Page 21 of An Accidental Meeting
Mr. Darcy was not looking at her as he relayed this information, but Elizabeth knew it must be for her. She supposed such news as she had given him about Jane’s feelingswasbetter discussed in person. While she did not think either Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hurst would open a letter addressed to their brother from Mr. Darcy, she could not say for certain that they would not.
How sad a commentary on their characters.
Elizabeth reminded herself that her rush to judgement in Mr. Darcy’s case did not show her character in the best light, either. The only one who could be considered guiltless in the entire affair was Jane.
Mr. Darcy picked up a plate and asked Elizabeth about her preferences. She nodded at this and that, experiencing a little thrill as she watched his strong hands take up the utensils to serve her.
Hishands? What a silly woman she had become.
She did not fail to note that many of her favourite foods were here. “I believe I shall be fond of Pemberley’s cook,” she said with a smile.
He studied the food rather intently. “I may have provided her with a small list of items I noted you enjoyed at Netherfield.”
“Not Rosings?” she asked, teasing him to cover her confusion.
“You did not take breakfast at Rosings.”
She blinked up at him.
“Come sit, you two,” called Aunt Nora. “You can be such a chatterbox, Fitzwilliam. Let the poor girl eat.”
“Chatterbox?” Elizabeth gladly grasped onto this bit of wit. “Surely she is not speaking ofyou, Mr. Darcy.”
He cleared his throat and saw her settled with her food before turning to make his own plate. When he had, he slipped into the chair next to hers.
“You did not need to wait for me,” he told her.
“I wished to,” Elizabeth replied. It was only polite, surely.
He smiled at her, and Elizabeth might almost have called it bashful. Whowasthis man? He was certainly not the man she thought she knew. “Thank you.” She picked up her fork and began to eat.
“Mr. Darcy,” Uncle Gardiner said, “will you please convey our regards to your cook? Everything is marvellous.”
Mr. Darcy assured him that he would pass on the message, and for a time, all conversation ceased as everyone ate. It was taken up again by Aunt Gardiner.
“Do you still make the apple butter from the orchard? I have fond memories of the little jars sold in Lambton.”
Mr. Darcy nodded. “We do, and the plum jam. We lost about a tenth of the orchard in the freeze last year, but we make the most of the fruit we are still able to harvest.”
“Thanks to assistance of the gardeners here, we have a rather nice grove of fruit trees at our home as well,” Aunt Nora said. “Plums, apples, pears. And the medlars are doing quite well, Fitzwilliam.”
“Fitzwilliam read about them more extensively when he was at university,” Judge Darcy added. “And he conducted some experiments.”
“It is rather an unfussy tree,” Mr. Darcy continued, dabbing at one corner of his mouth with a napkin. “When mature, a single one can produce hundreds of fruit, but the best of it is that they are harvested in December.”
“December?” exclaimed Elizabeth. “I did not know that.”
“Yes, but you cannot eat them right away or they shall make you ill. You must wait—” he leaned forward as though he was about to reveal a secret—“until they begin to rot.”
“Rot?” Uncle Gardiner asked incredulously, his nose wrinkling.
“Just so,” Judge Darcy confirmed. “I did not believe it myself until I tried it. Tastes like baked apple.”
“I first saw the fruit depicted in medieval tapestries and paintings, then heard about it through Shakespeare’s plays. It made me realize that the fruit was quite popular at one time.” Darcy chuckled. “At last, my interest in history provided some practical benefit.”
“Do not denigrate your successes, Fitzwilliam,” Aunt Nora said with a single shake of her head. “Your research into historical farming has clearly been—” her eyes glittered— “fruitful.”
Elizabeth bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing.
