Do You Love Me

by Laura Moretti

  “Indeed, Mr. Darcy. You see, Miss Bennet, this is what I was alluding to the other day – about flirting with men – you have such high spirits all the time, I cannot but believe you gave some gentlemen the wrong impression. And I suppose you played indifferent, too, and refused eligible offers when they were made to you – you are certainly regretting it now, are you not?”

  Elizabeth could not speak. It was too pointed an insult to be a random one – Amelia had heard something – she couldn’t know about Mr. Darcy’s proposal, nobody did, but Elizabeth had told Miss Moore about her refusal of Mr. Collins, so maybe her friend had betrayed her, without meaning any harm, of course. Elizabeth’s throat hurt – she was too sad, too angry to reply – she averted her gaze – and was saved by Mr. Bingley, who, feeling the tension, quickly commented,

  “I, for one, will never disapprove of flirting, or ladies setting traps for eligible gentlemen,” he said, with an affectionate look at Amelia, “because I was caught in one, and will never regret it.”

  Amelia was flattered, and everybody smiled, except Darcy and Elizabeth. Well, Elizabeth smiled politely – but her eyes were pricking – she felt betrayed as if her indirect discussions with Darcy had created a friendly alliance that the gentleman had now viciously broken – then the conversation had to stop, because another musician began to play the piano.

  They all listened. Elizabeth was staring at the floor, too choked to talk, feeling Darcy’s gaze on her the whole time. He had been seized by an irrational wave of regret and anger – he knew his words to be false, and now bitterly regretted them. He desperately tried to catch Elizabeth’s eye, but she would rather have died than condescend to look at him – then the music came to a stop and their group dispersed; Mr. Haynes and Mr. May were summoned to the hostess while Bingley and his wife went to talk to the musician.

  Elizabeth was looking intently at the wall – Darcy tried again to catch her eye – to no avail. Servants appeared, bringing some late night delicacies: tea, coffee, fruits and pastries, some sweet wine.

  “I quite fancy some cake,” said Miss Moore. “Shall I bring you back a slice, Elizabeth?”

  “Oh no – that won’t do at all,” said Elizabeth, standing up with a forced smile, “it is my task to make your life easier, not yours.”

  Darcy was immediately on his feet.

  “I will…”

  “No, please, allow me,” Elizabeth said, before fleeing to the other side of the room. Darcy sat down heavily. Elizabeth brought two plates of cakes… then disappeared again, without any explanation. Amelia returned in her stead and took her seat near Miss Moore, who instantly addressed her.

  “My dear Amelia,” Miss Moore said, in a whisper, after a quick glance at Darcy who did not seem to be attending to the conversation, “please do not take umbrage, but I wanted to – I feel like you are sometimes a little harsh with Elizabeth.”

  “Oh! I was just trying to give her some advice,” Amelia Bingley whispered, stirring her coffee a little guiltily.

  “I know you have the best intentions,” Miss Moore continued, not noticing the silent attention and remorse of the gentleman at her left, “but maybe you do not realize… Elizabeth is poor, and quite alone. Her favorite sister lives far away – she didn’t make such a good marriage – the family is scattered over the country, they fell on hard times – Elizabeth was, no, she is still heartbroken by her father’s death…”

  “That was more than a year ago!” Mrs. Bingley protested. “And Miss Bennet always seems so cheerful. I hardly believe that…”

  “I have never seen Elizabeth behave in an inappropriate manner,” Miss Moore interrupted, “not even once. I know you didn’t mean anything by it, Amelia, but – you know – when you are friendless – when you are not in a position to strike back – sometimes an idle remark hurts more than it should.”

  Mrs. Bingley didn’t answer, so Miss Moore took her hand. “Dear Amelia, please consider… You have everything, and she has nothing.”

  Amelia was touched and flattered.

  “You are right. I am sorry, and I will be more careful,” she said with an affectionate squeeze of the hand. “And Miss Bennet is not friendless,” she added kindly. “She has you.”

