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Darcy laughed. His friend’s mood was much improved since speaking to Miss Jane Bennet yesterday. “I have a feeling that you are again considering Netherfield as the place for your permanent residence?”
“Yes indeed,” said Mr. Bingley. “The country life is just the thing for me.”
“Are you sure that it is not Miss Jane Bennet who has raised your spirits?” Darcy asked innocently.
“Well, she is a charming girl, y
ou have to admit. I daresay you’ve never seen a prettier one, will you admit that?”
“She is pretty indeed,” said Mr. Darcy.
“And there I must take issue with you, Bingley,” Mr. Pettigrew said. “Darcy’s sister, Georgiana, is the prettiest girl here, if not in the whole of England.”
“Before the two of you come to blows over who is the prettier,” said Northover with a yawn. “Perhaps you could let Darcy and I finish our conversation. It was just getting interesting.”
“There’s no need for us to come to blows,” said Mr. Bingley. “Why, we could take it to court. Any jury composed of twelve good men and true would surely take my side in the matter.”
They all laughed, and the two hunters followed the steward to the next copse for fresh game. The beaters soon recommenced their work, and the air was once again punctuated with the sound of shotgun blasts.
Darcy and Northover did not resume the conversation immediately but instead remain silent for a while.
Darcy was mulling over how best to proceed when Northover spoke suddenly. “I say, Darcy,” he said, with the look of one who has just woken up. “Are you sure that Anne does not wish to marry you?”
“Quite sure.”
“That’s very interesting. I had thought, don’t you know, that she might have some small interest in me,” Northover proceeded with a diffident air. “She’s quite an engaging girl in her own way. I like the fact that she’s calm and keeps to herself. I dislike ladies who are too lively, or too opinionated. That Caroline Bingley for one sets my teeth on edge . . .”
Caroline Bingley was not Darcy’s favorite lady either, and indeed he only suffered her for the sake of her brother. He never criticized her, but at the same time, it was all he could do to remain civil to her.
“You would find Miss Elizabeth Bennet too lively for your tastes,” said Darcy. “She is very high-spirited indeed.”
“Quite,” said Northover, who seemed lost in thought.
Darcy saw McGinty returning from the field while Bingley and Pettigrew were engaged with the beaters who were displaying their fallen birds.
“Excuse me,” he said to his friend, and rose to seize his chance to have McGinty to himself.
Chapter 11, Christmas Eve
Rosings Park, 1812
Elizabeth was furious.
“I do not require your permission, Mr. Darcy,” she said, trembling with rage, “to speak to this gentleman or any other. I would ask that you kindly not interfere with my affairs.
“You may be the nephew of my hostess, sir, but you are not my host.”
There were in a room which Giselle had referred to as “the little parlor” where the guests already in attendance had retired to avoid the tumult of those newly arriving. Rosings Park was all hubbub with visitors showing up for the evening’s festivities, and the parlor was a refuge of quiet in a sea of activity.
At least it had been.
“My comment was not meant to curtail your freedom of association. I would not, as I’ve told you before, suspend any pleasure of yours. I merely wished to point out to you that Lord Northover is not a suitable match for you for reasons which I need not go into.”
Elizabeth and Lord Northover had been speaking together—they were by now on what Elizabeth felt were very friendly terms—when Mr. Darcy had, upon Lord Northover’s excusing himself to return to his room, encroached on her company with the offensive warning.
“I do not require a chaperone, Mr. Darcy, and if I did, it is you who would be unsuitable, wholly so,” Elizabeth saw that her words were leaving their mark on her target. Mr. Darcy looked shaken.
“I apologize for the intrusion,” he said stiffly. “I meant no offense.”
