by Jann Rowland
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Elizabeth. Then she was gone.
The evening for Jane Bennet was one of heightened anxiety. As the only person in the world other than Elizabeth who knew of what had happened the last time her sister had attended an assembly with Mr. Darcy present, she thought Elizabeth might feel out of sorts that evening. While Elizabeth had given every indication of good humor, Jane, who knew her sister better than any other, could see the strain.
Something had happened during the first dance, something she could not quite place, but which had affected Elizabeth’s equilibrium. Jane, who had been concerned for her sister all evening, had watched Elizabeth, and had noted her withdrawal from Mr. Darcy. In turn, Mr. Darcy had grown more frustrated, and at the end of the dance had spent the rest of the evening stalking about the dance floor. But his eyes had been fixed upon Lizzy all evening.
Now Elizabeth was gone. And what was worse was the absence of Mr. Darcy and the intelligence she received from Mr. Bingley that he had argued with Mr. Darcy.
“Have you seen Lizzy, Mr. Bingley?” asked Jane, hoping she could find someone who could tell her where her sister had gone. Uncharacteristically, Mr. Bingley appeared to be out of sorts himself, though his countenance softened when he beheld her.
“I have not,” he replied. “Perhaps she stepped into the card room to speak to your father?”
“Father is sitting in the corner there with Mr. Goulding,” said Jane, gesturing toward her father.
Mr. Bingley glanced at the gentlemen and shrugged. “It is also possible she stepped out for a breath of fresh air. I know I certainly find the air in here a little close.”
“Mr. Darcy is missing too,” said Jane. She bit her lip in frustration over her slip—she certainly did not wish to cast aspersions on Mr. Darcy, not when Lizzy had forced her to promise to keep her confidence.
“For that, we may all be relieved.”
Fairly goggling at Mr. Bingley, Jane wondered his tone. It was rare this man whom she admired so much could be induced to say such things, about one of his closest friends too!
“You are at odds with Mr. Darcy?”
Though he remained silent for a moment, Mr. Bingley finally said: “He said something very unkind to me about your sister. Though he apologized after, I am still put out with him. You know how much I esteem Elizabeth.”
Fear blossomed in Jane’s breast, and she looked about the room in a panic. “Lizzy. Where are you?”
“There she is,” said Mr. Bingley. He pointed to the other side of the dance floor to where Lizzy stood, watching the dancers. Though relief flooded through her, Jane was confused, for she was certain her sister had not been there only a moment before.
“I must go and speak with her, Mr. Bingley,” said Jane. “Please excuse me.”
“Of course,” said Mr. Bingley. He appeared on the verge of saying something else but thought better of it. “I shall collect you for the last dance tonight, if it is still agreeable to you.”
Feeling unaccountably shy at the request, Jane assented, giving him reason to know that it was her pleasure in as coherent a voice as possible. A grin slipped over Mr. Bingley’s features, and he bowed, allowing her to depart. As Jane turned to make her way toward Lizzy, she tamped down on the feeling of euphoria and allowed her concern for Lizzy to hold sway. With these feelings, she approached her sister.
“Lizzy,” said Jane, “where have you been?”
If Elizabeth was surprised by Jane’s query, she did not show it. She did, however, blush ever so slightly. But she quickly gathered herself and turned a smile on Jane.
“I just stepped outside onto the balcony, Jane.”
“Are you unwell?”
“No,” replied Elizabeth. She pressed Jane’s hands with affection and said: “I merely found it a little hot and required some air. You need not worry for me.”
Jane gazed at her sister, wondering if Elizabeth was hiding something from her. It was not in Jane’s nature to press her—Elizabeth had always been forthright with her. But still Jane felt a little hesitation, as if she was not being told everything.
“Are you certain?”
“Very certain!” said Elizabeth with a laugh. “Now, has anything of note happened while I was outside? I hope Mr. Collins has not tripped over any lady’s feet, for if he has, all those hours of instruction we have rendered were for naught.”
