by Jennifer Joy
Over the next week, Elizabeth accepted every invitation given and made calls with her aunt and Jane. She felt silly doing it, but she pinched her cheeks and bit her lips to enhance them, just as she had seen Lydia do many times. Jane experimented with Elizabeth’s hair to find the most flattering style. Still, the only gentleman to call at the Gardiner’s home was Mr. Bingley for Jane.
Three weeks had gone by since their arrival in London and any interest that had been shown to Elizabeth had vanished into thin air.
“I feel like I have the plague, Aunt. What more can I do?” Elizabeth stood in the sitting room where her aunt sat calmly reading after the long previous night. She looked tired and Elizabeth felt guilty to drag her relations all over town. Her uncle had left for his office after lunch. He had taken to drinking coffee instead of tea.
Aunt Gardiner put the book down, encouraging Elizabeth to continue.
“What if this is a waste of time? You and Uncle are exhausted and it is such an expense…”
“I will stop you there, Lizzy. For such a plucky girl, I am surprised to hear you so defeated. Almost two months still remain and anything can happen in that time. I will not deny that it is draining to attend so many events, but I would have it no other way. Your uncle and I have always wanted to give you and your sisters some advantage. This is our choice and we are happy to do it.”
“Thank you, Aunt. You have always been so kind to us. I am discouraged, but I shall not give up hope. There must be someone here who would have me… who is not a complete and utter toad.”
“Anything is better than Mr. Collins, my dear. You may have to lower your standards a touch.” Aunt Gardiner smiled as she said it, but Elizabeth knew that maybe there was some truth to her words. Elizabeth had dreamed of a tall, dark, and handsome suitor to come and sweep her off her feet. Someone similar to Mr. Darcy in looks and Mr. Wickham or Colonel Fitzwilliam in charm.
Closing her book, her aunt rose from her seat. “You had better get some rest. We have another ball to attend this evening and you need to look your best. Mr. Bingley told your uncle that he was bringing a friend. Perhaps he shall be as agreeable as Mr. Bingley and all your troubles shall be solved.” She gently touched Elizabeth’s cheek, then left the room.
A friend of Mr. Bingley’s. Filled with curiosity, Elizabeth marched dutifully upstairs to attempt to take a nap.
Chapter 12
Darcy stood in front of his mirror while his valet perfected his cravat. Over the past three weeks, he had been to many society events. He had met young ladies with titles and large dowries. He had danced with ladies of remarkable beauty. Yet, he had not found a woman he would choose to attach himself to for the rest of his life. The females of the ton, with their long list of accomplishments, had not appealed to him thus far. Something was lacking. Or perhaps my standards are too high. Even his feelings toward Lady Henrietta never arose above the level of platonic.
Undoubtedly, the ladies he had met were qualified to join the Darcy family, but they were so stifled by society’s expectations and rules of proper deportment, they only spoke of superficial matters and placidly agreed with everything Darcy said so as not to offend. I might as well talk to my horse.
After three weeks of what had become to feel like torture, for meeting new people had never been easy for Darcy, he was relieved to attend a private ball with Bingley. It was to be a grand affair— the ball of the year. There would be a wider audience at this ball than the more exclusive soirees Darcy had attended on his own. It was hosted by the Vermeers, a well-established London family with high connections, to celebrate the coming out of their second daughter, Miss Charlotte Vermeer.
Bingley, being a man of business, had heard some rumors about the Vermeers which he shared with Darcy. Apparently, their wealth had been greatly diminished in recent years. To Darcy, this explained why someone with such an old and respected family name would include gentlemen with close ties in trade to attend their daughter’s coming out ball. A speculation gone badly was the most popular and agreed upon culprit for the Vermeer’s loss of fortune. Darcy did not care much about the family’s financial status. He needed to find a wife— fortune or no fortune. The month of April was almost gone and less than two months remained of the season.
A footman informed Darcy of his friend’s arrival. Bingley arrived with his sister. They would all ride together in their carriage.
Winding through the streets, Bingley said, “Is it not exciting, Darcy? I have enjoyed the season very much.” Bingley bounced up and down on his seat, unable to keep still as he spoke.
