by Jennifer Joy
Fortunately, Colonel Fitzwilliam extended his arm to Miss Bingley, distracting her long enough for Elizabeth to turn away and walk with Mr. Darcy into the dining room.
Candles flickered on their candelabras, and as Elizabeth looked down at her dress, she understood why Lady Rutledge had insisted on the shiny satin fabric under the net overlay. She sparkled with every step and, for the first time since Father's death, she felt a healthy hint of vanity. The only fault it had was of being short sleeved. There was no discreet hiding place for Mr. Darcy’s handkerchief.
Mr. Darcy sat next to her after she was seated. She hoped Miss Bingley would not be so close that she could not ignore her glares. Obviously, she considered Mr. Darcy to be her property— as if he would agree to be owned by anyone. He did not strike Elizabeth as the type of man to be easily trapped.
She looked at him, trying to justify her opinion of him with what she had heard in the parlor moments ago. If she were to believe the comments of others, she would have to believe him proud— so proud that he would put his own wants above the desires of others at the cost of propriety.
"Why do you look at me so?" he asked.
Elizabeth wanted to look down at her lap, embarrassed at her indiscretion. But she forced her eyes to remain steady. There was no sense lamenting when she had been caught so plainly. Leaning back in her chair and tilting her chin toward him, she said, "I was attempting to discern your character, Mr. Darcy. I have not the privilege of understanding you."
"My character?" He shifted his weight in his chair and signaled to a servant to fill his glass of wine.
"Your character confuses me so that I do not know what to think. In my own experience, you have been the epitome of kindness and understanding. But I hear such reports about you which contradict what I have believed to be true." She searched his face. If only he would explain the contrary comments with a word. She would believe him if it came to that. Why should she doubt Mr. Darcy when she was better acquainted with him than the others who spoke against him?
Swirling the wine in his glass, he set it down. The muscles at his jaw tensed as if the answer pained him to declare.
"I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding. I will not deny that there is some truth to it. I have been called proud. However," he paused so long Elizabeth had to take a breath, “events in recent months have helped me to see the error in my attitude. I was humbled in a most profound way and have vowed since to improve myself." He finally looked up from his wine glass. He looked as if he wished to say more, but after quite some time, he sighed instead and drank a long draught from his glass.
Her curiosity piqued as to the source of his great change in character, Elizabeth waited for him to expound on the subject. But with the frown on his face and the tension in his manners, she did not ask.
Finally, after some minute-long seconds had passed, she said in a cheerful voice, "Then I am grateful for the events which caused such a profound change. I think it an improvement over what you described yourself to be." Her mind catching up to her tongue, she felt the heat on her face at the compliment she so outspokenly gave him. Hopefully the candlelight would be merciful and cover her change in complexion.
Mr. Darcy grumbled some sort of reply she could not hear clearly over the conversations surrounding them in the room, deepening her curiosity all the more and strengthening her determination to understand the man next to her. Her compliment, instead of appeasing him or winning a smile, had only worsened the struggle she watched him fight. What an incredible man.
"You are much more forgiving of me than I am of myself, Miss Bennet, and I thank you for it. You deserve an amiable dinner companion and I am determined to do the duty justice." He forced a smile, flashing another dimple at her.
Her disappointment deepened. Was it a duty for him to sit beside her? Had his opinion of her changed now that he knew her to be a lowly companion, as Lady Rutledge had suggested?
Squaring her shoulders and setting her jaw, she determined not to be a bother. She would see if by the end of dinner, he would eat his poorly chosen words and wash them down with wine.
Chapter 17
Darcy glanced across the table. Though a candelabra served to cover his view slightly, Miss Bingley craned her neck around the obstacle to glare at Miss Elizabeth. He would have to be cautious. Miss Bingley could make her miserable.
He would keep his expression plain and his conversation polite, but he would reveal nothing which would worsen Miss Elizabeth’s standing or make her the target of Miss Bingley’s ire.
Sufficient time had passed for him to say something. He looked at Miss Elizabeth and the clear thoughts of moments ago scattered away from him. Candlelight danced across her face, and her eyes seemed to dance with it. They were filled with what looked like contained merriment and no small amount of mischief. Her eyes sparkled with it. Her dress shimmered at her every move, giving her skin a silky glow. She looked so soft. Her hair, twisted up and secured in a simple fashion, begged to be let loose. The tendrils most young ladies coyly left down to draw attention to certain features fell of their own accord to caress her cheek and graze the tender spot where her neck met her shoulder. Good God, this would be a long night. He nearly tipped his wine glass over when he reached for it— like the tea he had dumped over Bingley’s tablecloth a few days before.
Figuratively dumping cold water on himself, stupidity making him mute, it was a relief when she spoke. "I wonder, Mr. Darcy, if it is only certain company which you consider it a duty to entertain or if your every action is controlled by such a deliberate sense of responsibility that you see even the most pleasant of tasks as a duty."
He groaned inwardly, careful to reveal nothing outwardly. If only he could learn to speak without giving offense, but he had wasted too many years unconcerned with how others reacted to his blunt speech and arrogant manners. He now found himself in the position of wanting to be kind, but being unable to show it lest he complicate matters for the very lady he would go out of his way to please.
