Mr. Darcy Takes the Plunge (24 page)

As was hinted by one of the hosts during the ball, perhaps there was something potent in last night's wine; and that must also be the reason the evening concluded in such a shocking manner. No mere outmoded minuet was danced last night at Immorality Manor; instead many couples, both married and, more alarmingly, single, dared to defy propriety by embracing in public for the wicked waltz. The patronesses of Almack's are scandalized as are many of the haut ton who had not been invited to the controversial ball. Imagine! A dance in which members of the opposite sex face one another and the man places his hand on the lady's waist. Shocking! Had not the majority of Polite Society been in attendance, one might wonder at such debauchery.'
"

The family started to speak all at once until silenced by an announcement that Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam had come to call on their fiancees. Both gentlemen were welcomed warmly, much to the Colonel's relief; and they were invited to join the Bennets while they finished breakfast. The visitors gratefully tucked into a fresh batch of currant scones and washed them down with fragrant coffee while Mr. Bennet continued to read articles from the newspaper.

"Well, it is a coincidence we are enjoying these scrumptious scones. Here is a story about a landlady, Mrs. Lottie Lyes, who had a couple of struggling poets for tenants. The poor fellows got behind in their rent; and when the landlady was unable to have them evicted, she decided to do away with the purse-pinched versifiers. The awful woman baked a large scone laced with arsenic, invited the rhymesters down to her parlour, and served each chap a cup of tea and half a scone. The poison worked as advertised; but, of course, crime does not pay. Mrs. Lyes was soon afterward arrested, and at the trial she pled innocent to the charge of killing two bards with one scone."

Mrs. Bennet gently chided her husband. "My dear, I never quite know whether or not to believe half the things you read aloud. Colonel, I assure you the scones you are now eyeing rather suspiciously are quite safe. Mr. Darcy, I hope you will not change your mind about marrying Lizzy; yet I feel it is my duty to warn you she does take after her father. And Robert, darling, why are you now diligently picking the currants out of your scone?"

"I think these are arse-nits, Mama."

"Oh, Robert! Eew!" Disgusted and disgruntled, Catherine Bennet threw her half-eaten scone back onto her plate.

Mrs. Bennet smiled apologetically at her guests and said, "Poppet, you can stop nit-picking. These scones do not have any arsenic. Perhaps you should eat your Jam Roly-Poly now instead, dear. Mr. Bennet, please kindly refrain from reading such thought-provoking news whilst we are eating a meal."

Catherine asked to be excused, as she had suddenly lost her appetite. Her father, who had just taken a mouthful of his own Jam Roly-Poly, agreed with her and said, "That is one way of pudding it, Kitty." Of course, he who talks with his mouth full is speaking in-gest.

Colonel Fitzwilliam, who wanted to be alone with nubile Jane, prodded his cousin, who was seated across the table, by kicking him on the shin. When that did not have the desired effect, he caught Darcy's eye and winked at him for a considerable time, without making any impression. The other gentleman was preoccupied with thoughts of stealing a kiss from nubile Elizabeth. When at last Darcy did observe his cousin, he very innocently asked, "What is the matter with your eye, Fitz? For what purpose do you keep winking at me? What am I to do?"

"Nothing, Darce, nothing at all. And I most certainly did not wink at you. Why would I wink at my oblivious and obtuse male cousin?" He then sat still five minutes longer; but, unable to waste such a precious occasion, the Colonel suddenly proposed their walking out. Mr. Bennet had paperwork to attend, Mrs. Bennet was not in the habit of walking, and Mary reluctantly could never spare time from her studies; however, the others agreed an outing to the nearby public garden would be quite a pleasant way to spend the morning after the night before.

Mrs. Bennet rang for Alice and Miss Edwards to accompany the children; and her husband also ordered Baines, one of the footmen, to go with the party.
I was your age once, young men; and I would be foolish to trust you alone with my precious daughters before they actually become your wives. Three children, a governess, a nursery maid, and one footman should be sufficient chaperones to keep the four of you out of mischief
.

The ten-person entourage that set off for the park was of a far greater size, by about six people, than Colonel Fitzwilliam had envisioned; however, he decided to make the best of it and gallantly offered his arm to his fiancee. The smitten couple whispered, lagged behind, and tried to allow the others to outstrip them; yet one of the servants always waited patiently. The officer and his lady then increased their pace and attempted to outdistance the rest of the group. In vain had they hastened, for Baines, the long-legged footman, with his gangly, ungainly gait, made a gain upon them in the lane and proved to be the bane of Jane.

She hissed, "Fitz, I insist we persist. I have missed being kissed and shall enlist my sis to assist with our tryst."

The Colonel caressed her gloved hand as he spoke in an undertone. "Baines will not be dismissed, but a well-placed fist might make him desist. Thunder and turf! What you have done to this soldier, my dear? It is obvious I am quite
violently
in love!"

"Richard, that expression, 'violently in love', is so hackneyed, so doubtful, so indefinite, it gives me very little idea. It is as often applied to feelings that arise from a half-hour's acquaintance as to a real, strong attachment."

He stopped, turned to face her, and gazed passionately into her eyes. "My lovely Miss Bennet, if we ever manage to evade our chaperones, you will be kissed with such a real, strong attachment it will leave very little doubt about the undeniable violence of my love."

Jane blushed but continued to look him in the eye. "Sir, I do admire your single-mindedness, constancy, and uniformity."

"Aha! So it was, indeed, my uniform that initially attracted you."

"Not at all, Colonel. I have this clinging memory you were not, in fact, wearing your red coat when we first met."

