A Very Merry Masquerade

by Meg Osborne

  His answer was interrupted by the sudden opening of the door, and both Jane and Mr Bingley hurrying in.

  “Lizzy! Oh, Lizzy. Mr Bingley has asked me to marry him, and - ”

  “And my dear Jane - for I may call you both “Jane” and “dear” now and not cause a scandal,” Mr Bingley paused, struggling to keep the beaming smile from his face. “My dear Jane has agreed. We are engaged!”

  ***

  Darcy and Bingley stayed at Gracechurch Street far longer than either man had intended and as such it was quite dark as they made their way home again.

  “I owe you a debt of gratitude, of course,” Bingley chattered brightly as they walked. “For though you sought to separate us, without it I doubt either one of us would have had the courage to settle the matter so quickly.”

  Darcy nodded, politely. His friend was happy; deservedly so. He rejoiced with him, although his mind was still on another matter that was decidedly unsettled. Had he really been about to confess his feelings to Elizabeth Bennet? Feelings he scarcely realised he had until this very day?

  No, not “unrealised”, he thought, with a wry smile. Ignored, unacknowledged, but definitely, to my discredit, present. He felt sure he had been half in love with her upon their second meeting, if only his pride had not kept him so aloof he might be as happy now as Bingley was. He risked a glance at his friend, still grinning like a simpleton. No, he was not sure he had ever been nor ever could be so happy as Bingley. Effusiveness was not in Darcy’s nature the way it was his friend’s. Yet contentment, that was a thing to strive for. And could he ever dream of having it without Miss Elizabeth Bennet on his arm?

  “Ah, here we are home again. You must allow me to break the news to Caroline.” Bingley’ smile faded just a fraction at the thought of the task ahead of him.

  “I am sure she will see your happiness and rejoice in it,” Darcy said, in a tone of voice that suggested neither of these options was entirely likely, yet he hoped Bingley's sister would swallow her true feelings on the matter and congratulate her brother as any sister ought.

  “Come, let us go together, for you know your presence is a steadying influence on my sister.”

  A steadying influence because she wishes to show me only her best side, Darcy thought, with a sigh. Their reacquaintance with the Bennets had occasioned them to be often away from the house, and Darcy was grateful for the separation from Miss Bingley, fearing he would soon have to say or do something demonstrative to prove to her he had none of the affections she apparently harboured for him. Engagement to another would settle the matter easily and completely! a rogue voice in his head commented. He frowned. Since when was he not master of his own mind?

  “Here, Caroline, we are home!” Bingley called, galloping on to his doom. With a resigned sigh, Darcy followed after him, keeping his gaze averted to allow the siblings a modicum of privacy. He had rather not be there at all, but Bingley had asked, and so he would stay.

  “How was your day?” Caroline Bingley asked archly. “So much for your plan to be but an hour!”

  Barely concealed rage simmered beneath her affectation of calm, and Darcy, if not his friend, winced as she jabbed at the embroidery in front of her with no little amount of violence.

  “No, we quite lost track of time!” Bingley laughed, nervously. “You see, ah, well, what happened is -”

  “Yes?”

  Bingley shot an anxious look at Darcy, as his confidence failed at the last moment.

  Clearing his throat, Darcy stepped reluctantly into the breach and broke the news.

  “Miss Bingley, it appears congratulations are in order. Your brother is to be married.”

  The words met silence from Caroline as she shrewdly examined both men.

  “Please tell me you have not proposed to Jane Bennet.”

  “I have,” Bingley said, unable to hide his joy. “Yes, and she has accepted. Isn’t it wonderful?”

  “Delightful.” Caroline flicked a sour look at Darcy. “I am surprised you have not been equally ensnared by her sister, or do Miss Eliza’s fine eyes not sparkle in London the way they did at Longbourn?”

  Darcy felt colour rise in his cheeks, and settled into a seat nearby, hoping that motion might hide his discomfort.

  “Well, I suppose if it is done it cannot be undone,” Caroline said, after a long pause. She poked a few more holes in her embroidery, before casting the thing aside in frustration. “And I suppose too I must be grateful it was the eldest Miss Bennet you chose for a bride, and not her young sister.” She smirked. “Jane is quite superior to Lydia.”

