The Impulse of the Moment

by Jann Rowland

  Elizabeth shook her head, amused at his temerity. “I believe my father would agree that Mary is too young to be pursued by a gentleman.”

  “So Hardwick will be forced to wait,” said Mr. Darcy with a shrug. “There are worse things than to be patient to obtain the hand of a woman who suits you. Having waited four years to be reunited with you, I am well aware of it.”

  “For shame, sir,” said Elizabeth. “When last we met, you had no notion we would suit. We only spent part of one evening together, which ended badly, I might add. There is no way you can seriously state that you were pining for me all those years.”

  “Pining, no,” replied Mr. Darcy. “But I will assert that I thought of you often, and it is only after I won the right to court you that I realized what I longed for.” Mr. Darcy stepped close, looking down on her with his serious gaze, his breath tickling her cheek. “And I am determined I shall not allow you to escape, Miss Elizabeth. Take heed, for I rarely am denied that which I truly want.”

  Elizabeth could not speak, and she decided it was perhaps best she did not. There was something in Mr. Darcy’s voice, some depth of passion she had never detected before. The man’s admiration had become an established fact, but for the first time Elizabeth began to see just what that admiration and passion might portend for their future. The mere thought almost caused her to break out in goosebumps.

  Throughout the evening, Elizabeth was much in company with Mr. Darcy, usually with her sister and Mr. Bingley. Every time a gentleman would approach for an introduction and an invitation to dance, Mr. Darcy would gaze at her with his laughing eyes, his expression suggesting he had predicted the exact sequence of events. And when more than one gentleman asked for those dances he had already secured, his satisfaction would become all that much more evident.

  When he was not annoying her with his smugness, they shared many conversations, where she learned much of him. Conversely, she told him more of herself and her family, not holding back anything which he wished to know.

  “My reticence is a family trait,” said Mr. Darcy at one point in the evening. “My father is similarly afflicted, and I have heard my grandfather was much the same.” Mr. Darcy paused and smiled. “The Fitzwilliam family, on the other hand, is quite the jovial bunch, with a few notable exceptions.”

  “Oh?” asked Elizabeth, interested to hear of his relations

  “My uncle and his family are all amiable,” replied Mr. Darcy. “But my mother is a little quieter than her brother, and my Aunt Catherine, of whom I have already spoken, is more dictatorial than jovial. It is fortunate she has married a man of strong character, for she would rule him if he was not. Georgiana is much like me though she is much shier. We are hopeful she will gradually come out of her cocoon, for she will be coming out in another two years.”

  “It is difficult for a young girl of a reticent nature to feel successful in society,” said Elizabeth.

  “And you have firsthand knowledge of this?” asked Mr. Darcy, flashing her a wry smile. “I should have thought not, since I have seen nothing of reticence in your character.”

  “I have, at times, been reticent,” replied Elizabeth. “But no, mostly I am as you describe. I was more thinking of Jane.”

  Mr. Darcy’s eyes found Jane across the room where she was speaking with Mr. Bingley and another gentleman to whom Elizabeth had not been introduced. Then he turned back to Elizabeth and said:

  “Though Miss Bennet is quiet, I had not thought her lacking in confidence.”

  “No, Jane is confident enough. But she was not as a young girl, particularly since she is the oldest daughter and the first to come out into society. And she was much too young, being only fifteen.”

  “That is quite young,” observed Mr. Darcy. “But you were only sixteen yourself, as I recall.”

  “True. But I also possessed more self-sufficiency at that age than Jane. I was also able to lean on her as my elder sister, and I only attended Meryton events until I was eighteen.”

  “Your sister began attending events in London at fifteen?”

  Elizabeth nodded, laughing softly at the startled look he was giving her. “When you visited before, you never met my mother, did you?”

  “Met her, no,” replied he. “There is some recollection of seeing her the night of the assembly, but I do not think we were introduced.”

