They entered the parlor and found Edward engaged in conversation with Colonel Fitzwilliam, who beamed with pride when he saw Olivia wearing his grandmother's pearls. The pale peach of her gown provided the perfect complement to the delicately colored strands. The Colonel bowed to Elizabeth before greeting his future wife. He took both of her hands in his.
"You look magnificent, Olivia," he said in a whisper.
"Thank you, Colonel," she breathed.
"I only wish my grandmother could see you tonight."
"Do you think she would approve of me?" Olivia whispered back.
"I do believe she would love you as much as I do," he said, applying a chaste kiss on her forehead. "On second thought, that would be placing quite a burden on my grandmother. Suffice to say she would be absolutely delighted with my choice of bride."
"Oh, Richard," Olivia said, her voice choked with emotion, just seconds before Edward tapped the Colonel on the shoulder.
"Sir?" Edward said meekly, for although the Colonel was soon to become his brother, he was still his superior officer. Colonel Fitzwilliam did not answer. "Uh...sir?"
"Yes, Lieutenant," the Colonel growled, his eyes still locked with Olivia's.
"My father has asked me to deliver a message to you, sir."
"And?" the Colonel asked, as he heard Elizabeth giggle in the distance. Colonel Fitzwilliam turned then and saw that the rest of the party had already left the room. "Where is your father, Lieutenant?" the Colonel asked, as Olivia tore herself away from him and went to pick up her reticule.
"He is in his carriage, Colonel, and asks that you and his daughter join him when it is convenient." The Colonel sighed, and offering his arm to his fiancée, made his way to the carriage.
In deference to Elizabeth's eagerness to see her sister, the Crenshaw party made a point of arriving at the Gardiner's home a bit early. They were graciously welcomed by Elizabeth's aunt and uncle, who received the Colonel like an old and valued friend. Jane had not yet come downstairs, so Elizabeth went up to her room. She tiptoed to Jane's door and opened it slightly. Peering in, she saw Jane preening before the mirror.
"Really, Jane! Do you truly hope to improve upon perfection?" she asked, hands on hips in a mock display of pique. Jane turned and gave her sister a quick hug.
"You think me presentable, then?" she asked, turning back to the mirror. Elizabeth took her by the arm and led her downstairs.
"If you become any more presentable, the rest of us will not stand a chance of being noticed by anyone the entire evening," Elizabeth laughed. The two ladies reached the bottom of the stairs as Mr. Gardiner, Mr. Bingley, and Miss Bingley came toward them from the vestibule. Jane immediately rushed to Mr. Bingley. Miss Bingley curtseyed to both ladies with cool civility. Elizabeth returned the curtsey with a grim smile on her face that immediately warmed as Mr. Bingley came and took her hand.
"It is good to see you again, Miss Elizabeth. I am afraid you gave us all something of a fright the other day, disappearing from the country unexpectedly." Mr. Bingley's tone was teasing rather than reproachful, and Elizabeth immediately seized upon the opportunity to avenge herself upon his sister.
"Why Mr. Bingley! Do not tell me that you have been listening to those malicious rumors about me that someone has been spreading around town." Elizabeth cast an almost imperceptible glance at Miss Bingley, whose face instantly lost its color. Mr. Gardiner heard Elizabeth's comment and demanded to know about the rumors, and Mr. Bingley furrowed his brow in a show of filial concern. Elizabeth took her uncle's arm and led the way into the parlor.
"Do not worry yourself, Uncle," she said soothingly. "It is nothing." She took a seat on the settee next to her aunt, but neither Mr. Gardiner nor Mr. Bingley was mollified. The Colonel, as well, who had heard Elizabeth's comment from the hall, was somewhat alarmed. All eyes were on Elizabeth. She looked around, a serene smile on her face. Her eyes came to rest on Miss Bingley, who was standing near the window. "Oh, it truly is nothing. I am sure that someone who knows what has passed between Mr. Darcy and myself is putting about the rumor. Only a person without an ounce of sense would credit it."
Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner seemed satisfied by this explanation, as did all but three others in the room. Mr. Crenshaw and his son, who knew nothing of Elizabeth's relationship with Mr. Darcy, both raised their eyebrows in surprise. Miss Bingley, equally unenlightened, fairly swooned. Mrs. Gardiner rushed to her side.
