J Croft - Mr. Darcy Takes the Plunge

Miss Anna returned to the dining room just as a footman was serving the rarebit. “Um, what have we here, Disher?” 

“I believe it is called Welsh rabbit, Miss.” 

“Rabbit! I cannot possibly eat rabbit. Oh, Mother, I wish you had permitted me to bring my rabbit, Stew. I miss Herr Stewart most desperately.” 

“Anna, you cannot even keep track of Barbara Thorne’s whereabouts; and we have just suffered through the consequences of that carelessness. Calm yourself, child. The dish is meatless, and I believe its name is supposed to be ironic. Peasants were not permitted to hunt game on estates and often had to settle for cheese instead of rabbit or other meat.” 

Ellis Fleming said, “Miss Anna, you really should try it. Rarebit is delicious.” He suddenly smirked at his friend. “A rare, delicious bit … DeelisheyBit … LisshyBit … Lizzabiff … shall I continue, Darcy?” 

George Darcy cleared his throat. “No, thank you, Mr. Fleming. I think we all get the picture.” 

“Mr. Darcy, sir, I did not … ” 

“Quite all right, young man. Perhaps a change of subject would be best, though.” 

For a while the diners ate in reserved silence, and the promised meat course was soon served. Ellis Fleming was a talkative sort, however; and he was rather uncomfortable with the lull in conversation. “I say, Darcy, … er, Fitzwilliam, did you ever discover why someone called you ‘hanson barberin?’” 

Miss Anna choked on the sip of watered wine she had just taken. All the same, she managed to inquire, “I beg your pardon, Mr. Fleming. What did you just ask my brother?” 

“Do you mean when I mentioned ‘hanson barberin?’” 

When both Anna and Georgiana turned red, their brother was instantly intrigued. He narrowed his eyes and suspiciously asked, “Do you girls know a barber named Hanson?” 

The sisters looked at one another, giggled, and both truthfully answered in unison, “No.” 

“But you two do know something! You look so innocent that butter would not melt in your mouths. Despite that, your blushes reveal otherwise. For once and for all, what in bloody hell is the meaning of that confounding expression ‘hanson barberin?’” 

“Fitzwilliam George Darcy! Watch your language while ladies are present.” 

“Sorry, Father, but these two imps hold the answer to that intriguing question asked by little Robert when we dined with the Bennets recently. As you may remember, all conversation ground to a halt when that bloody, er, ruddy Lieutenant-Colonel Dun strutted in. Sisters, what, exactly, did the poppet mean when he asked me, ‘Are you Libazeth’s hanson barberin?’” 

Georgiana squirmed and, if possible, turned even redder. “It has to do with Anna’s questionable choice of reading material and very vivid imagination. Since the expression’s origin is her responsibility, I should let my dearest sister explain.” 

“Georgie, no!” Miss Anna was utterly mortified. “I cannot possibly.” 

Lady Anne sighed and gently set down her knife and fork on her plate. “Anna Darcy, what gothic nonsense have you been reading?” 

The young lady cast down her eyes and muttered, “It was not a gothic novel, Mother. It was a Viking pirate saga Miss Bingley loaned me months ago. Oh. I probably should have returned it when she was here earlier today.” 

Georgiana was shocked. “Are you saying Caroline Bingley had the nerve to show up here after the scene at Harding, Howell & Co. and what she did to Elizabeth?” 

Fitzwilliam’s knife and fork clashed onto his plate. “What has happened? What has Miss Bingley done to Eliz … Miss Elizabeth?” 

Ellis Fleming spent the remainder of the course wishing for the lulls in conversation he usually abhorred. His friend was clearly upset by Miss Bingley’s treatment of Miss Elizabeth. All the same, Darcy was also somewhat amused that the ladies of his own family had given the nasty woman the cut direct. When the discussion on that topic closed, Fitzwilliam then brought up again the ‘hanson barberin’ subject. 