  “It is not surprising at all that you would remember her, for she was difficult to forget. Mama was of a nervous disposition, and even though Longbourn is not entailed and there is an heir, she often acted like we were all destined to be thrown out of our home when my father passes. Her disposition was naturally born to some extent, but it was also exacerbated by a family tragedy.

  “Oh?” asked Mr. Darcy, his attention fully on her.

  “There was another son between Thomas and Jane,” replied Elizabeth. “My brother Richard passed not long after his fourth birthday from a sudden illness that swept through the neighborhood. According to my father, we almost lost Jane to it, though Thomas was unaffected. As Jane was too young, she does not have any memories of him, though Thomas does. He will not talk about his brother, however.

  “After that event, my mother became convinced that my sisters and I must marry to obtain the protection of a husband, for if Thomas also were lost to us, there would be no one to see to our care.”

  “Longbourn is not entailed, is it?”

  “That is it, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth. “There was an entail on the property many years ago, but when the terms of the last entail were fulfilled, the master at the time decided against enacting another. So even if Thomas should have succumbed to some illness, my father could simply have left the estate to Jane, thereby providing for all of us. There are also our dowries to consider, and they are not insubstantial.

  “My father does not like London and will not often be induced to come here. When he discovered that my mother had allowed Jane into society in London, he immediately came and retrieved them, after which he had a long conversation with my mother concerning what was proper and what was not when they returned home. It is entirely possible my mother never truly understood why we should not be introduced that young, but she obeyed my father’s edicts after that.”

  “Then you have not had much experience in London.”

  “On the contrary,” said Elizabeth, “as my brother grew into his position as heir to the estate, he took on the responsibility of escorting us in London. Now that he and Caroline are married, I expect they shall spend much more time here, for Caroline is fond of society.”

  Matters turned to other subjects then, and the evening passed in a pleasant fashion. Elizabeth, as she was often known to boast, was rarely required to sit out for a set. Mr. Darcy, should he have chosen it, would not have had any difficulty securing partners himself. But when he was not dancing, he seemed content to watch her, though he did dance once with Jane, and once with another young lady.

  Not knowing yet whether to abuse him for his unsociable behavior, Elizabeth instead contented herself with a few mild teases, suggesting he might find agreeable partners if he would only take his eyes off her. That, of course, rebounded on Elizabeth with alacrity, for Mr. Darcy’s smoldering look was followed by a quick rejoinder.

  “Why should I look anywhere other than at the most pleasing sight present tonight?”

  Choosing not to respond, Elizabeth only gave him a tremulous smile and changed the subject. They were to return to Hertfordshire in the next few days, and, therefore, the scrutiny would be a thing of the past. But Mr. Darcy had been so overt in his admiration that evening that Elizabeth was certain rumors were already flying. Though few people of consequence were in London at present, his attentions to her would surely be known soon, which would eventually bring the attention of his family. Given what she had heard of his father, in particular, Elizabeth did not know how to feel about it.

  While Elizabeth was concerned with the possibility of Mr. Darcy’s fa
ther becoming aware of their growing association, little did she suspect he already knew. The two gentlemen returned to Darcy house that evening after the ball, both dwelling on happy thoughts of their preferred Bennet lady. When they stepped through the door, however, they were met by the butler who had a letter in his hand.

  “This arrived express tonight, Mr. Darcy,” said Gates, hand extended. “It is from the master.”

  Concerned, Darcy accepted the letter and thanked Gates, dismissing him for the evening once their coats had been taken. The missive was thin, comprised of only one sheet, addressed to Darcy in his father’s neat hand. There were no other markings to give him any indication of what it might contain.

  “I hope your family is all well, Darcy,” said Bingley, pulling Darcy from his study of the letter.

  “It is more curious that my father knew to write to me in London,” said Darcy. “It is addressed to this house.”

  Bingley frowned. “You did not inform him you were coming to London for a short time?”

