Jane blushed anew, stifled a giggle, and asked, “Did you just say Colonel ‘Stud-muffin’?’”
Miss de Bourgh rolled her eyes. “Um, yes. Perhaps I should not have revealed knowledge of that nauseating moniker, so please do not repeat it. I tell you, it has turned me off muffins completely. I am totally at a loss to comprehend the attraction, but apparently he has a following of admiring females who refer to him with that rather dubious pet name. Ugh! Anyway, you Bennet sisters really are quite a combination yourselves. I am sure both Fitzwilliam and Richard thought they were safe; yet you thieves have surely stolen their hearts. Have they asked for locks of your hair yet?”
Elizabeth laughed and replied, “Well, I do know of a handsome ‘barberin’ who could also be a robber if he is good at cutting locks.”
A deep voice behind Lizzy startled her. “Ah, Anne and Miss Elizabeth. I know you were introduced in the receiving line, but I have wanted you to become better acquainted with one another all evening. I am glad you have finally had the opportunity to converse. You share a common uncommon sense of humour, and I am sure you will get along like a house on fire. Now, what were you ladies discussing with such hilarity?” As if I did not know, Miss Lizzy Bennet. Will I never hear the end of it? I do believe I have an unreasonable fear of what might come out of your brother’s three-year-old mouth. In what manner do you suppose our own adorable but naughty children will embarrass me? I cannot wait for us to find out.
As soon as supper was over, singing and playing was arranged and they had the great pleasure of seeing Miss Anna Darcy prepare to oblige the company. She was very nervous, her hands shook, and she fumbled with the music sheets. When Elizabeth saw her distress, she joined the young lady at the pianoforte. She soothingly said, “Anna, please allow me to help. May I turn the pages for you?”
“Oh, yes, Elizabeth, thank you. It will be of great comfort to have you beside me. I have never played in front of quite so many people before.”
Anna played splendidly and received an appreciative round of applause; when Lizzy returned to her table, she received an appreciative smouldering look from the performer’s splendid brother. The other three ladies had been in the process of excusing themselves when Elizabeth arrived, so Georgiana asked if she would care to join them while they freshened up a bit. The four gentlemen stood as the ladies departed; and the Colonel invited Darcy, Bingley, and Fleming to the library for a glass of port. Only the latter gent declined.
Chapter II
Darcy’s Evening Goeth from Werther to Better
While Darcy stared through a window into nothingness, Bingley took the opportunity to quietly speak with Fitz. “I want you to know, my friend, I bear no grudge and wish you and Miss Bennet much happiness.”
“Whoa, Bingley! Of what are you talking, man? You speak as if Miss Bennet and I have come to an understanding.”
“Have you not? You and the lovely lady have the same look of particular regard as can be seen on the faces of Darcy and Miss Elizabeth as well as Fleming and Miss Darcy. I do believe Jane Bennet has found the man who perfectly Fitz her idea of an ideal beau.”
“I would very much like to believe you; yet what would such a beautiful woman as Miss Bennet see in me, a second son and soldier? I have nothing much to recommend me and certainly do not expect any attachment on her part. I admit I have witnessed some admiring glances from the lady; however, I believe it is merely the impressive red coat. Some women are undeniably attracted to a uniform. Oh, I do wish for her affection, though. Egad, but the fairer sex are difficult to understand, and … Bingley? Bingley, where did you go?” Muffled muttering came from the depths of the bookshelves, and Colonel Fitzwilliam went in search of his friend.
“Fitz, are these books supposed to be arranged in alphabetical order by author?”
“Yes, I believe so. But Bingley, what are you after, man? We have to return to the ballroom shortly. Are you planning to read out there instead of dance? That sort of behaviour will be frowned upon, you know.”
“No, of course not. Just give me a moment. Would Johann Wolfgang von Goethe be shelved as ‘V’ or ‘G’? Nope, not under ‘V.’ Out of my way. Where is ‘G.’”
