by Meg Osborne
Darcy's heart sank, and he began to see where his hostess' words were leading. Mrs Huntington, for her part, took his silence for confusion and laughed.
“Oh, dear me, I am talking in riddles! Forgive me.” She led him past a small group who had heretofore hidden the Gardiners from his view.
“Mr Darcy, this is the other Elizabeth Bennet!”
Expecting such an introduction, Darcy had found time enough to arrange his features into a grim smile, and was gratified to see a moment’s abject shock wipe all expression from Elizabeth’s face.
“In fact, we are already acquainted,” he said, hurriedly seeking to ease some discomfort, but whether hers or his own, he could not say. “Miss Bennet.” He bowed, lifting to regard the older lady and gentleman standing next to her, who he took to be the aforementioned Gardiners, with a polite nod.
“These - these are my relatives, Mr and Mrs Gardiner,” Elizabeth said, her tremulous voice gaining certainty as she spoke. “Uncle, Aunt, this is Mr Darcy.”
“Mr Darcy!” Mrs Gardiner’s eyes sparkled in a manner not unlike her niece’s, although the two bore no resemblance beyond their shared sense of humour. Darcy had the uncomfortable notion of having been discussed, and suddenly feeling a wave of awkwardness rush over him, he sought to sit down, where he might at least not feel as if he were a prize bull on display.
“I did not realise you were already acquainted!” Mrs Huntington smiled. “That is indeed providential. We shall have such a fine evening all together.” She frowned. “Now where has my husband got to, I was certain he was following behind us...” She bid her guests excuse her and hurried out into the hall in search of the wayward Stephen, and their small corner of the room fell into an awkward silence. Clearing his throat, Darcy addressed Elizabeth with a question.
“I did not realise you intended on visiting London, Miss Bennet.” His words came out rather more gruffly than he intended, and he thought he detected a flash of irritation in her dark eyes.
“Nor I you,” she replied, archly.
“I had business here to attend to.” And what, pray, is your excuse?
“Elizabeth wished to visit her poor old aunt and uncle,” Mrs Gardiner said, jumping in to offer her niece an explanation he had not explicitly requested. Two pinpricks of colour dotted Elizabeth's cheeks, and he wondered if there was another, more pressing, reason for her suddenly quitting Hertfordshire. Surely there must be. His heart sank. Had his first impressions, in spite of everything, been correct? Yet Mrs Huntington introduced her as the other Elizabeth Bennet.
“It seems we shall both miss the Meryton assembly, Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth said, striving for a safer topic of conversation. “What a pity.”
“Indeed.” Darcy’s grumbled response suggested no such thing. He was in no way disappointed to miss the assembly, and likewise miss being paraded as a prize Caroline Bingley was only days away from securing. He chuckled, amused at the thought.
“Ah, you do not share my disappointment,” Elizabeth noted. “And I thought you would have such an affection for socialising!” Her voice took on an easy, teasing tone, which drew Darcy’s brows even lower.
“I do not care for dancing,” he said. “Or socialising.”
“And yet you join us this evening! What a pity we shall be forced to sit together in silence and so honour your desire for solitude.”
“I do not care for socialising with people with whom I am not acquainted, Miss Bennet.” He drew a breath, for her familiarity irritated him, yet he did not sense in it any intention to annoy. “Mr and Mrs Huntington are good friends of mine, and thus any acquaintances of theirs must be equally welcomed into my circle.” He permitted a small smile towards Mr and Mrs Gardiner. “Still more so in light of our mutual connections in Hertfordshire.”
Elizabeth smiled, but despite the genuineness of the expression, Darcy felt sure he detected some response still to come.
“It pleases me to hear you speak so, Mr Darcy,” she said. “For it suggests that you have noticed the apparent affection between your friend and my sister, and can do nought but rejoice in it.”
Darcy opened his mouth to counteract her, to say that in fact, he would not say he rejoiced in the matter, but before he could give voice to his feelings, the door swung open and Mr and Mrs Huntington returned to the parlour, with another newly-arrived couple.