  “There did not seem to be a need,” replied Darcy with a shrug. “My stay was only to coincide with Miss Elizabeth’s, and she did not expect to be here long.”

  The frown turned to a grin. “It seems to me you are being quite transparent, old man. It might have served you better had you been more open when we were in Hertfordshire. Then I might not have come rushing across the countryside with her brother and sisters to take you to task.”

  “If I was more open in general, that might be easier,” replied Darcy absently.

  “Will you open it?” prompted Bingley, pointing at the letter. “Unless you are somehow able to read it from the outside.”

  Darcy shook his head and motioned his friend to follow. “Perhaps it is best to open it in privacy. If it is a matter of delicacy, I would not wish the servants to overhear.”

  There was no need for his friend to point out there were no servants in evidence, not at this time of the night. In a house like his father’s, there were always at least a footman or two on duty throughout the night. The servants at Darcy residences were well compensated and expected to be circumspect when speaking of the family’s business, but one could never be too careful.

  As was his custom, Darcy had dismissed Snell for the evening, well able to see to his own disrobing, so his sitting-room was deserted when he stepped into it. Lighting a few candles to enable him to read properly was the work of a moment, and Darcy lost no time in opening the missive soon thereafter. The contents shocked him exceedingly.

  “What is it, Darcy?”

  “It seems my father has some unknown method of keeping track of me,” said Darcy, looking up at his friend, bewildered by what he was reading. “He has already learned of Miss Elizabeth.”

  “I thought your father knew nothing of the Bennet family.”

  “That is precisely what I thought,” said Darcy. “Though he does not refer to her by name, he declares his knowledge of me ‘losing my head to some country miss’ and warns me against doing anything rash until he arrives.”

  “That is odd. We have not been seen in company with the Bennet sisters until this evening. The only time we have been with them and not at Gracechurch Street was when we went to the park with them.”

  “It is possible we might have been seen,” said Darcy slowly. “But I do not think most of those to whom I am known frequent that area of town.” Darcy caught Bingley’s raised eyebrow, and he shook his head with annoyance. “I do not censure the Gardiners, Bingley. They are good people. I only spoke the truth—many of the first circles would rather die than have it known they sullied themselves by going into Cheapside, and I would hardly think most of the second circles have connections with those in that neighborhood either.”

  “That is true, I suppose,” said Bingley, frowning. “What do you mean to do? If your father is traveling to London, he may very well arrive and discover you no longer in residence. We are to return to Hertfordshire the day after tomorrow.”

  “Then I shall have to wait in town, I suppose,” said Darcy. “Though the very thought vexes me greatly.” Darcy glanced down at the letter again. “My father does not even say when he will arrive, though given the urgency of his manner of expressing himself, I cannot imagine he means to tarry in the north.”

  “Invite him to Netherfield,” suggested Bingley.

  Turning to his friend, Darcy regarded him as if he had two heads. “I am not sure that is wise. There is little in this letter which suggests he will be well-behaved should he stay at your estate.”

  “Darcy, I believe you are too harsh on your father. Remember, I have stayed at Pemberley, and he was perfectly polite.”

  “Though perhaps not precisely welcoming,” said Darcy.

  Bingley shrugged. “It is of little matter. I am convinced of your father’s civility, even if my family is not as high as he prefers. Furthermore, it will be of benefit to have your father stay with us is to show him that we are not savages. He can see you with Miss Elizabeth, witness your connection, feel your happiness. In the face of such proof of future felicity, how can he not accept her?”

  Sensible though Bingley’s suggestion was, Darcy still felt a frisson of unease. While Mr. Darcy had been perfectly polite to Bingley when he had stayed with them, Bingley had not been there to witness the continual attempts to induce Darcy to sever the friendship. Mr. Darcy was not precisely an elitist, but he was firm in his opinions that there was little to be gained by encouraging friendships with those of a lesser station.

  “Come, Darcy,” urged Bingley, “it will be for the best. Respond to your father’s express with one of your own and invite him to Netherfield. In fact, ask him to bring your mother and sister too. My parents would be pleased to make their acquaintance.”

