J Croft - Mr. Darcy Takes the Plunge

Bingley sniggered and said, “Hah! Pluck reminds me of a chicken, which is just how I felt while being berated by her. I say, Darcy, your sister is absolutely lovely. All the same, if she ever eventually sets her cap at someone, I shall undoubtedly pity the poor chap when she is in high dudgeon. Miss Darcy can definitely raise a breeze. That said, she cannot hold a candle to my sister Caroline for being a harridan.”

Darcy apologized on his sister’s behalf and added, “Georgiana is a dear girl, though I must admit she has frightened off an alarming number of eligible suitors lately. Nevertheless, those blokes ultimately proved unworthy by not possessing sufficient intestinal fortitude to withstand a bit of temper from a mere chit. Regardless, I rather doubt she will end up as a tabby. Georgie’s dowry, accomplishments, and beauty ensure her eventual marriage. Most importantly, she is a wonderful young lady; and I do not say so only because she is my sister. Truthfully, she is a treasure.”

“Oh, yes, indeed, Miss Darcy is absolute perfection,” Ellis Fleming was quick to agree.

The other three gentlemen shared amused looks; then Charles Bingley enthusiastically asked, “Speaking of absolute perfection, did any of you happen to notice her two new acquaintances?”

Fleming snorted, Darcy raised his brows, and Colonel Fitzwilliam replied, “We have eyes, Bingley; so how could we possibly not notice when so much beauty was before us? The Bennet ladies are undoubtedly diamonds of the first water, and I cannot believe I made such a complete mull of meeting them. I would have cut a much finer figure in my red coat than in the green slime I wore today, and you chaps would have been quite invisible to the ladies had I been wearing regimentals.”

Darcy rolled his eyes and said, “I rather imagine invisibility would have been preferable over our earlier indecorous appearances. Be that as it may, I happen to know for a fact that I was quite embarrassingly visible to the pretty brunette with the sparkling, intelligent eyes. Miss Elizabeth is obviously not shy,” Darcy said with a smirk. Although he grinned, Fitzwilliam Darcy silently reproached himself for the lapse in judgment that had resulted in such an improper encounter with members of the opposite sex. Anything less than perfection was unacceptable to the idealist, and he usually attempted to avoid situations in which he might appear to be flawed. Darcy felt the need to be above criticism; and although he would not admit it, Georgiana’s public censure had wounded him. He was quite resolved to do everything in his power to project the image of a perfect gentleman if ever again in the company of his sisters’ new friends.

Charles Bingley interrupted Darcy’s self-castigation when he said, “Miss Elizabeth may not be shy; however, her angelic sister is perfectly proper and demure.”

“And once again, Bingley, you are making a claim based upon a mere moment’s observation. Are you such an exceptional judge of character your first impression cannot be mistaken?”

“You saw Miss Bennet, Darcy; she is the most exquisite creature, and I think … ”

A knock upon the library door was answered by Darcy’s command to enter. A footman announced, “Mr. George Wickham to see you, sir.” Smiles lit up the faces of the four friends as the visitor appeared in the doorway.

“George! Come in, come in, you mangy scoundrel,” Darcy invited. “Gentlemen, look what foul vermin the accursed cat dragged into the house.”

With a swagger and a wide grin, Wickham entered the room and exclaimed, “Cripes, man! How could you thus pollute the shades of our beloved Pemberley with the likes of this trio of depraved reprobates?”

“Yes, sorry, old chap. As the estate’s future steward, I know you only have its best interests at heart. So we must see about having such unworthy degenerates evicted immediately from these hallowed halls,” Darcy bantered. Greetings and more teasing ensued as the quintet of comrades settled into the easy friendship of many years’ standing.

At five and twenty, the same age as Bingley and Fleming, the devilishly handsome George was the son of Pemberley’s steward, Hugh Wickham, a widower. He was also George Darcy’s godchild and namesake and had the privilege of being educated alongside the other occupants of the room. They had all attended Cambridge for one overlapping term and became quite a formidable coterie. Wickham was being trained by his father to take over the reins as Pemberley’s steward as soon as the elder relinquished the position later that same year after decades of service. Like his parent, the young man was of an honest and hard-working character; however, unlike his father, the son was a skirt-chasing roué.

“Would any of you chaps happen to know the identity of two gorgeous females, a blonde and a brunette? I noticed them stepping into a carriage out front over an hour ago and have been speculating on the purpose of their visit. I suppose they must be the latest conquests of two of you fortunate, although undeserving, blokes.”

Richard Fitzwilliam responded, “By coincidence, we were just discussing those very same gentleladies when your unwelcome carcass most rudely imposed itself upon our very refined presence here, Wickham. That the ladies have left already is unfortunate news, indeed. I had planned to impress them with my much-improved appearance before they departed.”

“Still making a valiant effort to live up to your ‘stud-muffin’ reputation, I see, Colonel Fitz. It must be quite an arduous struggle for you, but some things never change. Regardless, have you purposely evaded answering my query about the females? Shame, shame, you must share the wealth, you know, gentlemen. I assume the ladies were here because your parents are not, Darce.”

Pemberley’s heir shot out of his chair and glowered. “You know, one must never assume, George. And you are both disgustingly crude and very wide of the mark, my friend. Those genteel ladies are merely newly formed acquaintances of my dear sisters.”

“My apologies, then. But are these women of virtue, whom you seem reluctant to name, returning any time soon, perchance?”

Darcy sat back down, crossed his legs, flicked a nonexistent speck of lint from his knee, and nonchalantly replied, “I really have no idea whatsoever, Wickham; and honestly, I do not care a groat.”

Edward Gardiner’s carriage had returned to Pemberley for his wife and nieces shortly after the disastrous encounter on the lawn. While their aunt and uncle bade farewell to Mrs. Reynolds, Jane and Elizabeth took leave of their new friends. Georgiana and Anna whispered profuse apologies again and were relieved to receive assurances the incident had not tainted the visit. The four young ladies made promises to correspond faithfully and hoped to possibly meet in the near future in London, should their visits ever coincide. The Bennets renewed their invitation for the Darcy family to visit Longbourn the next time they found themselves in Hertfordshire.

On the nearly five-mile ride between Pemberley and Lambton, the sisters enthusiastically praised Georgiana, Anna, and their family’s grand estate. Jane gushed, “Oh Uncle, I know your fondness for little dogs, so I must tell you we saw Miss Darcy’s two adorable puppies, a Maltese and a Pug.”

Mr. Gardiner smiled and said, “Well, Jane, I daresay those fortunate pets, with such a rich mistress, are often sitting in the lap of luxury.”

“Now, Uncle, I happen to be aware that even your cat sleeps on a fluffy, down-filled pillow.”

“Yes, we have always had a soft spot for Mrs. Sourpuss.”