Georgiana was crying silently, her face buried in his jacket. Darcy looked helplessly over her head at Richard, who shook his head.
Darcy patted his sister’s back, hoping he was doing the right thing. Richard nodded at him.
“I’ll see he is ejected.”
Darcy nodded at the almost silent words. “Make certain he is not permitted to take any young lady with him.” His own words were at least as quiet, and he doubted Georgiana was hearing any of this.
Richard’s eyebrows went up, but he didn’t comment.
Alone in the room, Darcy gently led Georgiana to the sofa. “Come and sit down with me, Georgiana. I’ve ordered tea.”
He sat, staring at the wall, as his sister hid her face against him. He wondered why she was upset, instead of angry, at the man who’d so nearly ruined her life.
And how — how had that degenerate known of his interest in Miss Elizabeth Bennet, how had he known, and come here to seek revenge on another who was dear to him?
He swallowed, he hadn’t even admitted to himself that Elizabeth Bennet was important to him, and absolutely no one knew he had been thinking so much of her. It must be a sheer accident of providence had brought Wickham here.
Richard entered the room quietly, and they sat over their tea, while Georgiana gradually recovered her poise. But he was unable to answer her questions as to why Wickham had been here, at the ball.
After they had taken tea, Richard stretched. “Georgiana, will you be able to tolerate my company for a while? I believe your brother should go and be seen to be at the ball, given that Bingley invited him especially, and there may be others he needs to meet before he is to be groomsman.”
Darcy frowned, he’d been rather pleased at the excuse of not having to endure the ball itself, but Georgiana had sat up straight, patting her hair.
“Of course you must go through, William.” She frowned a little. “Perhaps I ought to try, as well, although I’m concerned that I may be the object of curiosity if anyone saw me before you brought me here.”
Darcy smiled mechanically. “I think it will be better if you stay here for a little longer, Georgiana.” He waited a moment until she let go of his sleeve and took a few deep breaths.
“That’s better,” he nodded at her. “Richard will wait here with you.” He glanced back as he went to the door. Georgiana needed a friend. He knew he could not find out from her what anguish her troubles had caused her, knew that she had no one she could confide in.
For the first time, he wondered that if he had been married, whether having a sister would have made a difference to Georgiana, perhaps have helped her recover from the incident at Ramsgate.
Elizabeth Bennet was easy company; Georgiana would like her, he thought inconsequentially, as he made his way across the hall to the ballroom door. He straightened, shoulders back, and shook his head at the servant about to open the door.
“Wait. Let the next dance get under way.” Perhaps he could avoid too much attention if he slipped in quietly then.
Once in the room, he prowled round, keeping to the edge of the room, as he picked out the officers’ red coats, one by one. He must make sure that Wickham was gone, and as he walked, he wondered how to get the man out of town. He didn’t want to admit to himself that he was looking for Miss Elizabeth Bennet, too. He couldn’t bear it if she had left with that scoundrel.
Bingley! He saw him sitting beside the elder Miss Bennet, and without thinking, turned towards them.
Fortunately, he had to thread through the crowds, so he had time to recall the reason for the ball. He must be careful. Reaching them, he bowed.
“Miss Bennet, may I offer you my best wishes on your betrothal.” He watched her smile serenely as she rose and curtsied.
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy.”
He turned to Bingley. “I’m sorry about earlier. I don’t know how much Richard explained to you.” He kept his voice low.
Bingley had risen to acknowledge him. He smiled tightly. “It is no matter, Darcy. I do not need to know a reason. I hope Georgiana is not too distressed.”
Darcy knew Miss Bennet was listening, although she was carefully looking away, to give them a semblance of privacy.
Darcy’s lips tightened. The rumours must not be allowed to swirl. “We must keep it quiet, Bingley. Did he cause a disturbance?”
His friend shook his head. “No. I think most of the guests are unaware of what took place.” His usual amiable expression darkened a little, and his voice became a murmur. “I hope he is able to be silent in the town.”