“And here our party is complete,” Mrs Huntington announced, clapping her hands to draw her guests attentions away from their private conversations and directly to the couple she now wished to introduce. “I trust you are all acquainted with Mr William Prior and Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
***
Elizabeth’s mouth fell open. It was impossible, and yet, no. She did recognise the lady before her. She recalled her quite plainly.
Her shock must have been audible, for she felt both Mr Darcy and her aunt turn back to her in concern.
“Are you quite well, Miss Bennet?” It was Mr Darcy who spoke first, and Elizabeth lifted an angry gaze towards him.
“Quite well, in fact, I now feel certain I understand the root of all of this misunderstanding. Excuse me.”
She walked forward calmly, far more calmly than she felt, for inside she railed against the injustice, the petty cruelty, for surely this had been intentional. The young lady before her had deliberately chosen the name she used - the name which did not belong to her, but to her old school friend.
“Sophia,” she said, in an icy tone. “I am sure you remember me, for clearly, you cling onto my name as if it quite belonged to you!”
Miss Sophia Radcliff had been smiling warmly about the room, her eyes sparkling with fun at the thought of an evening spent in such pleasant company. That came abruptly to a halt when she turned to meet Elizabeth’s hard gaze with her own. Her face paled, and she lifted her hands to her cheeks in a pantomime of shock that was nonetheless genuine.
“Oh - oh no!” She wailed. “I don’t - that is, you -” She looked around, pleadingly, for some support, but found none. Even Mr Prior had taken a step back, sensing some dramatic set-down between the two ladies and wanting nothing more to do with it. He feigned hearing his name called by another gentleman and made his way to the far corner of the room, putting as much distance between himself and his troublesome guest as he could.
“Please, Sophia, do not be hesitant on my account. You have certainly been free enough in giving my name as yours for the past few weeks. Did you not think anybody would realise the truth?”
“It was all a misunderstanding!” Sophia laughed, desperately. “It happened quite by accident. It is a funny story, truly -”
“Funny?” Elizabeth exclaimed. She glanced around, then, realising that their conversation was being eagerly observed by half the room, and surreptitiously so by the other half. She shot an apologetic glance at her hosts. “Mrs Huntington, I wonder if there might be somewhere a little more private where my friend and I might speak for a moment.”
“Of course,” Mrs Huntington said, sweetly. She turned a cold glance on the young woman she had before now known as Elizabeth Bennet. “There is a small room just off the corridor, you might be quite undisturbed, only, Elizabeth, dear -” She turned pointedly away from the imposter, and gave the real Elizabeth her full attention. “Will you be quite alright? Some company, perhaps -”
“You are very kind.” Elizabeth smiled. “But that is quite unnecessary. “Sophia and I are old friends, are not we?” Grasping her friend tightly by the forearm, she half-escorted, half-dragged her out into the corridor. The door to the small study was scarcely closed behind them when Sophia wrenched her arm free.
“That hurt, Lizzy!”
“I apologise.” Elizabeth’s voice betrayed no such emotion. “But my actions scarcely even compare to yours! What were you thinking, running all over London, getting into scrapes and using my name? Do you realise the damage you have done? People think - they think I am you!”
“And is that such a terrible thing?” Sophia tossed h
er blond head and fixed a steely eye on Elizabeth.
“I have only heard a little of what scandal I am said to have got up to, but yes, I would say it is a bad thing. Why must I be hauled over the coals for your misdeeds?”
“Misdeeds!” Sophia exclaimed. “As if I have done anything so very wrong. It was merely a matter of having fun and enjoying my youth.” She smiled, grimly. “Well, your youth.”
“But why?” Elizabeth asked again. “Why give my name instead of your own?”
Sophia folded her arms across her front but did not answer straight away.
“It was an accident, I swear it. The first time, somebody overheard me speaking of you to a mutual friend, and assumed that I referred to myself, that I was “Elizabeth Bennet”. After that, things...merely grew.”
“Until you were using my name freely, without thought of the consequences.”
“Well, I thought if people wished to gossip, then at least word would not reach my brother that I was the one causing trouble...”
She sank down into a chair, burying her head in her hands.
