Darcy, Knight Errant (Elizabeth and Darcy True Love Multiverse)

12. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Elizabeth was relieved when Jane’s fever broke shortly before Mr. Jones arrived. The kindly apothecary had arrived shortly before midday and assured Elizabeth that Jane was through the worst of it. He advised she might return in two days if her fever did not return. Mr. Jones left Elizabeth with more tea made with feverfew and birch bark and advised that Jane should drink it with honey several times a day to help with her lingering sore throat. Elizabeth was truly happy to see her sister was more like herself, though it would have been nice to use Jane’s illness as an excuse to take a tray above stairs and avoid Miss Bingley and, to a lesser extent, Mrs. Hurst.

As she approached the parlor where the Netherfield party gathered to wait for dinner to be announced, Elizabeth took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. She had dealt with her share of ladies who were determined to make her see her place in the world during her time at the Ladies London Society. This was no different, though someone as supercilious as Miss Bingley had never confronted her. After all, she was, in fact, the daughter of a tradesman, and thus she would never be above Elizabeth in the eyes of society, whatever her dowry.

With each step closer to the room, she could hear more of the ongoing conversation. Despite the closed door, Miss Bingley’s voice carried easily, its stridency reaching Elizabeth as she said, “I still do not see why we must open our home to the Bennets. I only invited Miss Bennet for tea, and to my surprise, she had the audacity to feign illness. As for Miss Eliza, she was not invited at all.”

Pausing before the door, Elizabeth debated if it was best for her to enter or wait until Miss Bingley finished complaining. Before she could decide, she heard Mr. Bingley’s response. “Caroline! That is completely out of line. This is exactly why I refused to allow you to be my hostess. They are guests in my home. It is not your place to speak so poorly of them. Besides, we all know that Miss Bennet is truly sick and not pretending. Perhaps Miss Bennet would be better off if you and Louisa had seen to her needs when she arrived wet. And if Miss Elizabeth came to minister to her sister, you are the only one to blame. After all, your behavior since we have arrived at Netherfield would not reassure her into thinking that you would care for her sister adequately.”

The soft murmur that followed could only be Mrs. Hurst, who rarely raised her voice and reminded Elizabeth of Kitty. She seemed to be more of a follower who went through life in the wake of her younger sister’s dynamic if vindictive personality. Just as Elizabeth was about to enter the room, she heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching from behind her.

As she turned around, her eyes met Mr. Darcy’s as he approached her. Before she could utter a word of greeting, Miss Bingley’s voice rose once again, “You are blind Charles! You cannot see how they are only here in a ploy to entice you and Mr. Darcy with their arts and allurements. They are graceless nobodies who I have heard have very little in the way of dowries. They must be desperate to escape this backwater town, and you and Mr. Darcy are their means to do so.”

Mr. Bingley was quick to respond, saying, “Keep your voice down, Caroline. Any minute now, Miss Elizabeth will grace us with her presence, and I do not want her to hear your nonsensical ramblings.”

Elizabeth, though not embarrassed, was at a loss as to what she should say. Mr. Darcy, on the other hand, smiled kindly before saying, “As much as I enjoy spending time with my friend Bingley, I find it is best to wait to come down until just before they announce dinner.” Offering her his arm, he added, “Shall we brave them together? At least that way we can defend one another should the need arise.”

Taking his offered arm, Elizabeth smiled up into Mr. Darcy’s blue eyes saying, “I would be more than happy to defend you, kind sir, though I wonder what exactly I am to protect you from?”

Eyes dancing, Mr. Darcy said, “Our host’s sister has the habit of gripping my arm like a falcon attacking its prey the moment she sees me. Beyond that, she presumes to declare how I feel about things, and I have not the ability to refute her without insult.”

Struggling to suppress a giggle, Elizabeth responded, “Taking a gentleman’s arm is a skill that sadly all not all ladies can acquire.”

Quirking an eyebrow, Mr. Darcy asked, “Do you think not?”

“Miss Bingley is proof of not being able to learn the skill.”

“True.” Smile widening, Mr. Darcy continued, “Do you have any tips I can pass on to my sister? I would hate for her not to learn the skill.”

“Well, first she must know that you only take a gentleman’s arm when it is offered,” explained Elizabeth.

Nodding, Mr. Darcy said, “After that, what recommendations should I provide to Georgianna?”

Careful to keep her hand softly on his arm and nothing like what she had observed of Miss Bingley, Elizabeth said, “She must never clutch at a gentleman’s arm. Instead, you let your hand glide gracefully and rest there. Always like a dove gliding to her perch, never a falcon seeking prey.”

