Mary Simonsen - A Wife for Mr Darcy

Shortly after breakfast, Lydia and Kitty announced they would be going into Meryton to buy ribbon to trim their bonnets. Mary indicated she would like to visit the circulating library, and the idea proved attractive to her two older sisters. The sun was shining, and even some of the deepest puddles were finally drying up after weeks of rain and gray clouds. Because of the break in the weather, the streets were crowded with people from the village as well as many of the militia officers and their families.

When Mary, Lizzy, and Jane emerged from the library, they found their younger sisters talking to Captain Denny and his friend, Lieutenant George Wickham, who had recently joined the regiment. In a few minutes of conversation, the handsome Mr. Wickham had succeeded in impressing upon his company that he was well educated, self-assured, and quite charming. His arrival in Meryton would definitely make Lydia and Kitty happy as they were becoming bored with seeing the same faces at the dances and dinners and had expressed a desire for some new blood to be added to the mix.

It was Lizzy who first sighted Mr. Bingley and gently tapped Jane on the arm. When Jane saw him, she broke out into a broad smile, prompting everyone to turn around to see what she was looking at. Lydia, who was only interested in men in a smart, well-tailored uniform, announced the obvious: The two men, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy, were not officers.

Both gentlemen had dismounted before they recognized the man who was with Captain Denny. After bowing to the ladies, Darcy excused himself and quickly retreated into the bootmaker’s shop. It was an uncomfortable few minutes before Wickham and Denny departed, and although it seemed as if an explanation was in order, Mr. Bingley said nothing. When Mr. Darcy returned, he too made no comment.

“Miss Bennet,” Charles finally said, ending the impasse, “Mr. Darcy and I were coming to Longbourn to inquire after your health.”

“I am well, sir. My sister’s excellent care and your attentions resulted in a quick recovery, and I am free of all complaints.”

With the two lovers staring at each other, Lizzy turned to Mr. Darcy. “Sir, we were just making our way home after visiting the library. Will you join us for tea?”

This offer was met by protests from Kitty and Lydia, who declared that they were not ready to return to Longbourn.

“Lydia, it would be helpful if you went ahead to tell Mrs. Hill that we will be having two visitors for tea,” Lizzy said in a voice that made it clear it was not a request. Kitty, who was somewhat more mature than her sister, tugged on Lydia’s sleeve, indicating they needed to return home, and together with Mary, they made their way toward Longbourn.

As they had done at Netherfield, Mr. Darcy walked beside Lizzy leading his horse by his reins. Unlike their previous encounter, the gentleman was not in the mood for conversation, and they walked side by side in silence. When they finally reached the house, Lizzy let out a sigh of relief.

With Mr. Darcy accompanying his friend, no one had guessed the purpose of Mr. Bingley’s visit, but after tea and cake, Charles could wait no longer and asked Mrs. Bennet if he could have a word in private with Miss Bennet. The question catapulted Mrs. Bennet out of her seat. She had been running about the room, urging everyone to leave as quickly as possible, when Lizzy suggested that the couple should go across the hall to the parlor, and everyone again sat down. Mr. Darcy continued to say nothing, but the chaotic scene had caused his mood to lighten, and it appeared to Lizzy that he was struggling not to laugh.

Everything played out as expected. Jane and Charles returned to the parlor to announce their engagement, with Charles quickly leaving to ask his future father-in-law for his daughter’s hand. Mrs. Bennet was beside herself with joy at Jane making such an advantageous marriage and ordered Mr. Hill to open a bottle to toast the occasion, and a spontaneous celebration ensued.

“I believe, Mr. Darcy, it will prove to be an excellent match as they are well suited to each other,” Lizzy said. “Is life not full of surprises? A gentleman from London signs a lease on a property in Hertfordshire, and the result is my sister will shortly be married.”

“Everyone seemed to be surprised by Mr. Bingley’s sudden proposal, except you. I attribute that to your keen powers of observation.”

“You give me too much credit, Mr. Darcy. Mr. Bingley’s joyful countenance revealed his purpose in coming to Netherfield. Most people are more difficult to read than Mr. Bingley.”

“Am I one of them?”

“Yes, on most occasions, you show very little.”

“You say ‘on most occasions.’ I imagine I was less difficult to read today in Meryton.”

“I believe you are referring to Mr. Wickham. Do you know the gentleman?”

“Yes. When Wickham was about six years old, both of his parents died, and the steward at Pemberley and his wife adopted him. He is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making many friends here in Meryton, but I would caution you to be wary of anything he says.”

“With regard to you, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked, puzzled by his ambiguous statement.

Darcy hesitated, unsure of how much should be said. The previous autumn Wickham had tried to arrange an elopement with Georgiana, and even with the passage of a year’s time, it was a subject that caused his blood to boil.

“Miss Elizabeth, you have had sufficient time to sketch my character, and since I shall soon depart for London, I shall leave you to judge the truth of any assertions he may make regarding me. I believe I can safely rely on your justice.”

