Page 61 of Affectations of Candour

“Speaking of our children, I should warn you, sir, that, as a child, I was a handful.” She grinned at him, fine eyes shining mischievously.

You are more than a handful, Elizabeth. You are a tempting armful. He started to lean in.

Someone behind him cleared their throat.

“I believe you and I have some important business to settle, young man,” said Mr Bennet. “Now, Mr Darcy…if you can tear yourself away from my daughter.”

His ears burnt, and he supposed the tips were red. Fortunately, they were hidden beneath his hat. But he could not blame Elizabeth’s father. If some scoundrel tried to take liberties with Georgiana or, perish the thought, one of his own future daughters, Darcy might be tempted to do more than just clear his throat.

“Mr Bennet,” cried his wife. “Where are you going? What important business do you have with Mr Darcy? Mr Bennet?”

Later, when a soft, golden glow settled over the countryside and the two gentlemen were returning from the villa, having signed the marriage settlement securing property for Elizabeth and her future children—those handsome, clever little Darcys so longed for by their father—Darcy was set upon by Colonel Fitzwilliam.

“Cousin, I fear the cat might have been accidentally let out of the bag.”

Mr Bennet, evidently preferring to not get involved in a family dispute, left them to it by tipping his hat and sauntering off towards the garden.

“Fitzwilliam, I sincerely hope you are referring to Heiress Tottle. Please tell me you have not carelessly revealed my plan to Miss Bennet.”

“Did you say heiress?” The officer’s eyes lit up.

“She is my cat, you ninny-hammer. Now, kindly explain yourself.”

The colonel told Darcy that Elizabeth had asked what had brought him to Wyman’s Cove. “In retrospect, I should have said ‘a post-chaise’. But, unthinkingly, I blurted something about being your groomsman.”

Darcy groaned and seriously considered putting his honed pugilistic skills to use on Fitzwilliam’s nose.

“Do not fret. I laughed it off and simply said, ‘Well, I shall be Darcy’s groomsman someday. That is, when, and particularly if, my fastidious cousin ever makes up his mind to marry one of these years’. Clever, eh?”

“Oh, you simply said that, did you? Considering that simply is the only way you know how to do anything, I suppose that makes it perfectly all right. Were you not my groomsman in actuality, I might have to darken your daylights. But Miss Bennet might be put off were she to learn your black eye was thanks to my fist. She is clever. Far cleverer than you. Why, even my cat is smarter than you.”

On that subject, there began to be a great difference of opinion.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

With the sun dipping lower, family and friends made their way down the stone steps to the beach, where blankets were spread upon sun-drenched sand for the younger folk. Arranged around a large fire pit were wooden benches which had been borrowed from villagers and brought earlier by boat and by wagon.

More guests began arriving, including the deputy postmaster with his wife and brood, the vicar, fishermen, farmers, quarry workers, seaweed gatherers, and Miss Hughes’s particular friend, Henry Clark.

A happy hubbub mingled with seabirds’ cries and the children’s shouts of glee as a pod of bottlenose dolphins was spotted foraging close to the briny shore.

Darcy and Georgiana, the evening’s host and hostess, went about greeting friends and acquaintances, old and new. All the while, the gentleman kept an eye on his future wife. With pretty smile and affability, Elizabeth was quickly and universally admired by the villagers.

While he thanked several of the local fishermen for the fresh seafood they had delivered that morning, he noticed that Elizabeth and Miss Hughes were encircled by happy children, and he supposed that they were distributing sugary treats concocted by Mrs Poole at Cliff House. The next time he looked, only the children remained, capering about at the water’s edge. No, by George, Elizabeth and Miss Hughes are in their midst, wading barefoot in the surf. There, ladies and gentlemen, is the future mistress of Pemberley.

As his cousin and Elizabeth’s father walked up to him, Darcy heard the colonel quietly say, “Mr Bennet, it must be gratifying to see your daughter having such a grand time with her friends. All too soon she will be saddled with a dour husband whose idea of fun is playing chess.”

“Oh, you play, do you, Darcy? Remind me, son, to beat you at it sometime.” Mr Bennet wandered off then to chat with Mr Baker.

“Stop scowling, Cousin. Your bride will act with comportment when necessary. Do not be so disapproving of her present behaviour.”

“I do not disapprove. I was merely picturing myself out there, laughing and racing into the briny while holding Mrs Darcy’s hand on one side and a dark-haired little daughter or son on the other. And I was squinting, Fitzwilliam, not scowling. Sunlight was glaring harshly on the water.”

The vicar came up to the cousins with a few questions, and Darcy tried to catch Elizabeth’s eye to introduce her to the cleric, but she strolled past, deep in conversation with Henry Clark.

As the sun touched the horizon, it cast a rosy glow across the water, similar to the painting Darcy and Elizabeth had worked on together. The soirée then began in earnest.

When the alcohol began to flow, he, in company with Fitzwilliam, sought Miss Hughes’s uncle. “Mr Baker, I am hoping I may count on your assistance tonight.” Receiving a positive response, Darcy continued. “I shall not abide drunkenness while ladies and children are present. My senior footman is the only one allowed to dispense the wine, ale, cider, and such. However, I suspect some of the parishioners may have brought their own spirits. If either of you notice anyone becoming foxed, I entrust you to intervene and deal with the situation. They know and respect you, Mr Baker, and the colonel is accustomed to dealing with such trouble.” Both men nodded in agreement, and they began mingling and walking about, patrolling the beach.