by Jennifer Joy
Elizabeth ate her breakfast in silence while Lady Rutledge pretended to read the paper. She could not help but note to which section Lady Rutledge gave the utmost attention. The advertisements.
Chapter 28
Elizabeth woke to a cloudless, azure sky. The sun shone like a giant daisy. She hummed as she dressed, taking care to wear a light coat in which to ensconce Mr. Darcy’s handkerchief. Lady Rutledge had been uncommonly quiet since receiving the invitation, thus piquing Elizabeth’s curiosity and filling her with unnerving excitement. All would be well. Mr. Darcy would be there. And she had learned that Mother and Lydia would be too.
Lady Rutledge had the forethought to send her carriage to Mother’s apartment so that they might ride together.
"I am so glad the weather has held. The hot air balloons will be out, and I have longed to go up in one. Darcy will have everything arranged, I am sure," Lady Rutledge looked like a little girl as she peeked out of the window of their carriage.
"Today is the kind of day where dreams come true. Could it be any more glorious?" commented Elizabeth.
Lydia squished Elizabeth, piercing her leg with her elbow in a futile attempt to look out of the opposite window. "Why are all the things worth seeing out your window, Lizzy? I cannot see a thing!" she whined. Elizabeth moved over to allow her sister a better view.
"Perhaps if you would bother to look out your window, you would find equally fascinating things to look at," Elizabeth suggested.
Mother was strangely quiet during their drive across the Thames to the Vauxhall Gardens. Elizabeth was grateful she only had to soften the comments of one of her relatives, and contented herself with Mother's rosy cheeks and lively eyes that she was happy with their excursion. Mother looked at each carriage and person they passed by with keen interest.
They arrived just after the Bingley's carriage which carried the rest of their party.
Mr. Darcy immediately came to them, leaving Miss Bingley alone with her brother and Colonel Fitzwilliam. The colonel smoothly stepped into his vacated place and offered his arm to Miss Bingley, who hesitated to take it. He graciously offered his other arm to Lydia, who accepted all too eagerly and hung on to him as if he were the only male she had seen in a fortnight, and would ever see again. Miss Bingley tightened her grip on the colonel’s arm and batted her eyelashes up at him when he looked at her in surprise.
Mr. Darcy offered his arm to Mrs. Bennet, a gesture which Elizabeth appreciated more than if he had offered her his arm. Lady Rutledge pushed Mr. Bingley toward her and Mother found herself in the flattering position of getting to choose which gentleman to accept. Her cheeks flushed and at Lady Rutledge's encouragement, she accepted Mr. Bingley's extended arm.
Elizabeth went to walk with Lady Rutledge, but she took her nephew’s free arm.
That left her and Mr. Darcy. Yes, this was the perfect day. He held his arm out with a welcoming smile.
"May I escort you in, Miss Elizabeth?"
She smiled at his use of her name, though her eldest sister was not present. It felt friendly, though the way he lingered on the syllables in her name gave rise to an emotion she dared not allow herself to feel. Hope.
"Please forgive me for not offering earlier. I assumed that Lady Rutledge would want you to walk with her."
"Lady Rutledge does everything possible to ensure that I am seen to be treated the same as her own niece. I do not understand why she insists on upholding the farce as she does after what happened at the ball, but she does. There are many things she does that I do not quite understand."
Mr. Darcy chuckled. "I have known her for most of my life, and she remains a mystery to me. I wonder what she has schemed for our party today."
Elizabeth laughed. "I have been wondering the same thing."
"Lizzy! Lizzy! Look at the balloon!" shouted her sister several paces in front of them.
Elizabeth nodded, then turned her head hurriedly back to Mr. Darcy.
“We had best join them. How would you like to go up in a hot air balloon?” he asked her.
Breathless in excitement, all Elizabeth could do was nod enthusiastically.
Lady Rutledge looked pleased with herself. “Did I not tell you, Eliza, that Darcy would have it all arranged?”
Behind her, Elizabeth saw the large woven basket with the silk balloon floating up in the air. A gentleman with a thick mustache and long side whiskers opened the wicker door and motioned for them to join him inside.
