Page 60 of The Shades of Pemberley
Darcy was not the first of his friends to marry, for Davidson and Graves had both preceded him by a year.
Bingley was, of course, pursuing Miss Bennet, and while Drysdale was courting a young lady, Walters and Brooks were yet single, and seemed content to remain so.
That Davidson and Graves were married was fortunate, for that evening Elizabeth had new friends with whom she could converse, for a gathering of only gentlemen devolved into raucous laughter and jesting not fit for a lady’s ears.
When the ladies retired to the sitting-room after dinner, Darcy stayed with his friends in the dining-room with their port, the behavior not unlike what he might expect of an evening with his friends, indistinguishable from many other occasions he could recall.
“Well, Darcy,” said Walters, the usual ringleader of any baiting among the friends, “given your movement of late among the higher sets, I am surprised you have any interest in associating with us poor fellows.”
“Oh, aye,” added Davidson. “Why, my Cecily observed your wife shopping with a countess last week. If she has made such acquaintances, who would prefer our company?”
“I would, for one,” said Darcy, sipping on his port.
“That is not unexpected,” said Graves, among the quieter of the company in keeping with his name. “One rarely meets one more disinclined toward the higher sets than Darcy.”
“I have spent much time in Darcy’s company,” said Bingley, the good sort that he was. “Little has changed in his manners, though I suppose he must keep up appearances.”
“Given your recent visits to the earl’s house,” jibed Brooks, “more than Darcy is moving up in the world.”
“Perhaps,” was Bingley’s uncaring reply. “I will note, however, that my interest is only in Darcy’s new sister by marriage. That she lives in the earl’s house is ancillary.”
“Should we tell him?” asked Walters to Graves in a stage whisper. “Our excellent Bingley appears to have no concept of what this means for his status in society.”
“I understand well enough,” retorted Bingley. “Yet I count it secondary to earning Miss Bennet’s good opinion.”
“Another lost to the arms of a woman,” lamented Brooks. “It is just you and me, Walters, to carry on the standard of bachelorhood, for even Drysdale is doing his best to allow a woman to catch him.”
“You should try it, Brooks,” returned Drysdale. “You may even find it agrees with you.”
“Heresy!” exclaimed Brooks. “Why, I have never been more insulted in my life! I shall have you know that I mean to remain single forever—a wife would be no less than a bother, an unnecessary burden on my lifestyle.”
“If any of us feels that way,” observed Bingley, “it is Walters. I cannot believe it of you, Brooks, for I know you must provide an heir when you inherit your property.”
“Yes, I suppose you have the right of it, Bingley,” said Brooks. “Until my father passes on, however, I need not concern myself with such things. There will be more than enough time to consider such distasteful subjects as marriage and children.”
“Thus, your claims of remaining single forever are revealed as bravado,” said Graves, much to the amusement of them all.
“This is all well and good,” interjected Walters, “but I wish to know more about Darcy’s new friends. Tell me, have you become disgusted with them all, or do you still retain some measure of tolerance for them?”
“There are good men among the higher sets,” replied Darcy.
This was a common complaint among those of his level of society, not that most of them cared for the opinions of those who considered themselves high and mighty.
Darcy was not much interested in such a discussion, for he cared little for what others thought—his friends knew this about him and were of a similar mind on the subject.
“As yet, I am more comfortable among you all than I am among the higher sets.” Darcy paused and laughed.
“To own the truth, Elizabeth is far more adept at dealing with them than I am. I receive impertinent comments with strained patience, my only thought to take myself from their company, but Elizabeth can disarm any reproof with a jest or a raised eyebrow. I am proud of my wife, and she is the daughter of a country squire who only had a season last year.”
“Do not bring up your wife, Darcy,” jested Walters, “for I am still put out with you for stealing such a bright woman without even giving me a sporting chance with her.”
“‘Steal?’” murmured Graves, much to the mirth of them all.
“Well, if you put it that way...” said Walters, further stoking their merriment.
“I do,” agreed Darcy.
“I will say,” interrupted Drysdale, “that your comfort with us rather than your new peers is because you were not raised to look down your nose at all and sundry.”
“Although my father made a concerted attempt at it,” said Darcy as his friends released their laughter at the joke.
“As did my father,” said Graves. “It is to my satisfaction that I did not heed his advice.”
“What of the infamous Lord and Lady Matlock?” asked Davidson. “The lady appeared quite comfortable with Mrs. Darcy, according to my wife.”
“The earl and his wife have been excellent supporters,” agreed Darcy. “While the earl is a noble through and through, he is also an excellent man. I count myself fortunate that I have secured his support, especially when the man’s sister inserted her ample nose into my business.”
That statement could not pass without his friends demanding an explanation, which Darcy provided, the ability to look back on Lady Catherine’s excesses with humor aiding his retelling.
By the time he finished his narrative, his friends could not decide whether he was exaggerating or mistaken, for there could be no one in the world that delusional.
“I assure you,” said Darcy, “that Lady Catherine is larger than life. Her insistence may cost her a heavy penalty, for his lordship is not of a mind to allow her to continue as she has.”
“Even my Aunt Beatrice is not so unyielding as this,” said Graves with no little wonder.
“It must be an affectation of the higher classes,” opined Brooks.
“A lady accustomed to having her way,” mused Walters. “It is not unsurprising, I suppose, for such a person must expect the world to do her bidding.”
“I cannot say you are incorrect,” replied Darcy. “For her interference, I can only thank Lady Catherine for moving my wedding forward. There was never any chance I would allow her to browbeat me into acting against my wishes.”
“Of course there was not,” inserted Davidson. “That she tried it at all shows her delusion.”
“Well, gentlemen,” said Darcy, draining his glass and rising to his feet, “while your company is stimulating, I prefer my wife’s society. Let us return to the sitting-room.”
Amid good-natured grumbling and taunts of being henpecked by his unmarried friends, Darcy led them back to the sitting-room, where Elizabeth appeared to be engaged with the two ladies in friendly banter.
Later, when their guests had all departed and they were preparing for bed, Darcy reveled in his wife’s presence, wondering now why he had not insisted on a short engagement.
Their opinions about their friends were aligned as Darcy had known they would be.
“Cecily Davidson is all that is lively, and Nora Graves a joy to know. I hope that all your friends have such agreeable wives, William.”
“As you know,” replied Darcy, “some of my friends are yet unmarried, though Drysdale appears besotted with his lady. When the occasion permits, I am certain he would be amenable to introducing you.”
“I would appreciate that,” said Elizabeth. “Perhaps if we intersperse our inevitable duties with those of our new set with your old friends, we may withstand the former better.”
“With that, my excellent wife, I cannot but agree.”