Darcy wished he could be as optimistic as his friend. Bingley’s outlook on life was rose-colored. To him, everybody was a friend. While this attitude had helped him establish some wonderful relationships in trade, it had also made him a target with less honest folks who would take advantage of him. Darcy had helped him avoid many such incidents in the years they had known each other and they had developed a deep mutual trust.
As Darcy contemplated Bingley sitting across from him in the carriage, he wished he could share in his enthusiasm for the long evening in front of him.
When they arrived at the Vermeer’s house, Darcy waited for Bingley to assist his sister out of the carriage. Darcy would give her no false hopes where he was concerned, though she insisted on lingering about him.
As they walked into the entryway, Darcy was overwhelmed by the perfume of flowers and the crowd that permeated the room. He stood transfixed by the gaudy decor of the house. Red velvet curtains with gold fringe, a chandelier that was much too large for the space it occupied, champagne in crystal glasses flowing on trays served by overdressed servants. The rooms screamed extravagance.
Their names were announced and Darcy went with the Bingleys to greet their hosts. Mr. Vermeer was a medium-sized man with a girth that bespoke a love of fine food. His flushed face and slow speech betrayed his early indulgence in the abundant champagne. Mr. Vermeer shook Darcy’s fingers so weakly, he pulsed his hand to make sure there was feeling in it.
Next they were presented to Mrs. Vermeer, who appeared to have been sewn into her dress. She was fanning herself frantically, her face flushed from a lack of breath. Darcy saw the decorative buttons down the front of her dress straining against the fabric and bowed at a safe distance should one come flying in his direction.
The eldest Miss Vermeer, whose own coming out ball had occurred the year before, wore a smile that seemed plastered to her face, unchanging as she greeted each passing guest. Miss Vermeer had never been so honored or delighted than in having Darcy and the Bingleys present, she said as she fawned over them and batted her stubby eyelashes, her fake smile frozen in place.
Standing next to her was her younger sister, Miss Charlotte. It was like a rose standing next to a dandelion. Unlike her older sister, the younger Miss Vermeer was a beauty. Several young men were buzzing around her in hopes of securing a dance or two. Darcy considered asking for a dance. After all, the ball was in her honor and it would show good manners. But then Miss Charlotte spoke.
“Mr. Darcy from Pemberley. I have heard that your estate is the largest in Derbyshire. I have never been to Derbyshire as I prefer to vacation in Ramsgate or Bath,” she said in a high-pitched, whiny voice. “Have you had occasion to dance the waltz, Mr. Darcy? Father forbid it at first, saying it is too scandalous, but I told him that I would rather not have a ball at all than one without the waltz. It is all the rage on the continent, I hear,” she said as she blinked up at him, her sensual lips now looking like a fish’s mouth. Any lady who would declare in public how she had manipulated her father to suit her own needs was displeasing to Darcy.
“I think your father was sensible to forbid such an intimate dance. England is not ready for such a thing yet and it is the wise course to avoid offense on such an important occasion for yourself and your family.”
She pouted at his difference in opinion, sticking out her lower lip like a toddler. Fortunately for Darcy, more guests arrived
seeking introductions so he bowed and took his leave. Miss Bingley stayed behind, admiring the eldest Miss Vermeer’s horrid gown. Bingley followed Darcy across the room.
“I wonder if they already know our worth. I say, I did not take kindly to the Miss Vermeers.” Bingley spoke as they entered a quieter area. Darcy was pleased that his friend was not blinded by the lady’s beauty when her conversation was so selfish.
“I am sure they could find such things out. Every mother in this room knows our worth, Bingley, and you would do well to remember that. I found Miss Charlotte’s lack of tact and uncultured voice grating on my nerves. I do believe you are right— marrying a fortune is of the utmost importance to them, otherwise she should not have commented on the size of my estate. I am determined to keep my distance from the Miss Vermeers.”
“Well, I wish you the best with that. Miss Charlotte will likely chase you and you shall spend all evening running in circles about the ballroom or hiding behind these enormous flower arrangements.” Bingley laughed at this image, but Darcy could only manage a smirk. What he thought would be a long evening would feel like an eternity when it was finally done. Was this how my season will be? How can I possibly find a wife, much less affection, amongst such foolishness?
