Page 23 of Affectations of Candour

Being too dignified to run to greet them, Darcy walked as quickly as self-respect would allow.

His smartly liveried groom, having no such gentlemanly compunction, raced towards the two-wheeled carriage and arrived there before his employer. Tipping his cap and bowing, Edward politely greeted the ladies, proudly assisted them from the gig, and promised he would take very good care of Jenny. Darcy suspected, from the look of the blushing adolescent, that Edward also would like to take very good care of the two young ladies.

“Here is some fodder for Jenny.” Smiling, Miss Hughes passed a bag of hay to the groom.

“Oh no, miss. Jenny can graze in yon meadow, beyond the gardens.”

“Ahem.” Darcy tipped his hat and bowed. “Miss Hughes, Miss Bennet, welcome to Strandsmere Park. That will be all, Edward.” Barely sparing the young man a glance, he offered his arms to the ladies.

“Oh, wait!” cried Miss Elizabeth, as Edward led Jenny away. “We left something in the gig.” Instead of waiting for the groom to bring the item to her, she hurried after him.

Darcy could not hear whatever she and he said to one another, but there was no mistaking the admiring look the lad gave her nor the pleased expression upon Miss Elizabeth’s face when she returned. Thinking it was ridiculous to be envious of a mere boy for having such an effect on the lady, he proffered her his arm again. Looking into his eyes, she smiled so sweetly at him that his heart gave a little lurch.

“You brought books I see.” He watched as Miss Elizabeth passed one to her friend. “Do you intend to spend the entire day reading, Miss Bennet? Not that there is anything wrong with that, but I believe my sister and Miss Althea have other plans.”

“I am delighted that you have no objection to one of my favourite pastimes, sir, for I know of no other diversion where one may feel superior simply by sitting perfectly still and staring at paper for hours on end. I read that somewhere, by the by.”

“Madam, I would debate the fact that one sits perfectly still while reading a good book. One’s eyes eagerly race across and down each page, and one’s fingers quickly turn the leaf to discover what happens next.”

Miss Hughes added, “And if a book is really exciting, one might move to the edge of one’s seat or even bite their fingernails.” To Darcy, the young lady looked much happier than she had upon first acquaintance.

“I concede,” said Miss Elizabeth, as they walked towards the house. “However, the books that we have brought today are not of that sort. They are what Miss Baker calls ‘friendship books’, and we hope that our friends within these walls will— Oh my!” Abruptly stopping and letting go of his arm, she leant back to stare, seemingly in wonder, upon the villa’s imposing façade of quarry-dressed Bath stone with Palladian windows that overlooked the Channel.

“Ostentatious, is it not?” As they climbed the stone steps, Darcy offered Miss Elizabeth his arm for the third time, wishing she could be securely fixed there. “With that prominent central portico and pediments supported by classic Roman columns, it is evident that my uncle was impressed by the architecture he saw while on his Grand Tour. I believe he was especially fond of Venice.”

Miss Hughes asked whether the judge was an uncle on the maternal or paternal side.

“Paternal.”

“I should like to hear more about Judge Darcy sometime, sir,” said Miss Elizabeth.

Never had Miss Wright expressed any interest in Darcy’s family, other than questioning him about his more exalted uncle, the Earl of Matlock. But Miss Elizabeth seemed truly interested.

Upon entering the house and being told by a footman that the others were in the sitting room, Darcy espied Georgiana, along with the three Miss Wrights, awaiting them there. Once all the ladies were seated, Hector lumbered over to Miss Elizabeth, giving a wide berth to Miss Wright as he passed her.

“And who might this gentle giant be?” Miss Elizabeth scratched the black and white beast’s head.

“A Newfoundland dog who answers to the name of Hector, but only when there is food involved.” Darcy winked at his sister.

“Nay!” cried Georgiana. “Hector is an intelligent boy. Whenever the word s-w-i-m is mentioned, he becomes intent on escaping to the beach. That is his idea of life. Nevertheless, he is loyal and protective and prefers to remain close to me. I caution you to beware of being squashed, Miss Bennet, for I see that he likes you. I hope he is not too cumbersome, leaning against you in that manner.”

“No, not at all.”

“Do you know,” said Miss Althea, “that Lord Byron had a Newfoundland dog a few years ago? His name was Boatswain. When he died of rabies, Byron wrote a poem in his memory.”

“I do not recall anything unseemly in Epitaph to a Dog. However, Georgiana, you are not permitted to read Byron. I shall not have you swooning over such a self-indulgent man.” Too late, Darcy remembered his sister fainting in Ramsgate upon learning of Wickham’s true intentions. Cursing himself upon seeing her bowed head, he sat beside her and whispered, “My apologies, little hen. Chin up now. You have guests.”

“Oh look, Miss Darcy!” cried Miss Althea. “Heiress Tottle is rubbing against Miss Bennet. How extraordinary. I have observed that the cat tolerates few people save for your brother.”

Miss Wright’s mouth had an ugly sort of twist to it. “Perhaps Miss Bennet has the lingering smell of fish upon her person. What? Why do you all look at me so? If I am not mistaken, that is the very gown she wore at Cliff House when we dined there on Atlantic salmon.”

Two red splotches appeared on Miss Hughes’s cheeks, and she spoke with asperity. “Miss Bennet would never wear at a dinner table the sort of gown that one puts on for a day of outdoor activities. And I can assure you, Miss Wright, that my aunt and uncle are capable of keeping an excellent cook. Neither my friend nor I have any reason to set foot in Mrs Poole’s kitchen.”

“I do not remember saying that she did, Miss Hughes. I apologise if my remark was misunderstood. I simply meant that it would be a shame if Miss Bennet’s gown had an unnoticed stain upon it.” Tapping a folded fan against her chin, Miss Wright narrowed her eyes and scrutinised Miss Elizabeth from head to toe. “May I offer some honest advice, Miss Bennet? You would appear to better advantage in warm hues. That mauve-grey shade does not suit you at all.”

“Thank you. But, while in Wyman’s Cove, I shall continue wearing sombre gowns in deference to my friend’s profound sadness.”

Having previously held some estimation for Miss Wright, Darcy was mortified that his regard for her had been so ill bestowed. He opened his mouth to speak up, but her youngest sister did so first.