by Olivia Kane
“What a display!’” Charlotte Lucas exclaimed.
“We could not let the regiment go hungry, could we girls? After all, it is the season to be generous,” Lady Lucas said, picking up a plate and eyeing the table with contentment.
Elizabeth gladly accepted a warm cup of spiced ale and closed her eyes as she took a quick sip, inhaling its beloved fragrance. Piling their plates with assorted sweets, the women then made their way to a small square table and sat down, Jane across from Elizabeth with Lady Lucas and Charlotte at their sides.
Jane scanned the room, her gaze landing on the crowd seated behind Elizabeth. Jane stared, momentarily captivated, and then clasped her hand to her mouth. Her eyes twinkled in merriment.
“Jane? What is it?” Lady Lucas enjoined her.
“Jane, what in the world?” Elizabeth followed, anxious for a laugh.
In a low voice, Jane said, “Elizabeth. Look at Mr. Darcy seated behind you and tell me what you see. Only don’t let him see you looking.”
Following Jane’s instructions, Elizabeth casually turned her head to observe the room. Directly behind her, in Jane’s direct line of sight, sat Mr. Darcy, Bingley, and the three women of their party. Mr. Darcy was enjoying a slice of fruitcake with great intensity.
Elizabeth, her eyes wide, turned back and met Jane’s gaze.
“So he does like fruitcake!” Elizabeth exclaimed.
“It must have been ours, specifically, that offended him,” Jane said, assuming a manner of great offense. Both Bennet girls laughed outright.
Lady Lucas and Charlotte sat in confusion until Elizabeth leaned in and said in a low voice, “The other day, Jane and I brought a holiday fruitcake to Netherfield. Bingley kindly sliced it and served it, but when Mr. Darcy arrived in the middle of our tea, he solidly refused to try it, even though Bingley pressed him repeatedly.”
“It was quite an awkward moment,” Jane added. Charlotte and her mother nodded in agreement. Then unconsciously, though none of the ladies meant to call attention to their table, all four heads turned toward Mr. Darcy to observe his fruitcake consumption.
Naturally, that was the precise moment he glanced their way.
All four heads quickly turned back and were immediately focused on the plates in front of them.
“He saw us,” Jane whispered, blushing.
“How embarrassing,” Elizabeth added.
“Shhh, act naturally,” Lady Lucas advised. “Let’s converse about our dresses.”
“I can’t act naturally,” Elizabeth laughed, her face turning red. “But, my Charlotte, have I seen your gown before or is it just done over?”
Charlotte looked down at her lap but could not keep up the charade. She stole another look at Darcy and then it was her eyes that grew wide. She grabbed Elizabeth’s hand and hissed, “Don’t look but, oh, Elizabeth! He is getting up!”
Jane peered around Elizabeth. “She’s right. He’s walking … over … to ...”
“He better not be coming this way,” Elizabeth wished aloud.
“Don’t look,” Jane hissed.
“I have to,” Charlotte said, angling her head to see Mr. Darcy winding his way around the tables towards them.
“He’s coming!” Charlotte whispered.
“Oh crumpets, no,” Elizabeth whimpered. Every nerve within her trembled with a combination of dread and excitement. She steeled herself to fend him off with pointed retorts and prepared her expression to appear unfazed at his gracing their table.
“Good evening, Lady Lucas, ladies,” Mr. Darcy said, nodding to the table.
“Good evening, Mr. Darcy” replied the four ladies simultaneously.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” he said specifically, nodding again.
Elizabeth looked up to respond to his address. As she suspected, his gaze was fixed on her.
“Good evening, Mr. Darcy.”
He nodded a third time in response.
He made no further reply. The tightness of the room required him to stand uncomfortably close to their table; she could examine the fine cloth of his white shirt and the fold of his cuffs in detail. Elizabeth thought it incumbent on him to initiate further pleasantries, but none were issued. It appeared he had wandered over merely to hover over their table and put a stop to their looking over at him. Another moment of silence transpired in which Elizabeth dared not meet Jane’s eyes or she would find herself laughing outright in his face.