"Miss Bingley, are you unwell?" Mrs. Gardiner cried as she and Mr. Bingley helped Miss Bingley to a chair. Mr. Gardiner fetched a glass of brandy, and without a moment's hesitation, Miss Bingley took the offered glass and swallowed half its contents in one gulp and was instantly overwhelmed by paroxysms of coughing. Her eyes grew red and she drew her fan from her reticule and fanned herself furiously. Olivia sent for water, and brought Miss Bingley the glass herself.
"Miss Bingley you do look terribly ill," she said. "Drink this down." Miss Bingley was grateful for the water but resented Olivia's attentions. She glared at Olivia as she continued to hover about, a tiny smile on her lips, although her every action sought to relieve Miss Bingley's suffering. Edward, Jane, and Colonel Fitzwilliam, meanwhile, were trying to conceal their amusement, while Mr. Crenshaw and Mr. Gardiner considered sending for a physician. Elizabeth alone remained calm and unruffled amid the confusion, observing Miss Bingley in quiet triumph. In a very few minutes Miss Bingley's coughing episode had subsided and the Gardiners and their guests repaired to the dining room, where a curious Edward could no longer contain his curiosity.
"Livy?" he whispered from his seat between Miss Bingley and his sister, Olivia. He was unheard by all but the two ladies beside him. "Exactly what did happen between Mr. Darcy and Lizzy?" Olivia silenced her brother with a look, but not before Miss Bingley had choked on her soup.
• • •
Mr. Darcy awoke early the next morning and took a long, leisurely stroll in the park. He had made a point of keeping to the house for the last two days, the better to resist the temptation to seek out Elizabeth Bennet. But on this morning he grew restless and soon found himself standing at the spot where he had seen Elizabeth back in March, on the grassy knoll by the pond. He stood for a moment and indulged himself with thoughts of what might have been, but he would not allow himself to succumb to morose reflections. Mr. Darcy walked on, his heart full of Elizabeth, content to think of her as he did last spring before everything went so terribly wrong. He was making his way to his club for an assignation with an old Cambridge friend when he heard his name being called. Mr. Darcy froze in his tracks, then slowly turned to see Miss Bingley rushing to catch up with him.
"Why it is you, Mr. Darcy! I was just about to get into my carriage when I thought I saw you." Mr. Darcy was less than pleased to be reunited with the lady.
"I thought you were still at Netherfield, Miss Bingley," he said in a tone slightly tinged with irritation.
"Miss Jane Bennet has come to town," Miss Bingley answered haughtily, "And my brother cannot bring himself to live without the sight of her for more than a few days' time. He has decided to drag us back to London after I had just gotten settled in Hertfordshire. Really," she added, with a roll of her eyes, "I find his engagement to that woman too tedious." Mr. Darcy held his tongue and began to turn away.
"I must be off, Miss Bingley. I am meeting Benton Fowler at my club and I do not wish to keep him waiting." He made a curt bow, but Miss Bingley took hold of his arm to stay him.
"Mr. Darcy, I am afraid I must warn you about a most scandalous report that concerns you. I think that you should put an end to it immediately before your good name comes to ruin." Miss Bingley had succeeded in gaining Mr. Darcy's full attention.
"What manner of report, Miss Bingley?" he asked.
"A report of the most sordid nature, I fear," she whispered in a conspiratorial tone. Mr. Darcy became suspicious, but he wanted to hear what she had to say. "I had dinner with the Gardiners last evening." Mr. Darcy squinted at her.
"The Gardiners--I do not know them." Miss Bingley sighed petulantly.
"Then you are most fortunate. They are an insignificant little pair with high opinions of themselves. They reside in Gracechurch Street and parade about like people of fashion. It was all too tedious." Mr. Darcy drew out his watch and Miss Bingley hurried her tale. "They are also aunt and uncle to the Bennet sisters."
"And the Gardiners are spreading scandalous reports about me?" he asked dubiously. He could tell where this was going, and he was in no mood to hear Miss Bingley insult Jane Bennet again.
"No, Mr. Darcy--Elizabeth Bennet, she of the fine eyes you so admire--has been telling people that you have gotten her into trouble." Mr. Darcy didn't even blink.
"I find that impossible to believe, Miss Bingley," he said, letting his annoyance show. He began to turn away once more.