They were both laughing as they entered the parlor and Mr. Bingley asked, “What are you talking about that has you both so jolly?”

Elizabeth caught Mr. Darcy’s eye for a moment and her eyes crinkled in mirth, before she answered, “We were discussing birds.”

Face screwing up in confusion, Miss Bingley huffed, “Really Miss Eliza, birds? I cannot have you bothering my guests with such inconsequential drivel.”

“You forget, sister, Mr. Darcy is my guest, not yours,” asserted Mr. Bingley. Then, looking at Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth, he added, “Besides, it does not appear to have disturbed Darcy to discuss birds in the least.”

Mr. Darcy escorted Elizabeth to a seat while Mr. Bingley was remonstrating with his sister. She had just sat down and was thanking Mr. Darcy someone announced dinner. Smiling, Mr. Darcy once again held out his arm to Elizabeth, only to have Miss Bingley come streaking across the room in an attempt to grasp his arm. Turning his glare on the presumptuous woman, Mr. Darcy exclaimed, “I was offering Miss Bennet my arm, Miss Bingley, not you.”

Miss Bingley froze, and Elizabeth watched as her flushed cheeks took on a vermilion shade that clashed with both the burnt orange of her dress and her carrot-colored hair. Though she felt slightly bad that the lady had been so embarrassed, Elizabeth felt that there was a lesson she learned from the situation. Then, ignoring the woman altogether, Elizabeth focused on Mr. Darcy, who once again offered her his arm. “May I escort you into dinner, Miss Bennet?”

Laying her hand on his offered arm, she answered, “Yes, Mr. Darcy, you may.”

As Darcy made his way into the dining room, he was quick to notice that there were place cards, and someone placed him between Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley. Knowing he would not survive another night surrounded by their inane chatter, he quickly switched some cards around and put Miss Bennet next to him. Holding the chair out for her, he couldn’t help but notice the mischievous glint in Miss Elizabeth’s eyes and the playful curve of her smile. It seemed she had caught his subterfuge and approved. Darcy knew he could not hide his glee at his subtle jab at Miss Bingley’s pretensions, but found he enjoyed sharing it with Miss Elizabeth.

He sat, smiling slightly as everyone else finally entered, and he wondered if Bingley had needed to calm his sister before they came into the dining room. Though everyone else came in and sat without issue, Miss Bingley once again froze, realizing that her plans had been thwarted.

She opened her mouth, most likely to complain when her brother cut in by saying, “What are you doing standing there, Caroline? Come sit down so that we can be served. I am hungry.”

“But the seating arrangement,” sputtered Miss Bingley.

The normally silent Hurst complained, “There is nothing wrong with the arrangement. Sit down or leave. I am hungry as well.”

Marching to her newly assigned seat, Miss Bingley threw herself down with a disgruntled huff. As the dinner progressed, Miss Bingley became increasingly upset. None of the dishes met her expectations—the sauce was either overly salty or lacking in flavor, and the meat was dry and overcooked. She found reason to complain about anything and everything.

Engaging in light-hearted conversation with Miss Elizabeth, Darcy realized how much more enjoyable it was when compared to the relentless gossip and complaints he had learned to disregard while seated next to Miss Bingley. Darcy tried to ignore the glares that Miss Bingley was shooting at him and Miss Elizabeth from across the table. Miss Bingley pounced when Miss Elizabeth commented on how much she enjoyed the simple way the roasted vegetables had been prepared.

Frowning, Miss Bingley said, “It is such a pity that you have not been able to know the truly good food produced by a French chef. You cannot know what you are missing stuck out here in the wilds.”

Miss Elizabeth smiled unaffectedly and asked, “Is it your belief that those with a sophisticated palate can only be satisfied by a French chef? What about the individuals who delight in the flavors of English fare, meticulously prepared by their English chefs?”

Shaking her head, Miss Bingley’s tone became condescending as she said, “Miss Elizabeth, no one of note has an English chef. It is simply not done. I tried to convince my brother to replace the chef already employed at Netherfield, but sadly he said that, per the lease, we could release none of the staff.”

Turning to Darcy, Miss Elizabeth said, “Mr. Darcy, what is your favorite dish prepared by your French chef in town?”

Did Miss Elizabeth know he did not have a French chef? Darcy watched Miss Elizabeth’s green eyes dance as she waited for his reply and struggled not to smile as he answered her. “While I do not have a French chef at Darcy House, I quite enjoy the spare rib my English chef prepares on occasion, and I believe Georgianna prefers her vegetable pie.”

