Suspense and Sensibility Or, First Impressions Revisited: A Mr. & Mrs. Darcy Mystery (7 page)

"Yes, indeed! In fact, I plan numerous hunts and shooting outings during the week of the party. Are you partial to any particular game, Mr. Darcy?"

"No," he said, his eyes still on Elizabeth. The slightest smile played at the corners of his mouth. "But apparently my wife is."

Mr. Dash wood, mistaking Darcy’s meaning of "game," regarded Elizabeth with surprise. "Do you hunt, Mrs. Darcy? We shall be too late for prime fox season, of course, but the pack will still give us a good run."

She laughed. "I find it difficult enough to maintain my balance in a sidesaddle on flat ground."

"You are a better rider than that," Georgiana asserted.

Elizabeth realized Darcy’s sister had said little during the meal. Though handsome and accomplished by even the strictest standards, Miss Darcy disliked drawing notice and participated in many conversations primarily as an attentive listener. Some erroneously perceived her silence as arrogance, but Elizabeth recognized it as simple shyness.

"It is kind of you to say so," Elizabeth said. "Nevertheless, if I ever tried to hunt, I no doubt would fall off my mount while jumping the first ox fence. You, on the other hand, could probably manage fairly well. Better than I, at least."

Georgiana ducked her head at the praise of her equestrian skills. "I would have to stop before the fox was treed, for I do not think I could witness what follows."

"Neither could I!" Kitty exclaimed. "I couldn’t bear to see the poor fox set upon by hounds and killed."

"That is precisely why foxhunting is an inappropriate pastime for ladies," Darcy said. "Blood sport runs counter to their gentle natures."

Elizabeth thought about many of the well-bred women who occupied society’s highest ranks, and chuckled softly. "Ladies are quite capable of blood sport, darling. Their field is the drawing room."

After dinner, the gentlemen withdrew to the library. Darcy offered Mr. Dashwood a glass of port, then took his customary chair beside the fire. Though invited to avail himself of the seat opposite, Mr. Dashwood instead perused the titles lining the walls.

"Homer, Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton, Johnson, Wordsworth… You have an impressive collection."

"I keep some favorite volumes here. Pemberley’s library is far more extensive. Whenever I come to town for long periods of time, I bring additional books for study and pleasure – and visit booksellers to add to the shelves."

A row of novels caught Mr. Dashwood’s eye. He traced their spines with his fingertip. "Mrs. Lennox, Mrs. Burney, Mrs. Rad-cliffe." He selected a volume and thumbed its pages.

"Those belong to Georgiana and my wife. Do you have a large library at Norland?"

Mr. Dashwood frowned. "I’m not sure, come to think on it. Oh, the room’s big enough, but as for what occupies its shelves, I have little idea. I don’t think I’ve been inside above half a dozen times."

"Six times in your whole life?" Darcy could scarcely comprehend such a thing. His own thirst for knowledge, the lessons of his private tutor, and hours spent at his father’s elbow learning to administer their estate had seen him practically raised in Pemberley’s library. Economics, business, law, literature, philosophy – only Cambridge had offered more wisdom than that room contained.

Mr. Dashwood shrugged. "When I was a child, my lessons were in the nursery, of course. Then it was off to Eton and Oxford. I was seldom home, and when I was, the library was the last place that held any interest for me."

"Your father conducted all his instruction in the field then? My own father did a good deal of that, too."

Darcy’s father had been a strong advocate of direct experience, encouraging his son to talk with tenants and occasionally get his hands dirty as he prepared to one day assume the responsibilities of a landlord. He’d believed a man who has never seen a calf born or rubbed soil between his fingers cannot ever truly understand the principles of agriculture. One’s status as a gentleman might free him from toiling to survive, but the best landlords were at least passingly familiar with the land and people in their care.

"Instruction? I don’t understand you, sir."

"Training you to take over for him eventually."

Mr. Dashwood replaced the book on the shelf. "We seldom talked about Norland. Or much else."

"You were not close?"

