Mr. Darcy & Elizabeth

by Alyssa Jefferson

  However, her attitude began to change when she saw, across the room, a young woman in a crowd of people who was holding her mask away from her face, rather than wearing it. It was Miss Whipple, and she was laughing as she spoke to a group of young men—among them, Elizabeth surmised, Mr. Darcy. He must have been the gentleman whose tall posture and noble mien set him apart from the others. His half-mask was simple but elegant, and he appeared to be enjoying himself immensely—as were all the others in their set.

  Elizabeth hesitated, and Miss Watson said, “Why do we not go on? Are you tired?”

  “No,” Elizabeth replied. “I see a friend of mine, and I am considering if we should go to her.”

  “Oh, by all means!” Miss Watson replied. “We have not spoken to a single person all evening, and it is quite unlike you. Dearest Lizzy, are you sure you are feeling quite yourself? You have been so odd this evening.”

  “Have I?” Elizabeth asked distractedly. She was watching Mr. Darcy speak to another young woman and feeling vastly inferior herself in every way—from her well-worn gown to her inelegant mask.

  “Yes,” Miss Watson said, “though it has been several months since I have had the pleasure of accompanying you in public, I am certain you have never behaved so strangely before.”

  Elizabeth sighed. “I see my friend Miss Whipple,” she said, “but I do not know if I should go to her.”

  In an earlier moment of leisure, Miss Watson had learned the whole tale of Miss Whipple’s unforgivable behavior at the last ball. Scoffing, Miss Watson said, “Oh, is that who you saw across the room? Never mind her, Lizzy. She is in every way beneath your notice. We shall go to another part of the room.”

  Again, Elizabeth hesitated, and her pause was long enough for Miss Whipple to spot her. She exclaimed a little, then rose on her toes and waved to Elizabeth across the room—a gesture that confused Elizabeth until she realized that her governess must have given away her identity, at least to her friends from school.

  “Miss Elizabeth!” Miss Whipple then called, and Elizabeth had little choice but to walk toward her, governess in tow, to meet whatever ill will her former friend now had in store for her.

  But Miss Whipple was all smiles, again returned to her charming, flattering self.

  “Why, your mask is so complete!” she exclaimed upon seeing Elizabeth up close. She took her hands and admired her, saying, “Of course, you would wish to be concealed. You would wish for a total game. I know you!”

  “I had no particular wish,” Elizabeth replied. “I did not learn of the ball until it was too late to procure a new mask, and the one I wear today is borrowed.”

  “Borrowed, indeed!” Miss Whipple cried, and she gave another uproarious laugh.

  “Yes,” Elizabeth confirmed. Then, with every effort to maintain the civility she knew she must show, she said, “How do you do, Miss Whipple?”

  “I am miserable!” she cried. “Absolutely miserable! After all the fun I had with you and Jane this summer, I am now with my parents every day. Honestly, I believe they plan never to travel again, and they are always with me and telling me where I ought to go and what I ought to do! I am utterly exhausted from it. But they are not here tonight. Papa wished to go to bed early, so I have come with Miss Horton.”

  Elizabeth said what was proper and complimented Miss Whipple’s mask, but she was still too nervous to look up at Mr. Darcy to see whether he was listening to her conversation with his cousin. She scolded herself for how foolish she was being, demanding more discipline from her traitorous thoughts than they could presently show. She worried excessively that Mr. Darcy only liked her because he believed her intimate with the Radcliffe family; she believed that her present style of living would be more than he could possibly put up with. He had never done anything to suggest his friendship with her would last beyond her establishment as a young woman of fashion and good connections, and therefore any expectation of being singled out by him tonight must be foolish. Yet she could not keep her heart from hoping that their friendship, so gradually and strangely formed, had eventually developed into a deeper bond than merely what money and popularity can offer. She hoped, despite their very different backgrounds, that they were not truly so different at all.

  “I have taken off my mask, as you see,” Miss Whipple said, “because I fear that people will not notice me if I wear it. Why, Darcy scarcely noticed me, and I am his cousin. I suppose you know, your cousin is here tonight, as well. I fear he is even less likely to recognize me.”