“No, Lizzy,” said Jane, glancing to where the gentleman was dancing with Charlotte Lucas. “It seems he has taken our instruction well.”
“Excellent! I dare say he will never be precisely light on his feet, but he shall at least acquit himself with confidence at any assembly he is asked to attend.”
Just then a gentleman from the neighborhood approached Elizabeth and asked for the next dance. While Jane had been speaking with her sister, the previous set had ended, and the next was forming. As Jane’s hand was also solicited, she had no choice but to turn her attention away from her concerns for the present. Elizabeth seemed well, and for that Jane was grateful.
Had the matter ended in such a way, she would have been well pleased. But while Jane was dancing, she happened to glance across the room in time to see a tall figure emerge from the door leading to the balcony. It was Mr. Darcy.
It was not in Elizabeth’s nature to keep anything from her sister. Indeed, the three Bennet sisters were of such closeness that their shared confidences were extensive, and rarely did they keep personal secrets. In particular, Jane and Elizabeth were each other’s confidantes, each sister feeling like she could share anything with the other.
The ballroom was not the place to have a discussion such as the one which would encompass what she had just experienced with Mr. Darcy. It was all so new and so different from what Elizabeth had expected—she was not certain she could share it with anyone, even a most beloved sister.
Thus, when the Bennet family departed from the assembly rooms that night, Elizabeth’s heart and mind were full of thoughts of Mr. Darcy. Were she to be honest with herself, Elizabeth was not certain yet what to think of the gentleman. His remarks and actions on the balcony had been so gentle and affectionate, and she was not indifferent to him—had not been, even when she had remained a little fearful of him. The explanation he offered had instilled a sense of relief that she was not required to worry for what he would do next.
No, instead he would pay court to her. She, Elizabeth Bennet, was to receive the attentions of a gentleman who was not only the handsomest she had ever seen but also inhabited a level of society far above what she and her family could boast! Who could understand such a thing?
“It appears, my dear,” the sound of Mr. Bennet’s voice interrupted her thoughts, “you have made quite a conquest.”
When Elizabeth did not immediately respond, Mr. Bennet chuckled, and while Elizabeth could not see his face in the darkness of the carriage, she knew he was grinning widely at her. “At first I thought you had experienced some sort of lovers’ spat. But in the end, he seems to have won you over.”
“He has, indeed,” said Elizabeth softly.
Elizabeth could almost see his grin widening, especially when he continued, speaking to Jane in a lazy tone: “Perhaps you should encourage Bingley to step lively, Jane. I had always thought you would be the first of my daughters to obtain a fiancé, and I had anticipated making sport with him when he came to petition for your hand. But if what I am seeing is correct, it seems Darcy might beat him to it.”
Jane made a strangled sound, one so curious that all three Bennets looked to her, curious as to its purpose. Of course, they could not see anything in the darkness. When Jane spoke, she did so in a tone which seemed strained.
“I hardly think Mr. Darcy will move so quickly.”
“Now, Jane,” said Mr. Bennet, laughter in his tone, “there is no need to be missish. Even should Darcy step forward first, I have no doubt Bingley will secure your hand in a creditable fashion.”
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br /> “I have no doubt he will,” said Jane.
This time, everyone could hear the normal tones of Jane’s voice, and Elizabeth put her sister’s unusual behavior down to her discomposure due to her father’s teasing. She should be well aware of her father’s penchant by now, Elizabeth thought, but said nothing out loud.
“That is well, then,” said Mr. Bennet. “You should know—and you too, Mary—that I am quite eager to receive any gentleman who petitions my daughters, and who is fortunate enough to be accepted by them, for I know they must be worthy, indeed, to secure the consent of any of you. As I am quite at my leisure, you may send them in at any time convenient.”
Mr. Bennet chuckled at his own joke, and he fell silent. This was very much the man she had grown up admiring, and Elizabeth shook her head, knowing Mary was likely rolling her eyes while Jane was blushing.