Despite her intense desire to restrain herself, Elizabeth could be weak-willed when faced with the opportunity for impertinence and before she could think twice she heard herself say, “Tell me, Mr. Darcy, is it only the Longbourn fruitcake that is not tolerable enough to tempt you?”
There, she’d done it. Successfully used his own words against him.
She waited to see a flicker of recognition in his eyes but he appeared only confused and not shamed, as she had intended.
He directed his dark gaze at her.
“I apologize, Miss Bennet. I have no prejudice against fruitcake, per se, or even against fruitcake from Longbourn.”
Elizabeth noted how unanimated he was. He stood as if he were planted, exerting no energy other than the minimum necessary to push the words out of his throat.
She sighed audibly and with a quick little shake of her head directed her gaze towards her sister, but Jane was staring up at Mr. Darcy in awe, as was Lady Lucas and Charlotte. Elizabeth briefly shut her eyes.
I wish he would go away. Surely he does not mean to stand here as mute as a spider!
She looked up to see all eyes on her expectantly.
She wrinkled her nose in confusion. “What?” she asked.
Mr. Darcy cleared his throat and Elizabeth looked up at the sound.
“I asked Miss Elizabeth Bennet if I could have the pleasure of a dance when you return to the floor?”
Her heart stopped and then resumed beating unnaturally fast.
Oh, how she wanted to refuse him!
But something else at that moment took over; an elemental goodness that would not, could not, allow her to act as rudely to him as he had to her. Despite their combined silliness, her parents had managed to instill a code of civility in her behavior.
Moreover, she knew that she had gambled and lost and must pay her debts like the best of gamesmen. She had glanced at him too many times that night and teased him too heartily, and it was just that kind of attention that men were wont to misread as interest and leap upon.
And so, without desiring it in any way, Elizabeth found herself agreeing to the dance. Mr. Darcy bowed in response, a formal, but perhaps slightly less stiff bow than the one he made upon arriving at the table, and he departed.
Jane looked across the table at her sister.
“Elizabeth! What can he mean by singling you out to dance while ignoring all other ladies?”
Elizabeth shook her head.
“I wish I knew,” she said glumly, her cheeks burning and a lump forming in her chest. “I wish I had said no.”
“It’s too late for that. You must make the best of it. And Mr. Darcy is certainly a fine man who has paid attention to no one else the whole evening,” Charlotte said.
Lady Lucas was grinning like an overfed cat.
“There is something in you that he admires, Elizabeth. Mark my words,” she said.
Elizabeth swallowed hard. The tartlets in front of her lost their appeal; her abandoned wassail sat cold in its cup. The evening had taken a decidedly sour turn; all her natural playfulness wilted like an old leaf of cabbage. She sat quietly while her tablemates finished their refreshments.
“Well, Elizabeth, I am sorry to say we are done here,” Charlotte said.
“It’s time to go. We shouldn’t keep hold of this table any longer,’ Jane said, looking sympathetically at her sister.
With regret, Elizabeth stood up slowly. Jane followed, as did Charlotte and her mother. Linking her arm in her sister’s, Elizabeth moved reluctantly back to the assembly room.
> “Why do I feel as if I am being led to the executioners?” Elizabeth whispered.
Jane looked into her sister’s eyes, shook her head softly, and squeezed her forearm.
“It’s one dance. I daresay you will live to tell us how it went,” she said with a means to encourage.
“But he has danced with no one since he arrived in town. His asking me will start the tongues wagging. And he is the most disagreeable …”
They entered the assembly room before Elizabeth could finish her complaint. Despite wishing that some sudden emergency had required his party’s immediate return to Netherfield, Mr. Darcy stood directly in her path, awaiting her arrival. He showed no partiality toward her as he clasped her hand and they took their places.
The music began and, as Elizabeth feared, all eyes followed the movement of their dance. Not only were the bystanders amused but so was every eligible lady not lucky enough to have been graced by his invitation. Elizabeth derived no pleasure from their sidewise glances and jealous faces. Even Miss Warwick, who was thought to be highly self-composed, could not refrain from glaring at Elizabeth with obvious disgust.