Across the table, Miss Bingley’s mouth dropped open, but Miss Elizabeth ignored her. “While I understand everyone has their own preference and tastes, I have never been fond of the heavy sauces found in French cooking. What is your opinion of the current fashion of preferring a French chef?”

Enjoying the playful conversation with Miss Elizabeth, perhaps more than he should, Darcy answered, “I agree with you. I much prefer being able to taste a good cut of meat rather than struggling to find it under a heavy sauce. As for the trend of having French chefs, I have never found that it made sense to choose your cook by what is popular rather that your own tastes. While there are undoubtedly people who genuinely appreciate French cuisine, I think just as many people choose it solely to satisfy their pretentious inclinations with a French chef. I doubt I will ever have a French chef at either Darcy House or Pemberley.”

After that, Miss Bingley spoke little and merely poked at her food. When the meal was coming to a close, and the women were rising to leave, Miss Elizabeth politely excused herself, informing everyone that she had promised her sister to bring a book from the library to read aloud. After making his own excuse, Darcy made his way to the library, the scent of old books filling his nostrils as he entered the quiet space.

He watched Miss Elizabeth run her slender finger down the spines of a few books before clearing his throat. She turned, startled at first, but when she saw it was him, she smiled. Encouraged, he said, “I wanted to thank you for such an enjoyable dinner, Miss Elizabeth. Miss Bingley so often dominates the meals here, so it was a pleasure to see you be able to hold your own.”

Playing with the book she had been looking at, Miss Elizabeth said, “I enjoyed the meal more than I thought I would. Though I feel slightly guilty for having so confounded Miss Bingley. She may be difficult to get along with, but that does not give me the lease to be so mischievous.”

“If someone constantly spews forth prejudice and small-minded opinions, eventually it will come back to bite them,” Darcy reassured her. “Miss Elizabeth, you did nothing wrong. You simply defended yourself from the attack of a small-minded woman. She should not only know better but also do better, considering you are a guest in her home.”

Miss Elizabeth watched him for a moment, head tilted, before she said, “Thank you for defending me, Mr. Darcy. It is not often that I have witnessed a gentleman willing to do so. Many men prefer to overlook the actions of women, believing they are too elevated to be bothered by such trivialities.”

Darcy knew what she meant. There was a time not so long ago that he might have just tuned out Miss Bingley’s nastiness without a thought for the person she was attacking. Once upon a time he had thought that as a Darcy, he was above such petty sniping, but he was trying to be better than that now. Sighing, he said, “At one point, I might have been, as you say, but I am trying to journey down a path of self-improvement. Something Georgianna said when she took me to task for insulting you has made me think of the tales of chivalrous knights. At one point, gentlemen patterned themselves after knights, striving to be honorable and free from ignoble actions and self-centered motives. However, regrettably, as a whole, we are straying from the ideal we should strive for.”

Blushing delightfully, Miss Elizabeth cried, “I had no intention of Georgianna bringing you to task. I am so sorry.”

Darcy stepped forward slightly and reached out his hand, wanting to comfort her in her distress. “Don’t be. I needed to hear it and to have my eyes opened. Hearing my worth bandied about always unsettles me, but that does not mean I may injure others. I have always believed that I upheld the good principles I grew up with, but I have only now realized that I let my pride and conceit, which I was long exposed to, guide my actions. I want to do better, and to become the chivalrous man I always thought I was.”

“Then I wish you success on your journey of improvement. I have learned for myself that it is a lifelong journey, and one must always continue to strive to do better or there is a risk of deviating from the goal.” Miss Elizabeth smiled at him before turning back to the shelf and selecting a book and moving to leave. She paused in the doorway as she left the room, a look of concern on her face as she did so. After only a slight hesitation, she said, “You might wish to know that from the moment Miss Bingley arrived at the assembly she proclaimed that as a man of ten-thousand pounds a year you could have no interest in such a plebeian gathering in the backwoods of nowhere. She did not modulate her voice or attempt to hide her contempt for everyone and everything. She even went to the extent of proclaiming that her brother’s wealth and her dowry made her superior to everyone there. You might consider if the dances you attend with Miss Bingley are the ones where people discuss your wealth. I believe she might be the source of at least some of your troubles. It might help you view my neighbors better if you knew they were mostly gossiping about her bad manners and what she said and not your monetary value.”

Thus speaking her piece, Miss Elizabeth quit the room, presumably to once again minister to her ill sister. Darcy did not rejoin the party as he had previously intended. Instead, he collapsed onto the nearest chair and thought of all that Miss Elizabeth had revealed to him that night.