"Not especially." He moved toward the fire. "As soon as I could read, my parents sent me off to obtain a gentleman’s education. Each month, I received a parcel containing an allowance and a letter from my mother expressing her hope that I was cultivating the right sort of acquaintances and conducting myself in a manner that promoted our family’s reputation. So long as I met their expectations, they left me to myself. I suppose my father would have explained a few matters about estate management to me had I ever asked – it seemed at times that money was all he ever talked about – but I never asked. I was content to simply enjoy the privileges of wealth without any responsibilities."

"And now?"

Mr. Dashwood studied Darcy, seeming to weigh how much more he cared to reveal about himself to the sponsor of a woman he hoped to court. "Now I find myself in possession of an estate I know little about," he said finally.

"You certainly are not the first gentleman to discover himself ill prepared to govern his affairs." Darcy could think of many estates that had fallen into mismanagement by heirs who lacked the interest or aptitude to properly administer them. It reflected well on Mr. Dashwood that he had recognized this failing in himself, particularly at such a young age. As Harry had owned Norland for only a few months, Darcy hoped his indifference had been of a duration too short to cause damage. "The question is, how do you intend to correct that deficiency?"

"I hadn’t planned to do anything about it. None of my friends seem to pay the least attention to such matters – if they own land at all, they just leave everything in the hands of their solicitors and stewards. And I don’t know that I really have the temperament to supervise so many little details."

He took a chair, perching on the edge of the seat and leaning toward Darcy. "But this past week, I roamed all over Norland, from its attics to its parkland. I thought about what it would be like to show it to Miss Bennet, to see it through the eyes of someone beholding it for the first time. I wanted it to be a place that would impress her. And then I realized that in wanting her approval of Norland, what I really sought was her approval of me. That when I inherited Norland, it became as much a part of me as any other possession, a representation to the world of who I am. And just as I would never neglect my appearance or my manners, neither can I afford to neglect my estate."

Darcy would hardly have equated the importance of overseeing Pemberley with that of selecting a waistcoat, but if that mode of thinking had led Mr. Dashwood to a fuller cognizance of his responsibilities as a landholder, he could not criticize the comparison.

"In my experience, a good steward is invaluable," he suggested. "Though your father is gone, perhaps your steward can educate you. He will likely be gratified by your interest in Norland."

"Or threatened by it."

"An honest man would not be so."

"Unfortunately, I’m not entirely confident that I’m dealing with an honest man." He took a swallow of port. "I spent some time this week reviewing Norland’s accounts for the period since my father’s death. I’d never looked at the record books before, so I had trouble making sense of them. When I went to our steward with questions, he became defensive."

Darcy frowned. "Do you believe he cheats you?"

"I don’t know what to believe. He has been at Norland since I was a boy. I never had cause to deal with him while my father was alive. I doubt, however, that my father would have retained a steward he didn’t trust."

"He might simply resent a young, inexperienced new master questioning his work. Though I had assisted my father for years, I encountered that prejudice among some of my older tenants when he passed away."

"Truly? You, Mr. Darcy?"

"Why should that surprise you?"

"You are a man born to run an estate."

"If you have inherited one, then so are you."

He smiled ruefully. "I suppose I am. You, however, know what you are doing, while I do not."

"Then you must change that."

Dash wood swirled the port around in his glass, his face pensive. "Mr. Darcy, I wonder if I might impose upon you to – that is, when you come to Norland, if you would take a look at the accounts and advise me as to whether everything appears in order?"

"Certainly. Not being familiar with Norland will limit my ability to detect inconsistencies, but I will determine what I can."

"I am most grateful for your help, sir."

Darcy hesitated, not wanting to insinuate himself further into Harry’s affairs than he’d been invited. But he was pleased to see the younger man taking an interest in his new responsibilities and wanted to encourage him. "If you like, Mr. Dash-wood, I would be happy to explain the records to you so that in the future you can make you own determinations."

"I would appreciate that very much."

He finished his port but declined Darcy’s offer of more. He appeared to have something further he wished to say Darcy waited patiently, letting him seek his words.