Bingley had taken two steps away to observe the crowd when he stopped cold in place. He was still close enough for Darcy to hear him say, “It is my angel.” Bingley reached behind himself blindly, trying to get Darcy’s attention without taking his eyes off of the apparition before him.
“See her? She is wearing a pink gown and her hair is like gold. Her eyes are the color of the Mediterranean Sea.”
Darcy rolled his eyes and followed Bingley’s gaze. He saw Miss Jane Bennet. She was indeed the most handsome lady in the room and standing next to her, smiling brightly, was her dark-haired sister with the fine eyes. Miss Elizabeth. He had not seen her since his first day in town three weeks ago. It was a pity Georgiana was not here with him. Darcy very much wanted her to meet Miss Elizabeth.
Miss Elizabeth looked up and their eyes met across the room. He had thought her handsome before, but she looked radiant in her white evening gown. His breath caught in his throat. Never before had he been so drawn to someone so violently. Like a bee to honey. It was a new feeling for him and, while his logical thinking reminded him to proceed with caution, his heart had him following Bingley across the room where greetings were exchanged and introductions made to the older couple with the Bennets. The Gardiners. Miss Emma’s parents. They were delighted to finally meet the gentleman with the horse. Perhaps the evening is not ruined after all.
“Mr. Darcy, it is a pleasure to see you here. We did not know that you would attend,” Miss Elizabeth said with a crinkle in her eyes.
“I had not thought to come, I assure you. I am not very fond of dancing, as you are aware,” Darcy admitted, suddenly at a loss for words. Remembering himself, he turned to Bingley, “But, I come accompanied by a good friend who is, in fact, very fond of dancing.”
Bingley swooped his most elegant bow in recognition of the compliment, never taking his eyes off the fair-haired sister.
“Of that fact, we may attest and we are the merrier to see you here, Mr. Bingley,” said Miss Elizabeth while Miss Bennet blushed.
“Yes, I believe my dear wife danced a cotillion with you and, in consequence, I am to dance this evening,” said Mr. Gardiner, who stood with Mrs. Gardiner’s arm folded up in his. She beamed at him.
“I know it is not fashionable for a man to dance with his wife, but there is no other woman I would rather dance with, my love.” Mr. Gardiner patted his wife’s hand, which was curled up in his arm.
“I hear that there is to be a waltz tonight. If it were not so scandalous, I would further offend fashion and waltz with you, dear,” said Mrs. Gardiner.
Darcy instantly liked the Gardiners.
Curious to know more about these people, Darcy asked Bingley, “Have you only recently met or do you enjoy a deeper acquaintance?”
“Our acquaintance goes back many years. Mr. Gardiner has a reputation for being a most diligent and honest tradesman. I myself have done business with him in the past and have been pleased with the results. Had I known, sir, that you had such lovely nieces, I should have begged their acquaintance long ago,” Bingley said mostly to Mr. Gardiner than to Darcy. Darcy internally applauded his friend for his compliments so smoothly expressed. When nervous, Bingley had a tendency to garble his words.
“My wife, Mr. Darcy, grew up very near Pemberley, in Lambton. She has always spoken very highly of your family,” said Mr. Gardiner.
“How is your father’s health, Mr. Darcy? He is well thought of in Derbyshire. You have a younger sister as well, do you not?” asked Mrs. Gardiner.
“My father is well, thank you. My sister, Georgiana, is fifteen years of age and currently resides in our house in town. I hope to spend more time with her during the season. She would love to meet you, I think.”
“We would be honored to make her acquaintance. My nieces would be pleased to make a new friend,” said Mrs. Gardiner.
Darcy fretted in his mind. The contrasts between Miss Elizabeth and Lady Henrietta were striking.
On one side was Miss Elizabeth who had an uncle in trade and a family with atrocious manners. Since their first encounter six weeks ago in Hertfordshire, Darcy had repeatedly tried to banish her from his thoughts.
