by Jayne Bamber
Elizabeth watched her mother’s eyes go wide, but Lady Anne had made no reply when a footman entered the room to inform them that there was an unexpected visitor in the foyer. As Lady Anne left the room, Elizabeth glanced at Mrs. Bingley with blatant disdain. She did not know what sort of scheme the woman was about, but she had no desire to find out; she stood up without another word and crossed the room.
Mary was sitting at the pianoforte, idly plucking the keys as she whispered with Mr. Bingley, who sat at her side smiling idiotically; he was besotted, and she had no wish to interrupt their interlude, for the pair seemed oblivious to everyone else in the room. Neither did Elizabeth wish to encourage Mrs. Bingley’s machinations, and so she joined Richard and Jane across the room.
They were not speaking, but simply staring contentedly at one another; Elizabeth rolled her eyes as she joined them. “Good Heavens, say something,” she chided, her voice hushed. “I shall not speak with Mrs. Bingley for all the world!”
“Lizzy!” Jane laughed. “I am sure she is not so very bad. Uncle seems fond of her.”
“Elizabeth,” Richard said, “you have been churlish all week!”
“Have I?”
He winked at her and Jane. “Or perhaps you are pining for Mr. Collins, in his unusual absence?”
“Oh yes,” said Jane. “Why is he not here, as he always is?”
“I daresay the poor man has grown tired of keeping me company while the rest of the party makes doe eyes at one another,” Elizabeth said, waggling her eyebrows.
“Doe eyes,” Jane exclaimed – perhaps a little too loudly – before dissolving in giggles.
“Jane has Fitzwilliam eyes,” Richard said, “wise and generous.”
Jane swatted at him. “You know that is quite impossible!”
Richard shrugged at them both. Elizabeth laughed and nudged him. “It is odd that Mr. Collins did not come with Mr. Bingley today.”
Richard responded with an irreverent smile. “Our lady grandmother told me that Mr. Collins was to go and tour one of Sir Edward’s warehouses. He is strangely fascinated by the industry, and Grandmother is strangely fascinated by him. She quite looked as if Mr. Collins had just taken the Tennis Court Oath.”
Jane and Elizabeth exchanged a look of mirth, and were still snorting with laughter when their mother returned to the room with a genteel woman in her late thirties, whom she introduced as Mrs. Younge.
Mrs. Younge approached Elizabeth directly and took her by the hand. “Upon my word, you are the very image of Fanny Bennet. Oh, what a pleasure it is to make your acquaintance, child.”
Elizabeth beheld the woman in astonishment. “You knew my mother?”
“Aye, she was a dear friend since the time that we were young. I had moved away before she died, but I heard of it from friends in the area, and how it broke my heart! Well now, are these your sisters? I daresay the fair ones favor their father.”
“This is my eldest, Jane,” Lady Anne said, “and Mary is there at the pianoforte.” Lady Anne was pale, her voice tense as she went through the rest of the introductions.
Mrs. Younge took a seat near Elizabeth, as both Mary and Jane moved closer to hear what she would say. “I heard the Bennet girls were in London – some mention of you in the papers, attending such grand parties – I can only imagine what dear Fanny would have to say about that! I hope I am not too forward, but I felt I had to meet you, as I never had the chance to say goodbye to Fanny all those years ago.”
Mrs. Younge spent the next quarter of an hour answering questions for the three sisters, sharing memories of their mother with a pleasant, reminiscent smile. Mrs. Bingley stared icily at Elizabeth for nearly the duration of the conversation before she and her son took their leave, but Mrs. Younge was more reluctant to go, and seemed especially affectionate to Elizabeth as she took her leave.
***
The next day, Elizabeth visited Mrs. Younge in Portman Square, though her sisters could not resist the hope of another call from their beaux, and so remained at home. Mrs. Younge was not offended by Jane and Mary’s absence, recalling with fondness how much dear Fanny used to enjoy her gentlemen callers. She offered Elizabeth some excellent tea and cakes, and after speaking for some time about her dear friend, she expressed a desire to become better acquainted with Elizabeth.
“Your sisters are very lucky in their beaux,” she observed, “but have you one of your own?”
“No indeed, but I am perfectly happy just as I am. I shall end an old maid, and dote upon my sisters’ children.”
“Pah! You are too lovely not to marry. You must be like Fanny in that respect too, never settling for less than the best, eh?”
“My mother wed quite young, I understand.”
“Oh, yes – that is true. I had quite forgotten how young she was. Well, he was such a fine man, your father. So devoted to you girls!”
Elizabeth smiled. She had heard a different story from her uncle, who had once told her, when the twins were young and at a particularly rowdy age, that her father had been just as beleaguered by his own children, and had wished them boys besides.
“You are too kind,” Elizabeth replied, wondering if perhaps time and affection had muddied Mrs. Younge’s memory. Noticing the time, she thanked her new friend for the refreshments and returned to Darcy House, promising to visit the lonely old widow again soon.
Elizabeth freshened up in her room upon returning, and as her mother and sisters had left word that they should be walking in the park, Elizabeth decided to pass the hours before dinner in the library. Perhaps she would finally crack open a philosophy book, that she might discuss it with William when next he wrote.
