“Perhaps Margaret and I might ride ahead to prepare the way, so the people have somewhere to settle. If the village canspare one horse, we could ride double. You will need the rest for the wagons and carts."
“Perhaps your questions will be answered in the coming weeks, Lizzy.”
“Perhaps. We shall see.”
Mr Sutton invited the pair to take his horse, which was grazing contentedly outside the village. Margaret had assured Elizabeth she knew all there was to know about horses, so Lizzy deferred to her judgement.
The roan mare bore a man’s saddle. Lizzy eyed it dubiously, but Margaret laughed, mounted astride, and reached down for her. It seemed she was off to Pemberley.
Book Room
Darcy looked around Mr Bennet’s book room, and strongly suspected he was staring at the education that had enchanted him with a Meryton Miss.
He was reminded of something his father liked to say.
The acorn does not fall far from the tree Fitzwilliam, but you should keep in mind that a tree can have a pleasant orchard on one side and a steep ravine on the other; topsoil on one side and rock on the other. You can usually see the echoes of both parents in the child, no matter how wildly divergent siblings may appear, but as with everything, try not to read too much into it. A lot depends on which ground the acorn falls on, and how it is nourished.
His thoughts drifted to a particularly intense discussion he had shared with Miss Elizabeth at Netherfield about literature. During the more heated part of the discussion—which Bingley asserted was more argument than debate—he had, for the first time, begun to appreciate the finer qualities of his antagonist. Hereluctantly admitted she was a worthier opponent than anyone else he knew, man or woman. He would never admit it to anybody else, but she had bested him in the end.
Certainly, he had long abandoned his initial hare-brained idea that she was not handsome enough to tempt him.Oooohhhh Nooooo…by the time she appeared at Netherfield with all the features Miss Bingley disdained but he found enchanting, her handsomeness was not in question. By then, he quite agreed with Bingley, and for a moment indulged in remembering the smiling and happy man his friend had been before Darcy persuaded him to abandon Jane Bennet.
Bingley had said, rather emphatically, “Your picture may be very exact, Louisa, but this was all lost upon me. I thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked remarkably well when she came into the room this morning. Her dirty petticoat quite escaped my notice.”
No, her handsomeness was not in question. After a few days watching her toy with Caroline Bingley—and honestly, probably with himself—her wit, her politeness, and her social graces were also not in question.
That day in the drawing room however, when he had the temerity to contradict a deeply held opinion, the daggers were drawn. At the end of it, he did not know if Miss Bennet wanted to kill him or keep him for further study, but she was certainly a force to be reckoned with. That was the day he began to suspect he might be beyond his depth.
“Pick your poison, sir. Port? Sherry? Brandy?”
Darcy halted his introspection and looked at Miss Elizabeth’s father, detecting a twinkle in the older man's eye that was all too familiar. Here, obviously, was the root.
“Brandy, if you please. It has been—”
Mr Bennet laughed heartily. “You appeared without notice at my door after five months, with two ladies and a maid in tow, one of whom is my usually quite pliable daughter but orders you about like a manservant, and one of whom is a maid who treats you like a big brother. I would say brandy is absolutely called for, and we are half an inch from laudanum.”
Darcy nodded, and the gentlemen deferred whatever battle they were to engage long enough to be polite and gird their loins.
For a few minutes, Darcy examined the titles he had read at one time or another, somewhat dismayed to find them a small part of the collection while he sipped his brandy. Whatever faults Mr Bennet might have, lack of scholarship was not among them.
Finally, he said, “I imagine you would like an answer to your question.”
Bennet sipped his brandy and regarded the young man over his glass, trying to take his measure. Based on their interactions thus far, he had to assume the man was a twin, and the man from the previous autumn was the malevolent one. He had somehow lost the rough edge that had grated so thoroughly against the Meryton populace in general, and Elizabeth in particular.
“Eventually,” he replied laconically. “Before we get into specifics though, may I ask you a question?”
“Of course. I am at your disposal.”
“Will I be unhappy when we are done speaking?”
“Almost certainly.”
“How unhappy?”
“Very.”
“Shall I be unhappy six months or a year from now?”
“I hope not, and I shall do everything in my power to prevent that, but I can make no promises.”