  Glad for the mask that hid her fierce blush, Elizabeth said, “What—my step-cousin? Do you mean Lord Norwich?”

  “Yes, certainly,” Miss Whipple replied. “I have heard he is here, but I do not know where. I suppose you must know what his mask resembles—an animal, perhaps, or another theme—”

  Miss Whipple was still conjecturing when another man approached their party, this one quite unknown to the ladies.

  “How do you do, ma’am?” He said, bowing to Elizabeth in particular. She hesitated, hearing a familiar tone in his voice but not being able to recognize his mannerisms or see his face behind his full mask. She wondered if this was Lord Norwich himself—however, she did not think that he could have made out her identity. He did not know Miss Watson, and Elizabeth’s mask was truly very good.

  “I am well, sir,” she said. “Forgive me, but if we are acquainted, I know it not. Pray, tell me your name?”

  He shook his head, however, and reached for her hand. “I will tell you my name if you will tell me that the first two dances you will stand up with me.”

  She said, “Stand up with a person I do not know?”

  “I have never said I was a person you did not know,” he replied.

  Elizabeth was intrigued. She did not believe it was Mr. Pembroke, for he had lighter hair. Whoever it was, he was looking at Elizabeth as though he did know her identity. She laughed, for the notion of dancing with a man she did not know while he wore a mask struck her suddenly as highly ridiculous. Her laugh he took as acceptance, and at once he led her toward the dance floor, where a great many couples were assembling. Elizabeth could not then refuse him without making a scene—though she was disappointed, for she greatly wished that Mr. Darcy would have asked her to dance. Perhaps he planned to dance with the pretty young lady Elizabeth had seen him speak to earlier instead.

  “What is your name?” Elizabeth asked again when the dance had begun.

  “I am very surprised you do not recognize me,” he replied. “Surprised, and perhaps even offended—though you could never truly offend me.”

  “I, never offend you? Why, I am sure you are the first person ever to utter such words about me.”

  He laughed, and as she danced past him, he reached his arm out and wrapped it around her waist. Elizabeth moved quickly beyond his reach, and as she did so, she attempted to laugh and clap with the rest of the ladies, but internally, her heart was racing. The masked stranger must in fact be her cousin, Lord Norwich! She knew no other person who would take a liberty to touch her in such a way. Again blushing furiously and horrified by his manners, she said nothing else.

  When next he spoke, it was to say, “I am sorry to see you in so old and ugly a mask, Miss Elizabeth. I am quite ashamed with your stepmother for allowing it.”

  “My stepmother?” she replied. “What do you know of the matter? Sir, I will not allow you to persist in anonymity. Are you not my own cousin, Lord Norwich?”

  “I am,” he said. “I am none other. And I am deeply indebted to your friend, for if she had not made you out to me, I should never have known you were here. How loud she was when she called out your name! But I would hear that name above any noise, for it is the dearest name in the world to me. Elizabeth, I have longed to dance with you for quite some time.”

  Again, the viscount’s wandering hands made their way onto Elizabeth’s bodice, but the dance moved quickly, and Elizabeth adeptly brushed off his touch. She began to be very uncomfortable, however. He
must have had something strong to drink for his treatment of her in a public place to be so very inappropriate.

  Elizabeth began to scan the room for Miss Watson. She knew her governess would come to help her if she were in any true distress, but the room was so crowded and the dance moving so quickly that it was nearly impossible for anybody not two feet away to see what was happening there. Lord Norwich continued to reach for her more intimately than he ought, and Elizabeth continued to pry herself out of his hands in her attempts to elude him.

  She began to wonder if she would ever escape her cousin’s ill-advised interest in her when another gentleman was suddenly at her side.

  “Sir, I believe your partner is uncomfortable,” the man said. Elizabeth looked up breathlessly and saw Mr. Darcy himself. “Recollect yourself and your company, and try to remain civil,” he added.

  Lord Norwich laughed heartily. “My cousin does not mind anything I do, do you, cousin?”

  Eager to grasp the opportunity to speak for herself which Mr. Darcy’s intercession had afforded, she said, “I mind what any principled young lady would mind, sir—nothing more and certainly nothing less.”

