Scotch and Sirens - Lizzy and Darcy - Scotch and Sirens

Lizzy answered the light tap on her door with, “Come in.” Holly sat herself down on the bed and immediately began to speak in earnest.

“Lizzy, I regret everything that happened yesterday. It was my headstrong behaviour that led you, us, to such an embarrassing turn. And my performance toward Lord Brougham, as bad as it was in itself, was even worse because it was done in front of Mr. Darcy. I am sure he feels that I am just another of your family who cannot conduct herself properly. I am sorry I put you in such a position.”

Lizzy's face was grave when she answered, “I thank you, Holly. I was not sure what I was going to do if you did not apologise. I was thinking of packing my things and going actually. You are quite right. If it was not for your twisting of my arm I would never have walked to Clyne’s grounds or tied up my skirt while wading in the river. I especially would never have sung that song so loudly if you had not begun to sing first. Of course, then our embarrassment would never have occurred. Yes, I thank you, for I do not think that I could bear to take the responsibility of my own decisions and actions upon myself, so I am happy to let you burden yourself for both of us.”

As she spoke, she watched Holly's face go from shame, to surprise, to confusion, and finally to mirth.

“Stop it, Holly! It was as much my doing as it was yours. Except for your behaviour toward Lord Brougham, of course. You may own that, as it certainly was not my doing. Oh, and you may also take the blame for my losing my balance when you so forcefully tugged at my arm in hasty retreat.” She laughed. “But as to what Mr. Darcy thinks of you or I? I thought we had settled that matter once and for all. So let us put it behind us and forget it ever happened, shall we? If the gentlemen remember it shall be their concern, certainly not ours!”

The next two days were spent with Lizzy writing letters home and doing needlework, while Holly worked on her commission. They took an occasional walk, made a visit to a neighbour and passed the time amiably enough, with Mrs. Tournier joining them now and then in the parlour for conversation. They had been quiet, pleasant days when compared to the two that had passed before – to the great relief of them both.

Toward late afternoon on the second day Mrs. Tournier entered the room and gave the girls a surprised look.

“As lovely a picture as the both of you make, dutifully employed in your domestic pursuits, do you not think it is high time that you changed for dinner? Or have you already forgotten that we are to have guests this evening?”

Of course they had both realised the dinner was to be soon, but they had avoided talking about the forthcoming event for obvious reasons. At Mrs. Tournier's urging, however, they both retreated to their rooms to prepare. Holly had some personal reservations and Lizzy went off with some worry of her own regarding her cousin’s feelings.

When she was ready, she descended the stairs and made her way toward the parlour. She stopped near the entrance when she thought she had heard voices inside, not eavesdropping, but trying to ascertain who was in the room and taking a moment to compose herself. Why did she feel nervous all of the sudden? It was very unlike herself!

Soon after his carriage reached Rosefarm Cottage Darcy was shown to the parlour where one guest already waited, a Mr. Grant, who was a single man of considerable importance in the country. They had just exchanged civilities when the door to the parlour opened. Darcy straightened up upon seeing Elizabeth there.

“Miss Bennet, good evening, I hope we have not come too early.”

Mr. Grant, who had followed his example, quickly added, “Good to see you again, Miss Bennet, and might I enquire if Miss Tournier is far behind you?”

Lizzy smiled. “Good evening to you both. No, Mr. Darcy, your arrival is most timely. I am sorry that no one was here to greet you. My aunt does not stand on ceremony. Mr. Grant, who is long familiar with the habits of Rosefarm Cottage, will know this, but I hope this fact will not lessen your pleasure of the evening.”

She wondered if Mr. Darcy would understand that all of the social graces would more than likely not be observed here at this house. She supposed he would realise it soon enough, although it was improbable that he had missed it on his earlier visit. She also briefly wondered if she would always feel the need to apologise for her family’s behaviour to him, his letter suddenly fresh in her memory.

Turning toward Mr. Grant she said, “To answer your question, Sir, my cousin…” but she found no need to finish the sentence, since all of Mr. Grant’s attention, and the man himself, was now being drawn toward Holly, who was just entering the room.

“Tell me, Mr. Darcy,” she continued, “will Lord Brougham be arriving later this evening?”

Just behind them they heard Mr. Grant speak the words “She walks in beauty like the night…” which caused Mr. Darcy’s eyes to incredulously follow the gentleman. Soon, however, he turned his attention back to Elizabeth and her question.

“No, I am afraid Lord Brougham was obliged to attend to his businesses outside of the country. I expect his return in a couple of days.”

“I see. I am sorry to hear we will be deprived of his company. I am sure my aunt and my cousin will be disappointed as well,” she commented wryly.

