by Riana Everly
She inhaled quickly, embarrassed to have so poorly controlled her features. “Mr. Darcy, I….” Turning resolutely towards him she decided that an immediate apology was in order, both to right the wrong she felt she had committed and to help regain some measure of calm. He would accept direct words far better than obscure allusion and subtle suggestions. Fighting to keep her voice steady, she spoke quickly. “I am most heartily sorry, sir. My words to you in Hunsford were unpardonable. The things I said were most unwarranted and ill-considered, and my only excuse must be my pain at the knowledge of my sister’s abandonment. If I had been more myself and had taken the time to listen to your words and your explanation—” she broke off, unable to formulate further thought.
His voice, when it came, was low and comforting, like rich honey on a wound. “Miss Elizabeth—Elizabeth—your words gave me much pause to think, and they were not, in fact, ill-directed. You were not wrong in your accusations, and I have taken what steps I am able to correct my errors. Allow me to apologise, too, for my gross misconceptions and missteps concerning your sister. I should never have interfered, knowing as I do my limitations, but having the hubris nonetheless to presume I knew more than my friend, whose heart and well-being were at stake. I admit I thought only of his welfare, but should have been more aware of my… unusual perspective in forming my opinions. I should have known that in matters of the feelings of others, I am not always right.”
His voice now softened further and took on a soupçon of desperation. “It would please me greatly to renew our friendship. Please, if you will do me the honour, let us not think of our past wrongs towards each other, but forge forward, leaving these painful memories in the past.” He looked down at his hands, only inches from her own, but refrained from reaching across that short space. Elizabeth felt her own hand being drawn to his, as if by a strong magnet, but mindful of the others in the room she maintained control over her limbs. Darcy continued, “I visit Samuel often. For the duration of your stay in London, would you allow me to call on you when I visit?”
Blinking rapidly, Elizabeth felt a flush creep over her cheeks as she heard these words. Mr. Darcy did not hate her! He had every right to think ill of her, to be repulsed at the thought of her company, but instead he wished to call upon her! She felt once again the mortification she had experienced each time she had reread and contemplated his letter, and she relived the desperate sense of loss that had washed over her when she thought she had lost his good opinion forever. She was still unwilling to think too deeply about what that loss meant to her, but she found herself delighted and relieved by this reprieve.
“Yes, you may, Mr. Darcy,” she breathed. “I would like that.”
She was rewarded with a smile and a look in his eyes that she once might have found intimidating, but now knew was something completely different. He admired her. Casting about for some topic of conversation more suitable to the family salon after dinner, she offered to fetch tea for him, and upon returning with a cup and saucer for each of them, asked how he had found her family. “Surely I never gave you their direction,” she explained.
“No, I object,” came the response, “for you did. You happened, during a conversation on one of our walks at Rosings, to mention your uncle Gardiner, and on another occasion mentioned the name of the street upon which this house sits. After that finding the family was a simple matter.” He spoke as plainly as if he had been asked to find his newspaper upon the breakfast table.
“But I can hardly recall what I said, and we spoke so often, of so many matters,” Elizabeth countered. “Surely you do not remember every detail of every conversation. Did the name and street mean so much to you that you fixed them in your memory?”
“Aye, there was that extra incentive to recall your family’s name and street, but in truth, I do recall almost everything I see and hear. My memory is not infallible, but few details are lost to me.”
“Oh!” Elizabeth reddened, horrified at the thought that at any time, Mr. Darcy could relive her horrid refusal of him in his mind. “All those things I said to you….”
“Are in the past. Elizabeth. Just because I have the ability to remember every detail does not mean I do. Do not fret about them. If I bring your words back to mind, it is only to remind myself of my shortcomings when I find myself growing too arrogant. But it is true that my memory seems to be better than most. This was a blessing in school, to be certain, and also when….” he glanced around to ascertain that their discussion was not being overheard, “When my sister was being wooed by Mr. Wickham. A detail she had mentioned in passing at one time brought me to her side short days before the planned elopement, and after the scoundrel absconded, I was able to find him by recalling from an overheard conversation the name of the street where a cousin of his owned a boarding house. It was there I confronted him and obtained his confession, which I used to convince my poor sister not to pine for the cad.”
