Mr and Mrs Darcy 02 Suspense & Sensibility (12 page)

That he believed children a certainty touched a different response
within her. They were over four months into their marriage, with no sign of increasing
their family any time soon. Four months, she knew, was not cause for alarm, not
long enough to fear that they might remain childless forever. Truth be told,
she was rather enjoying the extended honeymoon. She
and Darcy were still getting used to
each other. But with reports of babies circulating on all fronts, the tiniest
seed of doubt had entered her mind. It had not yet germinated, but it was
there, buried in the back of her thoughts. She wondered if he felt it, too.

"Darcy,
do you ever worry that - " She stopped. He waited patiently as she chose
her words. "We have not talked a great deal about children," she
began again.

He smiled. "I
am in favor of them."

"I -
well, I am, too, of course. But we have not yet - that is, it seems like
everyone else we know has very quickly - " She let out her breath. "Four
months is not such a very long time, is it?"

His gaze met
hers in understanding. He leaned forward and took both her hands in his. "No,
Elizabeth. Four months is not very long at all."

"I did
not think so."

He smoothed
the crease from her brow. "Then why the concern?"

"It is
not concern, so much. Just something that has been on my mind since Jane wrote
with her news."

"I did
not realize we were in a race."

"We are
not. Not at all! But it is not only Jane who influences my thoughts. When even
Charlotte and Mr. Collins have a child so early in their marriage - "

"I hope
you do not compare me to Mr. Collins?" It was not a serious question, but
one delivered with a conspiratorial smile meant to lighten her mood. "Or,
at least, I hope I do not suffer by the comparison?"

"Though
the bliss of producing a miniature Mr. Collins could have been mine, I shall
never regret turning down his proposal," she said. Indeed, the thought of
marriage to the obsequious clergyman still made her cringe. "And I compare
you to no one, for in my eyes you have no equal."

He yet held
her hands, and leaned forward to meet her lips.

They lingered over the kiss, wishing they were anywhere but at Norland,
expected down to dinner momentarily. But obligation parted them. As he released
her, she cast him a saucy look.

"If four months stretch to forty, however, perhaps you should seek
Mr. Collins's advice on the matter."

An assortment of new persons awaited Elizabeth's observation when she
and Darcy joined the party gathered in the drawing room before dinner. Mr. and
Mrs. Edward Ferrars had just arrived, their journey having been slowed by the
rain, and had scarcely had time to change out of their traveling clothes. They
seemed in good humor, though, despite the damp ride.

Edward expressed genuine pleasure at meeting Kitty and the Darcys. He
greeted them warmly upon Harry's introduction. His wife, Elinor, said she was
also very pleased to make their acquaintance, and the kindness of her manner
lent the words the sincerity they all too commonly lacked when uttered in
polite society.

"When did you arrive at Norland?" she asked. "Have you
had an opportunity 10 see much of it?"

"Mr. Dashwood and his housekeeper showed us the house this afternoon,"
Elizabeth said. "It is lovely."

"Indeed, it is. I have many happy memories of this place."
Elinor glanced about the drawing room, her expression growing wistful.

"I understand you grew up at Norland?"

"Yes, from eight to nineteen. My mother, sisters, and I moved to
Barton after my father died. This is the first time I've returned."

The admission startled Elizabeth. "You never visited your brother
here?" she blurted out before considering a less bald way to couch the
query.

Elinor met her gaze, and each woman quickly assessed the
other. Though Elinor was a good
fifteen years older than she, Elizabeth read in her a common understanding and
intelligence that instantly identified her as a kindred spirit. Elinor seemed
to sense the same.

"We
occasionally saw my brother and his wife in London." What she left unsaid,
but that Elizabeth heard perfectly, was that the brief London visits had
constituted enough family togetherness for all parties.

"Does
Norland remain as you remember it?" Elizabeth asked.

Elinor
studied a large portrait of Fanny hanging above the mantel. "In many ways,
yes," she said. "But in others, it almost feels as if I never lived
here at all."

