Such Peculiar Providence

by Meg Osborne

  All too quickly, the music ended and the partners bowed to one another. Georgiana was the first to speak, but far from claiming Elizabeth for her own dance partner, she addressed Caroline Bingley.

  “Will you play with me, Miss Bingley? I have a charming duet and this will allow Mary a moment’s respite.”

  “Oh!” Caroline hesitated, clearly wishing Mr Darcy would ask her to dance again and thus prevent her from seeking any other occupation. Instead, he said nothing, and studiously avoided her gaze.

  “If Miss Bingley prefers to dance I would be more than happy to - oof!” Mary’s offer was silenced by a well-appointed elbow from Lydia, who apologised profusely and suggested Mary take a moment to rest and recover with Mrs Bennet on the sofa.

  “If Miss Bingley and Miss Darcy are content to play I rather think Kitty and I shall follow your example, Lizzy, and dance together.”

  Before Mrs Bennet could react with shock or embarrassment, Mr Bingley spoke.

  “Miss Bennet, I wonder if you might care o dance the next with me.”

  Jane said that she would, and Lizzy turned to take her own seat beside her mother. She felt a faint flicker of disappointment that Mr Darcy had made no attempt to engage her, so that his words, when they came, almost passed without her noticing.

  “In that case, Miss Elizabeth, might I offer myself as a partner for the next?” he paused, his features lifting in a grim smile of amusement. “I do draw the line at taking the lady’s, part, though. I shall leave that to you, this time.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Fitzwilliam Darcy was not a poor dancer, nor did he loathe it, as he frequently claimed. Rather, he loathed the formality of dancing at assemblies and with those ladies he did not know well. He grimaced, recalling Caroline Bingley, who he did know well and still did not delight to dance with. Perhaps it was more accurate to acknowledge that he loathed it when either the setting or the partner was wrong. Here, in his own house, surrounded by those who had, willingly or otherwise, become his friends, and dancing with Elizabeth Bennet, he found himself actually happy. He enjoyed the dancing, and, still more surprising, enjoyed the snatches of conversation he and Elizabeth Bennet managed when the steps forced them close enough to speak a moment here, a moment there. The distraction afforded him by his concentration on his steps, and the opportunity to speak to Elizabeth without being forced to look directly into her eyes as he did so allowed him to speak rather more openly and honestly than he might otherwise have dared to.

  “I hope you are enjoying the evening, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, when they had been dancing but a few moments. “Better than yesterday, in any case.”

  “Was yesterday so dreadful?” Elizabeth asked, her words light and amused.

  “I thought not,” he ventured. “I merely feared you might not care to repeat it.” His breath caught. He had avoided using the word regret, but that was what he feared most. That she regretted having spoken so quietly and intimately with him. That she did not feel all that he had felt then: all that he continued to feel now.

  “Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth said, pausing momentarily as their dance parted them. “That was not the first time I have been caught unawares on a walk, and I wager it will not be the last. If you think a bit of rain dulls my affection for being out of doors then you do not know me well!”

  “I suggest I know you better than you might imagine.”

  “Oh?” She tilted her head to one side, inviting him to continue.

  “I know that your first and highest concern is for your family, which sentiment I salute you in. I know you are intelligent and kind, energetic and amusing.”

  “You tease me, Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth said, her cheeks reddening. “You find me amusing, perhaps.”

  “Of the two of us, Miss Elizabeth, which is more prone to teasing?” His lips quirked. “And which to being teased?”

  This made her laugh, and it was another moment before she was composed enough to continue speaking.

  “Teasing aside, you are too generous in your praise, sir.”

  “Then we are agreed: we think rather too highly of one another. What a tragic circumstance. What can be its remedy, I wonder?”

  This time he watched Elizabeth carefully as he spoke, eager to see her reaction, to judge whether she grasped his meaning without him needing to speak it explicitly. The slightest of frowns creased her forehead, and she bit her lip, as if she were turning the matter over in her mind, examining it from all angles.

