by Jann Rowland
The assembly was a press that evening, and Darcy’s party arrived as the dancing was about to start. It was a large, open building, more than twice the size of the building in Meryton. Here and there, interspersed with all the finery of the attendees, the bright red coats and white trousers of the officers could be seen, standing out from the rest. As was his habit, Darcy scanned the crowed room for any hint of his personal nemesis, but of Wickham he could see no sign. He did not relax his vigilance—it would not do for Georgiana to be importuned again by the man—but he was hopeful that Wickham was on duty somewhere else that evening.
When the opening strains of the first sets sounded, Darcy led Miss Elizabeth to the dance floor under the watchful and slightly amused eyes of her father, and they began to dance with the others. The first part of the dance they remained silent, Miss Elizabeth looking with interest out over the room, while Darcy was content to look at her. She appeared particularly beautiful when her countenance was filled with good humor, and shone with intelligence when she found something of interest to her.
Her father’s continued scrutiny of them, however, made Darcy uncomfortable, and it was not long before he was induced to say: “You father appears to be . . . interested in our interactions.”
A shaken head and a grin told Darcy that she had not missed his behavior. “Yes. I cannot imagine what has come over him since our coming to Brighton. I would have expected him to set up his books in a room in the house and refuse to emerge. And yet, he has been almost sociable with you and your family.”
“You cannot imagine?” asked Darcy, raising an eyebrow.
Miss Elizabeth flushed again, a delightful response to his tease. “Well, perhaps Mr. Bingley’s open courtship with Jane has induced him to take an interest. And of course, there are our continued troubles with Lydia which have occupied his attention.”
“I am certain it is more than that.”
“Perhaps it is,” said Miss Elizabeth, lifting her jaw in challenge, as she so often did. Darcy found her boldness to be utterly enchanting. “I have not told him anything, I assure you.”
“Is there a reason for that?” asked Darcy. He did not think she was inferring embarrassment because of his attentions, but he had misunderstood her so often in the past, he wished to clarify her words without making a judgment.
“Would you wish to be made sport of? I assure you, the teasing to which we have been subjected is only a small portion of the wit my father might produce, to say nothing of how my mother might react, should she become aware of how things stand between us.”
“Hmm . . .” said Darcy, making a great show of thinking the matter over. “Mayhap that is the answer to my dilemma.”
Miss Elizabeth regarded him with suspicion. “Dilemma?”
“Of course,” replied Darcy, as if it was obvious. “I have been very clear about my desire to progress from friendship to courtship to engagement to marriage, but thus far, you have been stubborn about it.”
“I might remind you that you never actually proposed.”
“And for that, I believe we can both be thankful,” said Darcy.
They laughed together as they separated in the dance. When they came together again, Darcy directed a look of open appraisal at her.
“Regardless, I believe I now know the way to speed things along. For you see, it seems to me that a quick word in your mother’s ear would do more to ensure your acceptance than months of clandestine courting.”
Alarm bloomed in Miss Elizabeth’s eyes. “I assure you the effect would be the opposite, sir!”
Unable to hold it in, Darcy let out a laugh, and Miss Elizabeth, though it was clear she did not quite appreciate the joke, soon joined him. Their steps carried them away from one another for several moments, before they were brought together again for the final steps of the dance. Darcy bowed and Miss Elizabeth curtseyed, and soon he grasped her hand in a gentle grip and led her to the side of the dance floor toward where her family was all gathering.
“I assure you, Miss Elizabeth,” said he, in a low tone so that only she could hear, “I have no intention of involving your mother. But I will serve notice to you now—I intend to do everything else to bring about your acceptance of my suit.”
“You are confident, sir.”
“I am. If what I see before me at present is any indication, I do not believe you are indifferent.”
Their steps had taken them near the others of the party, and Mr. Bennet was there waiting for them, eyes laughing at them, though there was nary a hint of a smile on his face.
“Were I Sir William, I would compliment you on the fineness of your dancing,” said he. “As it is, I will only say that you seem to have warmed to Mr. Darcy, Lizzy.”
