A heated discussion was held silently between them in the moments that followed. Finally, Fitzwilliam grunted and changed the subject. “Very well. Bennet is teaching us the estate. Let us begin to smooth your rougher edges when in company. Your first lesson is how not to be abrupt with the ladies when you believe you are only being efficient.”
“How did you ever survive battle wearing a red coat?” Lydia burst out over the soup.
Elizabeth wanted to bury her face in her hands, but Lydia was not finished. The youngest Bennet stared unabashedly at Mr. Darcy and cried, “You must have been the largest target for miles!”
“Lydia,” Papa cautioned, “that will do, child.”
Lydia frowned to hear herself addressed in such a way, but she sank back into her chair.
“It behooved me to master the art of ducking,” Mr. Darcy replied, and Elizabeth bit her lower lip to keep from laughing. Mr. Fitzwilliam was not as successful. His snort was short but loud.
“I believe you practiced the art of engineering as well, Mr. Darcy?” she inquired. Papa had told her as much.
Mr. Fitzwilliam chuckled. “We would not have lasted very long without Darcy,” he said, pride in his voice. “He was not a royal engineer, but he served in that capacity for us when needed.”
“Some of our instructors had taught at the Royal Military Academy in Woolwich before arriving in High Wycombe,” Mr. Darcy explained, “and among them, engineering skills were highly prized.”
“We were already attending Colonel Le Marchant’s school when he was granted parliamentary approval to establish the Royal Military College,” Mr. Fitzwilliam added. “We finished our training in the Senior Department there.” He smiled slyly. “I finished first, of course.”
Mr. Darcy shook his head as he cut his meat into neat, precise slices. “Only because you are nearly two years older, cousin. It would have been a scandal had you not completed your studies first.”
Papa sighed. “The royal engineers are sent out into the field entirely unprepared. They know how to build bridges and roads but not how to shoot. Or duck,” he said, nodding at Mr. Darcy. “All that education, and we lost them faster than a lightning strike. Unconscionable.”
“When we were between battles, Darcy taught our men how to lay siege,” Mr. Fitzwilliam informed them all. “The royal engineers often had to do that under fire. Not the best environment in which to learn.”
“I saw a need I could address,” Mr. Darcy replied. “It is no great deed that I did so. It kept all of us safer, including myself.”
Elizabeth had not thought Mr. Darcy particularly humble. She was happy to be wrong. “May I ask . . .” she said, and then paused when everyone turned to her. “Forgive me, this is not dinner conversation.”
“We have just discussed military education, wartime engineers, battle, and casualties, my dear. It is a good thing Mrs. Quimby did not join us this evening, or she would drag me out to the hall by my ear to lecture me on proper deportment. Ask your question,” Papa said, a teasing gleam in his eye.
Elizabeth smiled at her father. “I was wondering what the ‘art of the siege’ entails.”
Mr. Darcy’s brows pinched together. “I would be pleased to discuss it, but I am afraid it is not very interesting,” he informed her. “Building or dismantling bridges, walls, and roads, primarily. It requires a working knowledge of mathematics, trigonometry in particular.”
“The Pythagorean theorem, sine, cosine, and tangent,” she replied with perhaps more enthusiasm than she ought. “That makes sense—so many things can be measured with triangles. Papa knew Mr. Bonnycastle at the academy and has purchased most of his books, so I have readTreatise on Plane and Spherical Trigonometry. I would be pleased to see a demonstration of its applications.” She glanced around the table. Jane and Papa were observing her affectionately, but she had lost the attention of the rest of her family. “Perhaps we might discuss it in more detail another time?”
“I should be honoured, madam,” Mr. Darcy responded. His gaze darted over to Mr. Fitzwilliam, who offered an approving nod.
Was he merely humouring her? She felt her cheeks warm for the second time that day and hoped it was not too obvious. Still, the opportunity to speak with someone who did not mind explaining the practical application of mathematics to her was too exciting to resist.
“I thank you for that, Darcy,” Papa said. “I am afraid that Lizzy’s appetite for equations far exceeds my own. I have learnt them, but I do not enjoy them as she does.”
Mr. Darcy’s shoulders relaxed; she had not realised how tightly he had been holding himself. “I find that numbers generally make sense whereas people . . .” He chuckled. “They require a deeper understanding.”
“I have seen you evaluate a man’s capabilities in an instant,” Mr. Fitzwilliam protested merrily, “and you are rarely wrong.”
“Yes, but they were soldiers, and already under my command. I knew them all, their strengths and weaknesses, as was my duty to them and to you.”
“I am glad you have come home, Darcy,” Papa said, “but I am sorry for the British Army to have lost you and your cousin.”
Mr. Darcy acknowledged the compliment.
“If Mr. Darcy built bridges and roads,” Kitty said, “what did you do, Mr. Fitzwilliam?”
“An excellent question,” Mr. Darcy said, lifting his eyebrows and addressing his cousin. “Whatdidyou do, Fitzwilliam? That is, beyond giving orders to everyone else?”
Papa cleared his throat. “Perhaps that inquiry would be better sent in my direction, Mr. Darcy? After all, I outranked you both.”