Darcy controlled his features. He wanted to scowl, do something more to protect Georgiana. He nodded at his friend, smiled mechanically at Miss Bennet and moved away.
He drew a deep breath, he could do nothing in that regard this evening. He must endure the ball. Later tonight, he could think. He must take Georgiana back to London. He must talk to Richard.
But that would not protect the people of Meryton from Wickham. The memory of that scoundrel kissing the hand of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, smiling into her eyes, enraged him. How long had he been in Meryton? How long had he known Miss Bennet? Had she, too, fallen for his insincere charm?
He had hoped for a dance with her tonight, but now he hesitated. He might be tempted to warn her of Wickham, and he could not do that.
Something burned the back of his neck, and he turned, knowing it was her gaze that gave the warmth.
Chapter 19
Elizabeth saw Mr. Darcy turning towards her, and almost smiled. The coincidence could almost make her think he had felt her gaze, although it could not be. She hastily rearranged her features and pretended to be watching the dancers.
She wondered if he would approach her, wondered what she would say. Few others had seen what she had, Mr. Darcy standing with the young lady and the strange officer, the distress the girl seemed to suffer, and then the gentlemen removing her from the ballroom.
She had turned back to Mr. Wickham, whose expression had darkened. He had turned away from the door through which Mr. Darcy had disappeared. She had watched as Mr. Wickham had forced himself to regain his composure.
Then he’d turned back to her, a creditable attempt at his usual smile on his face. “I’m sorry, Miss Elizabeth. Let us return to our conversation.”
But there had not been time for her to regain her enjoyment of the evening. Within minutes the butler had appeared by their side and bowed politely.
“Mr. Wickham? Please come with me, sir. Your colonel wishes to speak to you.”
She’d watched as Mr. Wickham had looked up and round the room. He’d turned back to her with a crooked smile.
“My apologies, Miss Elizabeth. I had eagerly anticipated a dance with you this evening.” He bowed again, and left her. She watched as Colonel Forster exchanged a few terse words with him, and she watched as he followed the butler from the room, not looking back.
The evening was spoiled for her, and when Lydia accosted her, she merely shrugged. “I do not know where he is, Lydia. As you can see, he’s not with me.” She wondered why she hadn’t suggested Lydia find out from Mrs. Forster why the colonel had told him to leave. Something prevented her.
Now here was Mr. Darcy. She was sure he must have had something to do with the incident that was occupying her mind, but was not sure whether he would ignore it and act in his normal way, or whether she might allude to it.
He stood before her and bowed. “Miss Bennet.”
She smiled at him, wondering at his ability to hide all his emotions. She wondered if there was a reply from him in her hidden chest, and whether he suspected that she knew he was her anonymous correspondent.
“Mr. Darcy.” She curtsied politely. Whatever she felt, she needed to try and understand — and she remembered feeling very sorry of the difficulties she knew he suffered from. But she was angry that Mr. Wickham had probably been ejected at his command. She drew a deep breath; she had been looking forward to that dance, too.
He was looking
at her warily, and she steeled herself. “I was a little surprised to see you here. I had thought you might not return until your friend’s marriage.”
His answering smile was a little crooked. “Mr. Bingley asked me to attend tonight. I expect there are some people he wishes me to meet.”
She nodded, supposing that to be the case. “You will no doubt find a prior acquaintance with some people to be helpful in discharging your duties as groomsman, Mr. Darcy.”
His smile was a little more natural this time. “Of course, I do know many of the important people from my stay here last November.”
She dipped her head. “Indeed,” she murmured. She glanced up at his face. He had been gone two months, had he thought of her as she had thought of him?
“I do not wish to pry, sir, but the young lady with you seemed distressed. I hope she is recovered.” Who was she, what was she to him — and why did it hurt so much?
He looked uncomfortable, and she wondered if he was going to answer. After a long pause, he seemed to make up his mind. “She is my young sister. And, thank you, she is feeling better.”