“So, Anna, you were reading a trashy pirate novel; and … ?” 

“Oh, fiddlesticks! Fine, brother. But I am warning you and Mr. Fleming right now … the tables are about to be turned, and you two will be the ones humiliated.” 

The two young men looked at one another with alarm and thought back to all the many possibilities that could result in their humiliation. “Perhaps another time, then, Anna dearest. Let us forget all this nonsense and unpleasantness and enjoy the rest of our meal in peace,” suggested her brother. 

Miss Anna was clearly annoyed. “Not so hasty, if you please. Forget about enjoying your meal in peace. You wanted to learn the meaning, so learn you shall … in piecemeal. It is not ‘hanson barberin,’ unless you are three years old and cannot pronounce the words handsome barbarian. The ‘handsome’ part was not of my making, while I am responsible for the ‘barbarian’ half. I swooned upon seeing Mr. Bingley, Richard, and the two of you that sweltering day at Pemberley. I thought four freebooters had arrived at our estate to pillage and plunder and … well, you get the picture. Shall I go into detail for Mother and Father of the shocking sight Georgie and I, not to mention our two new friends, witnessed that awful afternoon? I cannot imagine why someone in the Bennet household obviously added the word ‘handsome,’ for you were all most shamefully scruffy and inappropriately attired in front of us that day.” 

Georgiana knew her sister’s assessment was accurate. Be that as it may, she also understood her own attachment to Mr. Fleming was not the only relationship that blossomed because of the fateful encounter on the lawn. She glanced sideways at her tall, dark, and handsome young man and saw him blush for the first time. Anna’s prediction had been bang up to the mark, and the two gents were humiliated and even redder than the ladies. Nevertheless, nothing could ruin Fitzwilliam Darcy’s good humour and optimistic hopes that evening. 

“Fitzwilliam, remind me I wish to have a word with you later tonight.” 

“Yes, Father.” 

Not even that. 

“What about this one, sir?”

“No, no, Knott, the green one.”

Fitzwilliam Darcy watched in amazement as his valet, Crispin Knott, put the green coat away and held up the brown one again.

“Knott! I said the green one.”

Knott had served the fastidious young gentleman since the heir was eighteen; however, the white-haired valet was quite getting on in years and could be a tad crotchety at times. “With all due respect, sir, I distinctly heard you say ‘not the green one.’”

“No. I said, ‘No, no, Knott, the green one.’ Note the pause and the emphasis on the word green.”

“I do not recall it being there before, sir.”

“Well, it most certainly was.”

“If you say so, sir.”

Darcy waited, in vain, for the doddering servant to assist him with the green coat. “Mister Knott, would you please … oh, never mind.” He knew he really should have a younger man take over the position; but Knott was practically a member of the family, having first served as his father’s valet for more than thirty years. Because Darcy was in a hurry to visit Miss Elizabeth that morning, he struggled with the tight coat himself, turned toward the servant, held his arms out to the sides, and asked, “How do I look?”

“Handsome, as always, sir.”

Darcy’s nerves were frayed. When he checked his appearance in the mirror, he cried, “Knott! Do you not see anything wrong with this blasted cravat?”

The elderly man peered closely at the well-worn, ragged neckcloth, grinned, and said, “Frayed knot, sir.”

At the Bennet household, the family had just finished breakfast when a letter arrived from Longbourn’s steward. Thomas Bennet scanned the contents and reported, “It seems Whitelaw has hired a new worker by the name of Barnaby Colton.” Mr. Bennet had the pleasure of being eagerly questioned by his wife, five daughters, and young son; and it was a cinch to stir-up their unbridled curiosity a bit. “Mr. Whitelaw assigned Colton to the stable and gave the chap free rein; and when Colton was saddled with the responsibility of putting horses on the carriage for the first time, it went off without a hitch. The letter also says the young man recently left a stall door open; and Lydia’s pony, Miss Behave, ate all the hay.”