A Merry Darcy Christmas

Elizabeth indicated that she would by nodding, and Lord Northover proceeded to serve her.

“That clergyman cousin of yours—forget his name—is a remarkable bore,” he said, spooning some sauce over the bird.

Mr. Collins was regaling the company with a story intended, Elizabeth knew, to illustrate Lady Catherine’s condescension towards himself which was probably the only reason her Ladyship let him continue.

“You mean Mr. Collins,” Elizabeth said. “And yes, he is my cousin. But do not think that he is always boring. His communications can have quite the opposite effect.”

“I meant no offense,” Lord Northover said calmly, as though it were a matter of indifference to him.

“I am sure you did not,” said Elizabeth. She was not surprised that Lady Catherine had seated them together. But she was surprised that Lord Northover seemed interested in her.

Not that he was overly solicitous, or eager—he was far too languid of temperament to exert himself in this regard or any other; this quality had been apparent to Elizabeth from her first observation of him—but she sensed from him a certain interest that he made no attempt to conceal.

“My youngest daughter Lydia is married to Capt. Wickham who is stationed in the North, which is a shame as there are a number of fine houses very near to Longbourn which would suit them very well,” Mrs. Bennet said to Mr. Pettigrew, who had the misfortune of being seated next to her.

But at least Lady Catherine was not interrogating her mother, Elizabeth thought to her relief. Her Ladyship had probably had enough of her mother the previous evening.

“Longbourn is in Hertfordshire?” Northover asked Elizabeth.

“Yes,” Elizabeth said.

“I understand it is entailed to your cousin Mr. What’s-his- name,” Lord Northover took a sip of wine. “Barbarous thing an entail. Puts you and your sisters in a spot.”

“Mr. Collins,” Elizabeth said. “Yes, it is entailed to him. And yes, it does put my sisters and me in a spot. In truth, my mother never lets us forget it.”

“Can’t say I blame her,” Northover said. “I have the great good luck to be the oldest son. My younger brother’s in India now trying to make his fortune and having the devil’s own time of it. Should have gone into the Navy what with the splendid war at sea, but he was too old for that. Have to start the Navy young.”

“Do you have sisters as well?” Elizabeth asked.

“Alas, yes,” Lord Northover said ruefully. “And each with a large settlement, more’s the pity. It’s deucedly hard to keep a large estate intact through the generations. Have to be a bit ruthless about it and even then can have some bad luck. Like your father having no sons.”

That was certainly true, Elizabeth thought. Mr. Bennet had not foreseen that he would have no son, and by the time he realized that, as he often said, it was too late to put money aside for his daughters.

“Your estate, Hardwick Park, it is in Sussex, is it not?” Elizabeth asked.

“It is one of the finest estates in the country,” said Lady Catherine, who apparently had been listening to them although Elizabeth had not noticed her as she seemed to have been paying attention to Mr. Collins.

“Perhaps it used to be,” said Lord Northover. “But it has shrunk somewhat.”

“Nonsense!” exclaimed Lady Catherine. “It is as large, I believe, as Rosings Park, and nearly as large as Pemberley.”

“Hear that, Lizzy?” Mrs. Bennet said. “Nearly as large as Pemberley, and with, I daresay, a better master.

Meaning no offense to your nephew, Lady Catherine,” Mrs. Bennet added quickly.

Lady Catherine ignored Mrs. Bennet’s faux pas and again addressed Elizabeth. “Lord Northover is here for the entire Christmas season, Miss Bennet, and I trust I can count on you to see that he is entertained.”

“I’m afraid that Lord Northover will find my company very dull after London,” Elizabeth said modestly. “But you may count on me, my lady, to offer such diversion as is within my powers.”

Lord Northover laughed softly at this, but Lady Catherine seemed content.

The dinner proceeded very agreeably, and Lord Northover proved to be a very knowledgeable companion, translating the French names of the various dishes for Elizabeth. She noticed that he ate but little himself, and seemed to be of a fastidious and even aesthetic disposition.

She did not, of course, remark upon his lack of appetite but at one point he volunteered that the excesses of his youth, which he said could fairly be characterized as dissipation, had left him with a constitution no longer strong enough to do justice to so splendid a repast.

Elizabeth rather suspected that he had always been of a less than robust nature. But rather than holding this fact against them, it instead pleased her as it fit with his aristocratic mien.

When dinner was over and the guests had assembled in the drawing room, Lady Catherine prevailed upon Elizabeth to play the pianoforte, and she did, even feeling bold enough to sing.