Darcy smiled at the remark. It was selfish of him, but it was not often he could observe that his friend’s company was less wanted than his own.

Looking beyond Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth could still hear Mr. Grant reciting lines to Holly. She did her best to stifle the grin that threatened to make an appearance and turned it into a small, demure smile instead.

“It seems that Mr. Grant rather enjoys poetry. How do you find Byron, Mr. Darcy? Do your tastes run favourably toward that poet, or do you prefer someone less romantic?”

“I always favour the poet who suits my mood at the particular time. I could praise Byron above all the others only if I felt myself constantly in love. But as I recall your opinion on the matter, one good sonnet may starve love entirely away.”

Lizzy was pleased with his reply. “Mr. Darcy, using your most remarkable memory to remind me of something I have said long ago under very different circumstances is most unpardonable. Should a woman not be allowed to be fickle and change her opinion as often as she changes her gown? However, I will remind you that I gave that opinion when talking of a love that was not strong, but slight and thin. In that case I stand firmly by that statement.”

Darcy’s face grew serious as he looked into her eyes. Lowering his voice, he asked, “Do you favour love poems then?”

Staring at the tall, handsome, curly haired man so intently gazing at her and quietly asking her if she favoured love poems was disconcerting to say the least. She was suddenly very conscious of the fact that she was speaking to Mr. Darcy on the subject of love. For once she could think of no quick response. His question held no personal message, she knew that, but she paused for breath all the same. She found herself touching her own cheek and immediately lowered her hand again.

“And how, Mr. Darcy, does your question apply to the subject? Since one can favour love poems in any case, with a love that is slight, strong, or not there at all?”

Darcy had let his gaze follow the movement of her hand and a smile grew in his eyes. He pondered her question while he inwardly sighed in contentment. “Miss Bennet, I would never dare to ask about the reason for your partiality to love poems. You asked me how I found them, and I merely returned the question. Is it then Byron’s fortunate hand that touches your heart, or another poet’s?”

Elizabeth felt again unsettled by his latest question and wondered why he seemly had that effect on her with his every one – or was it rather that she unnerved herself – for she abruptly realised she was wistfully reading much more into his words and thoughts than was actually there.

Poets? Should she say any one poet or none at all? What was a safe answer that would send no accidental message and put this conversation on safer ground? It suddenly struck her that he was displaying a sense of humour, which was very uncharacteristic of him, and unfortunately at her expense.

Thankfully, Mrs. Steele, who had just recently been escorted in by Mrs. Tournier, walked up to her at that moment with her two daughters, saving her from having to answer the most impertinent Mr. Darcy.

“Mrs. Steele, Miss Steele, Miss Lucy, how are you this evening?”

Lizzy exchanged polite chatter with the lady and her daughters for a few moments. When she noticed Mr. Darcy remaining there, she proceeded with the expected formalities.

“Mrs. Steele, allow me to introduce Mr. Darcy from Derbyshire.”

“Good evening Mrs. Steele, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Good evening, Mr. Darcy. Please let me introduce my daughters, Miss Steele and Miss Lucy Steele.”

Darcy bowed and fell silent.

After some further exchange of pleasantries, Mrs. Steele addressed Mr. Darcy. “I assume you are a professor at Cambridge, Sir? Mrs. Tournier is always inviting academics to her parties. She has the most interesting circle of friends.”

“I regret to disappoint you, but I am not, though I have had the pleasure of graduating from that University. Have any of you had the opportunity of meeting any of my professors here? Miss Bennet, I am sure they would make a very interesting addition to your study of characters.”

Holly walked up, greeted everyone, and then asked, “And may I enquire what is being discussed in this little group?”

“Mr. Darcy now informs Mrs. Steele that he is not a professor at Cambridge, but he wonders if your mother has any such acquaintances from there. Could you enlighten us and tell us if she does or does not? He thinks they would make interesting subjects for me to study,” Lizzy answered, and realising her cousin had finally just escaped from her constant admirer, Mr. Grant, she could not resist teasing her as well by adding, “There, you are caught up in the conversation, I think, unless you would like us to tell you of our discussion on Byron? Mr. Darcy may be able to quote some for us, as we have heard a fine example being recited just a little while ago, from Mr. Grant I do believe.”

Holly smiled broadly at her cousin's report, and with obvious good humour replied, “Well, as for Cambridge professors, I am not certain, but I do not believe that my mother holds an acquaintance with any.

“And if you attempt to quote any Byron in my presence, Mr. Darcy, I shall come down upon you like a wolf on the fold. I have quite had my fill of sentimental verse since I returned home. Is it not interesting, Lizzy, how a verse can be affected by its means of communication? How one and the same poem might be welcomed from one source and yet repulsed if it came from another?"

