Only the anticipation of her planned week in London with Eleanor had offered her any consolation, but when the great day finally arrived, Elizabeth discovered that her playfellow and partner in mischief had been transformed into a proper young lady. For the first time, she was aware of the difference in their status and that others would see her as a sort of poor relation taken in for reasons of charity. From time to time, she would catch glimpses of rebellion in Eleanor's eyes, but they were quickly dampened. It was almost a relief when the visit ended, though the grief of losing that part of her life had remained with Elizabeth for months.
But she was not made for low spirits. She was eventually able to throw herself into life at Longboum and only thought of her Bentham Park days as the remembrance brought her pleasure. She could recognize the benefits, and knew she had been fortunate to have had the opportunity, even if it ended sooner than she liked. She eventually found a challenging friend in the much older Charlotte Lucas, and she grew closer to her father. He was happy to keep her at Longboum, since she was now old enough to be amusing to him, and her education at Bentham Park had made her an entertaining companion.
The pain of it was still there, just buried deep. Poor Mr. Darcy could not have known what a tender spot he hit when he spoke of the degradation of marrying so far beneath him. His references to her inferiority, so similar to Lady Bentham's accusations that had led to her banishment from Bentham Park, had cut her to the quick. But that horrible evening in Hunsford was the last thing she wished to remember, so she turned to Eleanor. "Those were good days, were they not?"
Eleanor bit her lip. "I wish they had never ended. I have never forgiven her for it." There was no need to ask to whom she referred.
The remainder of the walk passed with lighter topics of conversation. It was Elizabeth's first opportunity to converse at length with Mr. Paxton, and she was pleased to discover that he seemed an intelligent young man with a sly sense of humor, not afraid to tease Eleanor or to laugh at himself. He displayed none of the sense of superiority she had seen so much of at Bentham Park on this visit. Given how much Eleanor detested social pretense, it was not difficult to see why she would find his manners appealing.
The ruins were larger and more imposing than Elizabeth remembered from her last visit. She would have to return to explore them another day when she could appreciate the history and imagine when monks had roamed among them. Now the ancient stonework was bedecked with flowers and greenery in honor of the guests, with elaborate displays of fruits, pastries, and cold meats on cloth-covered tables. Servants hovered in the background so that the fine ladies and gentlemen need not be troubled to bestir themselves in the slightest at this picnic.
Amused, Elizabeth said to Eleanor, "Your stepmother has outdone herself."
Eleanor shrugged, the corners of her mouth turned down. "She glories in impressing others with her wealth and power, and does not see the meaningless extravagance." She glanced at Mr. Paxton.
He gave an embarrassed smile. "Lady Eleanor knows me well. I fear I am more a practical landlord than an elegant host, Miss Bennet."
Glancing from one to the other, Elizabeth said warmly, "I have always thought the success of a host was measured by his graciousness and manners rather than by his elegance and display of wealth."
Eleanor beamed at her, and then said quietly, "I told you she would understand."
They continued their pleasant conversation while the remainder of the party gathered. Elizabeth was determined not to watch for Mr. Darcy, though it took an inordinate amount of concentration to keep her eyes from drifting toward the carriages arriving on the gravel lane. She forced herself to focus on what Mr. Paxton was saying about recent events in the Peninsular War, a subject that would have caused any of the other ladies of the party to turn pale and fan themselves, but Eleanor engaged in a lively debate with him, keeping her voice quiet and calm to avoid drawing anyone's attention.
It did not seem fair that Mr. Darcy should take up residence in her mind. After Elizabeth had refused Mr. Collins' proposal of marriage, he had not impinged upon her consciousness as anything more than an embarrassment. Why was it she could not forget for a second that Mr. Darcy was nearby? She had barely noticed him most of the time until that night that he had made his ill-fated offer to her. He had not changed; only her understanding of him had altered. Why in the world could she not simply put him out of her mind for the space of a few minutes? Her resolve finally failed her when the servants began bringing around platters of food. She had expected him to join them by then. Taking the opportunity of being handed a plate to look around, she spotted him near the entrance to the ruins, engaged in conversation with Miss Elliot.
Her throat tightened, but she told herself it was only the natural result of recognizing again how deeply she must have wounded him. Of course. Miss Elliot was his social equal, and no doubt a more suitable companion for him than she was. Perhaps her harsh words had merely served to convince him that it had indeed been a mistake to associate with a woman so far his inferior. She blinked hard, blindly taking a forkful of meat to disguise her reaction. After all, why should she care what company he kept? He was nothing more than an ill-tempered man who had once admired her.
"Miss Bennet," said a deep voice by her elbow, and she turned to see Lord Charles holding two glasses of champagne. He held one out to her. "I thought you might be thirsty after such a long walk." She might not trust him, but it was a relief to see a gentleman who was willing to smile at her. She took one of the glasses. "Thank you, though if you knew me well, you would be aware it was a short walk for me. I am a great walker and often will walk several miles for the sheer pleasure of it."
His smile widened. "Then perhaps I can convince you to take a stroll around the ruins after you have dined. They are more extensive than you might think."