  “She does,” Miss Moore replied with a smile.

  Darcy stood abruptly and went in search of Elizabeth.

  ∞∞∞

  His heart was beating hard – he felt feverish. Elizabeth was not in the drawing room, she was not in the hall, she was not in the first parlour Darcy looked into, but she was in the next one, standing alone near a table – pale and serious, staring at an unopened book.

  “Miss Bennet,” Darcy began instantly, “I want to apologize…”

  “Oh, but there is Mrs. Jones!” Elizabeth cried, glancing at a woman passing in the hall. “If you excuse me, Mr. Darcy, I must talk to a friend.”

  She fled again and didn’t exchange more than three words with her “friend” before vanishing into the lady’s parlor, where Darcy could not follow. He waited in the hall, his back to the wall, for her reappearance. Half an hour passed. When Elizabeth finally did emerge, he walked directly to her again.

  “Miss Bennet, please, I must speak to you,” he whispered, trying not to attract attention.

  She gave him a very cold, very polite smile. “But there is no need, Mr. Darcy.”

  “I want to apologize for…”

  “Surely there must be a misunderstanding. I see no necessity for such a conversation,” she said in a final tone.

  And then she walked away.

  ∞∞∞

  Elizabeth cautiously avoided him after that. She could not help his proximity – they were condemned to be in the same room twice a week – she just slightly altered her behavior.

  She never met his gaze, even when they were all huddled near the fireplace – her eyes never stopped on his face.

  ∞∞∞

  Five weeks passed – it was, dear reader, around that time Lady Saltridge invited the seer.

  Darcy did not attempt another apology. He almost never talked to Elizabeth now, even during the most lively debates – he just listened, staring at the fire.

  In silence.

  ∞∞∞

  Then came the Viscount.

  Philip, the eldest son of the Earl of –, was Miss Moore’s cousin. He was young, handsome, charming – and, as became quickly apparent, very much in love with Georgiana Darcy. Even if Georgiana herself was still not attending Lady Saltridge parties, the romance was alluded to so often by Amelia Bingley that everybody felt very aware of it – the Viscount happily joined their Intellectual Club – and with his presence, the atmosphere of the group changed entirely.

  The Viscount was enthusiastic – about everything. He engaged Miss Moore and Elizabeth in heated debates, playing devil’s advocate and making the two young ladies shine and laugh. He liked to dance, he loved parties and dinners – even more, if they were an opportunity to see Georgiana. He wrote poetry – and it was not even bad. He played music and he sang. Suddenly the joyous atmosphere of their circle was restored – because, unbeknownst to the others, it had been damaged by Darcy and Elizabeth disagreement. Perhaps the others attributed the more serious tone of their gatherings to the dreadful state of the war and the countryside, but in truth, Elizabeth’s lack of spirits and Darcy’s silence had weighed on the discussions, causing a dark cloud to hover above their little gathering – even if no one was conscious of its origin.

  But no dark cloud could withstand the Viscount’s energy, especially with Bingley as an ally – and Elizabeth was just longing to be merry again.

  It was more than that. She had realized, for the second time, that she truly missed Darcy’s conversation. He had been wrong to talk to her as he did, of course, but he had tried to apologize – Elizabeth wanted very much everything to be back as it had been – maybe if she had pretended not to hear his disparaging remark, they could have both forgotten the scene – oh, she was sorry it had ever happen
ed. Why had she allowed herself to be so affected by his “betrayal”? Darcy regretted it too, she knew he did – she was conscious of his constant attention, and it pleased her, for some obscure, undefined reason… All right, maybe not so undefined. The truth was, Elizabeth had been flattered that such a man, so powerful and so clever, had still enough interest in her to seek out her opinion – to want to be in her company – yes, it was very pleasant – in short, our heroine would have loved to wave a magic wand and made the whole episode disappear.

  Georgiana, as it happened, paved the way.