"I am most desirous of your good opinion, Mr. Darcy, and that of your family," he finally said. "For as long as I can remember, my mother has held great ambitions for me. She longs to see me distinguished in the world somehow, or at the very least to gain entree into the drawing rooms of every great family in England. I’ve never had any interest in politics or Parliament or any of the other schemes she’s set before me, nor in the debutantes she perpetually throws in my way as candidates for an advantageous alliance. The young ladies she presents harbor even more ambition than she does. They would not be satisfied as Mrs. Harry Dashwood until I made a great name for myself."

"Miss Bennet, however, is different. I think that if Norland meets with her approval – if I meet with her approval, as I am, today – that will be enough. She won’t spend the rest of my life trying to mold me into someone I don’t want to be."

Darcy was inclined to agree. Kitty might not possess the accomplishments and polish of most young ladies of the ton, but neither did she suffer from their social-climbing pretensions. Yes, she chattered about the possibility of meeting a young duke or earl, but, as Elizabeth said, her hopes were no more than the idyllic dreams of any girl. Realistically, she knew her slight dowry made a modest marriage probable, and she was prepared to accept that.

Too, there had been no talk of dukes since Kitty had met Mr. Dashwood. In her eyes, he wanted no improvement.

"I believe you already possess Miss Bennet’s good opinion," Darcy said. "And today’s demonstration of a more serious approach to your affairs puts you well in the way of securing mine."

"My interest in Norland is genuine. I appreciate your guidance, Mr. Darcy" He rose and set his empty glass beside the port decanter. "Do you suppose the ladies look for our return, or have they forgotten us altogether?"

They passed the remainder of the evening in pleasant conversation with the ladies. Mr. Dashwood enquired whether Kitty had yet enjoyed many of London’s amusements. At her negative response, he insisted she allow him to escort her to the Vauxhall Gardens, drive her through Hyde Park, and visit Madame Tussaud’s. Before he left, he’d invited them all to accompany him to a concert the following night.

"Mr. Dashwood seems to have risen in your esteem tonight," Elizabeth observed as they prepared for bed. She had changed into a white lace nightgown and sat brushing her hair at the dressing table. "Of what did you speak in the library for so long?"

Darcy loosened his cravat. "He is developing a greater interest in his property at Norland."

A sly smile played across her lips. "Does he think of settling down?"

Recalling her earlier badinage about his love of sport, he deliberately withheld the information she sought, teasing her in turn. "A man requests bookkeeping advice and you are ready to order Kitty’s wedding clothes. That is a leap of logic I would expect from your mother."

"You accuse me unfairly. Besides" – she turned back to the mirror and continued brushing her hair – "I notice you did not answer no."

"If a lady has indeed inspired this newfound regard for Norland, I would not betray a gentleman’s confidence by revealing that fact to her sister. One might as well just tell the lady herself and spare the intermediary."

"You know me to be a better keeper of secrets than that."

"Who said I referred to you and Kitty? Perhaps I spoke only hypothetically"

"Oh – hypothetically." She set down the brush. "In that case, you need say nothing more." Mischief danced in her brown eyes, but he could not make out her meaning.

She worked her hair into a braid, then walked to the bed, slid beneath the covers, and opened a novel while she waited for him. He thought no more of Mr. Dashwood, or Kitty, or anyone save his wife. Anxious to join her, he finished changing into his nightclothes and went to extinguish the candle at the bedside.

She looked up from her novel. "What are you doing?"

He took the book from her hands and set it atop the night table. "You suggested we retire early tonight."

She picked the book back up. "Didn’t you realize, darling?" She cast him an innocent look and reopened the volume. "I was speaking hypothetically."

Six

Mrs. John
Dashwood had never been a favourite with any of her husband’s family; but she had had no opportunity, till the present, of shewing them with how little attention to the comfort of other people
she
could act when occasion required it.

 – Sense and Sensibility,
Chapter 1

Upon learning that her son planned to hold his birthday fete at Norland, and that a certain Miss Catherine Ben-net topped the guest list, Mrs. John Dashwood paid a call upon the Darcy family.