"I think any man with a certain position in society and with people who rely on him for their livelihoods ought to take his responsibilities seriously lest others suffer from his neglect."
Her eyes dimmed, and he knew that he had, once again, spoken too plainly. Would he never learn?
Clearing his throat, he decided it best to get her to talk so that he might say less. "How would you define good company, Miss Elizabeth?" he asked, hoping to draw out a lengthy reply.
She locked eyes with him. He could not look away had he wished to. “My idea of good company is the company of clever, well-informed people, who have a great deal of conversation." She arched her eyebrow at him in a benevolent challenge. "That is what I call good company."
"You are mistaken," he said gently, "That is not good company. That is the best.”
She smiled at his reply. Finally, something he said had pleased her. It was a different sort of pride which filled his breast and made him sit taller in his chair. He had made her smile. He could make her happy, even if only for a moment.
He needed to keep her talking, to ask another question, something safe or else he was in great danger of liking Miss Elizabeth too much. "How are you enjoying your new life with Lady Rutledge?"
"I hardly know yet. She is a puzzle, but I do not think she acts out of ill will. I have no doubt but that she gives Mr. Bingley much cause to worry." She chuckled and her face brightened. "But I do think that a little mischief where there is no malice gives a needed spice to a life which would otherwise be rather dull. What else is a lady of a mature age and great fortune to do?"
"Yes, but she did run over an officer in the park. Perhaps her refusal to wear spectacles to preserve her vanity did not stem from a sense of malice, but I doubt the officer would agree." Good. If they kept the conversation on Lady Rutledge, they were on safe ground.
Miss Elizabeth leaned forward enough that Darcy caught the intoxicating scent of jasmine. He closed his e
yes and inhaled her perfume. His head whirled and he leaned forward to— Blast! So much for behaving himself.
Thankfully, she did not notice. In a lowered voice meant for only him to hear, she said, "That is not the complete story. The officer was walking with a young lady near the driving path when Lady Rutledge saw them. She observed the officer attempting to steal a kiss— a kiss which the young lady, by all appearances, was unwilling to give in so public a place."
The part of Darcy which had him leaning toward Miss Elizabeth sympathized with the officer. The part of him who had a young sister to protect was appalled.
She paused to catch her breath. "You see, Lady Rutledge makes use of her poor eyesight, but I do not think we should be so quick to believe her deficiency. It does give her the freedom to act in ways which would not be so easily excused otherwise, but I feel that she used it well in this case.”
Darcy leaned back in his chair. It was necessary for him to distance himself. "I ought to have known. Bingley does not know of this?”
"No, he does not, though I must tell him." She sighed through a frown. "I must tell him even though it will help him realize that my position here is unnecessary, and I will soon enough find myself back at my uncle Gardiner's."
"The idea of returning to your relatives is unpleasant to you now? Most ladies in your situation would much prefer it."
She nodded, her lips tightening. "Not unpleasant. But I have made my decision and must make the best of it now. Even if it lowers me in the minds of others." She searched his face as if she wished to know how she stood in his mind.
He kept his face neutral until he knew where he stood. Nothing about Miss Elizabeth was expected. In every way, she acted like a proper lady, but some of the things she said and, at times did, bespoke a more modern view, a view which he admired greatly.
Darcy had practiced his emotionless expression to perfection over the course of decades, yet this was the first time in his memory that it was so difficult to maintain. One look across the table reaffirmed his determination not to set Miss Bingley against the young lady who believed him to be so much better than he really was. He would prove himself worthy of her esteem.
Choosing his words carefully, he said, "My father used to say, 'Give a girl an education and introduce her properly into the world, and ten to one but she has the means of settling well, without further expense to anybody.' It is a statement I have only recently begun to ponder. I had never considered that a lady might want to work."
She ate a spoonful of white soup, reminding Darcy that the utmost folly would be to neglect to eat at a dinner party.
Dabbing her shapely lips with her napkin, she answered, "When Father died, I had to see to everything. Mother did her best, but she did not know how to manage our stipend nor certain matters pertaining to the estate. Everything fell apart with Father gone.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Somebody had to see to it. I am grateful that I knew what to do."
"While being occupied has definite advantages, it can also delay your grief. I could not properly mourn my mother until I had also lost my father and the effect was devastating," Darcy said softly, staring into his bowl of soup. When he looked up and saw the pity on her face, he regretted saying too much. He had told nobody of his feelings of loss. Not even Richard.
"You had a younger sister you needed to be strong for. I can only imagine the difficulties you faced."
He needed to change the subject. This was far too intimate. "Is that why you offered to live here? To keep busy?"
She nodded her head. "I made a choice and acted on it. It remains to be seen if I have chosen well or not, but I am at peace that, at least, it was my choice. If it bodes well, then I shall be content. If it bodes ill, then I only have myself to blame." She ate another spoonful of soup. "Of course, now that it is done, I shall do my best to ensure that it goes well." A determined grin softened the depth of meaning in her words. She was the sort of lady to take delight in a problem— even one of her own making.
