An Assembly Such as This

sure.” She paused and, laying her hand on Darcy’s arm, looked beseechingly up into his face. “Charles will listen to you. You have ever been his good friend.”

“I will speak to your brother, Miss Bingley. That is all I can promise.” Darcy looked past her to the doorway of the ballroom, and she followed his gaze, but he saw no more than the ridiculous clergyman who had accompanied the Bennets that evening.

“Your guidance is all I could wish for Charles. He is, indeed, fortunate in his friends.” She gave Darcy’s arm a discreet pat. “On another subject entirely, did I not see a letter from your aunt, Lady Catherine De Bourgh, arrive today? The lady requires you at Rosings for Christmas, no doubt?”

“The letter was from Lady Catherine,” Darcy admitted as he led her back into the ballroom, “but my aunt knows better than to command me to Rosings for Christmas. Visits are, of a necessity, always undertaken in the spring and, if possible, in the company of my cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam. My cousin Anne, Lady Catherine’s daughter, is of a delicate constitution and is especially discomfited in winter,” he explained.

“Then, will we have the felicity of your company in London for the holidays as well as the Season?”

“Again, no, Miss Bingley. After my affairs in London are concluded next week, I am for Pemberley and Christmas with my sister.” He shrugged. “My father and his before him always spent Christmas at Pemberley. Our people expect it, and it has become a tradition of the Darcys that, under my father’s rule, was anticipated for weeks. It is now five years since his death, and it is time for Georgiana and I to revive that custom. I believe she would little enjoy Christmas in London, away from all the pleasant memories of seasons past.”

“Such an indulgent brother!” Miss Bingley teased.

“Perhaps,” Darcy considered, “but Georgiana is deserving of any pleasure it is in my power to supply.”

“I am certain she is,” she quickly agreed. “Will she return with you to London for the Season this year?”

“I believe her still too young for a Season, Miss Bingley, but I intend to persuade her to come to Town for some of the winter at least.” A fluttering at his elbow intruded on Darcy’s notice, and he turned to witness Elizabeth’s unfortunate relation rising from a deep bow. What importunity is this! Darcy nodded curtly to him, momentarily fascinated by the man’s ill-bred presumption.

“Mr. Darcy,” the gentleman began without preamble, “please allow me to pay my respects, sir, after first hastening to assure you that my neglect was due entirely to a complete ignorance of the connection between yourself and my most noble patroness, Lady Catherine De Bourgh. For you must know that your gracious and most beneficent relation has entrusted this humble servant with the care of her people by bestowing upon me the living at Hunsford parish. That I should meet here, in this place, with that wonderful lady’s nephew was beyond my power of imagining; therefore, I did not look for it and must extend to you my deepest apologies for not making myself known to you immediately, sir.” He finished breathlessly and bobbed another bow.

“You are too fastidious, sir,” Darcy replied with cool civility. “I am sure you do Lady Catherine much service —”

“In that, Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Collins interrupted, “I hope I find my meat and drink. Lady Catherine De Bourgh is a woman of such perspicacity and strength of mind that she can be nothing but greatly valued by all her relations. As her nephew, you must be anxious to know how she goes on, and I am in the happy possession of such recent knowledge of Her Ladyship that it allows me to assure you of her continued good health.”

The man is in every way a fool, Darcy decided, his civility tried beyond the bounds of courtesy. He looked past his aunt’s parson to find Bingley, but he was not to be seen in the ballroom. Bingley, do not tell me you are taking her into supper as well! He groaned silently. He had to find him! But it appeared that the obsequious rambling of the man before him would continue indefinitely unless forcefully brought to a halt. At Collins’s next pause for breath, Darcy quickly inclined his head and, without a word, moved away in the direction of the supper room, determined to bring his friend to his senses.

The room set aside for the serving of supper overflowed with guests. Darcy slowed, then halted just inside the door, reluctance to becoming shoulder-to-shoulder intimate with all of Hertfordshire almost dissuading him from his search. He peered about the room, his height advantageous to his purpose, and located his quarry. Miss Bingley had not exaggerated the matter. There sat Charles, Miss Jane Bennet still at his side, surrounded at table by a goodly number of his guests, blithely disregarding all the strictures that would relieve him of the necessity of declaring himself to Miss Bennet’s father in the morning.