The announcement of her arrival sent Kitty into a state of shock followed immediately by a flurry of nervous agitation. She cast aside her needlework frame and raised her hands to her face. "Mr. Dashwood’s mother! Lizzy, whatever shall I say to her?"

Elizabeth set down her own stitchery and rose in preparation for their visitor’s entrance. " ‘How do you do?’ might form a good beginning."

Georgiana, who had been practicing her harp in the corner, abandoned the instrument to join Kitty’s side in support. "I am sure she is as kind as her son," she said.

"Oh, gracious!" Kitty exclaimed. "Please tell me my hair looks tolerable!"

No one had opportunity to offer Kitty reassurance on issues of grooming or any other, as the lady in question just then appeared in the drawing room. Fanny Dashwood was a thin, proud-looking woman, with sharp cheekbones and a tilt to her chin that threatened an unrestricted view of her nostrils to those of shorter stature. Her sharp eyes assessed the three ladies to determine which was her hostess. Elizabeth greeted her and performed the necessary introductions.

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," Mrs. Dashwood said to a Chinese vase as her appraising gaze drifted about the room. She took in the draperies, artwork, and furniture, then studied Elizabeth, Georgiana, and Kitty with the same calculating interest, her attention lingering longest on Miss Bennet. Elizabeth wondered if Kitty had been judged more or less valuable than the chesterfield.

Kitty, already flustered, struggled to maintain her composure under the intense inspection. Elizabeth attempted to divert Mrs. Dashwood’s attention.

"We had the pleasure of dining with your son last night," she said.

"Yes, I know." She held Kitty in her unyielding gaze a full minute longer before finally turning it on Elizabeth. "He told me at breakfast this morning. I summoned him as soon as I rose, and my Harry always accords me the utmost respect and deference. He came directly he received my note."

"He seems a fine gentleman."

"He is. And a good son. Not like some of these wild young men who run about making their own decisions regardless of the consequences. Harry knows his responsibilities to his family." She studied the room’s appointments once more. "That is a lovely harp. Was it you whom I heard playing as I came up, Miss Bennet?"

"No. the harp belongs to Miss Darcy."

"Harry adores music. Has he heard you play the pianoforte yet?"

"That is also Miss Darcy’s. I don’t play any instrument."

Mrs. Dashwood’s face registered mild disapproval. "You sing, then?"

"No."

"Oh." Mrs. Dashwood blinked. "Well, perhaps if he calls here again, Harry will have an opportunity to enjoy Miss Darcy’s talent." Fanny cast a warm smile at Georgiana. At least, it would have been a warm smile if Fanny Dashwood possessed any warmth.

As it was, Harry’s mother shuddered and shifted closer to the fire screen. "It is a blustery day for April."

"I hope you did not catch a chill coming here," Kitty offered.

"I possess a hearty constitution," Mrs. Dashwood declared, "and little patience for those who do not." She looked more closely at the fire screen. "This is covered very prettily. Is it your handiwork, Miss Bennet?"

"No, Georgiana’s."

"This is Miss Bennet’s first visit here as our guest, so our house does not yet enjoy her influence," Georgiana said in defense of her friend. "Perhaps she will grace it with a gift, but until then, I am afraid my things clutter it, as I have spent most of my time here these past five years."

"You speak too modestly, Miss Darcy I would hardly call ‘clutter’ something as beautiful as this screen, or that water-color on the wall. Do I assume aright that it is yours, as well?"

Georgiana confessed that it was.

Kitty fidgeted and took up her embroidery. Elizabeth, desirous of something to do with her hands, picked up her own hoop but left the needle secured in the muslin.

"Are you skilled with a needle, Miss Bennet? What do you work on?"

"An infant’s cap – a gift for our sister Jane."

"Has she recently delivered?"

"She expects her first child in autumn."

"How delightful. I see you also work on infant clothes, Mrs. Darcy. I wish I’d had sisters to help with Harry’s layette when he was born."