“We were much in company in Kent, Papa,” said Miss Elizabeth smoothly. “You can hardly expect anything else.”
“I suppose not,” replied the man. “But if any further . . . developments should arise, I would hope you would take me into your confidence.”
“Of course, sir,” said Darcy, understanding in an instant that his covert attentions to Miss Elizabeth would soon, necessarily, become more open. He found that he was completely at ease with the thought, regardless of how her mother might react.
Though Darcy was not able to determine exactly how it had come about, he was engaged to dance the third sets with Miss Lydia, after dancing the second with Georgiana. He owned he would much rather lead her calm, elegant—and much more proper—eldest sister to the dance floor. Still, he would do his duty, and once the strains for the third sets began, he dutifully escorted her to where the dancers were lining up.
It was not surprising that his dance with Miss Lydia was completely different in tone than the one with her elder sister had been. For one, Miss Lydia kept up a running commentary on the evening, the only benefit of which was the fact that Darcy was not required to respond. The girl’s thoughts flowed in such a way that she often flitted from one subject to another without any seeming logic, and even if Darcy was inclined to respond, he doubted he could have done any justice to the conversation.
Furthermore, every time her eye caught sight of a man in a red coat, she would pause, at times leering at the man in a manner most improper, at times descending to a coquettish batting of her eyelashes, or almost brazen laughter. Never had Darcy had the difference between this empty-headed and improper girl and her eldest sisters been so apparent, and she wondered how they could possibly be sisters.
When the dance was almost finished—a blessing in Darcy’s opinion—Miss Lydia fell silent and her gaze was fixed on a spot across the room. When Darcy’s steps took him to the other side of the dance floor, he looked to attempt to see what had caught her attention, but there was nothing of any interest that he could see. And when he turned his gaze back on her, he noted that she was watching him, a hint of disgust in her eyes. Since she did not seem inclined to say anything, for the first time during the dance, Darcy felt it incumbent on himself to fill the void.
“It seems you enjoy dancing very much, Miss Lydia.”
“Yes, I do,” said the girl in an almost insolent tone. “I pride myself on rarely being required to sit out.”
“I can see that,” murmured Darcy.
“And what gives you pleasure, Mr. Darcy? Oh, I know—you find pleasure in your stodgy friends and your musty books, while leaving those who should be under your protection to shift for themselves.”
Instantly understanding the thrust of her words, Darcy forced himself to refrain from responding in such a manner as to put this ignorant child in her place. “I am actually very careful in nurturing those friendships which I can be assured are built on mutual respect and a commonality of purpose and affection, Miss Lydia.”
“Oh?” asked the girl, her raised eyebrow making her appear more like her sister Elizabeth than Darcy had ever noticed. “I suppose that wealth, status, and birth are all necessary requirements for earning your friendship?”
“No, indeed, Miss Lydia,�
� said Darcy. “In fact, Bingley is my closest friend, next to my cousin Fitzwilliam, and he is the son of a tradesman, after all.”
“And what of stewards’ sons?”
Darcy almost scowled at the improper and brazen way she was phrasing her questions, but he determined not to rise to her taunting.
“Where friendship is deserved, the son of a steward may count me amongst their truest of friends. Where it is not . . . The only thing I would say to you, Miss Lydia, is to take care to ensure you bestow your friendship on one who is worthy. Not all those we meet are who they present themselves to be.”
The dance came to an end, and Darcy escorted the now disgruntled girl to her family, with a desire—which he thought entirely mutual—to never dance with the girl again.
Chapter XXIII
About a week after their first assembly, a visitor of an unwelcome—though not entirely unexpected—nature arrived to bedevil them. The Bennets had arrived that morning, and the company gathered in the sitting-room in the Fitzwilliam residence, speaking with some excitement of the activity which had been planned for the day.
“Have you ever been sea bathing, Mr. Darcy?”
