Mr. Darcy Takes the Plunge

He certainly seems to look in the direction of the dark-haired dairymaid a great deal, and Miss Eliza is obviously using her ample armoury of arts and allurements to draw him in. How despicable for a woman to be such a flagrant social-climbing fortune hunter.

Jane Bennet paid scant attention to either the displays of art or bad manners. She was far too busy stealing glimpses of and glances at the attractive, self-assured man across the room. Where in the world have I encountered him before? I am positive we are somehow and somewhat acquainted, yet I cannot recall where … Oh! Jane suddenly coloured and immediately wondered whether her sister’s perfect recall might be hereditary because an unforgettable image insistently clung and would not relent. It was at Pemberley. On the lawn. I met him that sultry and steamy hot summer afternoon.

Darcy was in no humour to give much consequence to anyone or anything other than the beautiful brunette Bennet by his side. He was quite distracted by her proximity, by an infernal internal impulse, and by protecting Miss Elizabeth from Caroline Bingley’s snotty snootiness.

Elizabeth’s attention was equally divided between the beautiful works of art on the walls and the statuesque one walking beside her. She took advantage of an opportunity to gaze up at him as she said, “Do you not agree, Mr. Darcy, that artists are colourful people who draw on their emotions and pigments of their imagination?” She was a smidgen disappointed when the gentleman merely nodded and agreed with the comment, apparently deep in thought and unaware of her wordplay.

The object of Jane’s study finally spotted their party, and his secret admirer secretly admired the power and masculinity he exuded as he flashed a knee-weakening smile and strode in her direction. Gone was the wild, green- tinged raffish ruffian from Pemberley; although he was more decently attired, there was still considerable evidence of well-toned muscles beneath his tight-fitting maroon coat and embarrassingly impressive bunchage beneath his inexpressible fawn breeches. Miss Bennet’s breathing became more rapid as his polished black boots brought him closer with every step.

Darcy: “Fitz!”

Georgiana: “Richard!”

Anna: “Cousin!”

Elizabeth: “Colonel Fitzwilliam!”

Jane began to hyperventilate.

Caroline: “Oh. It is you.”

Miss Sarah Dalrymple sighed, giggled, and sighed again. Hell-o, Colonel Stud-Muffin!

“Well, well, what a pleasant surprise, Darcy … and all these lovely ladies. Oh, and hello to you, too, Miss Bingley.”

Bows and curtsies were exchanged, and Miss Jane Bennet blushed anew. The gallant officer was not dressed in regimentals; still, he was dashing and extremely handsome, and the lady was very much affected by his male beauty.

The Colonel glanced around and asked, “Is Charles Bingley not here with you?” He looked pointedly at Miss Bennet and assumed her charming blush was brought on by mention of the other man’s name.

Caroline, who was obviously not affected by so much male beauty, sniffed, and said, “No, my brother is not here; and I might ask what brings you to such an exhibit. I have never thought of you as a connoisseur, Colonel.”

“One does not have to be an authority, madam, to appreciate fine art. Otherwise, you would not be here either.”

“Well, in the past, you did not appear to recognize beauty when it was right in front of you. Have you improved in the interim? Have you deigned to add ought of civility to your ordinary style? I dare not hope you have improved in essentials.”

“Oh, absolutely not, Miss Bingley. In essentials, I believe, I am very much what I ever was.”

“How sad.”

“I beg to disagree … ”

While the two continued to exchange derision, there was something in their countenances that made the others listen with an apprehensive and anxious attention; but Darcy disliked arguments and wanted to silence theirs, so he finally spoke up. “Miss Bingley and Fitz, your argument is too much like a dispute; so if you will both defer yours until you are alone, we shall all be very thankful.”

“Well, cousin, I am afraid the argument shall have to be shelved indefinitely then, because I fervently hope I shall never find myself in such an unfortunate situation with Miss Bingley as you have just suggested.”

Caroline Bingley retorted, “On that, at least, Colonel, we are surprisingly in complete agreement.”

When George Darcy and Lady Anne returned from their mission in Kent, they accepted the invitation to dine with the Bennets; and it was settled between the two families the dinner would take place on Friday evening.

Mrs. Bennet was an excellent hostess; the lady, her housekeeper, the cook, and all the household’s servants carried out the preparations for the engagement in a calm and competent manner. The rooms were spotless, the menu superb, and the goblets sparkled. Arrangements of dried and freshly cut flowers, strategically located, added a floral scent to the air; and brand-new candles were set into polished brass holders in the dining and drawing rooms. As she inspected the table settings one last time, Mrs. Bennet was surprised when her husband snuck up behind her and placed a gentle kiss on her neck.

“My dear, you have outdone yourself. As always, everything is perfect, as are you.”

The lady smiled up at him but then frowned. “Thank you, Thomas. However, I am undecided. Shall we use our best flatware or the new silverware Edward recently gave us?”

“Well, the decision must be yours, love. All the same, since your brother and his family are coming, I would suggest the latter.” He picked up a fork and examined it as he spoke. “And there is no tine like the present to make use of his present.” He then whispered in her ear something about wanting to spoon later that night, though no one else was meant to hear.

Mr. Bennet’s presence was soon replaced with Jane’s, as she was summoned to help with the place cards. The eldest daughter had the best handwriting of the family; so, using the diagram her mother had drawn up and the pretty cards Elizabeth had designed and painted, she inscribed the names of the sixteen people who would be seated at their dining room table later that evening. When Jane noticed the placement of her own name, she suggested switching with Elizabeth, to her mother’s surprise. “Why would you not care to sit across from the Darcy heir? Does he eat with his bare hands, wipe his mouth on his sleeve, or slurp his white soup? Are his manners truly barbaric, Jane? If so, why would you wish to expose Lizzy to such savage conduct? If not, what objection could you possibly have to facing him across the table?”

“Mama, I know you are not serious; and perhaps I should not say anything at this juncture, but I believe he and my sister are forming quite an attachment.”

When Mrs. Bennet gasped, her daughter asked, “Does such a match shock you?”

“Not really, my dear. I had immediately suspected Lizzy was attracted to the … What was it Robert called him? … ‘hanson barberin;’ however, are you telling me Mr. Darcy has regard for her as well?”

When Jane emphatically nodded, her agitated mother cried, “Lud, what have I done?”

“Mama, whatever is the matter?” Jane was instantly at her side. “What have you done?”

“Oh, Jane, what is done is done.”

“Yes, Mama. But what has been done?”

Mrs. Bennet wrung her hands. “No, no, not ‘done’ … Dun! Lieutenant-Colonel Dun paid another visit earlier this afternoon while you and Lizzy were out. Since I assumed he would soon officially start courting your sister, I invited him to join us for dinner.”

Jane’s eyes grew wide. “Oh Lud, Dun! London will not be big enough for a rivalry between John Dun and Fitzwilliam Darcy, let alone our townhouse. What shall we do, Mama?”

“Well, nothing can be done about Dun now, my dear. We shall simply have to make the best of what could prove to be an awkward situation.”

Jane nodded. “Yes, it is unfortunate. I fear Lizzy will have to break the poor officer’s heart, Mama. I truly believe hers belongs to another, as you shall undoubtedly see for yourself this evening.”

Just then Mr. Bennet peeped around the door frame. “I am relieved to see the two of you still at home, for I