  “I think the whole family charming.” Bingley was stout in his defence of his new bride’s family. “Although I agree Jane is the best of all of them.”

  “What was Eliza’s reaction to the news?” Caroline darted a sly glance at Darcy. “What a shame you could not prevail upon her to marry you already. There might be a double wedding on the horizon for the new year.”

  Darcy kept his eyes fixed on the floor.

  “My life is not your concern, Miss Bingley. This is about Charles’ future happiness.”

  “Quite, and the rest of us will be resignedly miserable for all eternity,” she said, striving for humour but reaching ad decidedly bitter note.

  “My future happiness means nothing if my friend is not equally matched,” Bingley said with heroic optimism. “Is it true that you care for Miss Elizabeth as I care for her sister?”

  Darcy shrank under the scrutiny of the two siblings, for although Caroline made a studious effort to avoid looking at him, he could tell from her posture that she was rigidly attuned to every word he uttered, every breath reached her ears and carried meaning.

  “I do not dislike her,” he began. “That is, I have come to acknowledge that my first assessment of her was hasty indeed - as it was of her sister. I rushed to judgment where I ought to have taken the time to know them properly first."

  “And do you know them properly now?” Caroline asked, disbelievingly. “On the basis of a half a dozen acquaintances?”

  “It is not time that dictates affection,” Darcy philosophised. “I feel that I understand Miss Elizabeth better now than I did previously. Today, we -” He paused, not quite willing to open his heart in company with Caroline as he would with her brother alone.

  “Do go on, Mr Darcy,” Caroline said, with interest. “Recall you have told me nothing of the practicalities of the day, beyond my dear brother’s hurried attachment. What happened today that so changed your opinion?”

  “It was not any one thing,” Darcy said, reliving the day's events in his mind. “I saw a side of Elizabeth Bennet not dictated by behaviour at a ball, not hindered by attentions to her family. I saw herself, and realised that we have more in common than I before acknowledged.”

  “In common? With Elizabeth Bennet?” Caroline shook her head. “Well, I cannot begin to imagine what has come over either of you. Perhaps there is something in the air of London this Christmas that has rendered you both insensible.” Getting to her feet, she stalked towards the door. “Happy as I am for you both,” she said, in a tone of voice that belied her words. “I must excuse myself to bed. I have been beset by a headache.”

  She pulled the door closed behind her, and the mood of the room visibly lightened.

  “I had no idea your feelings for Miss Elizabeth were so deep!” Bingley said, turning towards him with a smile. “And so now we must trade places. As you implored me not to lose my opportunity I say the same to you. They are attending the masquerade ball in a few days time, are they not? Perhaps that will be the perfect time to ascertain her feelings and speak of your own. I think it impossible she could not care for you as you do her.”

  Darcy frowned, unconvinced.

  “Recall, we are no longer in Netherfield or Longbourn. This is London, and as my sister rightly asserts, there is something in the air of London at Christmas that softens the heart towards love. Do not ignore it!”

  Chapter Eight

&nb
sp; At Mr Gardiner’s insistence, Mrs Gardiner and her husband both accompanied their nieces to the masquerade ball a few days later. Mr Bingley had been seen so often at Gracechurch Street that he was already quite accepted as a nephew by the Gardiners, and added a welcome brightness to their party. His sister did not come with him, but Mr Darcy did accompany him on more than one occasion. Elizabeth found herself often in conversation with him, and was surprised to find him most courteous and attentive to her opinion, though he certainly did not agree with all she said Indeed, she had taken to offering particularly controversial opinions just to see him argue his way out of them, and they had fallen into a habitual happy bantering that seemed to amuse their friends and family. Elizabeth spied Jane and Bingley whispering on more than one occasion, but when she attempted to drag the truth out of her sister, Jane displayed a fortitude heretofore unknown by Elizabeth.

  “Engagement has made you altogether too secretive for my liking!” she observed, as the sisters prepared for the ball.