"Well, I did not actually hear her say that she was with child," she added hastily, "But she made it quite plain that she was intimately involved with you." Mr. Darcy cast a warning glare at Miss Bingley, who had gone too far to back down. "The worst of it is, Mr. Darcy, that I am sure that it was not the first time she had told the lie. Her family did not seem at all surprised by the mention of your name." Mr. Darcy had heard enough and he signaled for his carriage, which was waiting a short distance away. Miss Bingley followed after him.
"Mr. Darcy, your own cousin was present at the gathering. If you will not believe me, then speak to Colonel Fitzwilliam! He will confirm what I have said. Surely you do not wish to let her go on spreading such a lie?"
Mr. Darcy caught a glimpse of himself in the glass as he entered his carriage. He turned his smiling face to Miss Bingley and said, "Who said it was a lie?" as the carriage sped away.
• • •
Mr. Darcy and Mr. Fowler had just parted when Mr. Bingley arrived at the club. Mr. Darcy was on his way out, and had stopped to speak with an acquaintance when Mr. Bingley hailed him.
"I say, Darcy! I was hoping to find you here. Have you eaten yet?" Mr. Darcy shook Mr. Bingley's hand.
"I have just finished my lunch, but I would be more than happy to keep you company while you dine." The two men went into the dining hall of the illustrious club and secured a table.
"I met your sister this morning," Mr. Darcy said. "She told me that you would be in town a few weeks." Mr. Bingley colored slightly and admitted that he couldn't seem to find peace in Hertfordshire while Miss Bennet was in London. Mr. Darcy smiled tolerantly and wondered yet again at the remarkable change the love of a woman had wrought in Mr. Bingley. His part in depriving his friend such joy oppressed his spirits momentarily, but Mr. Bingley's ebullience soon dispelled Mr. Darcy's guilt. As the waiter brought Mr. Bingley's soup, Mr. Darcy realized that he too had been indelibly altered by his relationship with Elizabeth Bennet. Indeed, had he not fled to London for the same reason as his friend? Mr. Bingley sampled the soup and, wiping his mouth with his napkin, addressed Mr. Darcy's very thought.
"I suppose you know exactly how I feel. Have you spoken to her yet?" Mr. Darcy took an uneasy breath. "What are you waiting for?"
"Bingley," Mr. Darcy said in a low voice. "I was not two days in Hertfordshire before Miss Bennet bolted for London. Do you think she would welcome my appearing unbidden on her doorstep? She is likely to flee London and to who knows where!" Mr. Darcy picked up a roll and absentmindedly tore it to pieces as he spoke. Mr. Bingley watched him with some amusement, but he had to agree with Mr. Darcy's sentiments. "I believe I made a mistake in following Miss Bennet to town," Mr. Darcy continued, pushing away the bits of bread and crumbs that now littered the surface of the table. "I cannot pursue her, and yet I cannot bring myself to leave."
"You are absolutely right, Darcy. I did not think of that." Mr. Bingley was silent for a moment. "Perhaps what the two of you need," he said brightening, "Is a neutral setting in which to meet." He paused to finish his soup. "I have just the thing." Mr. Darcy waited impatiently as the waiter brought Mr. Bingley's entrée and carefully whisked away the mess of breadcrumbs. "Well?" he finally asked in frustration.
"Oh!" Mr. Bingley said, wiping his mouth once more. "I am to take Miss Bennet and the Gardiners to the opera tomorrow night. Jane has asked if Miss Elizabeth may join us. I think she will be staying with the Gardiners for a few days. Anyway," Mr. Bingley paused to apply his concentration to his beef. Mr. Darcy began to drum his fingers. "If you were to also attend...your box is not too far from mine...well, I am sure you can figure it out, Darcy," Mr. Bingley said as he prodded a chunk of potato.
"Miss Bennet may be no more eager to speak to me in a public theatre than--."
"But that is the beauty of my plan, Darcy! She does not have to speak to you if she chooses not to, and if she does, well..." A smile suffused Mr. Darcy's face.
"What opera is to be performed?" Mr. Bingley stared at Mr. Darcy for a moment.
"What on earth difference does it make?" he exclaimed.
"I want to bring the right libretto with me," Mr. Darcy smiled. Mr. Bingley shook his head, and laughed. As the two men spoke, Elizabeth was putting her few personal items into the drawer alongside her sister Jane's. She would be staying with her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner for a few days while the Crenshaws were entertaining the family's eldest son and his family. Elizabeth sat on the bed she would be sharing with her sister, and stared out of the window. It had been more than a week since Jane had arrived in London. Elizabeth remembered their painful confrontation that afternoon. You can rest assured that Mr. Darcy will be in London before nightfall.
