I made this graphic some time ago. Probably right around when this book was a new release. Maybe a bit later. I’m not sure exactly when it got made, but I like it, and when I was thinking of finding a image of punch to share for today, it popped into my mind so I dug it out of storage.
In Matching Mr. Darcy, Darcy’s evening at the Meryton assembly goes from determined to not be introduced to or dance with Elizabeth to being able to think of little else than dancing with her — even if his stockings are doused in punch.
Below is the scene from chapter two when the punch mishap happens.
Enjoy!
Miss Elizabeth. He let the name roll around his mind as he wondered if she spoke to everyone as she had to him. It was not right for a lady to be so forward, he knew this, and yet, she piqued his interest. He should likely put her out of his mind. However, since he was only curious about her because she was a novelty and nothing more, he ignored the niggling feeling that he was treading where he should not and continued to ponder her
Engrossed in his contemplations, he allowed the crowd beside and behind him to guide his movement toward the table that held cups of punch. So it was that when Darcy saw, out the corner of his eye that the gentleman next to him was moving, Darcy also stepped forward just as the young lady in front of him turned from the table with a cup of punch in her hand.
The cold and sweet liquid in the young lady’s glass sloshed and spilled as he plowed into her.
“Oh, I am dreadfully sorry,” the young lady, who looked no older than his own sister, said before stopping a giggle by applying her fingers to her lips.
“No, no, I should have been paying closer attention to where I was going.” That was not what he truly wanted to say, but he had already been called out for ungentlemanly behaviour by one young lady tonight so to rail at this clumsy child would not do. Instead, Darcy pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and began patting fiercely at his jacket while his stocking became more and more uncomfortably soggy.
“I truly am sorry, sir,” the young lady repeated. “You may use my handkerchief if you would like.”
“No, just be on your way.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Thank you for your kind offer.”
“Are you certain that we cannot help you in some way?”
Darcy’s eyes sifted to the left. There was a second young lady standing just next to the first young lady and bearing very similar features. They must be sisters. Though he was certain he had never met either of them before, they both looked rather familiar.
“I do not see how you could,” he replied as politely as possible. “I think you have done enough.”
“I told you to be careful, Lydia,” the second young lady grumbled to the first as the two moved away from Darcy just as a maid came bearing cloths to clean up the puddle of punch on the floor.
“Lydia?” Darcy murmured to himself.
“Yes, sir. Miss Lydia and Miss Kitty is their names. I can take you to their father if you wish to speak to him,” the maid offered.
“Mr. Bennet?”
“Yes, sir. That be their father.”
Ah. That explained why they looked so familiar. It appeared Miss Elizabeth had not found her sisters, for she did not seem to be with them.
“Do you want me to take you to their father?”
Darcy shook his head. “No, no. It was an accident.”
“I would not be so sure,” the maid muttered.
“Could you tell me if you saw any of their older sisters here?”
“Not for some time,” the maid replied. “Was you looking for one in particular?” There was an interested glint in the maid’s eye.
“No. I just heard Miss Elizabeth say she was going to find her sisters, and I was wondering if these were the sisters for whom she was looking and if she had found them.”
“She’s not found them if you be standing in soiled stockings,” the maid replied. “Miss Elizabeth would have snatched them up if she saw you. She tries right hard to keep them from causing too much trouble, she does.”
“She does?” Why was Miss Elizabeth tending to her sisters? Where were her mother and father? “Just Miss Elizabeth?”
The maid placed a final soiled towel in her basket. The floor was as dry as it could be. It would need a scrubbing, of course, but at least the threat of someone slipping on the liquid was gone.
“Miss Jane and Miss Mary help her, but Miss Lizzy is the sharpest with them.”
That settled that. He was not the only person Miss Elizabeth felt a need to correct.
“Is she a harridan? I had not thought so when I met her.”
“Miss Lizzy? A harridan?” the maid asked in surprise. “No, not at all. She just does not abide a fool as they say.”
“I see. I am relieved to know I was not wrong in my assessment.” But apparently, he was what Miss Elizabeth would call a fool for she had taken him to task.
“I should not say it, but you’d do well to call on her, sir.”
Her words hit Darcy like a bucket of cold water to the face. “Oh, I am not planning on calling on anyone. I was merely curious about a new acquaintance.”
“If you say so, sir.” The maid offered him a towel. Then, she gave a curtsey before scurrying away wearing a sly grin.
Wonderful! Not only had he had his behaviour challenged by a young lady who likely thought him a fool. He had now started a rumor that he was interested in that same young woman.
He shook his head. He should have refused Bingley’s invitation. Nothing good was going to come from him being somewhere he did not wish to be. He had known it when he received the invitation, but his sense of loyalty to a friend had required him to accept. Of all the stupid things to do!
Still remonstrating himself for his foolishness, he procured two cups of punch and headed back to the table where he had left Caroline and her sister.
