineas at the end proved the strategy a success. If your intent was to enlighten us… well, I do believe at least some of us have something new to think about.”
“I could not agree more,” Bingley replied jovially. “I had not thought of half those items, but they do make a good deal of sense. Pray forgive me if I overstep, but do all of your sisters ascribe to your thinking?”
Everyone was silent as Elizabeth buttered a scone slowly and pensively. “We do, for the most part. Our mother has not mastered all of those skills, but she does well enough. Jane, Mary, and I are au fait with the concept, though Jane is the best of us. My two youngest sisters are… very young.”
Darcy read the last to mean young, silly, and not likely to ever meet either definition of accomplished but said nothing for obvious reasons.
He wondered if he was thinking about her strategy all wrong. For all he knew, the entire evening had been designed just to set her up to tell Bingley that her sister was the best of them. Of course, it was equally likely that she had no strategy at all and was just doing whatever seemed right in the moment.
He finally decided to try once again to engage her. “I find your definition of the requirements for the wife of a gentleman farmer to be very sensible. I am a bit surprised at the sheer number of women you know who meet both definitions, though.”
He attempted to keep scepticism out of his voice but was mostly unsuccessful.
She looked at him like an entomologist examining a particularly interesting insect and finally answered evenly. “Do you doubt the numbers?”
“Not in the least. I am just surprised, given the size of this neighbourhood.”
“Ah… you presume I never leave Meryton?”
Darcy shook his head, “I presume nothing. I am simply trying to understand.”
She shrugged. “Jane and I spend time with relatives in town, myself more than her. Some of both types of accomplished women are in Hertfordshire, some are in London, and I occasionally travel with my relatives and have met a number of people. My numbers were neither exact nor definitive… just who I could remember off the top of my head.”
Everyone else at the table looked at her in confusion, as she was implying her circle of acquaintance was considerably larger than anyone expected. Perhaps she was not such a country mushroom after all.
She had finished her scone by then. “My mother loves to boast that we dine with four and twenty families. It makes sense that at least some of them would match either definition. London has well over one million inhabitants, so if you can only find a half-dozen accomplished women, you really should get out more.”
She stood to leave, but as was becoming her custom, she turned just before she exited.
“I probably should mention that, using Miss Bingley’s definition of an accomplished lady, at least five from my list are orphans or natural daughters raised in a girls’ school.”
Then she left with a slight laugh, leaving the rest shaking their heads.
~~~~~
The gentlemen spent most of the day shooting. They managed to bag some grouse and woodcock, much to their approval.
Hurst cared little for anything save food, drink, cards, and sport. Between the exciting contest with Miss Elizabeth the previous evening and a good day of shooting, he was as content as he ever was.
Bingley was happy to have something to distract him from worrying over Miss Bennet, which was doing nobody any good.
Darcy was ambivalent. He enjoyed hunting, but thought he might have preferred hunting for conversation with Miss Elizabeth. On the other hand, getting her attention while avoiding the other female members of the household sounded like more trouble than it was worth; particularly when it seemed obvious the Bennet sisters would be there for several more days at least, and several weeks if Mrs Bennet had any say in the matter.
Darcy’s cheerful mood lasted right up to the moment they rode into the forecourt at Netherfield, where he spotted a crested coach in front of the house, at which time he cursed a bit under his breath, then a bit louder just to vent his spleen.
Bingley and Hurst looked over quizzically, so Darcy answered the implied question, with a nod toward the carriage.
“My cousin Andrew… Viscount Fitzwilliam. The only reason he is not my least-favourite relative is because my aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh is worse.”
“What is wrong with him?”
“He is overbearing, rude, flirtatious, and as his presence clearly indicates, presumptuous.”
“Caroline will have kittens over the idea of a viscount in the house, so I think I may have to put up with him.”
“I suppose,” Darcy said in rather poor humour.
He wondered what Miss Elizabeth would make of his cousin. Darcy knew she could apply a satirical wit when she felt like it, though he had yet to play the part of her victim, since that would require her to speak to him. He supposed time would tell.