  There was to be a recital. Philip – the Viscount – had convinced Georgiana to attend, with her brother’s permission, of course. But after a series of unfortunate coincidences, Georgiana arrived alone and early in Lady Saltridge’s drawing room.

  Darcy had been delayed. Georgiana’s companion had been detained at the door. And it just happened that Mr. Haynes was, this time, seriously drunk – the impoverished and ambitious writer had, in a fit of folly, tried his luck with Miss Moore – who had soundly rejected him and asked that he would not attempt to talk to her again.

  His pride offended, his hope for financial security destroyed, Mr. Haynes had lost all sense of prudence – he needed to spend his ire and was searching for a victim. And the shy, blushing Georgiana, standing alone near the door, symbolized all the reasons for his discomfiture – she was a rich, certainly selfish, pretentious young lady, the kind that obviously rejected men every day after breakfast – protected by a haughty and wealthy brother, who had done nothing to deserve the great fortune he used to humiliate artists who had to beg for his patronage – Mr. Haynes walked to Georgiana, and, in an angry whisper, told her that she was a… I will let you guess the nature of the word, dear reader. Then he began to detail all he wanted to do to her in extremely coarse language, and when Darcy’s young sister tried to flee, Mr. Haynes put his foot on her dress and a part of her skirt was torn off – but Elizabeth, who was nearby, intervened instantly and even seized Mr. Haynes wrist to drag him forcibly away – in thirty seconds she had harshly dismissed the man and the footmen were throwing him outside.

  Lady Saltridge, much vexed, forbade her door to her former protégé. Elizabeth swept Georgiana into a deserted parlor and sent a maid to fetch a needle to repair the catastrophe. Georgiana felt better after a glass of wine. Elizabeth explained to her the reasons of Mr. Haynes’ anger and reassured her that almost nobody had witnessed the incident. As the young girl really wanted to stay to enjoy the recital, and the Viscount presence, it was in her interest to regain her spirits quickly, so she did – Elizabeth was holding her hands and making her laugh when she saw Darcy standing at the door, silently watching them both.

  There was something in his eyes – Elizabeth was speechless for a second. Then he bowed, very formally, before saying,

  “I understand that you rescued my sister, Miss Bennet.”

  “From great harm, Mr. Darcy,” she laughed. It was important, she thought, to downplay the incident before Georgiana. “There were fifty French men with swords and two hungry mythological monsters.”

  “I expected nothing less from your courage,” he answered, while Georgiana stood up to greet him,

  “Oh, Fitzwilliam, thank God Miss Elizabeth was here! I would have fled the scene, but she – she protected me – she arranged everything – and I so wanted to hear the music.”

  Georgiana especially wanted not to miss the Viscount’s clever conversation, Darcy and Elizabeth both thought – but Darcy just smiled kindly, before comforting his sister and escorting both young women to the main room. Then, when Georgiana was safely seated, he turned to Elizabeth and said, with some emotion,

  “I want to thank you again, Miss Bennet. My sister is not as shy as she once was, but she panics easily. What she needs then is to be treated with affection and understanding – as you just did – I could not imagine her in better company.”

  “You are too kind, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said, coloring a little.

  “Did you hear exactly what Mr. Haynes said to her?”

  Elizabeth had – but claimed she hadn’t. Mr. Darcy would have dragged Georgiana home instantly; the young woman would have been even more miserable, and also – Mr. Darcy would want to exert some retaliation – and who knows what would happen then – Elizabeth didn’t want harm to befall to… well, not to either man, certainly.

  She quickly changed the subject. “Miss Darcy is so polite and delightful, how could anyone not like her? The first time I met her, she reminded me of Jane.”

  “Do you miss your sister?” Darcy asked, after a momentary hesitation.

  “I do.” Elizabeth reflected for a while, then shivered.

  “Are you yourself shaken by the incident, Miss Bennet?” Darcy asked. “You are a little pale.”

