Page 20 of The Heroic Mr Darcy’s Bad Manners

Miss Eudora Darcy called on Maeve Bennet the next morning, and Elizabeth joined them upon returning from her morning stroll in the park.

“You are glowing, my dear. Pray what has put such a delightful blush in your cheeks?” Miss Darcy enquired.

“That must be due to my walk through Hyde Park this morning. The air was brisk but invigorating.”

“Do you walk every morning?” Miss Darcy looked amazed.

“As long as the weather permits,” she admitted.

The next morning, whilst Elizabeth was strolling the park, a familiar figure approached on the path. Mr Darcy tipped his hat, mis-stepped, and continued his walk with a sigh. He truly had an air of shyness about him that Viscount Crawford had expounded upon on their first encounter.

She thought nothing more about it until she encountered Mr Darcy escorting Miss Eudora Darcy the very next morning.

“Lady Elizabeth, I have adopted your morning ritual and must admit that it is refreshing to take the air in the morning.” Miss Eudora Darcy finished her sentence with a light cough.

“Pray! Are you well, Miss Darcy?”

“Oh yes, I have the constitution of an ox, but I would not mind the support of an extra arm…”

Elizabeth was skilfully manoeuvred back to Darcy House, on the corner of Grosvenor Square.

“Would you join us for tea, Lady Elizabeth?” Mr Darcy asked in a mellow voice.

“Please do,” his aunt urged.

Elizabeth looked up at the large stone building. As the third in a row of Darcy, Matlock, and de Bourgh houses, the family reigned over the majority of the west side of the fashionable square. She accepted the invitation, sent her footman downstairs to warm himself at Mr Darcy’s behest, and followed the master into an opulent entrance hall of marble, painted ceilings, and gold trimmings. She then better understood his exalted position in society and why he was sought after by the eligible ladies and revered by the gentlemen.

He had changed since his sojourn to Hertfordshire—his manners had certainly improved, and he treated her with deference. Mr Darcy held himself under good regulation, but he was so very formal compared to the gentleman she had met at the masquerade. That man had delighted her with witty banter and delicious amorous trifling.

“I hope you will not mind me calling for Georgiana to serve our tea. She is still practising, but you are too generous to resort to ridicule if she should happen to make a mistake.”

“Certainly not, Mr Darcy. We all had to learn at some time, and preferably with someone capable of overlooking our blunders.”

“Which is exactly what I would expect from you, Lady Elizabeth. As long as the mistakes are not too egregious to forgive.”

“I can assure you that my temper is not resentful, and I am determined to disregard any little blunders. It is only tea, after all. There are no mortal sins to commit,” she magnanimously allowed.

“Since Lady Elizabeth is in such a forgiving mood, may I suggest that you and Georgiana entertain your guest?” Miss Eudora Darcy probed.

“Me?” Mr Darcy replied in an unnaturally high tone.

“Yes, you,” his aunt confirmed as Miss Georgiana Darcy entered the room. “Is it not a splendid idea that you and your sister play a duet on the pianoforte? The new one Herr Salieri sent that one of his young students composed. The fantasy for four hands.”

Miss Georgiana Darcy nodded vigorously at her aunt’s suggestion and looked imploringly at her brother.

“I only play to help Georgiana since she has only two hands…” Mr Darcy protested meekly.

“Oh please, do play!” Elizabeth begged. She would not mind someone else displaying for once.

Mr Darcy acquiesced, though reluctantly, and they adjourned to a splendid music room with a grand piano. His unease was apparent as he fidgeted with everything from his coat-tails to his lapels before settling behind the instrument. There was no need to worry; the brother and sister beautifully played a delicate piece of music that brought tears to Elizabeth’s eyes.

She was almost miffed when they finished but applauded with the enthusiasm the music deserved, which was most vigorously. Was there nothing Mr Darcy did not excel at? Except for his occasional bad manners, he was a saint, which made it ever so much harder to loathe him.