Nine days had come and gone since Jane had arrested Elizabeth's heart with those words. Nine days had brought no sign of Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth laughed ruefully; she was not sure if she should be happy or saddened by this turn of events.
"Disappointed--that is it, Mr. Darcy. I am disappointed in you," Elizabeth declared aloud. "Not that I would welcome an interview...." She threw herself back and pulled a pillow to her chest. "Oh, Lizzy, you do not know what you want, do you?"
"I suppose you will want to get dressed before Mr. Bingley arrives," Jane said as she entered the room. Elizabeth immediately sprang to her feet, blushing at the thought that Jane had overheard all that she had said. But if Jane had heard her, she did not let on. The two women were soon dressed and ready for the evening. Mr. Bingley was to dine with the Gardiners before they left for the theatre, and Jane was most eager to see him. The pair made their way down the hall teasing each other about which of them had taken the longest to fix her hair.
They descended the stairs to the sound of a small commotion in the vestibule. Elizabeth gasped as she saw the source of the calamity. Unexpectedly, unaccountably, and most unwelcome, her mother stood before her. Mr. Gardiner and Mrs. Gardiner were trying to compose themselves and make Mrs. Bennet welcome, but that lady was oblivious to their distress. Elizabeth managed to walk forward and kiss her mother's cheek, but Jane, frozen in her position on the stairs, chose that moment to do what heroines in novels have done throughout history; she tripped down the last three steps and twisted her ankle.
• • •
"What is that?" Mr. Darcy asked in a tone of mock condescension. Colonel Fitzwilliam, unperturbed, calmly sat down, and the brown puppy immediately took its usual place in his lap. The Colonel opened his mouth to speak, but Mr. Darcy stopped him with a hand. "No, do not tell me--the Little Colonel?" he asked with a smirk. The Colonel did not deign to reply. "How did you ever manage to come up with such an original name?" Mr. Darcy asked as he poured his glowering cousin a brandy.
"I adopted the beast while I was on a tour of the southern camps. My men took to calling him the Little Colonel because he followed me around during an inspection one day. I gave him to Miss Crenshaw on my return, but she has asked me to keep him for a few days while her brother and his family is in town. It seems Richard Crenshaw's wife has a morbid fear of dogs."
"Afraid of that?" Mr. Darcy pointed at the dog derisively. "You know, Fitzwilliam, a Labrador retriever is not a la
p dog." The Colonel made a face.
"I know, but as a lady's dog he's not likely to do much hunting in the field either, is he?" Mr. Darcy leaned back in his chair.
"Somehow I still cannot picture him in Miss Crenshaw's lap. What does she think of the Little Colonel?"
"They are very fond of one another," the Colonel sniffed defensively.
"And she calls him the Little Colonel?" Mr. Darcy was rather enjoying his cousin's discomfort as Colonel Fitzwilliam reddened.
"She actually did give him another name, but it is even more embarrassing."
"This I must hear!" cried Mr. Darcy.
"I thought you had planned an evening at the theatre?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked, hoping to divert his cousin. Mr. Darcy pulled his watch from his fob pocket.
"Would you care to join me, or do your babysitting duties prevent you?"
"I have an engagement of my own. My old commanding officer is retiring and his men are giving him a send off tonight," the Colonel said as he picked up the dog and stood. Mr. Darcy looked disapprovingly at the Colonel. The Colonel quickly put the puppy on the floor, and tugged at the leash to make it stand.
"I must be off, cousin," the Colonel said. "Remember: Saturday evening at six. Mother will be expecting you. Enjoy the opera." Mr. Darcy took the stairs to his chambers two at a time. He barely contained his excitement as he bathed and changed. In twenty minutes he was ready. Tonight would mark a new beginning; he would see Elizabeth again. Tonight he would learn if he would have any hope of ever earning her love. As Mr. Darcy waited for his carriage to be brought around, he said a silent prayer that the night would turn out well. He picked up his libretto and strolled out to his carriage with his heart in his throat.
• • •
Mr. Darcy arrived at the theatre early by design. He wanted to be there when Elizabeth arrived. He wanted a chance to see her before she...well perhaps this time she would not run away.
So Long, Sentiment Page 17