Lizzy stole a quick glance at Mr. Darcy as Holly finished speaking. She found his eyes looking into hers and quickly glanced away.

“I would not worry that Mr. Darcy will begin quoting Byron any time soon. He only thinks of poetry under certain conditions, I have been told. However, I do agree that you have a valid point, Holly. The deliverer of the poem is just as important, if not more so, than the poem itself. Its timing of delivery would come second I think. Why even the best love poem spoken by one held very dear would not come across well if given at an inopportune moment.”

Lizzy looked toward the Steele sisters, who had yet to utter a word after their initial greeting, and then around at the others. “What is the general opinion within our little group? Which is more important? The presenter, the poem, or the circumstance of its delivery?”

Lucy Steele ventured an answer first. “Well, Miss Bennet, I do not find that poetry is really something that I think too much about, so it would not matter how it was delivered or which poem it was, only the one who delivered it would be of import to me.”

Lizzy noticed how Lucy slowly looked at each member of the group in turn, a smile slowing revealing itself on her face as she spoke, ending with her eyes squarely on Mr. Darcy and her smile now fully and most sweetly developed.

“Miss Lucy,” he joined in, “I heartily support you. I cannot imagine that I for one would offer an inadequate poem. Thus, the person of delivery must be the determining factor.”

Lizzy was caught off guard when he suddenly turned his gaze to her. “I am sure, Miss Bennet, you will agree. For you yourself in your earlier example pointed out how weakness of performance may spoil the object.

“But, Miss Lucy, pray, tell me, is not the person on the receiving end equally important? After all, even a performance of the best sort may be ridiculed by an unwilling ear.”

Lucy seemed to ponder this carefully for a moment before answering, “Of course, Mr. Darcy, one must have a willing receiver. Even the best delivery, given under the most optimal circumstance by the most ardent lover, would not be well accepted if the listener were not also chosen with great care. But I am sure you would have no trouble finding the proper listener should you wish to, since you would also have no trouble with the other factors involved in the procedure.” She smiled warmly at him and then gave a small, but tasteful little laugh.

Lizzy laughed along with her, but she was laughing for another reason altogether. For on her last visit here she remembered Miss Lucy Steele saying how she enjoyed poetry a great deal and never went without reading at least one a day. As Lizzy recalled, that was during a conversation with the most eligible Mr. Grant. Whichever way the wind blew Miss Steele would turn with it – and Mr. Darcy would be quite a catch.

"Well,” Elizabeth concluded, “as we can all see, using poetry is a rather complicated procedure, where there are so many factors involved it is a wonder that any one poet ever succeeds in making his living at writing them – but then I have heard tell of starving poets. Perhaps poetry is best left out of love and used for remorseful and dire feelings and purposes only. It is the only safe course to take. What say you all to that?"

Darcy only smiled and responded, “Miss Lucy, though I admit I would know with no doubt who the desired listener should be, I am afraid that it is not enough to make the listener more willing. You cannot think me so confident, can you? In fact, in my case the listener would be the most important factor, and I would gladly abandon poetry altogether, as Miss Bennet kindly suggests, to the advantage of even such an incredible topic as men travelling in space, if only that might make the listener more willing.”

“And what aspect of a discussion about men flying would help make the listener more willing do you think, Mr. Darcy? And what would that say about the listener herself if such a topic would spur her interests?” Lizzy asked, her own interest now sparked by his last remark.

She had to admit, she was enjoying the exchange very much. It had many elements of both the ridiculous and the unbelievable in it. The unbelievable was that Mr. Darcy was participating in it at all, and so earnestly at that.

Darcy, seemed pleased with the inquisition carried on by Elizabeth and replied, “Assuming that the topic would be to her interest at all. We do not know it of course, and the example was given mainly to show my readiness to pick any subject the said receiver might be fond of. Why, I think she might find herself not only a great admirer of walks, but also of much more distant journeys. Though space travel is nothing more than a fantastical idea, I would hope she might be interested to know I would be eager to take her to any other place if only it was within my power. Thus, if such a topic would spur the listener’s interest, it would say about her not only that her lively mind was willing to explore new places, but also that she herself was willing to let me provide the means for such an exploration.”

Lizzy did not know what to make of his answer. It could be interpreted in so many ways. Paths she was sure it was best not to travel down. She had not dared to look at him while he was speaking, but when he had finished she turned her gaze toward him and found him to be once again looking at her, those intense eyes seeming to see right into herself.