“I have not,” replied Mr. Darcy, smiling at Elizabeth. “My family has not frequented this area. When I was a child, my parents would often take me to the sea, but their favorite haunt was east of Pemberley in Norfolk.”
The light of memory was in Mr. Darcy’s eyes, and Elizabeth, who knew by now how much the man had loved his parents, was content to allow him to lose himself in his thoughts. It allowed her to observe without the mortification of him being aware of her scrutiny. Elizabeth had always known he was a handsome man, his strong jaw and rich brown hair complementing his piercing blue eyes and the intelligence which could be found within. But seeing him this way, watching as he contemplated happy memories from his youth, made him appear so completely human in a way she had never before witnessed.
“I have heard good things of sea bathing,” said Mr. Darcy when he had recalled himself and turned his attention back on her. “I understand it is relaxing and can even be beneficial to one’s health.”
“That is what I understand,” replied Elizabeth.
“I must own that I wonder,” said Mr. Darcy, changing the topic slightly, “how you all mean to sea bathe in an equitable fashion. It is my understanding that you have engaged only two dippers, so you will be on the beach upwards of two hours, with eight ladies present.”
Elizabeth laughed quietly. “We simply planned how it would go, and told those involved, not giving them a chance to object. Lydia and Kitty are the most likely to complain about the wait, so Lydia will go second, while my mother and Kitty will go third. That way, we will break up the amount of time they have to complain, and will separate Lydia from Kitty and my mother, who are the ones who will encourage her.”
It seemed Mr. Darcy found her words to be humorous, for he laughed too. “You have the soul of a general, Miss Elizabeth. I salute you for it.”
They continued in this vein, talking quietly, and as they did, Elizabeth noticed that Jane was also in close conversation with Mr. Bingley. A part of her felt a hint of embarrassment steal upon her, knowing that most of the others would see her behavior as exactly that of her sister, but she decided that she did not care. She thought her father suspected, and perhaps Mary did too, and as Mr. Darcy’s friends and family already knew, it was not a secret.
When they had been together for about half an hour, the time for their departure approached. But before they could rise, the sitting-room door opened, and the housekeeper entered the room, visitors hard upon her heels.
“Master Fitzwilliam,” said she, “a Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, and a Miss Bingley have arrived to call upon you.”
It was clear from the way Miss Bingley moved past the woman and into the room that she had waited with little patience and less willingness to be introduced. Whether Mr. Hurst had played a part in her wait, Elizabeth could not say, but she had the distinct impression that had it been left up to the woman herself, she would not have waited.
“Mr. Darcy!” exclaimed she. “It is fortunate that we have found you at home.”
“Indeed, it is,” replied Darcy. “Had you waited another five minutes, we should have departed. But I must again remind you, Miss Bingley, that this house belongs to my uncle. As such, you would be more correct to address your comments to Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
Elizabeth stifled a laugh and looked between her unacknowledged suitor and the woman who desperately wished he would acknowledge her as the center of his attentions. She was well aware that Miss Bingley knew who owned the house. The woman simply could not help herself from giving every deference to Mr. Darcy, no matter what the situation.
“Of course,” Miss Bingley said, bestowing an insincere smile on the colonel. “And what a lovely house your parents own, though I suppose with their taste and breeding, one could not expect less.”
“I thank you for your compliment, Miss Bingley,” replied Colonel Fitzwilliam, as he sat back and looked at the woman with unabashed amusement. “My mother despairs of my father’s sense of fashion, and declares that he would not know a sitting-room from an orangery, but it is kind of you all the same.”
Clearly Miss Bingley did not know what to make of the colonel’s sally, so she took the simple expedient of ignoring it. The woman chose a seat near to Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth, though she was pointed in ignoring Elizabeth, and any and all Bennets. Georgiana and Anne, who were nearby, were not excused from her fawning, though Georgiana, who was speaking with Kitty and Lydia, would often listen to the woman quietly and then respond, before turning back to her other companions.