Idiot! Darcy despaired silently. What in the name of Heaven are you doing? How can I help you now? There were no means of discreetly attracting Bingley’s notice. He could push through the throng, but what to say when he had gained Bingley’s side, entangled as he was with guests? A servant! Yes, a servant could be sent to summon him away! But what should he say to Bingley in such a necessarily short interview that would serve the purpose? Rather, he was more likely to arouse Charles’s unfortunate mulish streak, and Heaven knew what would come of that! No other plausible solutions were forthcoming, leaving Darcy in an uneasy quandary. There appeared to be nothing for it but to wait until Bingley was separated from his company.

With this unsatisfactory course adopted, the delicious smells of the banquet table began to play upon Darcy’s senses. Grateful to be occupied with no more momentous a decision than what he would prefer to eat, he drifted over to the board and availed himself of a plate of choice viands and a glass of wine. He then turned to the task of finding his name card among the settings that crowded the long tables. His gaze swept up and back the rows of tables, searching for the empty seat that would indicate his reservation. There! Darcy espied the card across the near table, but as he made for it, his attention was arrested by the bob and sway of flower-adorned curls. He looked again at the name card and then across from it, meeting Elizabeth’s startled, wary eyes. It flashed into his mind that this seating had been done apurpose, and not by Miss Bingley. He glanced over at his friend. Charles? Whoever had arranged it, it could not be undone. With a tingling of apprehension, he set his plate down and quietly took his seat opposite Elizabeth.

“…it will be soon, of that you may be assured, Lady Lucas. I do not hold with long engagements, and I do not believe I deceive myself that Mr. Bingley does either. Only look at them, and you will see that he is most impatient to settle the matter.”

The complacent purr in the woman’s voice put Darcy strongly in mind of his first impression of Mrs. Fanny Bennet. She sat opposite him but two at table, as plump and indifferent to his presence as an old tabby cat whose esurient eye was wholly focused on a particularly toothsome mouse. He had always detested cats, their selective attention to authority and their propensity to amuse themselves with the harassment of their food hardly recommending their kind to Darcy’s disciplined view of life. Mrs. Bennet, on the first evening of their acquaintance, had struck him in much the same manner.

“Such a charming young man, and so rich! A fitting match for my beautiful Jane in every way. And when one considers that Netherfield is but three miles from Longbourn! Well…as a mother yourself, Lady Lucas, you can appreciate the advantages immediately.”

Darcy flinched at the appalling vulgarity of Mrs. Bennet’s discussion of her expectations of Bingley as son-in- law. He picked up his knife and fork and, hardly knowing what he was doing, began to rend apart his meat.

“You may well imagine what a comfort it is to me to witness daily the fond regard Mr. Bingley’s sisters shower upon Jane. It is certain that they must desire the connection. And why not? The Bennet name, while not noble, is not unknown among the great of Britain.”

The bit of ham he had swallowed threatening to choke him, Darcy quickly grasped his wineglass and eased its passage with a generous imbibing. Insupportable! Steely contempt iced his countenance. Was the woman mad or merely adept at self-delusion? He flicked a glance across the table to Elizabeth and immediately felt the heat of her blushes upon his own cheeks. Her eyes were looking everywhere but in his direction, her lower lip caught in agitation. Darcy looked back down into his wineglass and swirled the remaining contents.

“Moreover, it is such a promising thing for the younger girls, and a great relief for myself. You wonder at my saying this? Why, to be sure…Jane’s marrying so greatly cannot help but throw her sisters in the way of other rich men.”

“Mama, please!” Elizabeth’s plea registered in his hearing, but Darcy’s indignation for his friend, and not a little for himself, discounted it.

“…and that being so, it will be so pleasant to be able to consign them to the care of their sister. Then I will no longer be obliged to go into company more than I like.”

“Mama, do lower your voice, I beg you!” There was real desperation in Elizabeth’s voice, and when he