"He will take us all up if we want. The day is so fine, we shall be able to see all of London from a bird’s eye view,” said Mr. Darcy.
Mother refused to ascend. "I will keep my feet on the ground where God intended them to be. If I were meant to fly, he would have given me wings. Thank you, Mr. Darcy, but my nerves would give me a fit. It will give me much more pleasure to watch from the safety of the solid earth."
A group of dandified gentlemen walked by. Lydia, too, felt that her time was best spent on the ground.
At their refusal, Miss Bingley flounced her way to the open side of the basket. "I am unafraid and think that experiencing the closest thing to flight a harmless diversion.”
If she did not take care to lower her nose, she might trip over the edge of the basket, which floated a few inches from the grass. Thanks to the colonel’s attention, she ascended without mishap.
Mr. Darcy looked at Elizabeth. She smiled, and together they joined the colonel and Miss Bingley in the basket. Mr. Bingley decided to stay behind to attend to Mother and Lydia.
Lady Rutledge was the last to enter and the gentleman with the whiskers closed the door, securing it tightly.
The basket jolted as the sandbags holding them down were thrown overboard. She felt a warm hand cover hers and laughed when she saw Mr. Darcy's expression.
"I apologize, Miss Elizabeth," he said, moving his hand away as swiftly as one would from a flame.
Elizabeth was not sorry. How divine it would be to have Mr. Darcy hold her hand because he wanted to. Waves of energy coursed through her arm, and her hand tingled from his brief touch. She wished the balloon would move abruptly again. Elizabeth nearly giggled as she realized how brazen her thoughts toward Mr. Darcy had become.
Her little sister waved and blew her a kiss. At least Elizabeth assumed it was for her.
Mr. Darcy had moved his hand, but he was still so close, she could touch him with a flinch of her little finger. Peeking at him from the corner of her eye, she traced his firm jawline all the way to the small cleft in his chin. He was taller than most men. In an embrace, her head would rest right over his heart. She felt the heat rise in her face at her intimate thoughts. The light, summer breeze did nothing to cool her as the balloon rose in the sky. Mother and Lydia were soon the size of ants.
"Caroline, are you well? You are dreadfully pale," exclaimed Lady Rutledge.
Elizabeth turned from her spot overlooking London to look at Miss Bingley. There was a green tinge to her skin, made all the more notable against the strawberry hue of her hair. Beads of sweat covered her upper lip.
Miss Bingley stiffened her spine and in a false sense of bravado, said, "I am well. It is merely the effect of the change in air." She attempted to release one of her hands which gripped the side of the basket so tightly her knuckles were as white as her face, but her gesture was brief and forced, and soon she returned to clinging with her other hand to the side.
"I find the air refreshing, and I see it has lent a rosy sheen to Eliza's cheeks. Are you afraid of heights, Caroline? Had I suspected as much, I never would have suggested that you join us." Lady Rutledge stepped closer to her niece, shaking the basket as she did so.
Miss Bingley’s semblance strained in panic.
Lady Rutledge froze. "Perhaps I had best stay where I am. No need to make things worse."
Colonel Fitzwilliam, who stood closely on the other side of Miss Bingley, said in a soothing voice, "If you look out over town, you will soon forget that only a thin basket separates us from plummet
ing to the ground." His eyes smiled and, for a moment, Elizabeth thought Miss Bingley might have courage enough to release the side of the basket to smack the colonel on the arm. But though her expression changed from one of fear to anger, she did not release her hold on the side.
Motioning with his hands, the colonel pointed out certain areas of interest. He even spotted the location of her home in St. James in an effort to distract Miss Bingley.
It warmed Elizabeth’s heart to see how attentive the colonel was to Miss Bingley in his attempt to lessen her anxiety. Lady Rutledge joined him in pointing out different landmarks. Miss Bingley’s anxiety, while it did not lessen, did not worsen with the help of Colonel Fitzwilliam and her aunt.
Mr. Darcy stood silently beside her. His relaxed hands and healthy complexion proclaimed him unaffected by the tremendous height they were at. He seemed to be lost in his thoughts.