The four minutes Elizabeth spent being publicly humiliated were seemingly in vain. She hoped that his asking her to dance was his way of breaking the ice and that afterward he would ask other partners, as there was certainly no shortage of willing young women. But afterward, he immediately retreated to his corner against the wall, and no amount of eyelash fluttering or fan waving could induce him to engage another partner for the remainder of the evening.
And, as Elizabeth feared, his selecting her as his sole object of interest spurred marvel and speculation among the assembly-goers. She was not imagining it; everyone was watching her and whispering.
Even Wickham teased her. “It appears your impertinent manners have captivated Mr. Darcy and he is now in your thrall.”
“I meant to provoke him with my wit to repel him, not attract him,” she said with remorse.
“Do not fret yourself, for I hear they are off to London after the New Year, and I can assure you that Mr. Darcy is the last man to fall severely in love with you in so short a time. You must only hold on until they vacate Netherfield and all will be well.”
“I take no delight in wishing the season away just to be rid of him,” she replied. Wickham only laughed.
Bundled into the cold carriage for the ride home, no one could talk of anything else.
“Mr. Darcy! Elizabeth, can you explain it?” Mrs. Bennet squealed.
“Why not?” Mr. Bennet bellowed. “There is much to be admired in my Lizzie; it was only a matter of time before he came to his senses. I must congratulate you, Lizzie, in drawing the favor of the most ill-tempered, haughty-looking man at the assembly. Well done!”
Elizabeth laughed off her father’s needling and began to think longingly of the dullness of mid-January when the gaiety of the holiday season would be only a memory and the insipidness of country society would drive the whole Netherfield party back to London for the season. Then she would be free to disparage Mr. Darcy to her heart’s content without the danger of drawing him closer.
Chapter Five
“I called on Lady Lucas this morning, where she reported she has had a response in the affirmative for the whole party at Netherfield. What a Christmas Eve party it will be,” Mrs. Bennet said as she sat with her daughters in the drawing room after lunch. “And Bingley stopped her in the street to inquire if it was a small party or a large party and inquired specifically whether or not our family planned to attend. He seemed particularly pleased to hear that we were on the guest list. Jane, you have made a convert!”
Jane blushed and would not look up, instead concentrating on her sewing.
“Never mind about Mr. Bingley, is she inviting any officers from the regiment? Captain Carter? Colonel Wickham?” Colonel Foster?” Kitty cried.
“We must have officers!” Lydia insisted.
“Yes, yes, girls, Sir William is more than generous with his invitations. He assured me that the officers will be present.”
Mr. Bennet cleared his throat. “What of Mr. Darcy? Does he inquire if my Lizzie will be there?”
Mrs. Bennet frowned. “Lady Lucas did not say.”
“There you have it, Lizzie. One dance obviously did not do it, as Mr. Darcy is not gadding about the town inquiring about your Christmas Eve plans. You will have to work a little harder to win his heart.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Darcy at the Christmas Eve dinner! Was he to ruin that night as well?
Christmas Eve at Lucas Lodge was a Bennet family tradition that, until that moment, she did not realize she was looking forward to so deeply. Elizabeth stood up. Suddenly, the room was too hot, needlework not at all satisfying at that moment.
“I think I will go into Meryton. Jane? Would you come with me?”
Jane looked up and, sensing her sister’s discomfort, readily agreed. Lydia and Kitty insisted they go too. Only Mary found it necessary to remain at home.
“I have music for two new Christmas carols that I am anxious to practice. With everyone gone, I will be able to perfect them uninterrupted. I am determined to master these pieces and perform them at Lucas Lodge,” Mary said, seating herself at the pianoforte and pounding out her scales.
“That is my cue to remove myself to the library,” Mr. Bennet laughed. “Enjoy your walk into town, my dears.”