In silence, the family traveled the rest of the way to Longbourn. When the carriage stopped in front of the house, her father stepped down and handed his three daughters down. Then he entered in and, with an affectionate good night for them all, climbed the stairs toward his room. Feeling fatigued herself, Elizabeth followed his example, moving toward the stairs.
“Lizzy,” came Jane’s quiet voice, “shall we meet in your room to discuss the evening’s events?”
Though Elizabeth considered it for a moment, she decided she could not do justice to their little ritual that night. Her mind too full of Mr. Darcy; she would, no doubt, spend the night silent, deep in thought, and since Jane was not of mind to speak much, they would sit in stupid silence the entire evening. Sleep was the best option—they could discuss the assembly the following morning, and, no doubt, Charlotte would come to share their thoughts as well.
“Not tonight, Jane,” said Elizabeth at last. “It is best that I seek my bed tonight. Let us speak tomorrow.”
Then squeezing her sister’s arm, Elizabeth climbed the stairs and, bidding her sisters good night, entered her room. Her maid, Elizabeth had dismissed for the evening upon departing as was her custom—Elizabeth saw no need to insist the poor woman stay awake until they returned, which was always quite late. As a result, Elizabeth divested herself of her dress, donned a simple linen nightgown, and settled herself on the mattress.
But as she might have expected, sleep was long in coming that evening. Instead, she found herself pondering the merits of a handsome, tall young gentleman who declared such exquisite admiration. Such thoughts kept Elizabeth awake long into the evening.
Chapter XIII
Dreams sometimes became reality. Or at least it seemed that way. Not even in the days after she had first been kissed so unexpectedly by Mr. Darcy had Elizabeth thought it likely the gentleman would indicate his interest in her as a marriage partner. At times, she had wondered if he was interested for a less proper reason.
The events of the previous evening had disproved that theory completely, leaving Elizabeth feeling a little light-headed. Everything had changed so quickly, events had taken a turn unlike any she could have expected, leaving her confused and uncertain. All thought of ending a spinster had fled. But in the midst of all this, a hint of excitement had pushed its way into her consciousness. Mr. Darcy was, after all, a handsome man, and by every societal standard, an excellent catch, one far beyond what a woman of her social background could possibly hope to entice. The question for her was, could she love him?
Though Elizabeth had not slept well the previous evening, she found herself awake early the following morning and unable to resume her repose. Fatigue, it seemed, was no remedy, for she was as tired as she could ever remember feeling, yet as wide awake as if she had slept a day straight. Thus, as she could not sleep, a walk seemed like just the thing to tire her—then she could return to the house and avail herself of a nap in the afternoon to restore her strength.
Longbourn’s staff were well aware of Elizabeth’s habits. While appearing at such an early hour after a night at the assembly hall was perhaps unusual, Longbourn’s cook did not bat an eyelash when Elizabeth entered the kitchen, seeking a roll for her walk.
“Aye, Miss Lizzy,” said the cook with evident fondness. “I have a number of rolls just out of the oven.”
Grateful for her restraint, Elizabeth accepted the bread, which was still warm to the touch, with a word of thanks. Then she departed the house, eager to be by herself for a time. The roll was consumed as she walked, and soon Elizabeth was swinging her arms, taking the path toward Oakham Mount.
While Elizabeth might have expected, and even wished for solitude, it was not to be. The first sign she was not alone brought her up short as the sound of horses’ hooves striking the turf caught her attention. Then when she looked around to discover its source, she found herself watching Mr. Darcy as he galloped toward her on the most handsome steed she had ever seen.
At the last moment, Mr. Darcy pulled up his horse and vaulted from the saddle. Quickly he strode to her, executed a handsome bow, and grasped her hand as if he never intended to let go.
“Miss Bennet,” said he, a smile like she had rarely seen adorning his features. “So, I was correct!”
“You were, Mr. Darcy? About what, particularly?”