“Have you been up in the balloon before, Mr. Darcy?” she asked.
“I never had the desire to ascend before. Now, I think that I shall return with Georgiana. She would love this.”
Looking toward Miss Bingley, who was occupied listening to Lady Rutledge and the colonel distract her, she said, "It feels more secure than I had thought it would hanging in the air in a large basket with nothing to hold us up but the thin silk of the balloon. Do you come often to the gardens with your sister?"
"The last time I came was with Georgiana. She wanted to see the fire balloon."
"Fire balloon? A balloon like this one?" Her alarm grew as she looked up at the flame propelling them upward and pondered the possibility of it catching the silk on fire. If Miss Bingley thought of it, she would lose what control she had.
"Do not worry yourself. There are no people in the fire balloon. It is merely a balloon which is filled with fireworks. When it has ascended to a certain height, it is lit, filling the night sky with color. As a grand finale, the balloon then goes up in flames. The spectacle is so great, it can be seen all over London."
"Lady Rutledge says that they will have fireworks here tonight."
A whimper from the other end of the basket made them turn to see Miss Bingley melt into a puddle inside the basket. She wrapped her arms around her legs and rocked herself.
Mr. Darcy addressed the whiskered gentleman. “Is there any way to cut our excursion short?”
“It will not be the first time, sir, nor the last.” He reached up to lower the flame. “It takes longer to get down than it does to get up, but I will do my best.”
Miss Bingley’s skin was as pale as paper. She shook like a leaf on a blustery day.
“Stay in place, lest you shake the basket,” commanded Colonel Fitzwilliam. He slowly knelt down until he sat beside Miss Bingley. She wrapped her arm around his and buried her face into his shoulder. He patted her hand and spoke gently into her ear, swaying to her rocking motion. It was not proper, but it was the deed of a true gentleman. Which reminded her…
“Mr. Darcy, I must apologize to you for not returning your handkerchief sooner.”
“Think nothing of it. You needed it more than I did.”
“Still, it has been long enough since you lent it to me. I ought not keep it any longer.” She pulled it out of her sleeve.
A gust of wind blew it from her fingers and she watched breathlessly as it floated down into the gardens to be swallowed by the vegetation below. She rubbed the inside of her sleeve, but nothing was there. Mr. Darcy’s handkerchief was gone.
Chapter 29
“Miss Elizabeth, I do own more than one handkerchief. Please, do not worry yourself.” To prove his point, he pulled out another linen square with his initials embroidered on it in shiny, white thread. Unlike her, he kept a good grip on it and returned it safely to his pocket.
“It has been so long with me, I feel as if I have lost a friend,” she peered over the edge to see if the dot of white could be discerned from their descending height. She skimmed over the crowds of people and stopped when she identified Mother. She stood arm-in-arm with a gentleman Elizabeth did not recognize. “Who is that?” she asked, pointing. “Did you invite him?”
“I do not know him personally, but Mrs. Bennet did ask if a friend of hers might join us. I could not deny her.”
The balloon could not descend quickly enough.
On closer inspection, the gentleman standing between Mother and Lydia as if he had a right to stand there was older than Elizabeth had thought initially. His thick, dark hair had no silver streaks running through it, but his face was marked with the lines of a man of as many years as Mother. They curved upward around his eyes, casting a friendly demeanor even before he smiled to reveal perfect, white teeth.
Mother made introductions immediately and Mr. Angelo Carissimi bowed deeply, the smile never abandoning his face.
After acknowledging everyone in their group, he bowed over Elizabeth's hand. "Miss Bennet, I am particularly pleased to make your acquaintance. Any daughter of the charming Mrs. Bennet is a welcome friend to me."
His appearance decidedly foreign, it surprised Elizabeth to hear him speak without an accent. Even more surprising was Mother's reaction to him. She looped her arm through his and simpered like a maiden in love.
"We have some happy news, dear," Mother said when she could pull her eyes away from Mr. Carissimi. "We are engaged!"
Elizabeth felt her heart drumming in her ears. She did not know the man who would take Father's place, and she doubted that Mother knew him very well either. She had not been in town long. Objections sprang to her tongue.