Elizabeth indeed had a sleeve for a tiny frock stretched in her frame, though it was for her friend Charlotte Collins, due to be brought to bed any day. After completing the frock, she would finish the quilt she’d started for Jane. Elizabeth had never been fond of needlework but took pleasure in creating these gifts. The more she worked on them, however, the more she found herself wishing, in the secret recesses of her heart, that they were for a child of her own.

She would contemplate those feelings in a more private time and place. For now, she merely smiled politely as Mrs. Dash-wood asked to see Kitty’s work.

"Your backstitch is a trifle uneven there. But otherwise it is a competent effort, Miss Bennet. I’m sure your sister will appreciate it." She handed the bonnet back to Kitty. "My niece Regina does excellent needlework. Why, even Harry complimented her on a sash she made, and you know gentlemen seldom notice those things. Have you met Miss Ferrars? This is her first London season."

Kitty was too rattled by Mrs. Dashwood’s lukewarm praise to answer. Elizabeth replied that while they had seen Miss Ferrars at the Middletons’ house, they had not been introduced.

"You shall certainly meet her at Norland. Harry tells me you are all to be our guests for his birthday fete?"

"Oh, yes!" Kitty said. "We look forward to it."

"So do I. After losing my husband last fall, it will be nice to celebrate something, and I cannot think of a finer event than my darling Harry reaching his majority. My little boy, all grown up! Before I know it, he will be married with a son of his own. I think that is every mother’s wish, to see her child well married."

At this, a hint of color crept into Kitty’s cheeks.

"I hope, Miss Darcy," Mrs. Dashwood continued, "that you will also be of the Norland party?"

Georgiana replied in the affirmative.

"Excellent. The inclusion of another accomplished young lady will add to everyone’s pleasure. Miss Ferrars is quite accomplished, too. If I had a daughter, I would want her to be just like Regina. Or you, Miss Darcy." She added lamely, "Miss Bennet, with your sisters wed, it must be a comfort to your mother to have you at home."

"I think my mother shall be most comfortable when all five of .her daughters are married," Kitty replied. "Meanwhile, my sister Mary also remains at Longbourn."

"Your mother is wise to want you settled. Five daughters would tax any family’s fortune. When my husband passed away, our having just one child made everything tidy – Harry had no unmarried sisters to worry about providing for. The terms of his great-great-uncle’s will ensured that the Norland estate would pass through successive generations whole, but you know how gentlemen sometimes feel a sense of obligation toward siblings for whom no other provision was made. Now, since I understand you have no brothers, to whom will Longbourn pass?"

"To none of us. It is entailed on a male cousin."

"I see. How very unfortunate."

Mrs. Dashwood stayed only a short while longer, just time enough to invite them all – Georgiana especially – to call upon her in Harley Street. "I do so enjoy conversing with Harry’s friends."

Kitty trembled with humiliation the moment Harry’s mother walked out the door. Georgiana, embarrassed by the whole visit, quickly excused herself to perform some imaginary errand.

"She hates me, Lizzy! Mr. Dashwood’s mother hates me."

"She does not hate you, Kitty."

"She likes Georgiana."

"She likes Georgiana’s thirty thousand pounds."

"IL is the same thing."

Elizabeth came to Kitty’s side. "Perhaps to someone as disagreeable as Mrs. Dashwood. But not to Georgiana. Do you think she wants to be admired only for her fortune?"

"Her fortune, her music, her painting – " She tossed her embroidery onto the sofa. "I can’t even trim a cap properly. Who wouldn’t choose Georgiana over me?"

"Mr. Dashwood."

Elizabeth retrieved the hoop from the floor and handed it back to Kitty. "Mr. Dashwood came here last night with flowers tor
you.
He spent most of the evening talking to
you.
And when he left here, he lingered the longest over his farewell to
you."

"That doesn’t mean he will want to marry me."

"No, it does not. But should he offer, you will know without question that he wants to marry
you,
not your thirty thousand pounds. That is a fortune Georgiana will never have."

Kitty turned the hoop around in her hands.
"If
he offers. And what are the chances of his ever doing so with his mother wishing him to tender his addresses elsewhere?"