  “Secretive?” Jane said. “As if I ever could keep a secret from my dearest, closest friend and sister.” She kissed Elizabeth sweetly on the cheek, and stood, regarding herself in the mirror.

  “You need not admire your reflection, for you are a beauty always and a joy to behold.” Elizabeth squinted at her own image in the mirror, securing the dark curls that would always misbehave. “As for myself...!”

  “Here, Lizzy,” Jane said, passing her her own mask. “Do wear my mask this evening. It will suit you so much more.”

  Elizabeth frowned at the reflection of Jane, trying to determine the reason for such a suggestion. As ever, Jane’s face was placid, lacking any trace of ulterior motive.

  “And what will you wear?” She inquired, taking the offered accessory, with reluctance.

  “Oh, yours will suit me well enough!” Jane said, cheerfully, reaching for the simple mask Elizabeth had originally selected. “I doubt I will wear it all evening, anyway!” She laughed, but it sounded a trifle forced, and Elizabeth turned around that she might better observe her sister.

  “Well, in that case, why switch? Why not remain as we had planned?”

  “Oh, well...” Jane hesitated, searching for an answer. “This will be more of a surprise. Recall, the gentlemen saw us constructing the masks.”

  “The gentlemen?” Elizabeth laughed. “Do you mean Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley? I hardly think they paid any notice at all to bits of ribbon and lace on the rare occasion they happened to see them.” She returned to her task. “And that is if they saw any at all, at the speed with which you and Auntie perfected swooping our work baskets out of sight at any time they happened to call. Still, if it is your wish to exchange masks, far be it for me to deny you anything!” And with a final, not entirely satisfied, glance in the mirror, she pronounced herself “done” and scooped up the mask, a shawl and her reticule, and followed her sister downstairs to where their aunt and uncle would be waiting for them.

  “I wonder, girls, if we ought to have made more effort to secure costumes...” Mrs Gardiner wrung her hands uncertainly, but her husband spoke up, quick to reassure her.

  “My dear, you look quite splendid, and if you have a mask that will be enough of a nod to the ball’s theme.” He chuckled. “No doubt some ladies of an elegant or extravagant persuasion will have gone to far more extreme lengths to disguise themselves, but what need have you to be in disguise? Three happy ladies need not hide that fact!”

  It was a nice little speech and happily achieved its aim. Mrs Gardiner blushed at his praise, and the party clambered into their carriage. Mr Gardiner had been pronounced well enough to attend the ball, provided he did not linger in the cold too long, or undertake to dance, but as he wished only to listen to the music and make conversation with a few friends he anticipated also attending, that would be of little hardship to him. His wife, and, indeed, his nieces, were delighted at his accompanying them, and the party chattered excitedly on the short journey to the building that was holding the ball, visible from some distance by virtue of its lights and gay decorations.

  “I can see Mr Bingley from here!” Mrs Gardiner said, with a merry wave. “See, Jane, he is waiting outside for you to arrive. How gallant of him!”

  “Gallant!” Elizabeth snorted. “No doubt he is rather more protective and worries some other handsome stranger may swoop up his bride to be.”

  “As if I could ever even notice another man when Bingley is beside me!” Jane said, swatting her sister affectionately. “Now, hurry and put your mask on, before we clamber out of the carriage.”

  Lizzy did as instructed, wondering inwardly why she had wasted such time with her hair when the mask Jane had lent her came encased in a dramatic sash, covering almost her entire head from view.

  “I ought not to have let you talk me into this!” she grumbled, her voice muffled beneath the swathes of fabric. “For I will be almost entirely unrecognisable under this hood.”

  “That is the point, is it not?” Jane asked, with a suspiciously merry voice.

  “Come on then, and help me down, for your eyes are further apart than mine and I can hardly see out of the peep holes your dainty fingers engineered.”

  Elizabeth exaggerated, but only a little. It was true that the world took on a hazy, shadowed tint as she peered out of the mask. I shall wear it inside, she reasoned, and remove it as soon as I am able, for I am already much too hot under here! She decided her sister would not be unduly concerned with the breaking of tradition in removing her mask before midnight. Many people did so, and it was not as if she were playing at seductions as many young women did, using masks to hide their blushes.