  Darcy nodded slowly. “Do you not need to solicit your parents’ permission first?’

  “Not at all. They will be happy to receive your family, I am sure.”

  There was nothing left but to accede to his friend’s suggestion. Though Darcy’s misgivings concerning the scheme were not laid to rest, he did not wish to linger in London, waiting for his father to arrive to try to argue him away from Miss Elizabeth. Perhaps Mr. Darcy would be better behaved if he was staying with the Bingleys in Hertfordshire. At the very least, Darcy would not be required to give up Miss Elizabeth’s company while he waited.

  Thus, Darcy wrote a quick letter, inviting his family to Netherfield. It was sent out by express the following morning.

  Chapter XXII

  Elizabeth had not thought she would feel so concerned at the thought of meeting Mr. Darcy’s parents. While she had known it was inevitable if he carried his courtship through to its natural conclusion, Elizabeth was in no hurry to expedite that meeting. In fact, given her tumultuous history with the gentleman, she rather thought she would prefer to take this matter of their courtship slowly, accomplishing such intimidating matters as meeting the elder Mr. Darcy at some point in the future. Preferably the distant future.

  But Mr. Darcy’s communication the day of their return to Hertfordshire came as a complete surprise, and it worried her. The sympathy Mr. Darcy displayed to her feelings was welcome, but as her father was not at all an intimidating man, she was not certain he understood.

  “Oh,” was all Elizabeth could say when the communication had been made. It seemed—to Elizabeth, at least—that a whole host of feelings could be summed up in that one word.

  “I apologize for this surprise, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy, his manner suggesting he was being quite sincere. “How my father discovered our courting I cannot imagine.”

  Elizabeth frowned. “Did you mean to keep the matter from him until we were married? Or until we were engaged as it would be a fait accompli?”

  “No!” exclaimed Mr. Darcy. “I beg you do not misconstrue my words for meanings I do not intend. There is nothing which will prevent me from offering for you except you yourself. I am neither ashamed of my feelin
gs for you, nor am I ashamed of you.

  “It was my thought we could quietly court here in Hertfordshire for some weeks before I reveal the news to my family. I know my father, and I am well aware of his opinions and wishes. Your comfort was foremost in my thoughts.”

  “Will he be angry?” asked Elizabeth, now becoming alarmed for another reason.

  “It seems I am making a mess of this business,” said Mr. Darcy woefully, as Bingley laughed by his side.

  “Indeed, you are,” said Mr. Bingley, clapping his friend on the back. “Perhaps you should allow me, Darcy.”

  Mr. Darcy gestured to Mr. Bingley to proceed, an almost desperate quality in his motions. Though still concerned, Elizabeth was charmed. It seemed the ever-unflappable Mr. Darcy was capable of being quite discomposed.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Bingley, leaning forward and favoring her with a soft smile, “what my friend is trying—and failing miserably—to say is that his father is a traditional man, and as such, has certain expectations for his son’s future marriage partner.”

  “This I already understand, Mr. Bingley,” said Elizabeth, beginning to become a little impatient.

  “I am sure you do,” replied Mr. Bingley with a wide grin. “What he has not been able to say coherently is that while his father is a traditional man, he is not an ogre. It is possible that he might disapprove of you in general, but he will not treat you as inferior, nor will he be unkind. Though I was aware of his opinion concerning me when I stayed with them, he was not unkind, and I do not believe he had anything against me in particular.”

  “No, he did not,” said Mr. Darcy. “His disapproval was that I had befriended one he considered inappropriate. The Bingleys are newly landed. My apologies, my friend.”

  “I am not offended,” replied Mr. Bingley with a shrug. “It is nothing less than the truth.”

  “But will his disapproval not be worse with me?” asked Elizabeth. “Mr. Bingley is only your friend—I am being considered for the position of his only son’s wife.”