“Gee, I do not know, Bingley. Would you like me to summon a page to assist you; or here’s a novel idea … try after ‘F’, as in … ”
“Aha! Here is The Sorrows of Young Werther; now I just need to find the right passage.”
Darcy joined them and awkwardly said, “I need some assistance but am rather embarrassed to admit … ”
Bingley held up his index finger. “Wait just a moment please, Darce. I need to read this quotation to Fitz: ‘We love a girl for very different things than understanding. We love her for her beauty, her youth, her mirth, her confidingness, her character, with its faults, caprices, and God knows what other inexpressible charms; but we do not love her understanding. Her mind we esteem if it is brilliant, and it may greatly elevate her in our opinion; nay, more, it may enchain us when we already love. But her understanding is not that which awakens and inflames our passions.’”
Darcy waited several moments. Bingley and Fitz appeared deep in thought; so he cleared his throat and said, “Pardon me. As I was saying earlier, I need assistance but am rather embarrassed to admit my quandary. Bingley, as I see it, you owe me a favour.”
“I probably owe you a multitude of favours, Darcy. So how may I help?”
“Firstly, I need a scheme to arrange a private moment with Miss Elizabeth tonight; secondly, I … I do not … remember how to waltz.” The other two chaps stared expectantly at him and patiently waited for further elaboration. Darcy stared expectantly back and impatiently waited for their agreement. “Well? Will you assist me?”
The Colonel scratched his head, rubbed his chin, and said, “Ah … just how, exactly, do you imagine we are to help you remember, cousin?”
Darcy rather testily answered, “You bloody well know how to waltz, Richard. You were there when we learned.”
“Yes, my point exactly! We bloody well learned. How can you not remember?”
“Perhaps it will come back to me once I begin. Be that as it may, I cannot risk making a fool of myself in front of everyone, especially Miss Elizabeth. I know it is a lot to ask, but could one of you please provide the music and the other show me the steps?”
“Egad, Darcy! Here? Now?”
Tetchy again, Darcy replied, “No, Bingley, out in the middle of the street six hours from now.”
“Well, what benefit would that be to you?”
Darcy closed his eyes, hung his head, and counted to ten. “Yes, Bingley, here. Yes, Bingley, now.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam thought the whole situation hilarious. In spite of that, he could tell his serious, perfectionist cousin was perfectly serious. “But, Darce, there is no instrument here in the library. How do you expect us to provide waltzing mus … Oh, no. Under no circumstances. I simply refuse to either waltz with you or sing. This is ludicrous. Count me out.”
“Richard, I simply abhor having to stoop low and resort to extortion. That said, I would not hesitate to cry rope to your sister-in-law. She will, no doubt, be horrified to discover you were the one responsible for spreading those ridiculous rumours about her extraneous body parts. Or maybe it is time your mother be told of the rather sweet-smelling, sandy-haired adolescent chap who broke her favourite, and quite expensive, perfume bottle and blamed it on a clumsy servant all those many years ago.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam nonchalantly buffed his fingernails against his red-coated chest and inspected them for shine. Darcy frowned at his cousin’s unconcerned demeanour. “Is your father yet aware of a particular wild, drunken escapade in Brighton involving … ” He glanced at their mutual friend who was eagerly awaiting further enlightening details. “ … er, never mind. We must guard Bingley’s innocence from such indelicate imagery. However, shall I let James know who absconded with his collection of risqué etchings?”
The unaffected military officer
rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, folded his arms, shook his head, and whistled a tune between his teeth. Unfortunately for his cousin, it was not a waltz. Darcy scowled until his face lit up with sudden inspiration. “Aha! Did Aunt Catherine ever discover who placed her hand in warm water while she slept and caused her to p … ”
“I will hum! Bingley can be the lady.”
“Could we not flip a coin, Fitz? Or draw straws?” Charles Bingley petulantly whined, “I do not want to be the lady either. And what happened in Brighton? I want to know!”