"But your mourning is not finished," she said, hoping not to sound as contrary as she felt.
Clucking her tongue, Mother said, "It is close enough, Lizzy. Men marry soon after losing their wives, and I see no reason to postpone our engagement when I am so happy."
Elizabeth could not argue with her mother over that point. Mother did look happier than she had seen her in many years. Even with Father.
It was difficult to say, but she felt she must. "I am happy for you." She looked between Mr. Carissimi and her mother.
Lady Rutledge stepped forward. "Are you a relative to the Carissimi establishment at Pall Mall?"
Miss Bingley gained some color to her pallid face when she heard the last name. “The chocolate house?”
Mr. Carissimi smiled his affirmation. "My grandfather began our family business with lace and wine. It was my idea to include chocolate with its endless variety of delightful confections to further entice our patrons. Have you had the pleasure of sampling one of our truffles, Lady Rutledge?"
With a contented sigh, Lady Rutledge said, "Indeed I have. Although my niece gobbles them up before I have much opportunity to eat my fair portion."
That brought some color to Miss Bingley's pale cheeks.
With a chuckle, Mr. Carissimi said, "Then I shall have a box sent to your home to remedy the situation immediately." Looking at Miss Bingley, he inclined his head and added, "Perhaps I shall send one to your home as well, signorina."
Elizabeth watched Mr. Carissimi closely as everyone chose their walking partner. Mr. Darcy offered her his arm. She had only just taken it when Mr. Carissimi joined them with Mother.
"Please excuse me, Mr. Darcy, but might I suggest a trade? You see, I have put Miss Bennet in the awkward position of not knowing the gentleman who is to marry her mother. It is my hope that we shall become friends, but conversation is required to achieve such a worthy aim."
Mr. Darcy looked at Elizabeth and only stepped away from her when she agreed. Mr. Carissimi’s manners were polite and friendly. She had no reason to refuse him. Hesitantly taking his arm, Elizabeth was more concerned about Mr. Carissimi's entry into the Bennet family than what Mother might say to Mr. Darcy.
Mr. Carissimi patted the hand she placed on his arm as if she already were his daughter. "Please do not be alarmed, Miss Bennet. I assure you that my intentions toward your mother are honorable. She is a lovely woman, and I aim to make her very happy. You have no way of k
nowing whether or not you can trust my word, so I encourage you to ask me anything you wish."
His forthright honesty allayed some of her fears, and more questions than she knew how to ask flooded her mind. But one stood above the others. "Do you love my mother?"
"I do."
"You cannot have known each other very long. How is that possible?" She waited for him to bristle up in offense, but he did not.
Patting her hand, he answered softly. "I am not a young man who does not yet know his own mind. I will leave it to her to tell you the circumstances of our meeting, but I knew within only a few minutes in her company that she was the special lady whom I would choose from amongst thousands to spend the rest of my life with. She is everything I desire in a wife, and I will do everything in my power to live up to her expectations and ease her worries."
Mother's expectations? What would Mother want in a marriage, if she could choose? She certainly had not expected much with Father. This man, Mr. Carissimi, seemed to care enough about Mother to concern himself with her expectations. Elizabeth struggled against her tendency to like him— but he was very likable.
He patted her hand again and, oddly enough, it seemed as if he had always been around to do so.
"Do you plan to live in London?" she asked, listing her questions up in her head now that the mud in her mind had cleared.
"I congratulate you on your recent engagement, Mrs. Bennet," said Mr. Darcy politely. He did not want to ask too many questions, but he sensed that they would be answered whether he asked them or not. He was pleased with how civilly she treated him after refusing his company for so long.
There were apples in Mrs. Bennet's cheeks, and her eyes sparkled in the dimming evening light. Would Elizabeth resemble her mother as the years passed? It would not be a bad thing.
"Thank you, Mr. Darcy. How kind of you to say so. I am in a better position to take care of my daughters now— should they need my help. And I am so very happy. Happier, in fact, than I have been these many years…" Her voice trailed off and for a brief second, her semblance saddened.