His sister! Elizabeth felt unaccountably more cheerful. “I’m happy she’s feeling better, sir.” She wondered if he would introduce her. She frowned, why would he want to introduce her? She was nothing to him, nothing! She must not allow herself to be hurt.
She suddenly recalled Mr. Wickham — and realised that the first sight of Mr. Darcy had thrust the officer from her mind. Why is that?
She pulled her mind back to the present. Mr. Darcy was regarding her curiously.
“I’m sorry. I was waylaid by a passing thought.”
He chuckled, seeming to relax. “I find that occurs to me frequently, Miss Bennet. It can be disconcerting.” He bowed. “I asked if you were engaged for the next dance, if not, perhaps I may have the honour?” He looked anxious.
She smiled reassuringly at him, trying not to laugh at the brief memory of Mr. Bingley’s large foot descending on that of his friend, which had preceded his previous request for a dance.
“I would be delighted, Mr. Darcy.” She reminded herself that he didn’t really know many other people here, and that he would remember their previous dance as not being uncomfortable in conversation.
He led her to the dance floor. “Thank you for the honour, Miss Bennet.”
As they lined up with the other couples, Elizabeth was conscious of close attention from a number of those watching. She lifted her head a little higher. She knew one of those staring was Miss Bingley. She would have expected his first dance to be with her.
But Elizabeth was happy. Miss Bingley had been here, keeping house for her brother as he courted Jane. Perhaps Mr. Darcy had been wise to stay in town, away from pursuit.
“I wonder what you find amusing, Miss Bennet.” His words as they began the dance, made her smile.
“I am conscious of the attention of others, sir. We must be careful to give a good account of ourselves.”
“Indeed.” He seemed relieved, she thought. Was he dreading her asking about the removal of Mr. Wickham, she wondered?
But she would not — not today. They began their progression down the line, and she knew her father was watching, sensed his concern. She must take care, and she schooled her expression into lighthearted gaiety.
Chapter 20
It was the early hours of the morning before Darcy reached his bedchamber after the ball. He nodded at his servant as he took his whisky from the proffered silver tray.
“Thank you, Mr. Maunder.” The room was warm, so he could stay up a few moments longer to ponder on the evening.
The door shut quietly behind his valet, and Darcy strode to the mantel and stood watching the flames leap in the grate. It had been a satisfactory evening. He’d had to endure the obligatory dances with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, of course, and Miss Jane Bennet. He wondered why his friend had chosen her. Oh, she was pretty enough, to be sure, but he found her gentle serenity rather jarring. She had not the liveliness of her sister, nor the understanding which led Miss Elizabeth to be agreeable and comfortable company.
He smiled as he thought of Miss Elizabeth. True to the lady he remembered from before, she had not asked anything of him. She had made light conversation, and had not even returned to the topic of his sister.
He finished his drink and turned to the bed. After shrugging off his robe, he turned back the covers, and sat on the edge of the mattress. Would it really be so terrible to think of marrying far below his social class?
His family would be horrified, he knew. But Richard would stand by him. And he thought Georgiana would love her. He made a face. But his uncle and aunt? And Lady Catherine! She would not merely be horrified, she would be incensed. He laughed humourlessly. She would no longer be able to pursue him for her daughter. Another factor in favour of his early marriage.
Lying back, he stretched his feet towards where the warming pans had been, and sighed in satisfaction. He would be able to give Miss Elizabeth Bennet a life of luxury in return for the comfort she could be to him. And she could help him in his care for Georgiana, too.
He closed his eyes. It was a most satisfactory solution. And it meant he would no longer have to haunt the balls and evenings of the highest in society. Richard would be happy if he produced an heir, to relieve the burden on Georgiana. It all worked remarkably well — except for the dreadful mother, and the younger sisters.
He screwed up his face in disgust at the sudden thought. He couldn’t do it, he could not bind himself to such a family.
