Page 31 of Fitzwilliam Darcy, Exile

They passed the lady, leaving her to Mr. Hurst, who seemed no more pleased to be stuck in his sister-in-law’s company as Darcy would have been.

Miss Mary whispered. “I pray my presumption is not to your displeasure, sir.”

“Not at all. I am in your debt.”

She smiled at that. Miss Mary was the plainest of the Bennet sisters, but there was a becoming brightness in her eyes and curl to her lips when she smiled that made her countenance lovely to behold.

Miss Elizabeth sat higher up the table from them on the opposite side, far enough away from Wickham to discourage intimate conversation with him. She was safe for now, and for that, Darcy was grateful.

The removes were plentiful and as tasteful as food could be without the herbs and spices to which Darcy had grown accustomed. The polished silver gleamed in the candlelight, and conversation flowed freely. Lady Lucas beamed at her husband from the opposite end of the table, who presided and entertained his guests, a responsibility he took seriously by ensuring that all gaps in the conversation were promptly filled.

Wickham commented knowledgeably on the lofty families Sir William named, elevating himself in the estimation of his company at his apparent intimacy with their social superiors. Even the Hursts and Miss Bingley were soon won over. Darcy might have added a remark or two, having been close associates of the families mentioned, but he held his tongue. He had learned long ago that if one listened long enough, people generally were happy to reveal their true characters.

He hoped Miss Elizabeth would see through Wickham’s charm or that he might reveal his motive—something Darcy had yet to distinguish. It bothered him that Wickham had not revealed his intention. What was he about? When would he act?

“How pleasant it is to enjoy one’s meal without adding the burden of conversation,” Miss Mary commented beside him.

Darcy started. He had been lost in thought too long, neglecting his companion as a consequence. “My apologies⁠—”

She shook her head. “I am not complaining, Mr. Robinson. Like you, I am accustomed to being overlooked. I have come to prefer it.”

He looked at her more intently, trying to discern if she meant her words as she said them, or if there was an underlying discontent behind them. What must it be like for a young lady like Miss Mary to grow up in a household with two elder sisters who were so often praised for their beauty, intelligence, and connections? In the two weeks he had resided at Longbourn, he had not conversed much with her. To his shame, he realized how easily he had overlooked her. “If you truly wish to remain unnoticed, I suggest that you refrain from playing the pianoforte this evening.”

A slow, calculating smile spread over her features. “Well, a lady must have something with which to distinguish herself. It is the one vanity I allow myself.”

“Is it a vanity when it brings so much joy to your listeners?”

Her smile widened; a glint in her eye. “Ah, but how is it not vanity when nobody’s joy can compare to my own?” She leaned in closer, her voice low. “I enjoy music, and I believe it is proper for me to do so. However, there is more to it than that. I know I play very well, you see.” She leaned back, her eyes searching his face for his opinion, her hands clasped in her lap, fingers twisted, waiting for his judgment.

Her honest confession was endearing, and she possessed enough self-righteousness for Darcy to recognize that her next comment would be one of self-condemnation. Before she could cast a negative light on her talent, he asked, “How did you learn to play so well?”

Her gaze flickered over to Miss Elizabeth, who had drawn her nearest neighbors at the table into her conversation with Mr. Bingley, then back to him. “It is Lizzy’s doing as much as it is Mama’s.” Ah, the arrangement. Having nothing pleasant to say about that, Darcy kept his silence and waited for Miss Mary to continue. “Every month Mr. Darcy sent a basket of fruit and gifts befitting a family with so many daughters.” She clutched the fichu at her throat. “His selections were perfect, so much so that I imagined that he would have made a wonderful father for a girl.”

Darcy’s heart clenched. Father had doted on Georgiana. Darcy was the heir, but he held no delusions of being his father’s favored child. That honor had plainly belonged to Georgiana.

Miss Mary shrugged. “Of course, I am aware now that the contents of the baskets were likely the work of his housekeeper or secretary.”

Darcy doubted that. Father would have taken his monthly offering too seriously to trust someone else with it.

Another flicker to Miss Elizabeth and back. “Something changed. We had been receiving baskets full of fruit, cakes, ribbons, and magazines every month for about five years. Lizzy grew more serious and became more industrious than she had ever been, spending hours in Papa’s study with his ledgers, visiting our tenants, and making calls in Meryton. Kitty and Lydia complained about the loss of the trinkets and delicacies, but I was overjoyed. What we were offered was of far greater value.”

She paused, and Darcy realized that he had been holding his breath.

“Education.” She continued, “Mr. Darcy made it possible for us to receive instruction from knowledgeable tutors, experts in their subject. Papa hardly noticed, but Mama saw how we stood to benefit. Her aim has always been to help us marry well, but I remember thinking that Lizzy had found what she was good at and I determined to find the same for myself. On my first lesson with our music teacher, he praised my focus and determination. He assured me that if I applied those qualities to my lessons and practice, I would become an accomplished musician. So that is what I did.”

What Darcy had considered to be little more than a bribe before was now something far more honorable. The education his father made possible for the Bennet daughters allowed them dignity and a measure of freedom they would not likely have been provided by their own father. Where Darcy had previously only seen presumption and selfish disregard for the will of others, he now recognized that his father had laid the foundation that led directly to the accomplishments Miss Mary possessed. Time would tell how the other sisters had chosen to benefit from the education offered to them.

“I am sincerely grateful to Mr. Darcy.” She bowed her head respectfully. “I would have liked to thank him personally.”

Darcy wished she might have had that chance, too. The more he learned about his father’s dealings with the Bennets, the more questions Darcy wished he could ask him and the more he realized how little he had understood his father. How different things might have been…

Swallowing hard, his longing to mend the past throbbing in his chest, Darcy considered Miss Mary. His opportunity to make peace with his father had passed, but he could assure Miss Mary that her exertions would have been received favorably by his father. There was nothing he had valued more than initiative and dedication. “I am certain that a gentleman such as Mr. Darcy would approve fully of your use of his benevolence.”

Her smile widened. “I would have liked to play for him.”

Father would have liked that. Music had been Mother’s passion, and had Georgiana lived, Darcy had no doubt that she would have received extensive instruction from the best masters. Darcy imagined his father closing his eyes, his hands swaying and moving along with the notes. “He would have enjoyed that. Any gentleman who took such an interest in your musical education would.”

She nodded in agreement. “Perhaps I shall play for his son someday.”