  She shook her head. “I, ah… It is silly…”

  “Please let me be the judge of that,” Darcy commented with a small smile.

  “There was so much violence, such hatred in Mr. Haynes,” she said in a low voice. And now I cannot help but feel… we live in a protected golden garden of politeness and grace, Mr. Darcy. Which is a wonderful place to be, of course, but…” Elizabeth hesitated. “Outside the walls of the garden is darkness.” She colored a little. “I warned you, sir, my thoughts are flying in a silly direction!”

  “Not at all – on the contrary, such thoughts are not silly, but accurate,” Darcy answered grimly. “Even at Pemberley, where I do my best, misery, despair, and… hatred, as you say…” He paused and sighed. “Yes, that outer darkness is ever present.”

  The room suddenly felt oppressive – Elizabeth thought of the seer’s prediction – she felt as if night – darkness, oblivion – was just waiting to crash on them, like a wave – but fortunately, her somber musings were interrupted by the first notes of the recital. Elizabeth tried to pay attention to the music, but she was strangely distracted – Mr. Haynes’ angry voice resonated over the notes – and she was also very aware of the presence of Mr. Darcy by her side.

  She was almost relieved when the music ended. Soon their whole group, with the exception of Mr. Haynes and the addition of Georgiana Darcy, was huddled around the fireplace again.

  Elizabeth and Darcy had not alluded to the incident, Georgiana certainly would not, and nobody else knew what had happened. The Viscount was in a fine mood. He talked and joked with even more effervescence than usual, glancing at Georgiana often – there was no doubt of his admiration. The young lady radiated quiet happiness. Her joy was contagious, and the atmosphere was soon extremely cheerful.

  “We are all very distracted this evening, I wonder why,” said Amelia Bingley with a wink at Georgiana, and a telling look toward the Viscount. “But I declare, Miss Darcy, we generally have quite intellectual debates.”

  Then Darcy began to speak, to Elizabeth’s surprise, in a deep, serious voice.

  “Indeed. And sometimes our conversations may go far afield. I am, I fear, guilty of…” He hesitated. “I wanted to humbly apologize, to all the ladies present, for something I said a few weeks ago, a comment that might have been disparaging to – er, women – all women. I did not believe what I said at the time, I was displeased for some unrelated reason and I – my words were offending and untrue…”

  “I don’t even remember which conversation you are alluding to!” Amelia cried while Elizabeth was staring intently at her cup of tea. “But I am ready to take offense for the sake of all womankind, Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Bingley continued laughingly. “Whatever you said, it must have been very wrong.”

  “Oh, was it about the Prince Regent, hum, proclivities?” Bingley asked. He glanced at Georgiana and added hastily, “Better forget all about that, I think.”

  It was of course not about the discussion of the Prince Regent – Elizabeth knew very well the evening Darcy was alluding to – she didn’t dare raise her eyes to him – he started again, in a very low voice,

  “If any lady here was deeply offended by my mis
guided words, I could avoid these parties in the future – leave the company in peace – if anybody felt – if anybody feels uncomfortable in my presence…”

  Everybody protested, of course, Amelia Bingley louder than everybody. When the noise had subsided, Elizabeth said quietly, still without looking at him,

  “Your presence, Mr. Darcy, is quite indispensable, I fear. You add so much depth to our conversations. If – if you were to leave, our company would be sadly lacking.”

  Darcy nodded silently, but Bingley and Mr. Helmut May, the painter, jokingly declared they were insulted. “Don’t we add depth to the conversation?” Bingley protested – the viscount was too busy talking to Georgiana to care, and Miss Moore seized the topic to launch a new debate.

  “But what exactly is a deep conversation?” she asked. That was enough to keep them occupied for a good hour. Elizabeth happily took her part in the discussion, she was a little flushed – Mr. Darcy didn’t participate; he was staring at the flames again, not meeting anybody’s eyes, but he looked... happy must have been the word.