Elizabeth
suspected that was Fanny's entire object.

Fanny
Dashwood's other brother was also present with his family. Robert, with his
bold striped waistcoat and elaborate silver snuffbox, she soon dismissed as an
aging fop. Elizabeth had seen Lucy and Regina Ferrars at the Middle tons'
soiree, but had not gotten close enough to form an impression beyond noting a
strong resemblance between mother and daughter. Both enjoyed passable looks,
Lucy's a somewhat faded version of Regina's full bloom. They shared narrow eyes
and dark, arched brows. Lucy reminded one of a cat, her bearing exhibiting a
decidedly predatory aspect. Regina, in contrast, carried herself with bovine
grace. She was considerably plumper than her mother, with a figure that even
her high-waisted gown could not flatter. Lucy's thin frame looked almost
skeletal in contrast, as if since Regina's birth it had been daughter, not mother,
eating for them both.

An evening
of Lucy and Regina's company proved that in postponing the opportunity to
become acquainted with them, Elizabeth had not deferred any pleasure. Lucy was
agreeable enough, far more so than her sister-in-law Fanny, and Elizabeth had
initially struggled to pinpoint exactly what she disliked about the woman. But
as the night wore on, she realized that it
was
precisely Lucy's ingratiating manner - echoed to mind-numbing effect by Regina
- that made her almost nostalgic for the company of Darcy's domineering aunt,
Lady Catherine. Lucy complimented Elizabeths dress, Kitty's hair, the cut of
Darcy's coat. The flowers in the small alcove were lovely - were they from
Norland's greenhouse? Indeed, everything about Norland was splendid, and their
host was up to the nines.

"Harry, I declare this is the best rabbit I've ever tasted."

Elizabeth wondered that Lucy had much basis for comment on the rabbit or
any other dish, as her steady stream of flattery prevented her from actually
bringing much of the food to her mouth. Regina, in contrast, had managed to
clear her plate between accolades.

When Harry denied any right to the praise, Lucy offered it instead to
the superior environment of Norland Park. "Truly, nothing in London can compare,
and even Norfolk don't have rabbit this plump. Isn't that right, Robert?"

Her husband, whom Elizabeth could have sworn was admiring his reflection
in the bowl of his spoon, admitted uncertainty as to the relative plumpness of
the rabbits raised on their estate.

Once the subject of rabbits had been discussed beyond endurance, conversation
turned to the china. Regina pronounced the dense floral motif exquisite as she
obscured it from view with a second helping of duck. "Where did you find
it, Aunt Dashwood? I want the same pattern for my own hope chest."

Fanny roused herself from the sullen silence into which she'd sunk. "It's
a Royal Worcester service. I don't know if the company still produces it."
She cast a pointed glance at Kitty then pulled back her lips to form what might
have been a sweet smile on another person. On Fanny, it was intimidating. "Perhaps,
my dear niece, this very set will find its way into your possession."

Elizabeth didn't know how to interpret the comment. Did Harry's mother
mean to give away the set before a new mistress
arrived at
Norland? Or, relinquishing her aspirations of an alliance with Georgiana's
thirty thousand pounds, did she now harbor a wish that Regina might secure
Harry's hand? Nothing in Harry's manner indicated that the latter possibility
had ever entered his own head.

By the time dessert concluded, Fanny had managed to subtly insult Kitty
three more times, Lucy had performed an aria on the smoothness of the syllabub,
and Regina had consumed as many maids of honor as had waited upon Henry the
Eighth's six queens together. Miss Ferrars's conversation between mouthfuls
demonstrated a simplicity of both manner and mind.

After dinner, the ladies withdrew to continue the torment.

"I suppose it would be improper for me to remain here with the
gentlemen?" Elizabeth whispered to Darcy on her way out.

"You wish to smoke and drink port?"