Lizzy, sensing his distress and not knowing how to respond, changed the conversation and asked if he would be attending the Netherfield ball.

“I have important business to see to in London, and I am not sure if I will be able to return.”

“I hope you will, Mr. Darcy, as I owe you a dance.”

“Which I would very much like to claim, but everything turns on events in London.”

Darcy was sitting with Miss Montford in the parlor of the family’s Mayfair townhouse. They had already discussed the weather and had talked about the families who had returned to London from their country estates, and with all the easy topics got out of the way, Darcy was staring off into the distance, hoping for divine intervention to assist him in finding something else to say.

“While you were in the country, did you shoot many birds, Mr. Darcy?” Miss Montford asked, and he silently thanked Providence for intervening.

“Actually, not a one. Mr. Bingley’s time was quite taken up with Miss Jane Bennet, a most agreeable lady and the daughter of a gentleman farmer. Shortly before I left Hertfordshire, he made her an offer of marriage, and she has accepted him. Understandably, he could think of little else.”

“That is very good news for Mr. Bingley that he is marrying well.”

Did he hear her correctly? Did she just say that Bingley was marrying well and not the other way around?

“Knowing Miss Bennet, I agree that Mr. Bingley is marrying well, but considering his fortune, it is also a good match for the lady.”

“What I meant is that Mr. Bingley is not a gentleman, but will be marrying a gentleman’s daughter.”

“You don’t consider Mr. Bingley to be a gentleman?”

This seemed to make Mr. Darcy unhappy, and so she demurred. “Who am I to say who is or who is not a gentleman? I was only basing my opinion on my understanding that his father was in trade.”

“Have you met his sisters, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst?” If she had, then she would know they were well educated, accomplished, and elegantly attired.

Miss Montford tilted her head to the side, which was something she did when she was puzzled. “How would I know them, Mr. Darcy, as we do not have the same friends? We may have attended some of the same events, but I have never been introduced to them. Do you think that I might be introduced to them?”

Darcy could not tell from her tone if she considered that to be a good thing. But surely if they were to marry, she would understand that the family of his closest friend would be invited to their home.

“Mr. Bingley tells me they will marry around Christmastime,” he said, ignoring her question. “He has a large family, so it will be quite an affair if all can attend the wedding celebration.”

“How nice for them,” she responded, and then the silence returned for what seemed an eternity. “Shall I play something, Mr. Darcy?”

“Yes, please,” he answered eagerly, and then sank back into the chair with a sigh of relief. They would not have to talk as long as she was playing.

“Do you have a request, sir?”

“Surprise me,” and then he thought of something Elizabeth Bennet had said about what constituted an accomplished woman: “You see, Mr. Darcy, we are of necessity more practical in the country. Jane and I have painted many screens, but when every fireplace has one, we stop. Even the largest house can only hold so many tables, no matter how beautifully painted, and when it comes to the matter of music, many of our friends are talented on the pianoforte. But if the truth be known, most people prefer an air or a jig to a concerto as we love to dance.”

After thinking about Miss Elizabeth’s comments, he asked, “Miss Montford, something lively, if you will,” and she searched among the music sheets before finally settling on a Scottish air, and while she was playing, he could not help but notice how many painted tables there were in the room.

While Letitia played, Darcy’s mind was flooded with visions of Elizabeth. How he would love to wrap his fingers around her dark curls while gazing into her coal black eyes and to trace the outline of her face with his fingers. His thoughts of the lady spurred him to action.

“Miss Montford, I do not recall if I mentioned that Mr. Bingley is hosting a ball at his home in Hertfordshire, and I have promised that I will attend.”

She showed no sign of unhappiness at his news, and after deciding that the visit had lasted long enough, he rose, bowed, and beat a hasty retreat, and when he got into the hackney, he loosened his neckcloth as he felt as if he was being strangled.

At supper, after interrogating her brother about his visit with Miss Montford, Georgiana pronounced it to be satisfactory.

“Since you are gone so frequently, perhaps you might consider writing a poem or love letter.”

“Please, Georgiana, I am not a romantic.”

“Flowers?”

“May we have this conversation after I return from Hertfordshire?”

“Yes, and I have a surprise for you, Will. I have been feeling guilty about not going to the country with you, so I have changed my mind. I shall attend the ball at Netherfield.”

Instead of the expected response, her brother put his head back and rubbed his temples as if fighting a headache.

“Georgie, would you pour a glass of Madeira for me? I have something unpleasant to tell you,” and he advised her of Wickham’s presence in Meryton.

It had been several weeks after Wickham’s attempted elopement before Darcy could speak to his sister about the events in Ramsgate, and he had only relented because Anne de Bourgh had written, encouraging him to listen to what his sister had to say. Georgiana had successfully convinced her brother that she would never have married without his permission and that she was ashamed of the romantic notions she had harbored.