Was there no safe topic? Was it some unconscious wish that he always be referring to herself that she now entertained? Yes, she thought, that must be it. She looked towards Holly and said nothing in response to his reply. She did not trust herself or her own interpretations of the conversation. She was not so very good at character study after all it seemed – either his or her own. She needed time to analyse her feelings, because she obviously did not have the grip on them that she had thought she had if she continually read messages about herself in almost everything he said. This would not do at all!

Lizzy was saved from commenting by her cousin, who responded with, “So, now that we have covered the Romantic and the Fantastic, let us move on to the Pastoral—what think you all of fuzzy little lambs?

Darcy had noticed Elizabeth’s confusion and held his breathe when she returned his gaze. Internally he was full of admonishments for himself, wondering where he was going with it and whether the price might be too high to pay. ‘Can you not check yourself?’ he questioned. He had just determined to cover his blatancy with his next remark when he saw Mr. Grant approaching their company.

The man leaned closer to Miss Tournier and started to quote,

“Ye rhymers, whose bosoms with phantasy glow,
Whose pastoral passions are made for the grove;”

Holly took a sip of her wine. “Oh, Mr. Grant, I see you have found me again,” she said with a weak smile.

Lizzy kept herself from laughing with great effort. She felt sorry for her cousin, who, while trying to help her own situation had inadvertently said something that allowed Mr. Grant to once again quote poetry! She felt obligated to return the favour and come to Holly’s aid.

“Mr. Grant, that is a lovely poem you have just quoted. However, I am sorry to have to inform you that we have banned any further talk of poetry for the rest of the evening. I am sorry, but it was necessary to do so, since we had already quite decided its fate for all time, and there was nothing left to say on the subject. So you will have to content yourself with talk of fuzzy lambs or some other topic equally as benign. Perhaps Miss Lucy would help us pick a topic to ease the blow this ban may have made you feel?” She smiled at Mr. Grant, who finally realised she was teasing and relaxed.

Lucy seemed pleased to be called upon for the task. “Why I certainly appreciate your faith in my abilities to pick a benign topic, Miss Bennet. Let me see. What could be more benign than poetry?” She grinned. “Oh, I know. Why not have Mr. Darcy tell us about his interests, since we know so little of him as a new acquaintance. Perhaps you will tell us what hobbies you might have, Mr. Darcy?”

“Why Miss Lucy, I thank you for the kind interest in my hobbies. I am afraid, however, that my answer cannot but disappoint. Such usual men’s activities like fencing, riding, or sports in general can be of no interest in this noble company. For would your mother, Miss Tournier, not call them nothing but the common pastimes of one who aspires to the title of gentleman?”

It seemed to Lizzy that Holly had been eyeing him in a rather suspicious manner, and she held her breath while waiting to see how her cousin would respond to him. She did not put it past Holly to speak out harshly if she lost her patience or if she thought she was helping Lizzy in some way, and since her cousin did not currently trust any man, she likely felt she had even more reason to distrust Mr. Darcy, especially after all that Lizzy had revealed to her and all that had occurred since. Lizzy wished, and not for the first time, that she had not shared so much.

Holly responded with, “Well, Mr. Darcy, they do seem to be equivalent to the talents and skills that a young lady must possess who aspires to the title of ‘accomplished’. Is there nothing aside from the ordinary gentlemanly pursuits that holds interest for you? Do you only find pleasure in the expected activities? Come, I am sure there must be more to you than this.”

“Why, Miss Tournier, it seems I was perfectly right in my supposition of your estimation of my hobbies. I am afraid I am exactly the dull man you see before you. Moreover, since my life is much more devoted to my responsibilities than to the practice of interests engaging enough for a company like yours, I am afraid I have nothing to recommend myself in your eyes. The sports I work at are only to give me respite from my obligations, my opinions on politics should not be voiced in ladies’ company, and the literature I read is only for my own advantage, and I would not dare to bore you all with a lecture on its merits. Poetry, being almost the only safe topic, is banned already, and so were fine arts when I had the pleasure to visit here before. So I am afraid I can say no more. But pray, suggest a pursuit that you would see fit, and I might be willing to develop my fondness for it for the sake of our future encounters.”

“On the contrary, Mr. Darcy, I would very much like to hear your opinions on literature. I think one's preferences can tell a great deal about who a man or woman is.”

Darcy’s patience had always been thin whenever he was pressed about personal matters. Still, he tried to answer the question with all of the politeness he could muster.

“Miss Tournier, I was once told by a lady, whose opinion I hold very highly, that it was unlikely she and I would read the same books, and so any conversation on the subject would have to be fruitless. I admit that after taking it under consideration I must agree with her opinion, since even Lord Brougham can hardly bear my long musings on that topic. Though if you are interested in a particular trend in philosophy, or its author, I am eager to exchange my opinions with you. However, I do not consider this subject adequate to parlour talk and would by no means like to maintain it if it were not of interest to all of you.”