The sudden uptick in activity—the primping in the mirror and the running to and fro, gathering the cloaks and mufflers and gloves—soon took Elizabeth out of herself. As she went out the door behind her sisters, the sun peeked out from behind a cloud and the country was lit with the most divine of light. Elizabeth’s mood rebounded to its natural cheerfulness, with thoughts of Mr. Darcy pushed to the furthest corner of her mind.
The clement weather drew a large crowd to the streets of Meryton. On the walk to town, it was decided that the sisters would shop first and then call on their Aunt Phillips, who always offered them gossip and a nice tea even when they dropped in unexpectedly.
“Mary will know her carols by heart by the time we return home,” Kitty declared. “And I dare say I am happy to not suffer her practicing.”
The girls stopped first at the milliner. Elizabeth wanted to buy a small quantity of very fine muslin and new embroidery thread as she had a plan to sew and embellish a small cap for an impoverished local woman’s infant girl. It was, in her mind, what the spirit of the season required, and she happily spent all her month’s pocket money on the goods.
After they had thoroughly perused the stock of feathers and ribbons and dreamed of the construction of their next fine bonnet, they crossed the road to the general mercantile. Mr. Bingley, who too had joined the throngs in Meryton that day and was approaching from the opposite direction, saw them enter the store. He hurried down the street to join them.
The small bell fastened to the door announced his arrival as he stepped inside. The sisters were huddled together, examining some very prettily drawn calendars for the New Year. He sidled up to them without their seeing him and managed to surprise them all with his friendly presence.
“Mr. Bingley! What brings you out today?” Elizabeth said, adding her greeting to those of her sisters.
“I am out to buy gifts for Boxing Day and was also hoping to find some small trinkets to surprise my sisters with as well. Although I confess, I simply do not know what would please them. I was hoping it would not be too much trouble to ask the Bennet sisters for some assistance in that area. Whatever should I buy? I get so perplexed by too many choices.”
Why don’t you wrap a rock or a lump of coal for Miss Bingley? Elizabeth thought wickedly.
“I always need a new fan,” Lydia piped up, motioning Bingley to the counter. “I do so love the pretty rainbow of colors,” she said, looking longingly at the display.
“Mr. Bingley, come here!” Kitty demanded. “Look at this velvet shawl. The color would match Caroline’s eyes. How I do adore this
shawl.” She modeled it for Bingley but it was obvious she wanted it for herself.
“Miss Bennet, what would you suggest?” he asked, coloring a little in the way he always did when taking in Jane’s beautiful face.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Jane stammered, looking around the mercantile half-heartedly. “It is really so hard to decide.”
“Isn’t it?” Bingley beamed, thrilled to discover they shared an indecisive nature. She smiled and shrugged her shoulders.
“There are some very pretty embroidered handkerchiefs here. Or this one with the pretty lace edging,” she said as she fingered it.
“Ah, yes, lovely,” Bingley nodded, failing to distinguish whether he was referring to Jane or the hankie.
“Mr. Bingley,” Elizabeth called. He tore his attention away from Jane as he was unerringly polite in splitting his time between all four sisters.
“Look at this beautiful writing paper. It has gold tipped edges,” Elizabeth said, running her hands across the thick creamy sheets.
‘Ah, almost looks like the scriptures,” Bingley noted.
“I would think there would be nothing more beautiful in the world on which to put down one’s thoughts, or likewise to receive a letter written on this paper,” she added.
“My sisters do love to write letters,” Bingley acknowledged. “Oh dear, it is still so hard to decide,” he lamented. “I do so hate to disappoint them.”
“If I may offer some advice?” Kitty started.
“Why certainly,” Bingley encouraged her.
“I have found that when my head is so filled up with beautiful things to the point where I cannot decide, I force myself to leave the shop and go about my business. After a little while, I have forgotten most of what I thought I liked. But when there is something so beautiful I simply cannot stop thinking of it, well that is what I must have, and I turn around and head right back to make my purchases.
“It is a system that does not fail me! So I urge you, Mr. Bingley, to walk about town a little and the item that has made the biggest impression on you will be uppermost in your mind,” Kitty concluded.