  “Miss Bennet - er, I mean, good evening, mysterious maidens!” Bingley crowed with laughter. “Pray, allow me to escort you, uh, both inside.”

  Lizzy took the arm he offered and heard her Aunt and Uncle chattering happily as they followed the trio through the elegant entryway. Distracted by the array of bright and ostentatious costumes around her, Lizzy could scarcely make out the whispered conversation going on between Jane and Mr Bingley but dismissed it as of little interest to her. That is, until she saw the figure of a man who must be Mr Darcy. His face was obscured, to be sure, but she felt certain she would recognise his upright stance anywhere.

  “Dear Miss Bennet, I hope you do not mind if I dance with your sister first this evening,” Bingley said, loudly, as they paused next to the mysterious figure. “Sir, perhaps you will be generous enough to dance with the lady,” and in half a moment more he and Jane were gone, leaving Elizabeth alone to deconstruct their strange parting.

  “Miss Bennet?” Darcy asked, in an amused tone. “I note my friend deliberately did not refer to you by your Christian name.”

  That realisation dawned on Lizzy then, too. He might have deposited Jane and escorted her sister away, rather than the other way around. It was a clumsy manoeuvre but aided by their disguises. Lizzy groaned. No wonder Jane had been so insistent on Elizabeth wearing her own mask. No doubt she and Bingley thought they had engineered the whole thing rather well.

  “Let us not spoil their game,” Mr Darcy said, his amused tone of voice continuing, quite to Elizabeth’s surprise. “For we are both disguised this evening and might well be strangers. You know I do not converse well with people I have never met, and so I shall insist upon dancing instead. For I have it on good authority that many young women do love to dance.”

  Surprised at his friendly manner, Elizabeth could do little but allow him to escort her to the ballroom, and they soon found themselves swept into a jolly dance, surrounded by masked couples on all sides.

  There was something different about Mr Darcy’s manner, though Elizabeth could not pinpoint exactly what had changed. He was the same as he ever had been, and yet he wasn’t. She could see only his eyes: much of his face was obscured by his mask, and yet they seemed to watch her more closely, filled with interest and concern rather than the haughty disdain she had come to expect. Yet that had been miss
ing in almost their entire interaction in London, she realised with a start. She had come to value him as a co-conspirator in securing the happiness of her sister, in spite of his previous attempts to ruin it, and since the happy announcement of Jane’s engagement, Darcy had become still more to her. A friend. More than a friend? The realisation struck her so that she stumbled, fumbling a step, and quickly a strong hand reached out to steady her.

  “I fear I hurried you into dancing, Madam, would you rather sit a while?”

  “No, no,” Elizabeth said, mystified by her own feelings. She tried to focus again on the dancing, but just now their steps forced them apart, and she turned around a stranger, arching her neck that she might keep Darcy in her line of sight.

  After what felt like both too long and too short a time, the music ended, and they were standing together again.

  “Would you like to dance again?”

  Elizabeth nodded, unable to stop the slow smile that curved up across her features, though she knew it would not be seen.

  ***

  After three dances in quick succession, Darcy could stand it no longer.

  “Miss Elizabeth, might I offer you some refreshments?”

  To his surprise and delight Elizabeth - for he would recognise her anywhere, even beneath that preposterous mask that somebody had pressed her into wearing - took his hand, and they moved away from their fellow dancers.

  “I suppose, since you have guessed my identity, I might dispose of this now?” Elizabeth said, lifting the mask from over her head. She glanced about her, mischievously. “Although I fear that is not at all the fashion!”

  “I would much rather see you for who you are, than hidden behind some mask,” Darcy admitted, surprising himself with his forthright answer.

  “And do you see me for who I am?” Elizabeth’s tone of voice was light, but he could tell she was watching carefully for his response.

  Removing his own mask, he spied an empty corner, sheltered from the rest of the party. He pulled her towards it, that they might converse with a modicum of privacy.