She stopped short as she entered the library, for there in the window seat, reading a book, sat William.
“I was just thinking about you,” Elizabeth blurted out as she grinned at him.
William shut his book and set it aside, smiling back at her. “Likewise. Imagine my astonishment when I returned home to surprise you all and found the house empty.”
“No fanfare at all – how shocking for you,” Elizabeth teased.
“Ah, I have had a healthy dose of shocking while I waited for you.” He gestured with the book.
Elizabeth laughed. “You were reading Udolpho? Mary and I finished it last week.”
“Yes, and now we shall have such an interesting dinner conversation.”
“Oh, do save it for when our lady grandmother is present.”
“Undoubtedly,” he quipped with a smirk.
Elizabeth had taken a few hesitant steps from the door as they spoke, but now she came fully into the room, and William met her halfway. He hesitantly took her hand in his and smiled down at her. “I am glad that you are happy to see me,” he said.
“And are you enjoying my surprise?”
“Very much. I had hoped it would be a pleasant one.”
She swatted at him. “Of course it is a pleasant surprise. Did I not tell you I wished you would come home?”
“Yes. I departed Pemberley not an hour after receiving your last letter.”
“Oh, William….”
“I thought I would stay away until you wanted me here. You do want me here?”
Elizabeth blushed and looked down at her feet, laughing nervously. “Very much. This is your home.”
“But… with me present, do you feel that it could remain your home?”
She looked up at William, whose eyes searched her own. She was reminded of their dance at the ball, when she had seen only his eyes, piercing her soul. It seemed so long ago, and yet she lost all sense of the time that had passed since then. She had, through their letters in his absence, come to hold just as high a regard for him as she had on the Twelfth Night... and yet perhaps there was something more. Unable to give voice to what she was feeling, she simply nodded and peered up at him; they held one another’s gaze a moment longer, until some commotion in the corridor alerted them to the rest of their family returning to the house.
&nb
sp; ***
That evening was one of the merriest Darcy House had ever seen. Though Lady Anne had written to Brook Street and Matlock House, the earl insisted that the family allow his sister one night of peace with her children, and only Lady Eleanor acted otherwise by attending her daughter and grandchildren for dinner.
The meal was an intimate one, and lively throughout. The three sisters took turns – though not always without overlap – in regaling their brother with stories of their activities over the last two months, as Lady Anne and the dowager countess occasionally peppered the conversation with their own opinions, adding just the right amount of sugar and salt to the two hours of spirited raillery.
Mary had the most to say, for Mr. Bingley had promised to write to William and ask permission to court her; now William was here, and he instantly gave his hearty consent.
“Well,” Lady Eleanor quipped, “at least here is a tradesman who looks to purchase an estate – not like your Mr. Collins, Lizzy, who would sell Longbourn and build warehouses in the image of your uncle’s!”
As Elizabeth felt William gazing at her with a curious look, she replied, “He is not my Mr. Collins, Grandmamma, and he has already plundered Longbourn of its treasures for my sisters and I; he may do what he likes with the house.”
“Besides,” Mary said, “you have always been Uncle Edward’s biggest supporter!”
“Yes, well,” the dowager countess said with a sniff and a sly grin, “you should have seen the sight of him twenty years ago!”
“Mamma!” Lady Anne flushed crimson and looked down at her plate.
William looked over at their grandmother with bemusement. “It is the future. Perhaps I might pay Mr. Collins a visit, and discuss investment opportunities with him.”
“Ha!” Elizabeth gave a triumphant laugh as she briefly met William’s eye across the table, before giving her grandmother a smirk. “You see?”
The dowager countess harrumphed. “Indeed I do.”
Lady Anne had recovered from her momentary embarrassment, and turned the subject to Richard; it was a topic upon which even timid Jane could be quite voluble.
Elizabeth watched with pleasure as William listened to Jane, and then spoke to his sister with such gentle approval. Elizabeth knew she had been wrong to accuse him of disregarding Jane’s feelings, but at present she was a great deal happier to have been proven wrong than right in the matter.
They remained at table for above two hours and withdrew to the drawing room afterward, where Jane delighted them with a performance at the pianoforte.
Seated near Elizabeth on the sofa, Williams eyes were all for Jane, and when she had finished playing, he leapt to his feet. “That was magnificent, Jane. It is good to hear you playing again, and as beautifully as ever.”
“Thank you, William. Shall I play again?”
“I should like that – I should like it even better if you played something we might all dance to.”
Jane looked surprised, but quickly complied, and William approached their grandmother, bowed and extended her his hand.
“You silly boy, what are you about? My dancing days are long over!”
“I have it on good authority that you danced with Lord Chawton at the Twelfth Night ball.”
“Well, that is very different. They say he propositions every lady he dances with and I wanted to see if it was true.” She reached over and stomped the walking stick that had been leaning against her chair. “It is not.”
Mary dissolved into giggles, and waved William away as he turned to her. Their mother did likewise, laughing with the rest of them, and finally William approached Elizabeth. “I am in high spirits, Lizzy. Will you not indulge me?”