  “Do you understand me, Lizzy?” he asked, daring to use the name that was so often favoured by her family and those close to her, as if in using it he might convey his true feelings in a way that transcended simple explanation.

  “I do not know whether I do or not!” she confessed. “But I think -”

  There was a crash of keys, and Caroline Bingley stood noisily.

  “Oh, I am sorry, I see I have spoiled our playing, Georgiana. And now the dance must end! What a pity!”

  She smiled, grimly, as she spoke but her eyes were fixed on one particular pair of dancers. Elizabeth stepped hurriedly away from Darcy, putting a little distance in between them. He glared at Caroline, certain that she had noticed their conversation, though struggled to discern it, and acted as she cold to separate them before either one could speak the words that were on their lips. But I think - What? What did Elizabeth Bennet think? And could it possibly what he thought, also?

  “Well, I am in no humour for dancing any longer, anyway!” Kitty declared, returning to her seat with a yawn.

  “Perhaps we ought to return home,” Jane ventured, although her tone of voice suggested she did not wish to leave.

  “It is early, still,” Georgiana observed, glancing surreptitiously at her brother, before continuing. “Perhaps some more refreshments and then Mary might play for us again.” There was a sharp intake of breath from Caroline, audible to everyone, and Georgiana addressed it. “We need not dance anymore if people have no interest in it, but it will be pleasant to listen to you play, Mary dear.” Darcy could not have been alone in noticing how she turned away from Caroline, exhibiting her irritation with her friend in a particularly Georgiana way, by pretending she was not there at all.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” he said, wishing to continue their conversation before they were interrupted yet again, and seizing on the only destination he could think that might afford them a little privacy. “You mentioned being at a loss for reading material, perhaps you would care to peruse the library while we take a moment?” He turned to Georgiana. “I will go and see to some refreshments.”

  His sister nodded and sought to galvanise their guests in an impromptu card game so that the room rang with happy voices before Darcy even reached the door. He heard Caroline’s shrill cry as he crossed the threshold but did not pause.

  “Oh, Mr Darcy! I also am quite fond of reading!”

  “Caroline!” Georgiana said, her voice cross and brooking no disobedience. “You cannot leave! We need your expertise here with our game!”

  ELIZABETH BEGAN THE familiar journey to the library but was stopped in her progress when Darcy’s hand reached for hers. The action was so unexpected, so warm that she turned to look at him, and saw such affection in his features that for one moment she had no words.

  “Lizzy,” he said, using her nickname once more. “I ought not to address you so, or speak like this, I know.” He grimaced. “In fact, everything within me cautions against it, but -”

  “Mr Darcy,” she began.

  “Do not call me Mr Darcy as if we were still strangers, mere business acquaintances.” His eyes flashed with anger. “Have not we become more than that to one another these past weeks?” His expression wavered. “Or have I been mistaken? I am not well-versed in these things and, truthfully, have avoided them. I do not enjoy the company of young ladies or society in general, but -” he paused, and before Elizabeth realised it, had gained hold of her second hand, so that she had no means of escape. “With you, it is different. I am diff
erent. Tell me, please, is there even the smallest chance you might - one day - feel similarly?”

  The urgency in his voice wrung at Elizabeth’s heart, and even had she not already been sure of her own feelings, she knew that this would have decided her.

  “I cannot deny we have become good friends, Mr Darcy.” Now it was her turn to pause, as she saw a shadow cross his features, and the tight grip on her hands loosened just a fraction. “I did not dare to think, nor to hope, that we might become more. We are so different -”

  “Not so very different,” he urged. “I am not in the habit of begging, Elizabeth, nor of pushing my own agenda when others are not like-minded.” He grimaced. “I have rarely needed to. I am perfectly self-sufficient and well enough able to manage my own affairs. If you say you wish only to be my friend, then I will be simply that. I do not make friends easily, so be assured you will forever have my good opinion, my help, and my care, as much as you require. But if you might wish for more, as I wish for more...” His hand tightened over hers, almost imperceptibly. It was a question, a prompt, nothing more. “My affection is not offered lightly, nor will it be easily revoked. But, Miss Bennet, I am master of my own heart and will bend it to my will. To your will. Tell me, must I work to re-order it, or may I let it remain, as it is at present, as it may always be, yours?”

