A Wife for Mr. Darcy
asked, but found his friend lost in thought, and his question went unanswered for many minutes.
“If only she was less serious. If she had more… If she was able to…” Darcy finally gave up searching for words to cushion Miss Montford’s defect: She wasn’t very funny. “It is the humerus that is supposedly responsible for our sense of humor, and like Adam and his missing rib, Miss Montford lacks a funny bone.
“You would think with all the ladies out in society,” Darcy continued, “I could find one woman of marriageable age who is attractive, accomplished, and witty. Is that too much to ask? Apparently, it is. And I absolutely refuse to consider the eighteen-year-old girls who have recently debuted.”
Most of those young ladies were friends of his sister, and Darcy shook his head at the memory of a procession of debutantes, all dressed in white, who were being paraded before London’s eligible bachelors for the purpose of marrying them off as quickly as possible.
“Georgiana, who protested when I enrolled her in Mrs. Bryan’s Academy because of its arduous curriculum, thanked me for doing that very thing after listening to the conversations of her peers. Unlike my sister, these ladies were coached by their governesses on the few topics that they might safely engage in while talking to a prospective suitor: the weather, the number of couples in attendance, the splendor of their surroundings, et cetera, et cetera.”
“Darcy, is it necessary that you look for a wife exclusively from among the aristocracy?”
“Yes, of course. Every decision must now be made with my sister in mind. If I do not marry well, it may adversely affect her prospects.”
“Are you saying that someone as lovely, intelligent, accomplished, engaging, and, I might add, wealthy as Georgiana will be ostracized if her brother marries, say, a gentleman’s daughter?”
“Again, yes. The women, the select few, who rule during the London season are unforgiving of those who deviate from their rules. Besides, I paid Miss Montford sufficient attention so that she is entitled to think that an offer will be made, and once I return to London, I will get about the business of making it. And no more about me, Bingley. You are about to become betrothed, so let us pick up the pace so that we might arrive at Longbourn before dark.”
Shortly after breakfast, Lydia and Kitty announced they would be going into Meryton to buy ribbon to trim their bonnets. Mary indicated she would like to visit the circulating library, and the idea proved attractive to her two older sisters. The sun was shining, and even some of the deepest puddles were finally drying up after weeks of rain and gray clouds. Because of the break in the weather, the streets were crowded with people from the village as well as many of the militia officers and their families.
When Mary, Lizzy, and Jane emerged from the library, they found their younger sisters talking to Captain Denny and his friend, Lieutenant George Wickham, who had recently joined the regiment. In a few minutes of conversation, the handsome Mr. Wickham had succeeded in impressing upon his company that he was well educated, self-assured, and quite charming. His arrival in Meryton would definitely make Lydia and Kitty happy as they were becoming bored with seeing the same faces at the dances and dinners and had expressed a desire for some new blood to be added to the mix.
It was Lizzy who first sighted Mr. Bingley and gently tapped Jane on the arm. When Jane saw him, she broke out into a broad smile, prompting everyone to turn around to see what she was looking at. Lydia, who was only interested in men in a smart, well-tailored uniform, announced the obvious: The two men, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy, were not officers.
Both gentlemen had dismounted before they recognized the man who was with Captain Denny. After bowing to the ladies, Darcy excused himself and quickly retreated into the bootmaker’s shop. It was an uncomfortable few minutes before Wickham and Denny departed, and although it seemed as if an explanation was in order, Mr. Bingley said nothing. When Mr. Darcy returned, he too made no comment.
“Miss Bennet,” Charles finally said, ending the impasse, “Mr. Darcy and I were coming to Longbourn to inquire after your health.”
“I am well, sir. My sister’s excellent care and your attentions resulted in a quick recovery, and I am free of all complaints.”
With the two lovers staring at
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