"How then did it begin? I can comprehend your going on charmingly when you had once made a beginning, but what could set you off in the first place?"

Jane lowered her gaze to his chest, and the flush spread to her own. "I ... I dare not make such a confession. Pray, do not ask me."

"Hmm. So shy, demure Jane has suddenly returned, I see. Miss Bennet, I am a military man who has ways to make people give up their confidences. Be forewarned, I am determined to solve this enigma; however, I will not force the issue now. But this deep, dark secret of yours shall be revealed in time. Perhaps I shall have to kiss it out of you. Good God, you were correct. I do, indeed, have an idee fixe."

"Yes, Colonel Fitzwilliam, sir; and that fixation is one of the many, many things I admire and love about you."

The happiness which her reply produced was such as he had probably never felt before; and he expressed himself on the occasion as sensibly and as warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do while being chaperoned by his cousin, three of his fiancee's sisters, a three-year-old boy, a governess, a nursery maid, and a gangly footman.

The public garden near the Bennet townhouse was neither as large nor popular as Hyde Park; still, it was a favourite promenade for the fashionable people in the neighbourhood. Its ornate wrought-iron fence and gated entrance surrounded lush lawns, massive hardwoods, coniferous and fruit trees, shrubs, flowerbeds, vegetable plots, fountains, and statues. There was a large pond in the middle of the park with a bridge leading to a small island, upon which sat a music pavilion. Carriages were not permitted, and the garden provided a tranquil atmosphere amidst the bustle of the city. As the group of ten entered the park, the children hurried to the designated play lawn, which they knew had an excellent area especially marked for playing marbles.

In another part of town, a visitor who had already lost most of her marbles paid a call at Matlock Manor. The Earl was informed his unexpected guest was waiting in the sitting room. The nobleman took a deep, steadying breath and said a silent little prayer before he entered to greet his ignoble, ignorant, and ignominious sister.

Lady Catherine de Bourgh was the elder of the three Fitzwilliam siblings; and, to the detriment of her considerable vanity, it showed. The Earl of Matlock and Lady Anne Darcy were still quite handsome despite their mid-life status; however, their older sister had not aged as gracefully. Catherine had always been a self-righteous, conceited woman; and she loathed the crows' feet and other wrinkles that seemed to multiply daily on her hollow-cheeked face.

She had been as blonde as her sister, Anne, as a child; but to Catherine's disgust, her hair had become quite lacklustre and mousy when she reached adolescence. This affront crimped her style, and an unfortunate maid tried to help by giving her a fashionable cut; but hell hath no fury as a woman shorn. Not someone to tangle with, Lady Catherine gave her servant the brush off; and the two parted ways. Although she at first hated the new short style, it soon grew on her. Lady Catherine had then attempted to lighten her locks by drenching them with a harsh solution of potassium lye, which she learned Parisian ladies had been doing. Years later, when the first strands of grey had the audacity to appear, Lady Catherine thought she would dye. Instead, she got to the root of the problem; and the offensive items were immediately plucked from her head. Initially she worried about going bald; yet, for every one painfully pulled, three more colourless, wiry ones seemed to sprout. Therefore, she stopped pulling her hair out. The colour, she proclaimed, was thereafter to be referred to as 'platinum;' and woe betide the poor soul who dared call it grey.

Although she was quite spry, Lady Catherine walked with an elaborately carved cane. The item was useful as a weapon with which to poke and prod people, and she brandished it expertly. The woman was nearly as tall as her brother but had a more bony build, which she continued to clothe in black bombazine despite the fact Sir Lewis de Bourgh had been dead more than ten years. Always a bit touched in the upper works, the death of Lady Catherine's husband intensified her peculiar outlook on life; and so she continued to willingly wear the widow's willow. Her only concessions to fashion were the outlandish lifeless birds, freakish feathers, and peculiar plumes her bizarre bonnets oft-times flaunted.

"Good afternoon, sister dear. What brings you to London? Surely you have not come all the way from Kent simply for a friendly visit. In fact, I do not believe you have ever done such a civil thing in your life as pay someone that sort of courtesy."

"Where is my daughter, Henry?"

"I was not aware you had a daughter by the name of Henry. Surely, you are not addressing
me
in such a familiar manner."

"Oh, get stuffed, brother! And stop calling me Shirley. Where is Anne?"

"Which Anne? If you mean our lovely sister, I imagine she is at her home. I have not seen her since the ball."

"A ball do you call it? By all accounts, you should more accurately describe last night's event as a disgusting and distasteful den of debauchery, deviance, dissipation, degeneracy, and depravity. Why was I not invited? If I find out, however, that my Anne was in attendance at such an orgy, there will be the devil to pay. Heaven and earth, Henry! Of what were you thinking?"

"Just now I was thinking you, madam, are demented, deranged, and disturbed."

"I am most decidedly disturbed, distressed, distraught, and dismayed by all this corruption. I demand you tell me at once! Where is my daughter?"

"You may ask questions which I shall choose not to answer, and that was one of them."

"This is not to be borne, you egregious earl! You cannot keep me from my own flesh and blood. Nevertheless, that is not the sole reason for my visit. I insist on being satisfied, and you can be at no loss to understand the reason of my journey hither. A report of a most alarming nature reached me via the newspaper this morning. I learned, in addition to having the gall to introduce the wicked waltz last night, it was announced your son, our nephew, and our niece are all engaged to be married. I know the rumours must be scandalous falsehoods, yet I instantly resolved on setting off to Town to insist upon having these reports universally contradicted and retracted in the papers."