  Lizzy’s sense abandoned her. She, who had always prided herself on possessing the most opportune words to use in every situation, was lost. Her lips parted, then closed again, without making a sound.

  “I see I have disappointed you in speaking so.” Darcy let go his hold on her and straightened. “In which case, I can only apologise. Please, go on to the library. I will see to my guests and permit you to return when you are ready. Please do not fear to do so. We need not - I will not - speak of this again.” He turned and began to stalk away.

  “No!” At last, almost too late, Lizzy found she possessed the ability to speak after all.

  Darcy ceased his progress but did not immediately turn back. Lizzy stepped lightly after him, laying a tentative hand on his arm.

  “Please, Mr Darcy - Fitzwilliam,” she faltered, his Christian name sounding so foreign to her ears. “William,” she corrected, sliding easily into the gentle name she had often heard on Georgiana’s lips. His stark features softened to hear this most familiar name uttered so softly and by such a woman. “Forgive me for not answering immediately,” she said, struggling to keep a smile from her features. “Your words came so suddenly, so wonderfully suddenly, that I had not the means to respond.”

  Darcy looked at her carefully.

  “And?”

  Lizzy slid her hand to his, interlacing their fingers and squeezing, gently.

  “I do care for you, as far better than a friend,” she said, shyly. “I scarcely thought it possible, and tried to reason it away, but...contrary to you, I am not master of my own heart. There would be no re-ordering of it. I care for you such that I do not imagine stopping ever being a possibility.”

  These words wrought such a change on Fitzwilliam Darcy that Lizzy wished she had spoken them with confidence much earlier in their acquaintance. Gone was the perpetual scowl, the frown that made him seem older and more burdened than he ought. He smiled, wider and more delightedly than she had ever seen and his entire countenance was changed.

  “Then -?” he asked.

  “Then.” She smiled, not daring to move as he reached out with his free hand, tracing the line of her cheek and drawing her close enough to press the fist of many kisses on her upturned lips.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Mr Darcy had been gone too long. Elizabeth too. Caroline Bingley did not for one moment think that their shared absence was a coincidence. She drew her lips tightly together, her eyes fixed on the empty doorway.

  It is too late, her mind mocked her. You could see as much from their interactions this evening. Did you really think that Elizaveta Bennet, who successfully schemed a way for her whole family to come to Pemberley, would not also successfully ensnare Fitzwilliam Darcy’s heart?

  Rage bubbled in her chest. It was unfair. She had the prior claim! If only he had not come to visit them in London. If only they had not insisted on him accompanying them to the assembly! She had thought that was her opportunity to win his heart for her own: if only she had known that a viper would cross his path that very evening and ruin everything!

  “I do hope nothing has befallen Miss Eliza,” Caroline asked, unable to keep her curiosity to herself any longer.

  “Oh, if she has a library to peruse we shall likely not see her again this evening!” Mrs Bennet remarked, entirely unfazed by her daughter’s disappearance.

  “Still, she will not want to miss the party -”

  “This party?” Lydia snorted, throwing down her cards with a sigh. “Certainly it is one thrill after another!”

  Caroline’s lips stretched into a smile which faltered as the door opened, at last, to admit Mr Darcy with Elizabeth clinging tightly to his arm. The colour drained from Caroline’s face as she took in the posture and the implications behind it and exclaimed a woeful, disappointed, “Oh!”

  “There you are, Lizzy,” Mr Bennet remarked, not looking up from her hand. “We wondered what had become of you -”

  “Mama,” Elizabeth began, nervously.

  “Mama!” Jane echoed her sister, happiness brimming over in her voice as she stood and hurried to greet the couple. “Lizzy! It cannot be!”

