“It is a weekly club, sixteen members, all likable fellows, chosen from respectable inhabitants of the neighbourhood. You see, Mr Copeland went away, and we now need another gentleman. The assembly never fails to be animated, and we are all determined players. We dine at half past five and then play. I assure you, no one leaves before the club breaks up.”
His guest still had an expectant smile, and before Darcy could dash his hopes and refuse, Mrs Darcy spoke. “I believe my father was a member of your club.”
“Yes, a tenacious player he was. Besides, Meryton could not have a whist club without the master of Longbourn!” Sir William’s face suddenly contorted with worry. “I mean,your fatherwas a talented player who enjoyed our weekly games. We meet not only to talk, but to play cards, you understand. The beauty of the game is destroyed if it is made simple for the sake of—Our members must be ready to play against any manner of strategy employed, and be skilled enough oneself to partner with anyone ...”
Mrs Darcy’s eyes were bright with mirth. “I understand you perfectly. And I daresay, Mr Collins would not feel slighted. I do not think he enjoys whist.”
“I am relieved to hear you say that! Still, it would be best if we did not speak of it before Mr Collins, out of deference to his feelings. Now, Mr Darcy, what say you? We meet on Thursdays.”
“I am afraid that I am no card player, sir.”
“Nonsense! Every new member must undergo a preliminary examination to see that he is proficient before admission, and I have no hesitation in saying you are a fine player.”
“How are you certain?” Mrs Darcy asked. “I thought that Mr Darcy, due to his sister’s illness, did not mix with the neighbourhood.”
“True, but thrice over those six months I had the pleasure insecuring Mr Darcy for an evening, and on those occasions, he played whist. You were at the most recent evening shortly after your return from town. Mr Darcy played with myself, Mr Long, and Mr Collins, and he managed to win five tricks despite being partnered with—despite not having luck that evening.”
Mrs Darcy now looked as though she would give anything she had to be able to laugh freely at Mr Collins’s expense. “How kind of you to invite Mr Darcy. I know he wishes to establish himself now that, sadly, he need not devote himself to Miss Darcy’s health.”
He caught Mrs Darcy’s eye, and she raised an eyebrow. Being involved in the reciprocal responsibilities of this club would establish his character, and likely prevent anyone from conjecturing further about him and his sister. Their little whist club served to form and strengthen social bonds, and he would appear singular if he refused.It shall only be until Michaelmas, and it will make Mrs Darcy happy.
“I accept, thank you.”
“Capital! Thursdays at the inn, the Crown, near the toll gate.”
As though Meryton boasted a dozen coaching inns, and he might at half past five on Thursday be wandering through the market town wondering where he ought to be on whist club night. Darcy only nodded.
Sir William rose and gave him a courtly bow. “I know you are mourning, but you are still a newlywed man. As in love with your wife as you must be, I am glad you are willing to spare her charming company to join us. You must be very happy together, all things considered.”
He saw his wife blush and turn away. Sir William could not have known how his gallantry affected them. The wordloveseemed to hang in the air, and it felt as though it might choke him if he did not speak into the silence. Darcy supposed a newly or even a happily married man would now say something courteous about loving his wife and still being able to join in a gentlemen’s weekly card game.
“It is impossible to be happier than I am in a wife.” He rose, avoided looking at Mrs Darcy, and tried to usher his guest toward the door. Sir William did begin the process of leaving, but his attentiveness was by no means over.
“Yes, of course you love Mrs Darcy, and she has a great affection for you as well. How could you not love the brightest jewel in Hertfordshire?”
“Indeed.” Sir William still looked at him expectantly. “I do... love... Mrs Darcy.” More lies.
“As she loves you! We shall see you in two days, half past five! Good day, Mrs Darcy.”
When they were alone, they stared at one another in embarrassed, uncomfortable silence. It was, at least, embarrassing to him. He assumed her pink cheeks and averted gaze were from embarrassment at not loving her husband. He was not in love with his wife, but it was not as though he specificallydid notlove her, as though dislike or hatred was the opposite emotion for being not in love.
“I am exceedingly sorry if what I said to Sir William ...”Disappointed you? Insulted you?
“It was said with the view of passing off an awkward moment.” She smiled one of her smiles that did not reach her eyes. “I am surprised that for so forthright a man you were able to say that you were happy let alone?—”
“I am not unhappy!” Despite her mourning, his wife was witty and naturally good-humoured, and he admired her lively mind. She had no love of money. Whatever esteem she did have for him, its basis was not in his fortune. He hoped grieving for Georgiana would not dampen her playful, joyful spirit for the duration of the time left to her. Grief might put too great a strain on her heart.
“Still, you would not want it thought that you ... explicitly telling people you ... you love your wife is not what we agreed upon.”
“Except to my sister.” She stopped looking at his waistcoat buttons and met his eye. “Georgiana thought we married for love. It gave her such comfort and happiness. I could never have ruined her hopes for us by telling her the reason for our arrangement.”
“Of course not.” She looked at him closely. “Do you... do you think that deep, abiding love in marriage is impossible, or unlikely?”
Darcy wondered if she meant in a general way or if it was impossible forthem. He was not ready to hear the answer, so he did not ask the question. He assumed she meant the former. “I am persuaded thata deep affection is common in married life, yet I am confident that the spirit-stirring passion of love is very rare.”
“I would have to agree to its rarity, given the examples provided to me from my own parents and sisters. Even affection is not common amongst my family, save perhaps the Gardiners. As for spirit-stirring—” Mrs Darcy broke off and shook her head. “Sir William thinks too much of his knighthood and takes it upon himself to act civilly to the entire world. He could not know how disagreeable you find his courtesies.”
Does she assume the idea of loving her is disagreeable to me?Mrs Darcy was the sort of woman to inspire both regard and love in a man. She had a graceful affability, a playfulness that was welcoming rather than off-putting, an elegant simplicity that put to shame the paradington. She was generous and forgiving.