No doubt they were also full of secluded crannies where he might hope to get her alone, but she would deal with that when it arose. Right now she was happy for the distraction. She handed her barely touched plate to a servant. "In fact, if you would like to go now, I find I have no appetite today."
"I am sorry to hear it." His eyes drifted down her body in a way that suggested he was speaking of a different sort of appetite. "Shall we walk then?" He offered her his arm.
Looking him in the eye, she folded her hands behind her back. "I would enjoy a walk, thank you."
He dropped his arm, his eyes full of laughter. "As you wish, Miss Bennet, but pray take care. The ground can be uneven here."
"I believe I can manage not to embarrass myself. I am more practiced at walking than at waltzing."
"You will never embarrass me," he said gallantly.
"Not even by my inferior birth?" she teased.
"If I did not know better, I would think you were a duke's daughter at the very least, which reminds me that I have not yet told you how lovely you look today. Your dress suits you."
"Thank you," she said in a tone of irony. "It belongs to Eleanor. Your stepmother did not wish me to disgrace her by appearing in my usual apparel. The gloves are also Eleanor's, and the diamond hairpins are your stepmother's second best. My shoes are my own, but that is only because Eleanor's do not fit me."
"If Eleanor were wearing it, she would not make me think of sunshine and fairies dancing, or that she moved with the grace of a wild gazelle." Elizabeth gave him a dubious look. "I imagine men look at their sisters differently than other women regardless of what they wear."
"Ah, my Juliet, I would be proud to be seen with you whatever you wore."
"I am not your Juliet, and I imagine that if we were in London, you, like any other gentleman of your rank, would prefer to be seen with ladies of the ton, not a country miss." Men like Darcy would, at least.
"Perhaps I am not like any other gentleman of my rank. I pride myself on forming my own opinions, so it is not unusual for me to disagree with the conventional wisdom."
"So I have noticed," said Elizabeth with a laugh. "For examp
le, you are the only person within miles who has not warned me against spending time with you."
He threw back his head and laughed. "Have they indeed? I wonder if I should be surprised that you have apparently not heeded their advice. Perhaps you also prefer to form your own opinions."
That tendency was what had led her to believe George Wickham's lies. "It depends on the circumstance. If you were, for example, to approach me when I was alone in a room, you would discover just how quickly I would heed their advice; however, I doubt there is anything you can say in public that would endanger my peace of mind."
He glanced at her sidelong, a smile playing around his lips. "Be careful, Miss Bennet, or I might take that as a challenge."
Crinkling her nose at him, she said, "That might be entertaining, I suppose, but you are starting at a disadvantage."
"I am?" He raised an eyebrow.
"The warnings were not to set my cap at you, or to think that your attentions toward me might be leading to a proposal. As I am quite aware of how ridiculous the idea of you proposing to me is, you cannot entice me with that. Besides, any continuing connection between us would require me to have further dealings with your stepmother, which is a very active deterrent."
"That is what I like about you, Miss Bennet. You make me laugh."
"Much like a Christmas pantomime, I expect! But I must tell you that I am unutterably bored with this entire matter of your questionable attentions to me, so I pray you to speak of something else." She said it with such sweetness and archness as to make it impossible to take offense.
"Your wish is my command. What shall we discuss, then?"
"Whatever you like, I suppose."
Given the way his eyes flared, Elizabeth wondered if that response had been a wise one. But when he spoke, he said, "Tell me, then, is something troubling Eleanor?"
She looked at him in surprise. "Should you not be asking her that?"
"Perhaps, but I doubt she would tell me. Eleanor keeps her own counsel, and while I may be her favorite brother, it is only in the way that Wellington has a favorite regiment in the enemy army. But I am concerned for her, so I am asking you."
Elizabeth shrugged, uncomfortable with the question. "I do not know why you would think something is troubling her."
"And there is the answer to my question, for if nothing were troubling her, you would have said so without hesitation."
He was quick-witted; she would have to give him that. "Perhaps she is troubled by having so many interfering brothers," she said with a sly smile.
"Whether you believe it or not, Miss Bennet, it is sometimes within my power to help my sister, and on occasion I might even be moved to do so." Despite his flippant words, there was an air of sincerity.
Although she doubted anyone could help, perhaps he had enough sway with Lord Bentham to stop the betrothal, or at least delay it. There was no reason she had to mention the existence of another man. "I believe she is less than happy that her betrothal is happening so quickly."
"I cannot blame her, although in some ways she could do much worse than Lord Deyncourt." His lips twisted as if he found the idea distasteful.
"She also says it is not as bad as it could be, just that it is too soon. It is different for gentlemen - you bring home a wife, but nothing else changes. When a woman marries, everything is changed; she leaves behind her family, her home, and everyone she knows to live with strangers, all of whom are accustomed to each other but not to her. It can be a frightening prospect, especially when one does not know one's husband well."
To her surprise, he seemed to ponder that. "I had never looked at it that way before."
"I do not know if it is possible, but a little delay might put her mind at ease."
"I see. I hope she is not still pining after that Paxton fellow."