  Lord Norwich was too intoxicated to heed this warning. He merely turned to Mr. Darcy and said, “You see? She is glad for my attention, and I am glad to provide it to her. Too many weeks it has been since I have beheld my lovely cousin.”

  “Yet you humiliate and demean her,” Mr. Darcy replied harshly. Saying what she, as a woman far beneath Lord Norwich in status, could not say, he added, “Your mask does not conceal your behavior; it hides only your face. Your intentions, your desires—these are readily apparent, and if you cannot control them, they will be ruinous to more than just yourself.”

  Lord Norwich was not of a mind—nor even half a mind—to listen to Mr. Darcy. He reached again for Elizabeth’s bodice, but this time, Mr. Darcy stepped between them.

  “Sir, I insist you recollect yourself,” Mr. Darcy said.

  “You are too serious,” Lord Norwich replied dismissively. “It is a ball! Are there not a hundred women I could dance with at this ball? Yet I have singled her out. My cousin is grateful to me. Are not you, cousin?”

  “How can she fairly answer such a question?” Mr. Darcy replied. “You have forced her to dance with you, taken liberties most untoward, and now are engaging in despicable, ungentlemanly behavior.”

  Lord Norwich drew himself up to his full height and took a step toward Mr. Darcy. “How dare you insult me!” he began.

  At this, a little crowd began to observe what was happening between the gentlemen—and no sooner was it noticed by Miss Watson than she put a thorough end to it. She elbowed her way through the crowd, taking Elizabeth by the arm. Elizabeth looked up at her, glad for the mask that concealed her tears, and Miss Watson, unsure what had led to this confrontation but angry at all who might have contributed, said, “Shame on all of you!”

  She pulled Elizabeth into her arms and led her away before either gentleman could say anything more about it. With there being so large a crowd about, the men soon parted from each other—Darcy being so angry he could neither dance nor speak to anybody, and Norwich being so filled with drink that he was able to procure another partner to offend and demean almost immediately.

  For her part, after the scene dissipated, Elizabeth was too stunned to say a word. Her cousin’s character had long been known to her, but she had never before been a victim of his untoward advances. Mr. Darcy’s actions had been salvation to her—yet she was almost too embarrassed now to face him again. Though she knew it had not been her fault, she still felt ashamed—inexplicably ashamed, and she could not reason her thoughts away. Miss Watson called for the carriage, seeing that her young friend was in no state to enjoy the remainder of the ball, and they descended the steps together. Only after they were seated safely in the carriage, awaiting the drive back to Gracechurch Street, did Elizabeth burst into tears.

  CHAPTER 22

  __________

  A crisp autumnal morning met Elizabeth when she rose the following morning, and with it, a degree of anger like she had never before experienced. Her cousin’s rudeness to her had made her wretched in the shadows of evening, but in the light of morning, it made her indignant. How dare he act in so undeserving a manner toward her! How dare anybody! She was so angry that, though the previous night she had been resolved never to tell anybody about the events of the ball, she met her aunt—now much recovered from her cold—at the breakfast table and disclosed the whole history to her.

  “Good heavens!” Mrs. Gardiner cried. “I had never thought him as bad as this!”

  “Nor I!” Elizabeth declared. “I…I suppose I knew from tales my stepmother has told, but these I thought were a result of the young ladies also being unprincipled. I never imagined he should take such liberties, unwished for and uninvited!”

  “He is a scoundrel!” Mrs. Gardiner declared. Then recollecting herself, she said, “Pardon me. I know he has so high a stature that I ought not—”

  “No,” Elizabeth said emphatically. “Scoundrel is just the right word for him. I am so happy that—that somebody was there to separate us.”

  “Yes,” Mrs. Gardiner replied. “Your governess is certainly attentive. I flatter myself I also would have intervened, if I had seen what happened.”

  “Yes, Miss Watson did help me,” Elizabeth stated, “but more than her, Mr. Darcy’s intervention prevented the situation from escalating when Miss Watson was yet too far away to see the mischief happening.”

  “Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Gardiner repeated. “I have heard you mention his name before. Is he not the cousin of Miss Whipple’s who was so insulting to us earlier this summer?”