"I can find no fault with that. Your reasoning sounds realistic, albeit a bit rash in its execution. You do not fear the opinions of others to intimidate or lower you?" If she had not thought about it, he certainly had.
She leaned toward him slightly, a delightful smile adorning her lips, "There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.”
Oh, how he wanted to trace her lips with his fingers. "I am glad to hear it."
"Besides, I do not want people to be very agreeable all the time, as it saves me the trouble of liking them a great deal."
Darcy held his breath to keep from laughing out loud and drawing the attention of everyone in the room.
"I often feel the same, but I could never have put it so well," he said, giving more attention to his soup before he acted on his impulses and embarrassed himself.
Chapter 18
By the time the last course was served, Elizabeth felt confident that Mr. Darcy no longer saw sitting beside her as a duty. Though his expression remained guarded, something she credited to the ever-glaring Miss Bingley from across the table as well as his natural demeanor, there were several times when she knew him to be smiling. His lips had not budged, but she saw it in his eyes. It was enough to satisfy her.
Her humor in high spirits and her stomach full of delicious fare, she decided that she would tell Mr. Bingley about the events of the park before the evening ended.
Lady Rutledge stood, signaling for the ladies to accompany her into the drawing room.
Mr. Darcy caught Mr. Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam's attention from across the table and motioned for them to move toward Lady Rutledge. Apparently, he saw no need for her to delay in telling the rest of the story. Her suspicion was confirmed when he looked at her to follow them. Of course, Miss Bingley joined their group at the head of the table.
"What is this?" asked Lady Rutledge in a hushed voice.
Mr. Darcy nodded at Elizabeth, and she stepped forward, knowing what she was expected to do. "Aunt Lavinia, apparently Mr. Bingley knows nothing of why you ran over the officer in the park. He ought to understand your motives, as should Colonel Fitzwilliam, do you not agree?" She spoke quietly and quickly, so the other guests would not hear.
Lady Rutledge raised her chin up in the air. "It pains me to be doubted in the first place. Let us not discuss this now. I must lead the way to the drawing room." She moved her skirt to the side and took a step away from the group.
Mr. Darcy said in a low, commanding tone, "Is it true that you merely sought to protect a young lady from the unwanted advances of the officer?"
She stopped mid-step and turned to face the group. "Why else would I dare run over an officer of His Majesty's Army in a public place?"
Colonel Fitzwilliam stood rigid. "You replaced his boots, Lady Rutledge. Why in heaven's name would you replace his boots when he proved by his actions that he deserved to trudge in the mud in his bare feet? I shall have a word with him as soon as I return to the barracks. He will learn that he cannot get away with such improper conduct."
With an impish smile, Lady Rutledge said, "Oh, my dear colonel, I do believe he already has learned that. Every step he takes in his new boots will serve as reminder enough."
Mr. Bingley asked, “You did not have them made too small, did you?”
Chuckles followed her as she started toward the door, shrugging off her nephew’s question.
As she stepped by Miss Bingley, who smiled as heartily as the rest and arched her neck to flatter her bejeweled throat, that young lady reached out to her aunt and said sweetly, "How horrible of us to have doubted you, dear Aunt. With this knowledge, I daresay you are free to continue living as you did before… without a companion." She emphasized each last syllable so clearly, Elizabeth could not mistake her meaning. Nobody could have.
Lady Rutledge looked at Elizabeth fleetingly before shrugging. "Apparently so," was all she said as she led the
way into the drawing room.
Elizabeth stood rooted to the ground. There had been something meaningful in Lady Rutledge's brief look, but she did not know the lady well enough to read it. Was she going to have to return to her uncle's house?
Allowing the other ladies to leave before her, she brought up the rear and heard the door close behind her as she continued down the hall to the drawing room.
So consumed was she in her own thoughts, she gasped when she felt a hand close around her arm and pull her closer to the wall.
"Hush! There is no need to alarm anyone," hissed Miss Bingley.
"What do you mean by this?" Elizabeth asked. She had no desire to talk to Miss Bingley.
"What were you speaking about so intensely with Mr. Darcy?" she asked, her grip on Elizabeth's arm tightening.
Wriggling her shoulder to loosen Miss Bingley's hold, Elizabeth stepped back and out of reach. "Of what import is it to you what we spoke of? It did not concern you."
Miss Bingley closed the distance between them, the lightly illuminated hallway casting shadows across her angry face. "You are nothing more than an exalted servant. My aunt has done you a favor by disguising you as her niece to appease herself, but your allowance is nothing more than a salary. Mr. Darcy might be polite toward you, but he is a gentleman and must be polite to everyone. He would never disgrace himself by showing a paid companion more attention than is absolutely necessary." She leveled her gaze at Elizabeth, an ugly smirk disfiguring her face.
Elizabeth's blood boiled at her unjust comments and insinuations. "Mr. Darcy is a gentleman, and I am a gentleman’s daughter. In birth, we are equals… unlike others with their roots in trade who would improve their position in society by marrying one of their betters." She refused to allow Miss Bingley to rob her of her dignity.