His voice had been growing tighter as he spoke, his shoulders stiffer, and the statue mask had slowly been sliding over his face. Aware of his reactions, he breathed deeply and consciously to return himself to his previously felt ease. “I apologise, madam. I should not have mentioned that dreadful event.”
“No, Mr. Darcy, I am the one to apologise, for I am the one who brought these memories to the fore. But pray, sir, let us talk of other things, happier things. I, for one, would be most curious to know what brought you to seek out my cousin in the first place. Surely a man of your status and maturity has no need to befriend a twelve-year-old lad, the son of mere merchants!”
“The need, no indeed. The wish, however, is different from the need. I wanted to meet this lad, to see the child of whom you had spoken so tenderly, to learn from his own lips what you had done for him. And, I admit, I wished to do as you instructed and practise my social skills in new and uncomfortable circumstances. In short, Miss Elizabeth, I wished to learn to recommend myself to strangers.
“Your aunt and uncle, however, made this a most difficult—nay, impossible—task, for they refused to remain strangers and became, instead, people whom I would be honoured to call friends.” He acknowledged her shy smile with one of his own. “They are truly good people, Elizabeth, and you have every right to be proud of your relations. Where I might previously have thought meanly of them for their lower status, I see now that they are elegant and sophisticated people, most likely better learned and of better understanding than many of the highest circles. I came to meet Samuel and to test myself; I returned out of genuine respect and growing affection. If I ever spoke ill of your family, I see how very, very wrong I was.”
“Alas, sir, you were not wrong at all.” Now Elizabeth cast her eyes away. “My aunt and uncle are the best of people, but would that I could speak so of some of my closer relations. Lydia in particular is most vexing, for she is an incorrigible flirt, determined to make a display of herself, and I feel that most deeply. Would that my father had taken a firmer hand with her, most notably where the officers were concerned….” she blushed now, and apologised for her lapse in bringing Mr. Wickham back into the conversation. “I was most relieved to hear that the militia will be removing to Brighton for the summer. It will only be good for my younger sisters to be out of that sphere.”
“Oh no, Lizzy, haven’t you heard?” Jane walked up from behind Elizabeth. She had clearly heard her sister’s last thoughts.
“Jane, I did not hear you approach! What are you saying? Have you news from home?”
Her lovely face unperturbed and serene, Jane replied, “I had a letter from Mary this morning. Lydia has been invited to join Colonel Forster’s wife as her particular friend, and will be travelling to Brighton with the officers. Mary was most worried about the possible trouble Lydia might find, and Kitty is torn between wails of fury at not being invited and torrents of tears at being passed over. Mary, of course, writes of the evils of temptation, but from what I understood, the only one who succumbed to temptation was Papa, in choosing the easier p
ath of allowing Lydia to go, instead of exercising his authority as parent to preserve some semblance of dignity in the family.”
Elizabeth’s face drained of blood and she felt her knees weaken as she fought for composure.
“Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy was concerned. “You have gone white and your mouth and brows suggest you are in distress. Sit, sit, and I shall bring you some wine.”
“Nay, sir, I am well. ‘Tis merely the thought of my sister, exposing herself to all nature of possible vices, away from any control or family or rational thought….”
“Lizzy,” Jane countered, “Mrs. Forster is young, but Colonel Forster is a sensible man, and will not allow our sister to come to harm. All will be well.”
“Always the optimist, Jane!” Lizzy allowed herself to laugh. “Yes, I shall have to accept that and hope you are correct. I must write to Papa to ask him to change his mind, but,” she caught Mr. Darcy’s eye, hoping to convey her decision not to reveal his sister’s misadventure, “I have no particulars to relate to convince him of this folly. I can only hope he comes to see reason. Now,” she said with a determination to be cheerful, “let us go and see what young Samuel thinks of his first dinner with the adults!”