  Elizabeth opened her mouth to reply, but what to say? She was aware that, in the intervening weeks since she had last seen her aunt, a great many changes had taken place in her own perceptions and opinions of Mr. Darcy, as well as in his actions toward her. He had once been a chief adversary in Elizabeth’s mind, and she had told her aunt as much. However, he was so different now—so much an ally, so much a kindred spirit in numerous ways—that it felt almost impossible to represent his character fairly without divulging many details which Elizabeth did not know how to share.

  “He…is the same man. However, we are better acquainted now.”

  Mrs. Gardiner was not particularly interested in learning more about him, however, being still too offended by Lord Norwich’s behavior to think of anybody else.

  “I am glad that it was a masquerade,” she said emphatically.

  “Are you?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Yes, for though Lord Norwich was highly inappropriate toward you, there can be no negative effects on your reputation. I daresay nobody knew who you were behind your mask.”

  This had not occurred to Elizabeth, and she laughed when she heard it. “I suppose you are right,” she said. “Though Miss Whipple recognized me because of my governess, and Mr. Darcy because of her, I daresay nobody else did.”

  “And for that,” Mrs. Gardiner replied, “we can be grateful.”

  A visitor was then introduced, and Mrs. Gardiner looked up at Elizabeth, rather surprised to be asked if she was at home for a call from Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.

  “Why—is not that the gentleman we just spoke of?” she said. “Were you expecting a call from him?”

  “Miss Whipple must have told him my address,” Elizabeth replied. Her hand went absently to her hair, which, following Miss Watson’s criticism, had been fixed to great advantage this morning—before saying, “I would be pleased to see him, Aunt, if you would not mind it.”

  Mrs. Gardiner now began to suspect for the first time what Jane had long suspected between the two of them, for she saw a gentleman enter her drawing room very properly—a tall, handsome man with noble features—who had eyes only for her niece.

  “Miss Bennet,” he said, “I beg your pardon for intruding upon your privacy in this manner. I could not be satisfied until I called to see how y
ou bore the—that is, how you did after yesterday evening.”

  Elizabeth rose to meet him, and she was recovered enough in spirits that she could tell him from her heart, “I thank you, sir. Though I was highly agitated yesterday, I am much better today.”

  Seeing as well as hearing that she had not been materially harmed by her step-cousin’s mistreatment, Mr. Darcy visibly relaxed.

  “Sir, may I present my aunt?” Elizabeth said, and she stepped forward and made the introductions—though not without some trepidation, for she knew how little Mr. Darcy thought of people in trade.

  “How do you do, ma’am?” Mr. Darcy said, bowing gallantly. He complimented her home and was so very courteous to her that for a moment Elizabeth wondered if she was misremembering their first meeting at Vauxhall Park, when he had said so many offensive things about her connections. It was not like her to invent a false memory, but neither was this truly gracious meeting like him—or at least, like what she had expected from him. Among those most fashionable in society, Mr. Darcy was a fixture. He was wealthy and well-connected. There was no reason for him to show her aunt any particular notice, yet he was the absolute picture of civility and chivalry toward her.

  “I understand we have company this morning,” Mr. Gardiner then said, and the three seated in the drawing room looked up to see the master of the house enter the room. “Ah—but who is this?” He glanced toward Elizabeth, not recognizing the gentleman whom he had never reason before to notice.

  Elizabeth introduced her uncle, and then was even more astonished by Mr. Darcy’s treatment of him. He inquired about his business, complimented his fine family, and even asked if he ever engaged in sport. All was most peculiar, and Elizabeth’s confusion grew by the moment. She knew he thought very little of people in her uncle’s line of work, but the fact remained that her uncle was a respectable and successful man. As she listened to their conversation, it occurred to her that Mr. Darcy was also a man of business, with many concerns that may overlap with Mr. Gardiner’s line of work—though of course, she knew none of the particulars. Perhaps Mr. Gardiner was a good business contact for Mr. Darcy. In fact, Mr. Darcy confirmed as much when he made an appointment to call at Gracechurch Street again tomorrow week and bring some information that Mr. Gardiner asked for relating to trade.