  “It can, Miss Bennet. That is, it may be.” Letting go of his bride - for Caroline was no fool, she saw that that was the only acceptable title for Miss Eliza Bennet. Well, the only one that might be used in company. I have a plethora of others I should like to apply to her! Caroline thought, her blood boiling with rage that she strove to keep hidden.

  “Mrs Bennet,” Mr Darcy began, bowing low before the matriarch of the group. “Forgive the suddenness of my request, and the unorthodox manner of posing it to you, but this is hardly an orthodox situation. I wish to marry your daughter.”

  Mrs Bennet drew a breath, clasped her hand to her breast and spectacularly, surprisingly, burst into tears.

  Mr Darcy straightened, glancing anxiously toward Jane and Elizabeth, and then to Georgiana, his rising desperation evident in his lack of activity. It might have been amusing, had he been any other than Fitzwilliam Darcy and had Caroline’s own heart not been breaking in two. She, too, wished she could weep with abandon and call down curses on every young lady named Bennet. Yes and on Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy, who had deceived her, encouraging her in a hundred small ways to think that he cared for her when in truth his affections had already been stolen by another.

  At last Mrs Bennet’s effusive sobs subsided sufficiently that she could speak and her words came out in a series of semi-coherent gulps.

  “Of course! That is, Lizzy, do you? Will you? Oh, heavens, Mr Darcy! I had no idea!”

  Caroline sniffed. She doubted that, judging it rather more likely that mother, like daughter, had schemed all along with this end in mind.

  “It has all happened so suddenly!” Mrs Bennet cooed. “But, provided my darling Lizzy is contented with the arrangement, then who am I to stand in the way of your happiness?” She glanced out of the corner of her eyes towards Mr Bingley. “I only wish every one of my daughters might find the same happiness. Lizzy! Come, sit here next to me and tell me how this occurred.”

  “Drinks!” Charles found his voice at last and stood, grabbing hold of Darcy’s hand as he passed him and pumping it up and down in enthusiastic congratulations. “Come along, man! You cannot drop such a word as this without opening a bottle.”

  “But the ladies -”

  “Are quite contented discussing the particulars of your wedding. Come, spare a moment for your oldest friend.”

  Darcy took no further persuasion and the two gentlemen moved from the room, leaving Caroline feeling abruptly and completely lone. She glanced at the faces around her and saw delight reflected on every one. Not
satisfaction, nor pride in a scheme brought to a successful conclusion. They simply rejoiced to see their two friends happy.

  She could bear it no longer and stood, picking her way towards the door.

  “Are you quite well, Miss Bingley?” It was Jane who stopped her, Jane whose voice softened with concern. “You are not feeling unwell, I hope? Here, let me fetch someone -”

  “I am quite contented.” Caroline’s response was sharper than she had intended and she regretted it almost immediately Forcing her lips into a smile she turned to congratulate Elizabeth on her news.

  “I wish you every happiness, Eliza, dear.” It had cost her greatly to say that and greater still to make her way slowly and carefully towards the door. “If you will excuse me, ladies, I am a little tired. I believe I will retire.”

  “Are you sure you do not wish for company -” Jane persisted, and this time her concern touched Caroline. She had dismissed Jaen Bennet as easily as her sister, certain that any friendship she offered was with the intent of winning Caroline’s brother’s heart. There was no mention of Charles and Jane’s concern was all for Caroline. I have misjudged you, she thought, her smile becoming genuine, if sad, as she shook her head and bid Jane goodnight. She was not quite willing or ready to extend the same courtesy to Elizabeth, but Jane was her friend. And Caroline felt as if she desperately needed a friend just then.

  “SO!” CHARLES BINGLEY beamed. “Marriage!”

  “Marriage.” Darcy smiled. He had not the heart to acknowledge his friend’s teasing, nor to allow anything to unsettle his mod. He was happy: indeed he had not thought it possible to be quite so happy.

  Charles laughed, taking a sip of his drink.

  “I do not believe I have ever seen Fitzwilliam Darcy so delighted. Dear me, how your muscles must ache, for they can hardly be used to wearing so wide a smile for so long a time!”