"Let his mother court whomever she wants. He can afford to marry where he chooses."

Elizabeth said the words in a confident tone, attempting to console Kitty, but she could not help recalling Mrs. Dashwood’s assertion about her son’s sense of family duty. To what extent would he allow filial obedience to dictate his future happiness? Harry was young; his mother’s will, strong. A word from her might be all it took to redirect him.

Mr. Dashwood already possessed Kitty’s heart. She prayed he would not break it.

She placated Kitty with additional assurances, then suggested they take a walk. Fresh air and fresh sights, she hoped, would divert her sister’s thoughts from this unfortunate first meeting with Mr. Dashwood’s mother. Kitty yielded to Elizabeth’s persuasion and the two parted to retrieve their bonnets.

After donning both her hat and a light wrap, Elizabeth found herself descending the stairs to the accompaniment of Mozart. Georgiana had returned to the drawing room, where her fingers now flew through the opening movement of a sonata. Elizabeth approached the pianoforte and located Georgiana’s place in the music, turning the page when Georgiana reached its end. Further observation of the performer, however, revealed that Elizabeth need not have troubled herself. Georgiana played from memory.

When the movement concluded, Elizabeth invited her to join the walk. Georgiana declined, stating a desire to continue at the piano.

"I have been thinking," she said, starting the adagio section, "that perhaps I ought not go to Norland."

"Of course you should go. Mr. Dashwood’s invitation included everybody."

"His mother’s invitation very nearly excluded Kitty I do not wish my presence to cause your sister any unhappiness. If I stay behind, Mrs. Dashwood might treat Kitty with more civility."

"Mrs. Dashwood’s behavior toward Kitty has far more to do with Mrs. Dashwood than with either you or Kitty."

"Nevertheless, Kitty will enjoy the party more without me."

"Kitty would feel horrid if she knew you missed the fete on her account."

She paused on a minor chord. "Then do not tell her."

Elizabeth studied Georgiana. Her head was bowed over the keyboard, her expression guarded. Did she truly wish to remain behind, or was she declining the invitation because she thought she should? Elizabeth did not want her new sister-in-law to feel excluded from this or any other family happenings. Nor to believe that anyone considered her own happiness secondary to Kitty’s or anybody else’s.

"Georgiana, do reconsider. This season in London was to have been a pleasurable time for you, as well, yet it seems you have not met any gentleman worthy of your esteem." That Darcy protected his sister so closely had not helped, but Elizabeth refrained from voicing that thought. "Perhaps someone at the fete will earn your regard."

Georgiana completed an intricate passage before responding. "I did not realize you hoped to bring about a match for me this season," she finally said. "But of course you and my brother must feel my continuing at Pemberley an intrusion on your privacy now that you are married."

"Oh, Georgiana! How ever could you think that? Pemberley is your home – for the rest of your life, if you wish. I do not scheme to have its empty rooms to myself. I thought only of you – that perhaps you yourself had begun to long for another home, and a husband to share it."

"I cannot deny imagining such scenes from time to time, but I am in no hurry to realize them. I – " She stumbled over a.simple grace note and corrected herself. "I know my brother surely must have told you of my imprudence two summers ago involving Mr. Wickham. Since that time, I do not trust my own judgment in matters of the heart."

This marked the first Lime she had spoken of the incident, or how it had affected her. "It is Mr. Wickham who cannot be trusted," Elizabeth declared.

"Nevertheless, I am not yet ready to form an attachment with anybody."

"Your own judgment seems very sound on that point. You are absolutely correct. There is no reason for haste."

Her fingers slowed as she approached the end of the adagio. "When I am prepared to accept a suitor’s attention, the right gentleman will reveal himself. Meanwhile, let this be Kitty’s season. Allow me to excuse myself from the Norland party."

Elizabeth regarded Georgiana doubtfully. "You are certain?"

"Quite. In fact, my friend Miss Sedgewick has invited me to a concert on the thirtieth and I had hoped to attend." She struck the final chords of the movement and met Elizabeth’s gaze. "Please indulge me?" Her expression was earnest.

"As you wish."