Laughing, Holly replied, “Well, I admit defeat. Mr. Darcy, you have successfully thwarted my attempt to oblige you to discuss literature--for I must admit that philosophy holds no charms for me. Therefore, I believe we have come full circle, and it is now again your turn to introduce an appropriate topic of conversation. Your wish is my desire.”

Darcy smiled at the mischief of his hostess. “Miss Tournier, I cannot help but feel I am being severely punished, for either the topic of our conversation can be my own person or a subject offered by me, which, as you have already proved, is a hopeless case from the beginning. I will, however, try to stand to the challenge without turning the tables. How about architecture or music?”

Holly smiled at his playful accusation. “Mr. Darcy you have done it! Music it shall be, and you must allow me to speak my opinion first. I have to say that I very greatly admire Beethoven. I am sure you have heard of him. I have only been to one actual performance of his work. An orchestra visited Edinburgh two years ago and performed his Third Symphony, and oh, the passion and the emotion one feels while listening... I find that his music touches me down to my heart and soul...”

Darcy, amused, thought that perhaps Miss Tournier’s fondness for Beethoven should be ascribed to his adaptations of Burns’ songs rather than any symphony. He refrained from making the comment, however, and let her continue the conversation.

Looking around at those in their little group, Miss Tournier then proceeded to ask about their musical preferences.

“Miss Tournier, but of course it would be Mozart’s The Marriage of Figaro,” Mr. Grant eagerly replied.

Lizzy would not allow herself to express the first answer that came to her mind. She had instantly thought she would say Burns was her favourite when it came to music, just because his song played such a recent part in her latest embarrassment. She knew it would be too much of an inside joke though that might not be looked upon in a humorous way by Mr. Darcy, and most certainly would not be by Holly. She chose instead to hold her tongue and her rather wry sense of humour. It was perhaps too soon to begin laughing at their gaff – especially with these two.

Darcy glanced at Elizabeth only to notice her prolonged silence. He was not used to seeing her so quiet. The unusual image temped him to tease her once again.

“Well, it seems that my newly found admiration for Burns will put aside the old ones. For what remarkable may be found in the music of Handel, Purcell, or Pachelbel if one cannot be privileged to hear it in the woods of Scotland.”

Lizzy could not believe her ears. It was almost as if he had read her thoughts. Was she that transparent? She knew he was jesting from the look in his eyes and glanced quickly at Holly to see if she had taken offence and would perhaps say something because of it, but her cousin was purposefully looking away, and Lizzy could not read her expression. She thought she had better say something quickly before Holly decided to, just in case.

With a smile on her face, she looked at him and replied evenly, “Well, Mr. Darcy, one can only assume that you have heard Burns sung in the woods of Scotland then. I am sure I would envy you your experience if I were there at the time. I too like to hear Burns sung when done with a great deal of gusto. Tell me, is that how your ears heard it sung in the woods?”

Darcy's eyes smiled at hers. Encouraged by the thought that his teasing had proved successful, he became even bolder.

“Miss Elizabeth, the performance of Burns I had the pleasure to experience was everything one could wish for. Actually, it was so perfect that I would go as far as to say it was but a dream when the sirens' voices reached my ears.”

She could not help but laugh at his response. She thought that perhaps the siren comment yesterday was only in jest after all, or maybe he was now simply trying to let her see he could also laugh at himself for his follies?

“Sirens, Mr. Darcy? And so far from the sea? How interesting that you should see such a vision in the woods of Scotland, and singing a Burns’ song at that! How very amazing. It must have been a strange sight indeed, and a most eventful day. I wish we all could have been there! But maybe it was better we were not, for if it were true sirens, then perhaps you were better off alone there? Tell me, did you think their song was meant for you?” She looked at him most seriously now, yet still with a hint of mischief in her eyes.

Darcy smiled genuinely. “Miss Bennet, of course it was. It was my dream, was it not?”

Lizzy suddenly heard Holly’s voice at her ear whispering, “Lizzy, take care.”

His response had discomposed Elizabeth once again. It was not at all what she had expected. She had thought to unsettle him just a little and expected a reply that would be more demure, not the bold suggestive one he had given. Of course it meant nothing really, or it could mean much. She allowed herself to smile at his response, but it was more a sly smile aimed at herself as well, for she decided she really did need to stop reading double meanings into everything he said. She was being silly. He had said it for effect only, as she had done, and that was all. With a renewed confidence, she dismissed Holly’s whispered warning as completely unnecessary.

She had hoped her attempt at hiding her initial confusion was successful, but just in case she responded with another question.

