J Croft - Mr. Darcy Takes the Plunge

“We are more like brother and sister than cousins, Mr. Bingley. Besides, Fitzwilliam is far too taciturn and staid for my liking. Although I appreciate the importance of being earnest, I prefer being in the company of more fun-loving, frivolous people.”

“I am frivolous, and I love fun. For all the years I have known Fitz and Darcy, I am rather surprised our own paths have not previously crossed, Miss de Bourgh.”

“Well, sir, I am seldom permitted to spend time in Town. So, unless you have crossed Rosings Park’s pathways, it may be pathetic but not really surprising our paths never crossed until tonight.”

While they danced and enjoyed being in one another’s company, Mr. Bingley and Miss de Bourgh discussed literature, the arts, items in the newspaper, and the latest gossip.

“Miss de Bourgh, have you read the novel about the musician in treble? It was a real cliffhanger.”

“Oh, Mr. Bingley! You ruined it, sir. You were supposed to say clef-hanger.”

“Oops. Drat! Sorry. Just the same, I did hear of some treble at the new music store on Bond Street. It was robbed, and the thief made away with the lute. Speaking of loot, have you heard Miss Pearl Loyne is suspected of stealing a brooch from Miss Plaist?”

“Oh, dear. What happened, Mr. Bingley?”

“They could not pin it on her. They did, however, pin a famous writer for stealing an idea for a stage drama; and he is now considered a playgiarist.”

“Tsk, tsk. Before writing his final version of the play, he should have had a pre-text.”

“Yes. I suppose authors’ lives are punctuated with good writing periods. Nonetheless, in my opinion the fellow should have been more pen-sive. My sister, Caroline, usually mends my pens for me, but she will soon be going away to live with our aunt and uncle. I suspect my handwriting shall suffer, and it is already nothing to write home about.”

“Mr. Bingley, to write with a broken pen is pointless.” Anne gave him a teasingly coy smile and exaggeratedly batted her eyelashes. “I mend pens remarkably well, sir.”

“Do you know, Miss de Bourgh, you make a good point for furthering our acquaintance? Please allow me to ask you a question point-blank. May I please call on you tomorrow?”

“I hope you make a point of it, sir.”

Whenever Bingley and Anne stepped on the other’s toes, they apologized for the misstep. Step-by-step, they became accustomed to dancing together; and it was a step in the right direction. When they parted, the young gentleman had a spring in his step as he silently recited from Alexander Pope’s ‘An Essay on Man’: ‘Hope springs eternal in the human breast: Man never is, but always to be blest’.

Miss de Bourgh made a mental reminder to jot down her feelings later. Her daily journal was like a confidante, and she had named the diary ‘Brigette Johns’.

An avid reader, Charles Bingley recalled a section of a letter from Werther, the main character, to his friend, Wilhelm, in the book The Sorrows of Young Werther by Wolfgang von Goethe: ‘Never had I danced more lightly. I felt myself more than mortal, holding this loveliest of creatures in my arms, flying with her like the wind, till I lost sight of everything else; and--Wilhelm, I vowed at that moment that a girl whom I loved, or for whom I felt the slightest attachment, should never waltz with another, even if it should be my end!’

A duchess, who was quite stricken in years, exchanged curtsies of common courtesy with Miss Elizabeth and complimented her. “I have been most highly gratified indeed, my dear Miss Elizabeth. Such very superior dancing is not often seen. It is evident you belong in our first circles. Allow me to say, however, your handsome partner does not disgrace you. I hope to have this pleasure often repeated, especially when certain desirable events, my dear young couple, shall take place. Three upcoming weddings in one family! What congratulations will then flow in. Have you two set a date yet?”

Darcy replied, “Your Grace, Elizabeth and I plan to marry before Christmas. We will then journey to our estate in Northumberland and spend at least a month in the country.”

“Winter in the North Country! Brr!” The elderly woman shivered. “How will you keep warm?”

Darcy and Lizzy did not have to say anything. Their eyes, which were locked on one another, and their blushing cheeks painted a picture that spoke a thousand words. The duchess smiled fondly at the couple. “Oh, yes, … to be young again and in love! But let me not interrupt. You will not thank me for detaining you from the bewitchment of one another. I believe your bright eyes are upbraiding me. I am done to a cow’s thumb anyway and shall soon take my leave. Enjoy the rest of the waltz, my dears.”

The latter part of this address was scarcely heard by Darcy. “That interruption has made me forget of what we were talking, my dearest, loveliest, loveable Lizzy.”

“I do not recall we were speaking at all. Her Grace could not have interrupted any two people in the room who had less to say. We have tried two or three subjects already without success at keeping our train of thought, and of what we are to talk next I cannot imagine. Just keep looking at me the way you have been, hold me, spin me, and waltz me around the room, Fitzwilliam. I never want this dance to end. I am surely in heaven here and now.”

“We will be in sheer paradise when we arrive at our estate, my love. What think you of living in the rugged wilds of the North with me?”

“What are rocks and mountains to the man I love? I would follow you to the ends of the earth, Fitzwilliam. Oh, what hours of transport we shall spend! You give me fresh life and vigour.”

“Elizabeth, you already have enough life and vigour for three people, which is fortunate. We have a lot to accomplish in the next two months. Northumberland may not be another country, but the climate is quite different up there. You must prepare and shop for a cold winter … warm boots, gloves, scarves, hats, muffs, and a pelisse or two. To plan ahead is pre-fur-able.”