“Let us see what he is about,” Bingley said rather energetically, and pushed his horse forward.
They arrived a few minutes later to find the viscount already ensconced in the parlour with a glass of Bingley’s finest brandy in hand, and Miss Bingley fawning over him much like she typically did with Darcy.
“Darcy, old man! Good to see you,” his cousin boomed, then jumped from the chair, spilling a bit of his brandy in the process, and strode over to greet him with far too much enthusiasm and too little decorum for Darcy’s taste.
“Andrew, may I make introductions?” Darcy asked with a frown, just barely refraining from asking what the devil he was doing there, and how soon he could leave.
“It would be my pleasure.”
Darcy made the introductions in the usual manner, then sat back to see what his cousin was about. He did not have to wait long.
“Bingley, I do hope I am not imposing. I could use lodging for a few days… no more than a week, my word on that.”
“Why?” Darcy asked emphatically. He was not the least bit enthusiastic about having his cousin visit, and was hoping to curtail him, though with dusk long past and full dark fast approaching, he doubted he would succeed.
“Bit of a disagreement with a fellow in town. Just want a few days for tempers to cool,” the viscount replied blithely.
Darcy was nearly certain the ‘argument’ was probably related to gambling losses, and the ‘tempers to cool’ amounted to his father telling him to rusticate somewhere until he managed to pay off some of his debts of honour (as usual).
“You are very welcome, my lord,” Caroline purred far too quickly, and with entirely too much enthusiasm.
Darcy gritted his teeth at the display until he realised having another target for Miss Bingley’s approbation for a few days might just be worth the aggravation of his cousin’s company.
Bingley echoed his welcome, not that anyone who knew him would expect any different, so Darcy sighed to acknowledge that the die was cast.
Miss Bingley prepared to lead him to his room personally when Miss Elizabeth entered, having just returned from a walk in the garden.
Darcy wondered how she would react to meeting a viscount. He knew that her mother and younger sisters would go on for a quarter-hour in raptures, but Miss Elizabeth barely even acknowledged him , so her reactions were harder to predict.
Darcy gave her a bow. “Miss Elizabeth, may I present my cousin, Viscount Fitzwilliam?”
He was slightly surprised when her face took on a hard look, and she simply replied, “You may,” with even less enthusiasm than usual.
Slightly taken aback, Darcy nevertheless performed the introductions in the usual way.
His cousin reacted as he usually did upon introduction to a beautiful woman.
“Miss Bennet, it is a pleasure to meet you. Had I known such beauty existed in Hertfordshire, I should have visited Bingley sooner.”
He reached for Elizabeth’s hand, but she was already curtsying and half-turned to leave. “I thank you, sir,” she said with a tone of voice that did not sound particularly thankful at all. She continued, “I must take my leave, as I am caring for my ill sister. Good evening.”
With that, she curtseyed to the rest of the room at large and disappeared like a ghost, as seemed to be her custom.
Darcy was slightly confused by the exchange while his cousin seemed befuddled. Neither man was accustomed to being so thoroughly ignored, particularly by an insignificant country miss. Darcy had become used to it and was beginning to relish the challenge. The viscount looked as if nobody short of royalty had ever treated him with such indifference.
“What an enchanting creature,” the viscount finally said, which set Miss Bingley to grinding her teeth in annoyance.
“She is a lady , cousin! Mind your manners!” Darcy whispered emphatically after pulling his cousin aside.
The viscount was known as a rather brazen flirt. Having him trying to make love to Miss Elizabeth was definitely not something Darcy cared to witness. He doubted the lady would much care for it either, but of course, that was pure speculation. For all he knew, she might be acting as an advanced scout for Mrs Bennet’s matchmaking ambitions, and a viscount would be quite the catch.
Miss Bingley finally dragged the man away as he still had not cleaned the dust from the road, and it was nearly time to dress for dinner.