“Your predilection for walking, even after a late night of dancing. I have heard so much talk of your prowess as a walker, that I thought I would seek you out this morning to see if there was any validity to it. It seems there is.”
“Yes, I do enjoy walking,” said Elizabeth, charmed by his manner. “After a late night such as yesterday, I would normally not walk this early. But this morning, I found my eyes opening at a most inconvenient time, and nothing I did succeeded in closing them again.”
“I would not wish for your sleep to be interrupted, but I confess I am happy it was so, as I found myself similarly afflicted. It is with great joy I greet you this morning, for I confess I wished to be in your company as soon as I quit it last night.”
Feeling unaccountably shy because of this man’s open regard, Elizabeth looked to the ground. Thus, when he spoke again, she could hear him, but the sight of him was lost to her embarrassment.
“If I may, Miss Bennet, might I suggest we walk together?”
“Of course,” said Elizabeth. “But will it not interrupt your ride?”
“The purpose of my ride was to facilitate my ability to find you. I should like nothing more than to accompany you on your walk.”
Elizabeth found that she could not speak, so she nodded her head in agreement. Together they turned and began walking away from her original destination. Walking with Mr. Darcy, alone on the paths near her home was better than going toward a location where most people did not go and would cause less talk if they were observed. As they walked, they carried on a desultory conversation, centering on the banal subjects acceptable for conversation between two people who were, after all, not yet officially courting.
While she walked, Elizabeth paid some attention to their words, but she also considered the man by her side. Any fear she might previously have harbored was now gone, and in its place was a warmth she would not have expected. Her opinion of Mr. Darcy was so incorrect that it was difficult to reconcile it with what she had thought previously. Then again, perhaps it was not so surprising, considering their history. Then a thought crossed Elizabeth’s mind.
“Mr. Darcy, I wonder if you would elaborate on something you said last night.”
“I would be happy to,” said Mr. Darcy. “What would you like to know?”
“You mentioned . . . Well, you suggested that some members of your family would not be happy with your . . . choice . . . of me as a prospective bride. Would it cause much strife if you were to choose me instead of a duchess?”
Mr. Darcy fixed her with a wry smile. “The odds I can secure a duchess are extremely slim. But in answer to your question, yes, there are certain family members who might not appreciate you, at least at the outset.”
“Starting with your titled relati
ons, I suspect,” said Elizabeth.
“Actually, you would be incorrect with that statement,” replied Mr. Darcy. “My uncle, the earl, is not a pretentious man, and his wife and children are much like him, with the possible exception of his eldest daughter.” Mr. Darcy grinned. “Rachel has captured a duke as a husband and seems to feel the importance of her position keenly. While I would not expect her to treat you with anything but civility, it is possible she will not wish to forward any intimacy with you.
“The main opposition will come from my father. He is the most class conscious of my family and has begun to suggest it is time I marry, of course, to a woman he considers appropriate.”
“Not your mother?” asked Elizabeth.
Mr. Darcy shook his head and said: “Mother’s only desire is for me to be happy in life. I am convinced she will love you with little effort. It is, therefore, interesting that the other source of dissent may come from her sister, who is everything my mother is not. Luckily her husband is a man who does not subscribe to her feelings and is well practiced in holding her in check.”
“She sounds like an interesting woman, Mr. Darcy.”
“Interesting is hardly a term I would use to describe Lady Catherine de Bourgh. In fact, she has long insisted there was an agreement between her and my mother that I marry my cousin, even though my mother has told her several times there was not. To hear Lady Catherine speak, the matter was decided with an unbreakable contract. My mother claims it was nothing more than idle speculation.”
The possibility of Mr. Darcy being bound to another rolled about in Elizabeth’s head, and she attempted to understand how she felt about the notion. Elizabeth found that it did not precisely distress her at present, which told her that whatever she felt for this man, she was not in love with him yet. Any sense of loss she felt was for the possibility of something developing between them, not the actuality of that feeling.