Page 35 of The Servants’ Matchmaking

CHAPTER 8

Mr. Darcy

Longbourn's drawing room contained too many chairs and not nearly enough silence.

Mrs. Bennet supplied whatever the room lacked in noise. She praised Netherfield, Bingley, Jane's recovery, and the prospect of a ball, sometimes all four in a single breath. Lydia asked whether the militia would be invited. Kitty repeated the question, a beat behind as usual. Mary began explaining, unprompted, why dancing encouraged vanity in young persons.

Elizabeth sat near Jane. The green of her gown made her eyes look darker than usual. Darcy knew this because he had looked too often, and looked away too late every time. Mr. Bennet, watching from behind his newspaper, seemed to know it too.

"Mr. Darcy," he said, "you have seen more of great houses than we have here. Does conversation improve with the size of the room?"

"No, sir. It merely travels farther."

Mr. Bennet's mouth shifted at one corner. Elizabeth looked down at her lap to hide a smile she was not quite fast enough to catch. Mrs. Bennet did not hear any of it. She was telling Bingley that Jane had never looked better in her life, except perhaps at fifteen, when a young gentleman had written verses upon her complexion. Bingley listened as though she were describing the movement of armies. Utterly rapt.

Darcy had intended to speak with Elizabeth alone. Intention had come easily enough at Netherfield, where rooms multiplied and servants opened quiet routes between them without being asked. At Longbourn, every attempt seemed to come with an audience of at least four.

McKeever had offered no assistance before their departure that morning. Quite the opposite. He had handed Darcy his gloves with something close to a warning. "Longbourn has five daughters, sir. Privacy is unlikely."

The observation was accurate, and entirely useless.

After tea, Lydia demanded a walk. Mrs. Bennet objected to Jane going out but approved, with startling speed, of everyone else escorting her two youngest daughters instead. Mary remained behind with a book she seemed to be reading mostly for the pleasure of being seen doing so. Jane and Bingley settled near the fire under the thin pretence of discussing her health. Darcy joined the walking party with something close to relief.

Elizabeth took the lane beside Kitty. Lydia ranged ahead, swinging her bonnet by its ribbons. Mr. Bennet followed for a short distance, then announced that exercise had fulfilled its promise for the day and turned back towards the house. Darcy waited until the younger girls had hurried on towards a stile, well out of earshot.

"Did you finish the Cowper?" he asked.

"I did. Your servants' list was severe, but useful."

"McKeever disclaims all authorship of the comments."

"Then Sarah has adopted his hand for half the page, which strikes me as unlikely."

"I shall investigate."

"Do not. Their conspiracy is far more entertaining while imperfectly understood."

The word conspiracy carried no anger in it now. None at all, where once it would have. They walked on behind Kitty and Lydia. The lane was public, the afternoon clear, Longbourn still visible through the hedge behind them. Darcy could have named every protection the situation offered. None of it stopped his pulse from picking up.

"I came because you permitted it."

Elizabeth glanced at him sideways. "I understood that already."

"I did not want you thinking Bingley had dragged me here against my will."

"Could he have?"

"No."

"Then the question rather answers itself, does it not."

Darcy accepted the correction with something like a smile. "May I ask whether my company is unwelcome?"

"You may ask."

He waited, heart doing something foolish.

"It is not unwelcome."