“Not at all, Mary,” replied Elizabeth. “Trust me—I fully understand the lady’s ability to intimidate.”
They walked into the town, and the demands of the moment took precedence. Mary and Elizabeth were not Kitty and Lydia, meaning they did not flit from place to place, argue over ribbons and bonnets, or stare longingly at wares for which they possessed insufficient funds and beg their sisters to loan them money.
These two sisters, while different in essentials, possessed enough similarity of taste as to render such an expedition a pleasure. They had sufficient money between them to purchase what they liked, but neither was a spendthrift, meaning they purchased nothing that caught their fancy. In dress, they preferred similar colors, with Elizabeth tending more toward greens and yellows, while Mary had always liked the more earthy tones of darker greens and browns. They debated this cloth or that ribbon, and while they made no purchases, there were several bolts of cloth they agreed to bring to their mother’s attention.
Another similarity between them was their preference for the written word, not a pastime shared to any great degree by their sisters; even Jane, who read more than Kitty and Lydia, was not a devotee of the written word. Elizabeth and Mary’s tastes weredifferent, of course, but their shared interest in books eventually led them to Mr. Lodge’s bookshop, a frequent and beloved place for them to while away a few minutes perusing his shelves. It was there that Elizabeth found Mr. Darcy.
“I see you discovered one of Meryton’s treasures, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth in greeting when the man bowed to her. The proprietor looked up from his work, smiled at one of his most frequent customers, and looked back down.
“Indeed, I have,” replied Mr. Darcy. “I suppose it should not surprise me to find you and Miss Mary here, for I know of your love of books.”
“Of course, sir,” replied Elizabeth, contemplating mischief, “extensive reading is the very pinnacle of accomplishment.”
The gentleman laughed, while Mary regarded them with no little interest. “I sense there is a story here of which I am unaware,” said she.
“There is,” affirmed Elizabeth to her sister, though her eyes never left Mr. Darcy. “If you recall, I stayed at Netherfield for a few days last year nursing Jane when she caught a cold. One evening while I stayed there, Miss Bingley was kind enough to ensure I understood the exacting standards a woman must meet to lay claim to the term ‘accomplished.’ Mr. Darcy agreed with her, then followed her by recounting the sovereign importance of reading to broaden a woman’s mind as the crowning achievement that would make one truly accomplished.”
“I seem to recall you disagreeing with Miss Bingley’s prodigious list, Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Darcy, clearly enjoying the repartee.
“Oh, I did, sir,” replied Elizabeth. “The list Miss Bingley presented would consume more than a single lifetime to achieve. I also remember you declaring you knew only six such women.”
“To which you said it did not surprise you that I knew so few,” replied Mr. Darcy.
“Can you name all six?” challenged Elizabeth.
“No, Miss Bennet, I cannot. My comment was more rhetorical than factual.” Mr. Darcy then turned to Mary and winked. “Would it shock you to learn that your sister had Miss Bingley so flustered that she then claimed to know many accomplished women a moment after agreeing with my assessment of six?”
“I suspect, Mr. Darcy,” said Mary, showing a wry grin, “that she thought to lift herself as the foremost among their number.”
So rarely to Mary offer witticisms that when she did, it often took Elizabeth by surprise. Mr. Darcy was not under any such restraint, for he allowed his mirth free rein.
“I see you have taken Miss Bingley’s measure, Miss Mary.”
“It was not difficult.”
“No, I suppose it was not,” said Mr. Darcy, shaking his head in amusement. “What has brought you to Mr. Lodge’s shop today?”
“I love books if you recall,” said Elizabeth. “My father purchased his collection almost exclusively from this place.”
“Indeed, he has, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Lodge. “Without Mr. Bennet, I do not know if I could continue to operate my business.”
Elizabeth smiled and nodded at the elderly man, for it was a common jest between them. She turned back to Mr. Darcy.
“Mary also reads, but she more often peruses Mr. Lodge’s selection of music.”
“Then it is unfortunate that Georgiana is not here,” replied Mr. Darcy. “I believe she would be eager to take part in such a discussion.”
“I hope to see her again soon, Mr. Darcy,” said a shy Mary. “Meeting her was everything enjoyable.”
“She echoes your sentiment, Miss Mary.”
For a time, they stayed in the shop, debating this book or that concept, and Elizabeth was pleased to see that the man deferred to Mary, ensuring she was a part of their conversation. Elizabethhad never had much success in diverting Mary’s attention from her usual moral treatises and was surprised to see a few comments from Mr. Darcy had her younger sister considering other viewpoints than those that had so often ruled her life. In time, Mary participated with interest, though perhaps not so much eagerness as Elizabeth.
Thereafter, they departed the bookshop and walked about Meryton for a time. Mr. Darcy was not unacquainted with the town, of course, but Elizabeth and her sister guided him to those locations that might be of interest, though there was not much. Meryton was a town much the same as many others of its like, supporting the local gentlemen but not offering anything unusual. This led Mr. Darcy to say something of the town near his home, which sounded like a lovely sort of place.
“I am surprised, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth after a time of this. “I would not have thought Meryton interesting enough to warrant your attention.”
“Such places are not strange to me, Miss Elizabeth,” replied Mr. Darcy easily, sensing the playful note in her voice. “And I desired a little distance from Netherfield.”