"I wish to engage in conversation more stimulating than what Lucy
and Regina Ferrars are likely to provide."

A flash of something metallic catching the candlelight drew their attention.
Robert Ferrars was gazing at himself in the lid of his toothpick case.

"I do not think you will find it here," Darcy told her.

The women settled into the drawing room. Elinor, suffering from a lingering
chill following her damp ride, sat down near the fire. Lucy took the seat
opposite and immediately commenced an ode to the perfection of the fire screen.
It was exquisite. Had Fanny embroidered it? She had such talent. Had she
embroidered the one in Lucy's room, as well? How could one possibly choose
which to admire more?

Lucy's attentions to her other sister-in-law were less inspired and even
more transparent. "Elinor, I understand your sister Margaret was safely
delivered of a boy this month," she said.

"A girl," Elinor corrected.

"Her first, yes?"

"Her third."

"How
redundant," Fanny declared. "One daughter is a gift to her mother."
She cast her gaze toward Regina, who, now that the meal was ended, appeared to
be chewing her cud. "A second is a comfort - she might care for her mother
in old age. But more than that merely taxes a family's ability to provide for
them all, especially if they become spinsters."

"It is
fortunate, then, that you weren't so burdened," said Elinor.

"No,
but I also was not blessed," said Fanny. "I look forward, therefore,
to gaining a daughter when Harry weds. A genteel, accomplished young lady will
make a wonderful addition to our family. Perhaps someone like Miss Everett. Do
you know of her, Elinor? She and her brother are among the guests arriving
tomorrow."

Elinor
confessed a lack of familiarity with either Miss Everett or her superior
accomplishments.

Lucy,
however, trumpeted her knowledge. "Miss Everett? Surely you don't mean
Miss Maria Everett?"

"Why,
yes." Fanny said.

"Gracious,
Fanny! Have you not heard? But no - you mustn't have. I'm so sorry to be the
one to tell you this, but I believe she is engaged to Mr. Montrose. Or nearly
so. Almost officially. Anyway, she could not possibly accept Harry's addresses."

Or his
mother's.

"Well!"
Fanny's disappointment was evident, but fleeting. "That is no matter. I
invited several other accomplished young ladies. Lady Harriet Stenbridge, for
instance."

Lucy shook
her head sadly.

"What?"
asked Fanny. "What do you know of her?"

Lucy leaned
forward. "It's only a rumor, mind you - " She spoke in a
conspiratorial tone. "So I oughtn't repeat it at all. But I understand she
was found in a compromising situation with a certain heir to a dukedom who's
managed to hush it up."

"If he hushed it up," Elizabeth said, "how do you know of
it?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "People just tell me things, I suppose."

Elizabeth resolved not to be among them.

Kitty attempted to initiate a discussion with Regina about favorite
shops in London. They discovered a common partiality for Layton and Shears
before Regina became nearly paralyzed with indecision over whether she
preferred the ices or cakes at Gunter's. She ended the crisis by resolving to
visit Number 7 Berkeley Square directly she returned to London so as to test
each again. She did not invite Kitty to join her in this excursion, nor,
Elizabeth mused, could the shop likely produce enough sweets to serve another
customer in addition to Regina.

Tea arrived, and soon after it, the gentlemen. Harry headed toward Kitty
but was ambushed by Fanny and Lucy en route, and so wound up sitting beside
Regina instead. Or rather, he perched on the small bit of sofa that remained
beside Regina. Edward Ferrars seemed to be trying to continue a discussion with
his brother as they entered, but Robert was examining the room through his
quizzing glass as if he had not just been in it a couple of hours ago.

Darcy trailed in last. His gaze immediately sought out Elizabeth and
warmed at the sight of her.

"I missed you," he said softly.

She handed him a cup of tea. "Was your gentlemen's time as bad as
all that?"

"Actually, no. Robert Ferrars so occupied himself with the
mechanics of opening his new snuffbox one-handed that the rest of us were able
to talk intelligently."