Chapter Fourteen
Conversations
Over the following days, a schedule of sorts developed. Mr. Darcy appeared at precisely nine o’clock on Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning. “I have allotted my time accordingly,” he explained, “and conduct the business of my estate and local affairs on Tuesdays and Thursdays.” He took an early breakfast with the family and visited with Samuel before the lad left for his day at the local school, whereupon he spent the remainder of the morning with the Miss Bennets and Miss Lucas, and, when she was not otherwise engaged, Mrs. Gardiner.
They might sit in the morning room and converse easily over tea and the newspaper, discussing the latest tidbits from the society pages, or at times, news from the battlegrounds of the Continent. Or, they might debate the merits of some recent publication of poetry or the performance of some theatrical production currently on the stage. At times, they would all walk with the younger children and Miss Pierce in the park, taking in the fresh late spring air whilst the children were permitted to expend their energy under their nursemaid’s careful eye. Mr. Darcy had attempted to discuss his own situation with Miss Pierce, since Elizabeth had spoken so well of her, but she assured him that she herself could have done nothing beyond what Miss Elizabeth had done.
“Nay, sir,” she had informed him, “You have taken Miss Bennet’s lessons to heart, and have succeeded far beyond what I might have imagined, had you begun like young Master Gardiner. I believe, rather, that Miss Bennet has been of greater use to you than I ever might have been, for she is of your class, not a working girl like myself, and can guide you through the nuances of gentle society in a way that I never shall. Look to Miss Bennet, sir, for she is your better teacher!”
He related this to the lady in question as they walked one morning in the park. The swans had come to the shore to scavenge for crumbs or seeds or whatever other treats might be offered to them, and the Gardiner children were delighted at the sight. Little Julia was somewhat shy of the large white birds, but Helena, so much older and braver, strutted around with her knees locked and her feet pointed outward, announcing that she wished one day to become a swan herself! Jane was at the house with Maria, who pleaded a head ache, and Mrs. Gardiner was visiting a friend, thus leaving Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth to converse in some privacy.
“Miss Pierce insists that you are best able to help me find comfort in the clamour of society,” the gentleman spoke as they sat on a bench near where the children and waterfowl played. “She might well be right. But what thought you of that final soirée at Rosings? I had hoped to speak with you about this earlier, but…”
“But other events intervened,” Elizabeth finished for him in subdued tones. “For that I am sorry.”
“We promised not to speak of that. However I would be most appreciative to know of your thoughts concerning the gathering.”
“My thoughts, Mr. Darcy, are nothing compared to yours. I am not the pianoforte master, letting his star pupil free before an audience, later on to judge the performance. I am merely your guide; you are you own master. What thought you of the evening? How did you fare after my party returned to the parsonage?”
“It was much better than I had expected,” he replied frankly. “Whilst the assault on my senses did occur, it was much less brutal than is often the case, and it came upon me less immediately. I believe that having some confidence in my ability to converse on meaningless matters contributed to my overall comfort, leaving me less vulnerable to the excesses of noise. I also had something on which to focus my energies, rather than on the discomfort of my surroundings. When I began to feel lost, I drew upon your exercises and, to some degree, was able to regain my composure. Being able to observe and interpret the unspoken aspects of a conversation—the gestures, the facial expressions, the glances—both added to my awareness of what was being discussed and gave me a task to keep from succumbing to the barrage of sound and light and smell.”
“Watching you, I thought you looked quite comfortable, at least at the start of the evening. I did not speak with you after we returned to the room after our rest on the balcony. Did you find yourself at ease once more?”
“I did indeed! I had never thought to excuse myself for a short rest and then return to the battle. How much easier that was than to wage full war with my aunt and excuse myself entirely for the remainder of the evening. There!” he chortled. “I have used a metaphor!” Elizabeth saw him watch her face for her response, which she offered by means of a wide smile. Only then did he continue. “To take a short stroll outside or get some air is hardly even remarked upon. This shall certainly remain a key weapon in my arsenal!”
