Carrie Bebris: Suspense & Sensibility

"Mr. Darcy! I’m glad you are come!" Sir John clapped Darcy’s shoulder heartily, suggesting an acquaintance of years rather than barely a se’nnight. "I was just talking with Carville and Hartford about organizing a shooting party, and you must promise to be among our number."

"I would be honored, though my skills could but poorly complement any party led by you."

"Nonsense! I can tell by the look of you, you’re a fine shot."

"Fair," Darcy demurred. Though he enjoyed shooting and hunting, he was not a man who liked to boast of his skills or recount every detail of his last chase. "However, they tell me at the club that you are a sportsman without equal."

"Whether that is true or not I shall leave to the judgment of others, but I can think of nowhere I would rather be than out of doors with my hounds." He smiled broadly at the women. "These lovely ladies must be your wife and sisters."

"Sir John Middleton, may I present my wife, Mrs. Darcy, her sister, Miss Catherine Bennet, and my sister, Miss Darcy."

"Charmed!" The baronet, to Elizabeth’s relief, bowed rather than offer the same effusive welcome Darcy had received. "Please, you must come with me to meet Lady Middleton. She will not want to defer the pleasure of your acquaintance another moment."

They found their hostess in the card room, attempting to complete a rubber while half-listening to the whines of a girl about six years of age. A flustered nursemaid was trying to discreetly steer the girl from the room, but Lady Middleton’s distracted murmurs only encouraged the child to continue her campaign to be allowed to remain.

"Marguerite, what are you doing out of the nursery?" Sir John gave the child a playful pat on the head as if rewarding one of his hounds. He turned to the Darcys with a smile. "My youngest," he said, as if birth order provided sufficient explanation for the child’s presence.

"I’m sorry, sir." The nursemaid tried to take Marguerite’s hand, but the child jerked her fingers away. "She dashed out the door and down the stairs before I could stop her."

Sir John rubbed the underside of Marguerite’s chin. "Don’t want to miss the party, do you, little dove?"

"Let me stay, Papa! I want to stay! Make Mama let me stay!"

Elizabeth generally liked children — indeed, she cherished hopes of having her own before long. But allowing such a young girl at a formal society function was an indulgence she’d never witnessed before, and for good reason. Marguerite’s pleas and cajoles so distracted both parents that Lady Middleton could scarcely focus as Sir John made a rather disorganized introduction to the Darcys.

"It is a pleasure — hold still, please, Marguerite — to meet you, Mrs. Darcy," Lady Middleton finally said to Georgiana.

"No, no, my dear." Sir John interjected. "That’s — in a moment, dove — that’s Miss Darcy The other ladies — I said one moment, my little angel — "

"Lovely to meet you all. I have been dying to make your acquaintance for ages, ever since Tuesday." Lady Middleton turned her attention back to her cards. "Marguerite, do cease tugging on my arm."

Whilst the Middletons were thus besieged, three gentlemen entered the room. Two of them appeared very much alike: large, athletic young men who looked like they could sit a horse or box in Jackson’s Rooms with equal skill. They wore close-fitting single-breasted coats — one claret, one brown — and fair hair carefully styled to appear as tousled as if they had just come in from a foxhunt. The third gentleman wore his dark locks in the same mode, as deliberately arranged as his cravat. He had a more slender but no less vigorous build, his broad shoulders and narrow waist shown to advantage by a blue dress coat so up-to-the-minute in fashion that it could have been cut that morning. Tight-fitting pantaloons and silk stockings revealed muscular legs, and his polished shoes competed with the chandelier for shine.

By all appearances, they were typical London bloods, all three — aristocratic gents with too much time and money, and little ambition to do anything productive with either. Elizabeth dismissed them without another thought, until she heard Kitty sigh beside her.

"Look at them, Lizzy — pinks of the ton if ever I saw one." She sighed again. "Oh, they’re coming this way!" Kitty looked as if she might swoon with the effort of keeping her excitement in check. "Quickly — is my hair still in place?"

"At least as well as theirs."

The gentlemen reached Lady Middleton’s table. "Mother," said the young man in brown, "Lady Carrington is looking for you. We left her in the dining room."

"Thank you, William. I shall go to her directly I finish this rubber."

"William, tell Mama to let me stay!"

William looked somewhat amused by his sister’s demand, but the other fair-haired gentleman cast her an impatient glance. "Marguerite, ought you not be in bed?"

"Go away, John. You are always such a spoiler!"

"A soiree is no place for children."

Marguerite was on the verge of another retort when the third fellow intervened to diffuse the family squabble. "Miss Marguerite, if I asked your mother very sweetly, do you think she would honor me with an introduction to this gentleman and the pretty ladies with him?"

"They are only a Mr. Darcy and his sisters. Mama, if you do not let me stay, I shall scream. I shall!" Her shrill voice already carried above the din.

"Nonsense, child. You will behave like a proper young lady while Nurse escorts you back upstairs." Lady Middleton turned to the Darcys as the nursemaid stepped forward once more to take her charge. "Forgive me. These are my sons, John and William Middleton, and their friend Mr. Harry — Henry — Dashwood. Gentlemen, this is Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, his wife, and their sisters — "

"Nooooooo!" Marguerite’s shriek brought the burbling room to abrupt silence. Lady Middleton gaped at her daughter, her expression flashing from horror to embarrassment to anger to self-consciousness in rapid succession. Marguerite regarded her mother warily, realizing too late that even mothers worn down by the demands of seven previous children have thresholds of tolerance that cannot be crossed.

"Now that you have caused a scene, we need not indulge you further to avoid one," Lady Middleton said quietly.

The young nurse, whose further attempts to lead her charge away had occasioned the outburst, apologized profusely to her mistress and reached for Marguerite.

"I think you have sufficiently exhibited your ability to control the child," Lady Middleton said to her servant. She took her daughter by the hand. "We are going upstairs. Now. And if you want Nurse to keep her position, you will stay in the nursery and behave yourself for the remainder of the night."

Those at the card tables went back to their games of whist and lottery but awkward silence lingered in the air.

"Mr. Darcy, was it?" Mr. Dashwood stepped toward them. "I believe I’ve heard of you down at White’s. You have an estate in Derbyshire, do you not7"

Darcy bowed. "Yes, Pemberley Near Lambton." He studied Mr. Dashwood. "Your name sounds familiar to me, as well."

"Perhaps you are thinking of my father, Mr. John Dashwood — a longtime member of White’s."

"Of course. How is your father?"

"He passed away last autumn."

After Darcy and the rest of their party offered condolences, Sir John cleared his throat.

"Mr. Darcy, if your wife will excuse us, Carville and Hartford are in the billiards room, along with some other gentlemen I would like you to meet. You must hear Hartford recount his last foxhunt. What a tale! To tell it properly takes a full half-hour."

"Half an hour?" Darcy stammered.

"At least."

He turned to Elizabeth, his expression revealing to her alone the felicity he anticipated. "Can you get on without me for a while?"