“I didn’t mean it to get so bad,” she whispered. “It was a game, just a lark, really! I planned to leave London before Christmas.” She sighed. “I am to be married, to Sir Frederick Rowley, and this was my last chance to have a little fun.” Her lips turned down. “He will never marry me now, and Robert will never forgive me for ruining our chances...”
Elizabeth’s brows knit. She had lost contact with Sophia after they parted ways at school, and as she remembered they had never been fond friends. Sophia had hovered around her once, desperate to be her friend, but Lizzy had found her constant interfering irritating and had batted her away like an annoying fly. This was vengeance, then. Vengeance by a silly young woman who was about to be trapped into a marriage she neither wanted nor could escape from.
“I don’t suppose either one of them needs to know,” she muttered, already regretting the words.
“What?” Sophia’s gaze snapped up to her, hope rendering her breathless.
“I do not wish to bear the brunt of your misdeeds, but I have no desire to spell them out in detail to your family, or to anyone you might choose to marry. If you will resume your true name, and let mine well alone, then I suppose in time things will right themselves.”
“Oh, Lizzy!” Sophia was on her feet and pulled Elizabeth into a choking embrace. “I always knew you were a good, kind friend, really! I am so sorry, so very sorry!” She sobbed into Elizabeth's shoulder until a light knock at the door interrupted this theatrical display of penitence.
“Is everything alright, my dear?” Mrs Huntington asked, peering around the door. She saw the two young women embracing, and frowned.
“This is my old school friend, Mrs Huntington, Miss Sophia Radcliff. There has been ever such a silly misunderstanding, but I hope, now, that it might be mended without too much difficulty...”
Chapter Ten
“You will write to me, won’t you?” Sophia asked as she clambered into a carriage. She had not wanted to wait a moment longer, but acting with the fervour of a new convert, had confessed all to everyone gathered in the Huntington’s parlour. She had assumed Elizabeth Bennet’s name in error, and then with a tiny amount of glee and malice, for which she now bitterly repented. Much of the gossip was proven to be just that, gossip, and Mrs Huntington spoke on behalf of her guests, in declaring that not one of them took any delight in spreading gossip, particularly that which was discovered to be untrue. With this, an exhausted Sophia had bid leave to go home, and the Huntingtons had generously offered their own carriage.
“I shall leave for Scotland tomorrow, and send you a note of the address.” She waved, and Elizabeth watched the carriage disappear into the darkness.
“The mystery resolves itself!” Mrs Huntington said, leading Elizabeth back towards the house. “As I knew it would!”
“You planned it so,” Elizabeth said, accusingly.
“I may have intended there to be some dramatic show-down.” Mrs Huntington’s eyes danced. “Now my dinners will be well attended all the rest of the season. That is publicity that cannot be bought!” She laughed. “But, my dear, I hope you do not think me unkind. I wished for your sake to discover the truth. I did not imagine you actually knew each other, although I had my suspicions that your paths must have crossed, for two young ladies of a similar age with identical names is somewhat unusual, particularly when I heard you had relatives in London. It would have been known about if it were coincidence alone.”
“She is unhappy, I think, and acted out of her unhappiness.” Elizabeth sighed. “I suppose now I must try to live with the consequences, such as they are.”
“That will soon blow over!” Mrs Huntington led her back into the busy parlour, and the sound of conversation reached Elizabeth’s ears. “You see, already you are yesterday’s news, and people find something new to talk about.”
“Indeed!” Elizabeth smiled, relieved to bid her hostess farewell and return to her aunt’s side, where she might step out of the centre of attention for a moment and gather her wits once more.
“Miss Elizabeth.”
A moment, only! she thought, fixing a smile on her face, and turning to greet Mr Darcy, who had remained, it seemed, by Mr and Mrs Gardiner’s side during her absence.
“Lizzy, dear, I have been acquainting myself with Mr Darcy, for I spent many years in my youth in Derbyshire, and knew of his father!” Mrs Gardiner beamed.
“How interesting.” Elizabeth turned towards Darcy, expecting to see forbearance and irritation etched into his features, but instead noticed only genuine interest and something that might have been concern, as he looked towards her.