Elizabeth laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners and glinting in the dappled sunlight as she did so. “So it is a war, then, Mr. Darcy? And every social encounter a skirmish? Who is the winner in these battles you fight? Nay, who, sir, is the enemy?”
He returned her smile. “Ah, another metaphor. Let me think on it… yes, I understand your meaning now. The enemy, alas, is myself, and yes, I do feel as if I stride into battle. Or, perhaps now, merely a minor fracas! But tell me, Miss Elizabeth, what thought you of Mr. and Mrs. St. Ives? Did you like them? For I have learned that they are in town, and I should like to invite them to my home for an evening of music… if you might agree to join us?” The sentence ended as a supplication. “I shall, of course,” he quickly amended, “include your aunt and uncle and sister in the invitation. And Miss Lucas. When does she return home to Meryton?”
“On Monday next. Jane and I were to join her…”
She was unable to conclude her sentence at the look of dismay that overcame her companion’s face. “Pray, tell me you are not leaving London, Elizabeth!” he cried. “We have so recently renewed our friendship; I should be most distressed to say goodbye to you so soon!”
Without conscious thought, she placed a reassuring hand on his forearm. “Do not be alarmed, sir, for I am not leaving! You may thank my aunt for that, for she has convinced me to remain until the family travels north in the summer. She wishes me to spend time with my cousins, and I am not averse to doing so! Sammy will be away with his friend for a fortnight, but he will return before long. And I do love the little girls, though they be but babies still. You may also thank my aunt and uncle,” she teased, “for convincing my father that he may do without me for some further weeks! Mama cares little whether I am home or away, but Papa does miss having someone sensible with whom to discuss local affairs. Jane, sweet soul that she is, has every bit the understanding that I may claim, but she is so good, so quick to absolve blame, that she can hardly be depended upon for a gossip.”
Giggling, she turned to her benchmate and asked, “And to whom do you turn when you feel the need to disparage your neighbours? I should hardly imagi
ne Mr. Bingley could answer that role, for he is too much like Jane, too quick to be satisfied and to impose the benefit of the doubt, even where there is none.” Her eyes clouded over as she spoke, and she was unable to remove the wistfulness from her voice.
Gently, Mr. Darcy asked, “Does Miss Bennet then return to Meryton with Miss Lucas, or will she also remain in town?”
“She returns with Maria.”
“Then,” Mr. Darcy announced with some firmness, “I must invite the residents of your uncle’s house to my own home tomorrow for dinner, before the ladies leave us. I shall prevail upon my cousin, Richard’s sister, that is, to play the hostess.” He shifted in place upon the bench, as if struggling internally over some decision he had to make. He stared out over the water, where the children were being gathered up by Miss Pierce despite their protests, and then, after a moment of silence and having come to a decision, he suddenly announced, “I have just had news that might be pleasing, if I may be so lucky as to redeem myself with one whom I hope to still call friend. To that end, Miss Elizabeth, I find I must seek out your uncle to extend the invitation formally, and then I have a duty to perform.” He rose and bowed over the lady’s hand before bestowing a gentle kiss on her fingers. “Pray excuse me. Ah, here comes Miss Pierce with the children. Until tomorrow, Miss Elizabeth.” And with his long strides, he turned and vanished down the path.
∞∞∞
The invitation to Mr. Darcy’s house was duly proffered and accepted, and the following afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, Elizabeth, Jane, Maria, and Samuel, entered the Gardiners’ rather crowded town carriage and found themselves being transported to the fashionable area of town where Mr. Darcy’s abode lay.
Mr. Darcy himself was standing at the rather grand front entrance to the town home, rather contrary to common custom, and he personally assisted the ladies out of the carriage, letting his hand rest somewhat longer than necessary upon Elizabeth’s. Mrs. Gardiner’s eyebrows rose at this sight and she exchanged a glance with her equally observant husband, but since Mr. Darcy had made his intentions clear, she said nothing.