“You must be happy to be in company with your cousins, Miss de Bourgh,” said Miss Bingley. “I understand you have lived most of your life at your mother’s estate.”
“Yes, you are correct, Miss Bingley,” said Anne. “However, I must correct you, for Rosings Park is mine, or it will be as soon as I marry or turn five and twenty. My mother only holds it in trust against that eventuality.”
Miss Bingley seemed impressed. “How comforting it must be to have your future provided for. It is always a tragedy when those who are accustomed to a certain way of life experience a step down in the world due to a lack of foresight.”
The target of Miss Bingley’s barb did not escape anyone within range of her voice, but the entire Bennet family ignored her, especially Elizabeth’s father, to whom it could be more of an insult than anyone else. Instead, Mr. Bennet merely watched her, and Elizabeth thought he was savoring the evidence of her absurdity.
“I am certain it must make you a desirable marriage partner,” continued Miss Bingley. “In fact, there are likely several closer than you think who would benefit from an alliance with you.”
Mr. Bingley scowled at his sister, but she paid him no mind. At Elizabeth’s side, Mr. Darcy looked on her with distaste, but the response came from Anne, who possessed a quick wit and an ability to respond to any such barbs.
“You forget that I have lived my life at Rosings, and have not had the benefit of a season in London. I do not repine the loss, as it has kept me from many of an unsavory disposition.
“But what of you, Miss Bingley?” asked Anne, her tone oozing innocence. “I understand you have had several seasons in London and possess a handsome dowry. Can I assume that you have not found your heart’s desire yet?”
It was to Miss Bingley’s credit that she did not glance at Mr. Darcy, though Elizabeth thought it was a near thing. For the briefest of moments, it seemed like the woman did not know how to respond. Then she smiled, though Elizabeth could see it was brittle, indeed.
“I am afraid I have exacting standards, Miss de Bourgh. I will not settle for one who does not meet them.”
“It is to your credit, I am sure,” replied Anne. “Perhaps you should speak with William. I am certain he knows many in the neighborhood of his estate—and perhaps some of his other estates—who would suit.”
Though Elizabeth was aware of Anne’s inference, Miss Bingley could not decide whether she had just been praised or insulted. Thus, she changed the subject.
“You have been in Brighton for a week now, have you not, Mr. Darcy?”
“Indeed, we have,” replied he. “I believe it was just what we needed. The company is pleasant, the city is beautiful, and the weather has been exemplary.”
“Then I am happy we could join you, for I believe that by now you must be longing for more refined company.”
“Oh, no, Miss Bingley,” said Elizabeth. “In fact, Mr. Darcy and his family are quite agreeable. We could not ask for anything more.”
The look Miss Bingley bestowed on Elizabeth would have curdled milk, but she did not deign to respond.
“You mentioned that you were just about to depart?” asked she, clearly aiming for an invitation to join them.
“Indeed, we were,” answered her brother, finally entering the conversation. “We are for sea bathing this morning, and unless I miss my guess, it is high time we departed.”
“I believe you are correct, Bingley,” said Mr. Darcy.
“Oh, sea bathing!” exclaimed Miss Bingley, clapping her hands with glee. “I have always wished to try it. I believe our morning is free, so we shall accompany you!”
“I think that is impossible,” said Mr. Bingley, his voice firm, allowing for no opposition. “Perhaps you are not aware, Caroline, but you require a reservation with a dipper.”
“But surely—”
“Have you engaged a dipper, Caroline?” asked Bingley pointedly.
“Of course we have not,” said Mr. Hurst. “You have our apologies for detaining you. We shall leave you now.”
A stern glare at Miss Bingley prompted a huff from the woman, but she made no further protest. The Hursts and Miss Bingley walked outside with the rest of the party, where they parted, and Elizabeth, with her hand on Mr. Darcy’s arm, followed her family toward the beaches and the amusement offered there. Before she could leave, however, Elizabeth noted Miss Bingley looking at her through angry eyes. It seemed that Miss Bingley did not like the attention Mr. Darcy was paying to her.