“I must admit my confusion, Mr. Darcy. First you said you heard Burns sung in the woods, and then that the song was sung by sirens in a dream. So do we take that to mean it was all a dream and never really happened? It would seem that Scotland has come to affect you very deeply if that is the case, and you now prefer Burns because of it.”

“You are right, Miss Bennet, as always. As you were so kind to notice, it would be very unlikely to encounter sirens in Scotland. And singing Burns! Therefore I must conclude it was a dream. But was my dream affected by Scotland? I do not know. I know though that my new admiration for Burns effects directly from my dream.”

The announcement of dinner had put an end to any further conversation, leaving both Lizzy and Mr. Darcy starring at each other, both apparently trying to read the other’s thoughts. Mr. Grant naturally took this opportunity to escort Miss Tournier into the dining room, while Mr. Darcy, caught off guard by the announcement, found himself suddenly escorting Mrs. Steele. Someone he had not yet been introduced to brought in Miss Bennet. He found himself seated between Mrs. Steele and one of her daughters and directly across from the other. Miss Bennet was at the other end of the table from him.

After three courses and some subdued conversation on Mr. Darcy's side of the table, the meal was finally over, much to his relief. He had divided his time between trying to covertly discover what was so interesting at the other end of the table and attending to the women who were insisting upon speaking to him. It was not all for naught though, as he managed to catch those fine eyes looking curiously his way several times.

Mrs. Tournier finally took the ladies back to the parlour while the men stayed behind for a brandy.

Lucy Steele liked animals. She particularly admired the fox. Its keen sense of smell, its ability to see in the dark and its silent way of hunting simply fascinated her. She liked to think of herself as a sleek, quiet observer of her prey as well. Mr. Darcy’s every move was watched most intently by her, and every opinion he expressed was duly noted. She had not only noticed the cut of his coat and the fine fabric it was made from the minute she had spotted him, but she had also examined his shoes as well. She had dutifully stayed any noise or movement that might have given her position away, and therefore kept her laughter on the inside with nary a smile to show for it when her mother had asked if he were a professor. She knew the truth. He was rich.

She had, therefore, carefully thought out every word that passed her lips in conversation with that most fortuitous and delicious little group she had been a part of before dinner, and she had carefully calculated every expression that showed on her face. She could have kissed Miss Bennet for her aid in allowing her to take a lead in it, and relished his responses to her comments. He was rich. This man could be hers.

Lucy had closely watched the interactions between Mr. Darcy and Miss Bennet, trying to take the temperature of their acquaintance to see if it had a life of its own or not. Was it intimate or close? Was this man already spoken for to such an extent that he might be a waste of her time, or should she expend a little effort and see if she might catch him for herself?

During the conversation before dinner she thought she sensed something there, something tangible between the couple in question, as if they shared information that was unbeknownst to everyone else, but she was not sure if it was only a whiff of a relationship old and strong, or something new and fragile. She decided it was weak enough when she noted with some elation that the man was not seated with the woman in question at dinner. Had there been an understanding of some sort, or even the possibility of one that was meant to be encouraged, it would have been so. Miss Bennet’s aunt would have seen to it, for Mrs. Tournier was certainly not a fool.

Although the direction of his attentions at dinner was well concealed and would not have been noted by anyone else present at the table, Lucy was highly attuned to his every movement and involved in a careful study of the situation, so she was witness to his continued interest in what occurred in Miss Bennet’s company. She saw Miss Elizabeth send him a few looks of her own, but they seemed ones more built from confusion and curiosity than the tender ones a lover might convey. To herself, it seemed obvious that Miss Bennet either had no real interest in Mr. Darcy and only toyed with him, or else the poor, stupid girl had no real inkling as to the true nature of his fascination with her, although Lucy thought she knew – the man was clearly attracted. Whichever case it was with Miss Bennet, it mattered little to Lucy. Whether Lizzy was simply dense or just disinterested in Mr. Darcy, she herself would do what she could while she had the chance, for she had come to the conclusion that she did indeed have one. This man was rich. To the winner go the spoils.

But to claim her prize she would need to carefully stalk her prey, and so she methodically thought about what else she had gleaned so far that might be useful. Mr. Darcy had certainly seemed very confident in his love making abilities when he had stated that he could not err in choosing an adequate poem if he were inclined to deliver one. She thought him quite right in that assessment, for he could not make a mistake if he were declaring a poem to her. She would make absolutely certain he continued to feel that confidence, and so she had answered his enquiry with that in mind. She would endeavour to make sure he not only felt inclined to pick out a poem soon enough, but that he would wish her to be the one on the receiving end.