He turned onto his back and put his arms behind his head. What was he thinking of? He must find someone better-born. But he wanted someone who understood his difficulties. Someone who would not want too often to be out in society, but who could assist him when it was necessary.
She must also be a good sister to Georgiana. That was a new thing he had thought of this evening. Miss Elizabeth Bennet had several younger sisters, and she was kind. She would know how to accept Georgiana, however shy his sister was.
He sighed. Would he ever find someone like her, but from a better family?
As he drifted into sleep, he found himself thinking of her, of her lively manner, her slender form as she danced, and her laughing eyes as she made comfortable conversation, not demanding more from him than he was able to give.
It was unfortunate that he had told Georgiana and Richard that he would accompany them back to London tomorrow; he would like to have called on Miss Elizabeth. He could have gone there with Bingley, who would undoubtedly call on Miss Bennet.
* * *
He glared out of the coach window the next day as it bore him away from Miss Elizabeth. He had barely slept, the rumpled bed evidence of his disordered thoughts. When had he started desiring Miss Elizabeth?
He irritably pushed away the thought. Richard was looking quizzically at him, and he felt a little ashamed. He’d brought him and Georgiana all this way for nothing. And neither had offered a word of complaint.
He forced a smile. “Why don’t we stop for luncheon at the Swan at Broxbourne? It is a fine inn, which sets an excellent table.” He looked at Georgiana, who was still a little red-eyed from the previous evening, and reached over and took her hand. “You’re not to worry about yesterday. I will do whatever is needed to ensure you are safe.”
She smiled tremulously. “I’d like to stop at the Swan for lunch, William. I’m sorry I spoiled your visit — I don’t think you wanted to leave Hertfordshire today.”
He kept his features impassive. “I was always going to return to London. After all, I will return to Netherfield for Bingley’s marriage.”
He watched the passing hills. How had Georgiana known he didn’t want to leave Hertfordshire? She couldn’t possibly know his thoughts about Miss Elizabeth Bennet, could she? No, it was not possible.
He wished irritably to be home, to be able to retreat to his library, to be alone. As the coach slowed, entering Broxbourne, he glanced over, and noticed a k
nowing look on Richard’s face.
Had he divined something? Darcy scowled, how had he been discovered? He racked his mind to think when it might have occurred. He knew Richard had entered the ballroom when Georgiana had retired to her chambers, but he had thought it was after he had danced with Miss Bennet.
Perhaps it was as well that they were going to London. Three weeks before he was due to return to Netherfield. He would need all that time to decide what he wished to do about marriage, about Miss Bennet.
Perhaps he might even be able to take Richard’s advice, if only his cousin would not smirk or laugh at him. Surely he would not do that?
He sighed with relief as the coach turned into the post inn at Broxbourne. Soon he would be home, soon he could relax and think.
He climbed down and turned to offer his arm to his sister.
“Georgiana.” He smiled. None of this was her fault, he must remember that.
Chapter 21
Elizabeth shivered a little as she glanced out of the window. Frost was heavy on the ground, but she was relieved there was still no snow. Jane’s wedding was only three weeks away, and she wanted nothing to spoil the occasion.
Yesterday had been a quiet day. Although she had risen at her usual time, her father had been the only other family member who had done the same. But Elizabeth had been tired after the ball. She tried to assure herself it had been entirely because of the lateness of the hour, and nothing at all with her difficulty in putting a handsome, brooding gentleman out of her mind. Nothing to do at all with the sudden heat of his touch as he took her hand during the dance.
She shook her head and tried to concentrate on the view of the garden, and stop thinking about how she watched him dancing with Miss Bingley, his impassive features masking his distaste. Her lips curved upwards at the memory.
“What are you thinking about, Lizzy?” Jane came and stood beside her.
A Rare Ability: A Darcy and Elizabeth Pride and Prejudice Variation (A Pemberley Romance Book 10) Page 8