“Your aunt tells me that they are planning a visit to the lakes in the spring, and I have insisted upon them calling at Pemberley. You would be most welcome to join them if you remain with them into the New Year.”
“Oh!” Elizabeth was so startled by the genuineness of his offer that she could not reply straight away. “You are very kind.”
“Of course, Lizzy might well return to Hertfordshire before then, as you are set to do, Mr Darcy.”
“Oh? You will go back to Netherfield?”
“Before the week is out, Miss Bennet.”
“Oh.” Elizabeth was surprised at the disappointment she felt upon realising that Mr Darcy would be departing before her, that she would be alone in London after all, without even him for companion. Since when have I considered Mr Darcy a companion? But before she could inquire further of herself, Mr and Mrs Huntington began to usher their guests through to the dining room.
“Miss Bennet! Miss Bennet!” A tall, slim young man hurried forward, and Elizabeth frowned at him for a moment, before recognising him as William Prior, who had so recently accompanied Sophia Radcliff to the gathering. “I wonder if I might escort you in to dinner, and in so doing apologise for any part I may have played in furthering the young Miss Radcliff’s deception. I had no idea, of course, that she was not precisely who she said she was, that is, that you even existed and were not she, and I -” He grew increasingly flustered in his attempts to excuse himself, and eventually Elizabeth put him out of his discomfort with a gentle smile.
“It is quite alright, Mr Prior. You owe me no apology. The matter is settled.”
“Indeed, but I feel so very, very sorry! The shame of it, the embarrassment -”
“Miss Bennet has done nothing to be ashamed of,” Mr Darcy said, icily, his mouth inches from Elizabeth’s ear. “Her reputation is her own, any damage done to it was caused by another, and she ought not to feel anything but pity for such a person.”
Lizzy lifted her eyes, then, turning from Mr Prior to Mr Darcy, surprised to hear the vehemence of his comment.
“Come, come, everyone!” Mr Huntington said. “Darcy, do not hold the party up!”
At his call, everybody hurried into motion, and Elizabeth found herself swept along by Mr Prior’s side, quite in spite of herself. She glan
ced around, trying to locate Mr Darcy, but he had fallen some way behind them, and there would be no chance for her to speak to him now.
***
“Are you truly so little acquainted with London, Miss Bennet?” Mr Prior’s voice was thin and reedy, yet somehow it carried well above the rumble of conversation so that Darcy’s ears detected it without even trying. “We must do our best to remedy that, while you are here.” He laughed, an irritating, girlish laugh that made Darcy’s fingers clench around his knife and fork.
He endured, rather than enjoyed, his meal, making conversation where he must with the few friends that were sitting close enough to attempt to draw him into conversation, yet he was uncomfortably aware of Elizabeth Bennet, sitting just a little away from him, and he wished that it might be he her eyes were turned upon, he who she made conversation with, and not the odious Mr Prior.
As if she had heard his thoughts, she glanced up, and he saw his own discomfort at Prior’s prattling reflected, momentarily, in her gaze. He was forced to swallow what might have been a laugh of his own.
Recalling all that had passed already that evening, he felt more than a little ashamed that he had been so inclined to think ill of Elizabeth Bennet, and so quick to expect his worst fears confirmed. Would I even have gone to Hertfordshire, if I had not thought her and her sister engaged in some scheme to entrap my friend? The answer was a resounding no, but the fact was that he had gone, and had come away more confused than ever.
There was a pause in their conversation before Mr Gardiner spoke directly to Mr Prior and engaged him in conversation long enough that Elizabeth looked about her, left quite alone for a moment. Darcy saw his opportunity, and leant forward, that his quiet question might easily be heard by her.
“How does your cousin enjoy Hertfordshire, Miss Bennet?” he asked, wishing that, instead, he had found some more interesting topic of conversation. Still, he reasoned, with satisfaction. This was a reminder of our previous connection, something that Prior might not have, despite all the obsequious apologies in the world. Instead of replying with an amused comment, as he had expected, Elizabeth started, and dropped her fork, laughing only to cover her nerves at such a reaction.