"Now with fish, the most essential thing is getting it fresh—"
Perhaps it is Lady Catherine whom Darcy is doing an impersonation of, she enjoys giving unasked for advice and speaking just to hear her own voice.
When the next course comes in I am going to throw my soup spoon at Darcy. No one will witness my impropriety with the servants providing the perfect distraction. I do not think Darcy will understand my message nor will it stop him if he does, but it will make me feel better.
Evening
I did not throw my spoon at Darcy.
I thought one of us should behave properly. Also I was afraid my aim might be negatively affected by my rage and I would hit Georgiana instead.
Darcy continued on in the same ridiculous manner through the remainder of dinner. That a man whose greatest culinary achievement was probably making toast over the fire in his hall of residence at Harrow should have so much to say on the subject of proper cookery was truly astounding. Or perhaps he went to Eton? Once again I am struck by how little I know about my husband. It does not matter. Clearly he is mad and I am going to get an annulment as soon as I can have him declared insane.
Fine, I know you cannot have a man declared insane for talking too much at dinner. However, it certainly is cause for concern when this particular man makes a fool of himself in such a way. Everyone noticed and was disturbed by it. Well . . . perhaps Dora did not notice.
As if hearing my thoughts, Dora suddenly asked, "Is something wrong with Fitzwilliam? He was acting rather strangely."
"I think he is—" Georgiana began.
Deranged?
A determined meddler?
An unmitigated arse?
"—trying to be a good host."
"He isn't very good at it," she added after a moment's consideration.
Could that be it? Was it perhaps unfair of me to conclude he was attempting to keep Mr. Bingley from Jane? Could he have been trying to please me by being more willing (far too willing) to converse?
No, I do not think I can absolve him so easily. He had to have realized he was making an idiot of himself. It was obvious treachery. Too obvious. Really, I expected better of him. A little more subtlety.
I glanced around the drawing room at my once again silent gathering of ladies. I wasn't being a good hostess either. Yet stirring up conversation had proved difficult thus far. Georgiana is shy and Dora cannot be bothered and Jane. . . .
Jane is acting rather strangely as well.
She has been quiet and doleful and she would barely even smile at Mr. Bingley. Perhaps the journey is taking its toll. I ought to have insisted she lie down before dinner.
Things will be much more exciting when the gentlemen return from Darcy's study. Darcy insisted on observing the ritual separation of the sexes after dinner—quite ridiculous with a party of this size—yet another obvious attempt to keep his friend away from my sister. But at some point the men must return and when they do we will play charades and it will be magical.
Yes, magical.
Charades is the perfect game to encourage affection. Jane and Mr. Bingley will be on a team together, I will make certain of it. They will stare into each other's eyes and laugh at each other's antics and this odd stiffness between them will abate.
Magical.
"You didn't have cigars," I whispered to Darcy accusingly when he and Mr. Bingley joined us a few minutes later.
Darcy made no reply, regarding me oddly as if I was the strange one in this marriage. True, I had just sniffed him, but I had done it very casually and no one but he had noticed.
"You had no reason to hide yourselves in the study."
"We had a drink."
"You could have taken your brandy in here."
"We had port."