On the other side was Lady Henrietta. Her manners were impeccable and the only blemish on her family was her fool-of-a-brother. She had a title and wealth of her own. Over the past three weeks, Darcy had had to remind himself of Lady Henrietta’s accomplishments and merits whenever thoughts of Miss Elizabeth invaded his mind.
Darcy needed some time to think. It would not do to express interest in a young lady unless he felt himself at liberty to do so. And he did not have the freedom to choose any lady he was attracted to. He had a family name to uphold and high expectations to meet.
Then the music started, announcing that a dance would follow.
Mr. Bingley claimed a set with Miss Bennet. When Darcy looked at Miss Elizabeth, he knew what he must do.
Extending his hand and bowing slightly, he asked, “Miss Elizabeth, may I have the honor of this dance?”
Chapter 13
Miss Elizabeth looked down at the floor. Not a good start. Darcy shuffled his feet and clasped his hands behind his back. After what felt like an eternity, she looked back up. There was a look in her eyes he could not read, but finally she said, “Yes, you may, Mr. Darcy,” and placed her hand on his extended arm.
Now Darcy understood why such a fuss was made over dancing. The physical contact struck him like a bolt of lightning and he felt a warm buzzing through his entire body. It was a new sensation for Darcy. It was terrifying and glorious at the same time.
They found a place on the floor and the music began. Miss Elizabeth had a slight flush to her cheeks. Her eyes sparkled like a chandelier. Darcy tried not to look into her mesmerizing eyes and fell silent for most of the dance in his efforts not to look too closely at his dancing partner. He wanted to impress her with his intelligent conversation, but he could not for the life of him form a cohesive thought. She was handsome in a way that made him want to loosen his cravat. He opened his mouth to speak when they drew close, but then they would have to touch hands and he would forget what he was going to say. Come on, Darcy. Pull it together. Since when has it been this difficult to carry on a conversation with a lady?
The dance was nearing its end and Darcy was desperate to say something. What must she think of me— a gentleman asking her to dance and seemingly refusing to speak with her?
Finally, he asked, “Are you enjoying your stay in London?” It was the best he could do.
Her nostrils flared slightly as she answered, “London is a diverting city, but I find that some of its occupants lack in good conversation.”
Miss Elizabeth’s temper looked charming through her scolding. Darcy cleared his thro
at. “What do you consider good conversation?” Darcy dared to ask, feeling like he was at a fencing tournament at his club.
“Too many topics to enumerate. It takes great skill to develop. A worthy example to imitate is your friend, Mr. Bingley, should one desire to learn such a fine art.” She said this with her chin inclined at an angle and an arch in her eyebrow. Darcy imagined that her toe would tap at him if they had not been dancing. Match one in their verbal fencing contest went to Miss Elizabeth.
“I do apologize, Miss Elizabeth. I am not good at meeting new people. I shall appeal to Bingley for lessons at once.” He wanted to free himself from his cravat, which was doing its best to strangle his damp neck, but he gritted his teeth together and turned around his partner.
In a softer tone, she said, “I have every confidence in your ability, Mr. Darcy.” They spun apart, turning a circle around other dancers. When they joined hands again, she said, “Perhaps someone more worthy of your conversation would suit your needs better.” She said it like a question.
Darcy replied without hesitation, “People prove their worth by their actions. I have never put too much faith in what I am told. I choose to believe what I observe.”
The music stopped. Darcy bowed and they both stood awkwardly in front of each other.
Miss Elizabeth appeared confused to Darcy. When she finally spoke, she said, “I find that I cannot disagree with that,” and curtsied as they each took their leave of the dance floor.
Darcy could not understand how someone who was so good at pointing out his flaws could be so appealing. He looked over his shoulder, but she had blended into the crowd.
Darcy found a set of open doors leading out to a balcony. He headed in that direction, needing to sort out his thoughts and create some sort of a plan. If he listened to his heart, he would pursue Miss Elizabeth without question. If he listened to his more rational brain, he clearly saw the superiority of Lady Henrietta’s position in society. But, should he really place so much importance on society when the possibility of true love was in the balance? After his dance with Miss Elizabeth, Darcy was not so sure.