She peered up at him; she had been hoping he would ask her, and yet fearing it all the while. She hesitated, but she could not decline, and as she began the steps of a lively reel with William, Mary coaxed their mother into standing up too.
Elizabeth was relieved that her mother and sister had joined them in making merry, for she could scarcely look at William without causing her heart to pound and her mind to spin as she pushed away thoughts of the Twelfth Night. Amidst all this, her grandmother watched her throughout, her expression inscrutable.
Mary and Elizabeth performed a lively duet after the dance, and by the time their little party resolved to retire, it was very late. Lady Eleanor professed it vulgar to travel even a few blocks at such an hour, and declared that she would stay the night. As the family all began to make their way upstairs, Lady Eleanor discreetly detained Elizabeth.
“A moment, my dear,” the dowager countess said, taking Elizabeth by the arm. Elizabeth obediently followed her grandmother back into the drawing room. “I think I see what you are about, child, but I wonder if you do.”
Elizabeth only shook her head at Lady Eleanor. “I do not understand.”
“I thought that might be the case, my dear,” her grandmother said, sitting down beside her. “It often is, when one first falls in love.”
“Grandmamma!”
“Hush, Lizzy, this is important, and I will speak my peace on the matter. I saw how you looked at William when he said he wished to dance, and it was the same way you looked at him on the Twelfth Night, right before you told your uncle you wished him added to your list.”
“I did not know who he was.”
“But you know now, is that not so? And very well, I would wager. I hear you have been exchanging letters since he went away, and I saw how you looked at one another at dinner, as if the entire conversation was a private joke you were sharing.”
“I am fond of William – for the first time in my life, I have come to hold him in such high esteem – that is all.”
Lady Eleanor harrumphed. “Is that so? Or have you simply not made up your mind yet? You had better give it some thought, my dear, because I can promise you, the way William looked at you tonight, he is thinking about it.”
“Surely not!”
“And why not? You are not his true kin, you do not even share his name. You are beautiful, he is handsome, and you are both rich, so why not? It might seem strange to some, but how does it feel to you?”
“I do not know,” Elizabeth said, wringing her hands as she began to feel some trepidation. “It is all so new, so sudden. I have been content to merely enjoy my growing regard for him, without even considering....”
“Mmm,” the dowager nodded sagely. “That is just how it begins, my dear.”
***
Elizabeth lay awake in her bed for hours, thinking of her grandmother’s words. Give it some thought – she could do little else! She tossed and turned in her bed, thinking of the handsome knight, of William’s face as they conversed at dinner, and of the way it had felt to dance with him once again, his tall, strong body so near to hers. Finally she could bear it no longer and lit a candle, that she might sit up in her bed, reading over the letters he had written her, searching for some clue.
What her grandmother had suggested was certainly not something she had ever considered – but no, that was not true. She had thought of it, when he was only the handsome knight – she had thought of little else the night of the ball. He was her brother, but he was not – oh, it is all so very muddled, but somehow I have lost myself, and my heart.
Determined to put the attraction from her mind, Elizabeth resolved to fetch the dullest possible book from the library, in the hope that sleep may yet find her. She put on her robe and crept down the hallway.
William was there, sitting just where he had been that afternoon. He looked up at the sound of her footfalls, before she could recover from her surprise and sneak away. “Lizzy,” he breathed.
He was less formally attired than she was accustomed to seeing him, wearing only a loose white shirt and breeches, and the heat she felt on her face told her she ought not to be there dressed for bed as she was.
When she did not speak or move, he set aside his book and beckoned her to join him. “It is a fine thing you are here, else I am su
re I should read entirely too much of Udolpho and have lurid nightmares.”
She smiled at his jest and took a few timid steps into the room, though she knew not what to say or how to behave. Their time in the library earlier that day had felt so natural, so easy, and now it had all been turned upside down by her grandmother’s comments. Surely he cannot be thinking of....
“I could not sleep,” he said, once more gesturing for her to come and sit with him. “I had thought I was the only one still awake in the house.”
“I had not expected to be discovered.”
“Is it a habit of yours, sneaking about the house like Emily in the castle of Udolpho?”
Elizabeth sat down on the sofa, drawing her robe together about herself as she laughed. “I imagine the circumstances are rather different for me. I am here of my own free will, after all.”
“And shall you remain, now that I am returned? When I asked you before, you seemed... uncertain.”
“I was....” Elizabeth broke off, chewing her lip as she considered her answer. “I was surprised that you should ask it of me. It is your house, William.”
He smiled warmly at her and opened the book in his lap once more. “‘If my happiness is dear to you,’” he read, “‘you will always remember, nothing can contribute to it more, than to believe that you have recovered your own esteem.’ The passage is underlined.”
Elizabeth blushed. Her relations had teased her at Christmas for her habit of writing in books, and though she had resolved to improve herself in many ways of late, this was not one of them. She shook her head at William as she approached the window seat and took the book from him, thinking to put it back on the shelf. “You had better leave off, or you will have proper gothic nightmares tonight.” He caught her hand before she could return the book to the shelf, and drew her toward him until she was sitting by his side.