She had a keen mind, and she wished to show it to him, for she thought he might be one to appreciate that in a woman. Not too bright of course, because most men were truly not interested in a woman if she were too quick-witted. No, they much preferred things to be about themselves, and so she had tried to shift the conversation to his own person earlier, and would continue to do so. Still, she would need to know something more that might allow her an inroad when she finally had him alone, and she most assuredly planned to have him to herself later.

Her lack of enough proper information, she felt, was her one weakness in an otherwise exemplary reconnaissance mission. Knowledge was power, and the more she knew about both her prey and any other predators in the area, the greater the chance that she would succeed in the hunt. She therefore made sure to place herself in the most strategic position, as any sly fox would, so that she might latch on to Miss Bennet’s arm after dinner and walked back into the parlour with her.

After some small chat about local happenings, Lucy began her task in earnest.

“Miss Bennet, you seem to be well acquainted with Mr. Darcy. Pray tell me about him. He is not a professor, as my mother would have him be, but clearly a gentleman of some means. Is he a man of importance?”

Lizzy had observed Lucy’s behaviour in Mr. Darcy’s presence this evening both before dinner and during it – especially during it – and try as she might, she had not found it diverting. Neither the little smiles, the amused glances exchanged over the table, nor the visible attempts to draw him into a private conversation were deemed appropriate by Lizzy. She felt a bit disappointed in Mr. Darcy, who seemed so reserved and critical about social lapses while in her neighbourhood, and yet was so sociable and generous here.

“I assume every person would like to think they are of significance. I would say he is of importance to many people,” Lizzy responded a bit wryly, attempting to make light of the question and dismiss the topic quickly, for Mr. Darcy was the last person she wished to speak of with Miss Lucy.

Lucy looked questioningly at her, and said, as if in great confusion, “Of course he is. To his family, his friends and those he employs I am sure he is held in the highest esteem, but…

“Oh, Miss Bennet! I see you jest. I was thinking of his position in society, of course, but then you knew that! You toy with me, since you are well aware that we seldom have visitors to the neighbourhood, and any new person is regarded with great curiosity. You are acquainted with him. You simply must share and tell me where he is from and anything else of interest.”

Lizzy had serious doubts that Miss Steele’s interests were as innocent as she claimed them to be. She briefly thought to gently inform her that he was not a man who would welcome such obvious attentions, but knowing a subtle warning, or even an outright one would do nothing to slow the girl down, her mischievous side intervened and she took a more impulsive path instead. If Miss Lucy would go after Mr. Darcy, she contemplated, then let her downfall be a quick one. Her course now imprudently chosen, Lizzy did not allow herself to dwell on that most uncharitable thought or from whence it had come. Instead, she answered without hesitation now, as one young woman trading gossip with another might.

"Well, since you asked, I can tell you that I have heard he has a very large income. Since I have had the pleasure of visiting his house in Derbyshire, I can only think it must be true. It is grand indeed. A very palatial one with the loveliest grounds you will ever walk. I also hear he has a house in London that is also very impressive.

“But to be perfectly honest, his company interests me not at all. You see, he takes great pleasure in being entertained all of the time and loves any woman who will talk endlessly to him, even when he acts like he does not want it. Quite frankly, it is my opinion that he is in earnest search of a wife.”

Suddenly feeling she had said quite enough, she sought to put an end to any further enquiries from Miss Steele.

“Please excuse me, I see Miss Tournier looking for me over there," and Lizzy quickly walked across the room toward Holly.

Mr. Darcy remained in the dining room with the other gentlemen. He was glad for the respite from ladies’ company. He had very confusing feelings about his own behaviour. Neither was he used to this kind of conduct, nor was he enjoying such various company gathered around him and attentive to his every word. However, he was also glad that Elizabeth seemed to derive genuine amusement from the exchange they had had, and for once he had hoped he had proven himself to be as pleasant a company as she seemed to find with Fitzwilliam or Brougham, or… well, or the irritating man now standing at the other side of the room. The man who was now talking in a rather too loud voice with others, and every time Darcy heard Elizabeth’s name mentioned from that quarter his annoyance grew.

He glanced around the room, thinking to distract himself from the annoying sight, and noticed Mr. Grant, who had not uttered a word since the ladies had withdrawn from the room, uncomfortably shifting around in his chair. He engaged him in conversation.

“Pray, sir, do you often visit Mrs. and Miss Tournier?” he asked.

“Well, as often as I have the opportunity. Although Miss Tournier is hardly ever present, Mrs. Tournier and I share the same interests.”

“And does Miss Tournier share the same interests as both of you?”

Mr. Grant, seemingly happy with the topic of conversation, answered, “Very much so, yes.”