“Will I have to witness the return of your frosty disposition?”

“Elizabeth, when we are alone together up there, ice-olated, just the two of us … ”

“Fitzwilliam! Just the two of us? Shall we not have servants? Am I to do all your cooking and cleaning? What have I gotten myself into? What have you gotten yourself into? I cannot cook, sir. We shall be not only cold but hungry too. This will not do!”

“Elizabeth, are you getting cold feet already? There is a whole household of servants, my love … an excellent chef, housekeeper, butler, footmen, and maids galore. There is a fireplace in every room, and a thousand acres of wood to fuel them. We have trunks full of blankets, bricks for warming, and cozy beds in our chambers. We shall be neither cold nor hungry, and I promise to keep you warm.”

“I am quite warm right now, so perhaps we should waltz often while up north.”

“That can be arranged; and it is, indeed, a very good idea. As you are already aware, I tend to forget if I do not practice.”

“Practice makes perfect, Mr. Darcy; and I know you do strive for perfection.”

Matlock Manor, the morning after the ball, had been completely put back to rights by the household staff. There was no evidence hundreds had been revelling there only hours previously, except for the fact a fair portion of the company was, in fact, still under the Earl’s roof. The family wing and guest chambers were all quiescently occupied, and those carousers who feared they might suffer from being hung over in the morning simply circumvented the problem by sleeping well past noon.

Fitzwilliam Darcy stayed overnight because he and his cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, planned to call on their brides-to-be as soon as propriety allowed; and it was of relative importance the ladies upon whom they were to call just happened to be sisters. The two young men hoped they might be the first to break their fasts but were dismayed to find Richard’s elder brother, the Viscount Wentletrap, still attired in his evening clothes, slumped at the table. Upon observing his sibling’s unkempt appearance and fragile condition, Fitz made a point of speaking more loudly than necessary. “Well, well, Darce, look what the early bird left us. Brother, I am surprised to discover you here, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, after the batch of blue ruin you imbibed last night.”

The wretched, bleary-eyed man flinched, forced some coffee down his throat, and retorted, “Yes, well, I may have bowed to the porcelain altar of my chamber pot; but you two cork-brained buffoons will soon be paying a much, much higher price.”

Darcy sat several places away from his loathsome cousin, who was decidedly green around the gills. He knew he should ignore the cynic. Nevertheless, like the bird sitting on a perch, he smelled something fishy and asked, “What cause have you to make such a caustic remark, James?”

“You have heard of sacrifices made at the altar, have you not?” He sniggered unpleasantly and continued, “Love may be blind; but, believe me, marriage is a real eye-opener and a rather nasty matter of wife and debt. A man needs a mistress just to break the monogamy.”

With neither rhyme nor reason, his affronted brother sat back in his chair, glared and declared, “James, you may be the all-important heir, but beware and have a care. I am aware your intent is to scare; but I swear by the air I breathe, you err. How dare you unfairly compare your patched-up affair and sorry excuse of a marriage ensnared to that which the fair Miss Bennet and I will e’er share. We shall be a rare happily wed pair, for she is the answer to my every prayer. Jane Bennet is an angel!”

“Ha! You are lucky then. Unfortunately for me, Isabelle is still alive. Oh, do not give me that superior look, Darce. Your love for Miss What’s-Her-Name is also an obsessive delusion that shall soon enough be cured by marriage.”

Darcy very much looked forward to wedding his lovely fiancée and proving James wrong; and so he argued, “A man is incomplete until he marries.”

The Viscount slapped his palm on the table, winced, and cried, “Absolutely! For then he is quite finished! Have you not heard An Ode to Marriage? He goes to a-dore. He rings the belle. He gives his name to a maid, and he is taken in.”

Darcy rolled his eyes and said, “I am truly sorry you are unhappy, cousin. Having often witnessed the sharp words you have spoken to your wife, I actually pity … ”

“Yes, yes! My words have to be sharp. It is the only way to get them in edgeways when that piece of baggage is raising a breeze. Excuse me, I am unwell.” He quickly scraped back his chair and fled the room to kneel and pay homage once again at his porcelain altar.

Fitz shook his head as he watched his unfortunate brother stumble from the room. “Poor James. He has made his bed, now he must lie in it.”

Darcy calmly buttered a muffin and added, “Yes, when he married Isabelle, he increased his lie-ability.”

“Ha! Someone here has been spending too much time with a certain family fond of wordplay. Speaking of our future in-laws, after last night’s … state of affairs, I am uncertain of my reception in their home. I shall have to meet soon enough with Mr. Bennet to discuss a settlement. Still and all, what Jane and I really need right now is a chance for a lengthy, private conversation about our future together. Since I do not believe Jane’s parents trust me so far as they could throw me, perhaps it would be best if you suggest a joint walk in the park with our lovely brides-to-be.”

“Just what was the state of affairs to which you refer? Despite what you told Bingley in the library last night, I had not an inkling any attachment or understanding had been formed between you and Miss Bennet until the announcement of your rather sudden engagement.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam squirmed uncomfortably in his chair and refused to meet the other man’s eye. Darcy set his knife down, wiped buttery fingers on a napkin, and glared at his cousin. “Richard, please do not tell me you acted in an ungentlemanly manner toward my virtuous future sister.”