"Mr. Paxton?" Elizabeth did her best to inject surprise into her tone. "They are friends, but that is all." Eleanor had said something about having her brother ask her father about the marriage possibility, had she not? This would not be the right time to focus Lord Charles's attention on the matter. Perhaps a little distraction might help both Eleanor and her. "If anything, I think she might develop a bit of a tendre for his friend Mr. Darcy, but it hardly matters."
"Darcy would be an acceptable match for her, I suppose," he said thoughtfully. "Not what we had hoped for, but I can see several advantages to it."
Now what had she done? It was bad enough that everyone thought Mr. Paxton was courting her. What would they do if the family started to believe that Eleanor should marry Darcy? This was starting to sound like one of Shakespeare's plays about mismatched lovers. All that they would need was a scene where she and Eleanor disguised themselves as each other to be married to the correct man.
But that would mean Elizabeth herself would be married to Mr. Darcy! What in the world was she thinking? Quickly she said, "I do not think it is anything of note; after all, they just met a few days ago, and I believe Mr. Darcy has no particular interest in marriage at the moment." That part was true, at least. He must be grateful now that she had turned down his proposal.
"A pity; it would be such a simple solution. But perhaps I can think of a reason to give to my father why Eleanor's marriage should be delayed."
"That it is causing her worry is not reason enough?"
"Oh, no. Mere sentiments do not count to him. He is more likely to be swayed if I say that I have heard a rumor about Lord Deyncourt being in debt to moneylenders, and if he would give me some time, I could likely find out the truth of it before we have tied Eleanor to a spendthrift who would be forever dunning us for money."
"Surely you would not say such a thing about an innocent man!"
He shrugged. "It would make no difference since I would eventually report back that there was no truth to the rumor. It is the only way to manage the old man - to concoct a story for why such-and- such should happen, then to encourage him to think it was all his idea in the first place." Lord Charles lowered his voice. "He is stubborn, but rather gullible. I learned the trick watching my stepmother. She is a true proficient at it."
How could he speak so easily about deceiving his father to a mere acquaintance? Admittedly, she had just prevaricated to him about Mr. Paxton, but that was hardly the same thing as deliberately lying to one's father to achieve a desired end. She had been starting to let down her guard to him when he expressed his worry about Eleanor, but this was a reminder that he did not share her values.
She realized he was watching her. "I have shocked you, have I not? It is the fashion to hide one's failings whenever possible. I prefer to be honest about mine. My father is an odd mixture of parts - easily persuaded by others, yet autocratic if confronted directly. On occasion this means that he makes poor decisions. If I were always to tell him the truth, he would dismiss me out of hand, and oftentimes innocent people would suffer for it. I do not have trouble squaring it with my conscience."
Increasingly uncomfortable with the intimate nature of this conversation. Elizabeth gave him a playful look and said teasingly, "Of course, some of your detractors would tell me that is because you have no conscience."
His smile in response looked somehow tight. "They may believe that if it gives them comfort. I find life too complex for simple answers like that, especially when it includes situations like Lord Deyncourt's interest in Eleanor, which is both complex and disturbing."
Tilting her head, Elizabeth said, "I have heard Eleanor's opinion of him. The worst seems to be that he is a fop and she has nothing in common with him, but it appears you find more in him to object to. Is there something she should know about him?"
"She is probably better off not knowing, though she will discover it soon enough."
She crossed her arms across her chest. "Well?" He smiled down at her. "What?"
"You obviously wish me to ask what this secret is, but my surest means of disappointing you is to ask nothing about it."
He looked away for a moment, his brows furrowe
d. "In fact, I am only attempting to stay in your good graces. If I told you what it is, you would accuse me of trying to shock you or to despoil your innocence."
"Since I almost always think that of you, it seems quite likely that this would be no different," she said with a laugh. "But if it will make you feel better, I will acquit you in advance of any such intentions - but only on this particular subject." Despite her teasing air, she wanted quite badly to know what had affected his opinion about Lord Deyncourt.
"Very well, if you must know, he is her lover."
"How dare you!" she cried indignantly. "He is nothing of the sort. Eleanor does not even like him."
"I am not speaking of Eleanor." His expression oddly sober, he held her gaze as if trying to communicate something.
If not Eleanor, whom could he mean? She knew no one in the ton except her fellow guests, and it would be too dangerous for an unmarried woman to take a lover. Then, with a shock, she realized whom he meant, and blushed furiously. He had been right about one thing - he had indeed shocked her. "Surely she would not," she said weakly.
"Why not? Most married women in the ton take lovers."
"Does your father know?"
He considered this. "I doubt it. He would not have agreed to the match with Eleanor if he did. He is too old-fashioned for that sort of thing."
Her eyebrows flew up. "And you are not?"
To her surprise, he looked as if she had slapped him. "We would not be having this conversation if it did not trouble me. I especially do not like the idea of her having the power to influence Eleanor's husband."
Elizabeth could hardly believe they were having this conversation. "I did not mean to imply...oh, I do not know what I mean!"
Mr. Darcy's Noble Connections: A Pride & Prejudice Variation Page 7