“Indeed?” Darcy enquired.

Mr. Grant suddenly rose from his chair. “Why, Sir! Do you question my veracity?”

“No, Sir, indeed. I would not dare.”

Once Mr. Grant had settled back in his chair, Darcy made another attempt to engage the man in conversation. “Might I offer you a drink? Some brandy perhaps, hmm, and a prime-sort cigar.” Darcy rolled one in between his fingers.

“Why, I do not think one could resist.” Mr. Grant took one from the case Darcy had brought from his pocket.

Both men lit their cigars and Darcy proceeded. “It only seemed to me that Miss Tournier disliked poetry in general, but of course I may very well be mistaken, since I have known her but three days.”

“Yes, I am afraid you must be mistaken, Sir.” Mr. Grant responded confidently. “I have had many opportunities to know her tender disposition better. Not only is her love for poetry remarkable but also her understanding of poets’ desires.”

“Yes, I can easily imagine that. But you said she is often out. Does she travel a lot?”

“No, she spends the greater part of the year in Edinburgh, where she teaches in a school for young ladies.”

“Oh, she is a governess, then. I thought she was an artist.”

“I think both a governess out of obligation and an artist for her own pleasure. Although it seems she will not be teaching any longer.”

“Did her drawings prove to be successful enough?” Darcy asked, curious.

“No, rather a misunderstanding at the school led to the termination of her contract.”

“She seems to misunderstand things quite easily, does she not?”

“On the contrary, I find her mind uncommonly perceptive.”

Indeed, as might be expected from a man who thinks they share the same perceptions of poetry, Darcy thought, and added aloud, “She may then be in a very unhappy position now.”

“Not necessarily. I would think she has spent enough time in maidenhood. She might simply enter into wedlock now.”

“Oh yes, a sweet wedding lock must be her natural desire now, must it not?”

Mr. Grant, suddenly growing suspicious at the reasons behind Mr. Darcy’s curiosity, responded rather stiffly, “May I ask to what all of these questions pertain?”

“I am sorry sir, I did not mean to be impertinent. Simple curiosity. Shall we join the ladies?”

Holly could not decide whom she was more irritated with at the moment, Mr. Grant or Mr. Darcy. But it took only a moment’s reflection to decide. Mr. Grant was an old irritant. She could dismiss him easily enough.

Mr. Darcy on the other hand, was blatantly flirting and teasing with Lizzy. Every time she tried to change the subject he would turn the new topic into another opportunity, and he even re-introduced the siren idea. What could he be about, she wondered?

She thought that although he remained obscure about his own hobbies, he had good practice in making sport of the hearts of young women. Holly could see how he actively sought Lizzy's lively interest in his conversation, and she could also see that he welcomed Miss Lucy's attempts to gain his notice with pleasure. Mr. Darcy was vain.

She felt she had better take some action and speak to Lizzy about it, so she was glad to see her cousin heading toward her. However, Lizzy had such a strange look on her face that Holly was instead forced to ask her what she had been up to.

“You did not! I cannot believe you would be so cruel as to willingly send Lucy after Mr. Darcy! You know how relentless she can be.

“Well, I must say this puts my mind at ease and answers one question that has been plaguing me throughout the evening. I was concerned by watching your conversation that you were in danger of falling for his charms again, but your trick makes me think otherwise.”

Her face took a serious turn though as she asked, ”But tell me Lizzy, are you quite sure he no longer has any regard for you?”

“Oh no, Holly, do not say that. Do not make me think too deeply now! It was all just because I wished to wipe the smug look from Lucy’s face, and now I cannot believe I said those things either. I am already regretting it. It was not kind at all to Lucy, even if it did seem right at the time, or to Mr. Darcy, for you have just made me realise he will have to suffer as well, and he will more than likely not take it well at all. I only thought… I wish I knew what I thought! And he has been in such a good humour all night… I was clearly not thinking. Oh, the things I said to Lucy!”

She looked sharply at Holly after having just heard herself speak. “Oh my, Holly, I am in deep trouble, am I not?”

Holly thought for a moment before replying. In all actuality, she welcomed the opportunity to watch Mr. Darcy's interactions with another young woman and to compare his demeanour with what it had been when he had spoken to Lizzy. Would he try to charm Lucy as well? If so, that would give her some idea of his intentions and character.

She turned to Lizzy with a twinkle in her eye, “Do not be too hard upon yourself. Mr. Darcy is a grown man who can take the likes of Lucy Steele; and you know Lucy's heart is never involved in matters such as these. She will be fine. But let us keep an eye on the situation, in any case we must be available to come to Mr. Darcy's rescue if she becomes too much for him.”

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