Georgiana Darcy noticed her father and Mr. Fleming in earnest conversation and wondered about the subject of their discourse. The gentlemen shook hands, both suddenly turned to look at her, and the younger of the two approached.
“Miss Darcy, your father has kindly permitted me to request a few minutes of private conversation with you. Would you care to accompany me and take the air?”
She agreed and asked for a moment to first fetch her shawl, but he insisted on retrieving it for her; when he returned, he gently wrapped it around her shoulders and offered his arm. They decided on a quick stroll in the garden. As soon as they were on the path and assured some privacy, Fleming stopped and stood in front of Georgiana. He gazed into her beautiful azure eyes and caressed her soft cheek with the lightest touch.
“Miss Darcy, you are the picture of loveliness standing here in the moonlight. I have been head over heels in love with you from the moment you poked Darcy with your frilly pink parasol and called him bacon-brained. I admired your pluck as you stood up to your brother and the way you tried to protect your sister and friends that fateful day at Pemberley. I could go on and on, for I love everything about you; but time is of the essence, and I must do this quickly before your father runs out of patience.”
Fleming paced a few steps and carelessly raked a hand through his hair. Georgiana gazed at the thick, glossy black waves that swept the collar of his white shirt; and she longed to run her own fingers through the feathery strands. She admired his broad shoulders in his tight coat, the deep blue of which matched his tantalizing indigo eyes. He stopped pacing and returned, standing very close and speaking very softly.
“A very, very wise American scientist, politician, and author said, ‘Dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that’s the stuff life is made of.’[1] Miss Darcy, I do love life; and I do love you. I do not care to squander any more time. Will you share with me the stuff of which life is made? Will you consent to be my wife?”
“Oh, of course, Mr. Fleming, yes! I would very much love to be your wife.”
“Then why these tears, Georgiana?”
“Do you not know a lady sometimes cries when she is very happy?”
“I hope I never, ever, make you sad, Georgie. Still and all, how shall I ever be certain? If you cry when you are happy, do you laugh while you are sad?”
“Teasing, bacon-brained man! If I had my frilly pink weapon, I would surely poke you with it.”
“I would settle, instead, for your calling me Ellis and, perhaps, sharing a … kiss … may I?”
Their first kiss was gentle, sweet, and brief. Ellis Fleming was more than a little intimidated by his fiancée’s powerful father and did not want to be caught snogging. He suddenly remembered the ring in his coat pocket; and, with her permission, he slipped the small sapphire band onto her dainty finger and kissed her hand.
He said, “The inscription reads ‘G ~ Yours for all time ~ E’. Thank you, my dearest lady, for making me the happiest and luckiest man in the entire world. I would prefer to stay here alone with you all night, though I do not believe your father would approve. Shall we return and share our good news?”
The blissful couple entered the ballroom just as Georgiana’s father was about to search for them. They related the joyous news to George Darcy, who made the happy announcement to the entire assemblage.
“Are you looking for someone, Miss Elizabeth?”
“Yes, Mr. Fleming. I am looking for Mr. Bernard Lorne.”
“Ah. Well, I am sorry to report he became rather drunk as a wheelbarrow and had to be carted away to his carriage. But why are you looking for Lorne?”
Georgiana had been speaking with an acquaintance and joined the other two in time to overhear her fiancé’s final question. “Ellis, Elizabeth certainly does not look forlorn.”
“Oh yes, Georgiana, I was actually looking for Lorne,” said Elizabeth.
“But why? Whatever is the matter?”
“There is nothing the matter. He did ask me to stand up with him for the next set, though.”
“Who did?”
“Good grief, my friend. Since you became engaged, you have also become somewhat addlepated. We were speaking of my looking for Lorne, remember?”
“Yes, and I am concerned you feel forlorn.”
“Georgiana, I do not feel for Lorne. I hardly know the man. You know very well my regard is only for your brother; and, Mr. Fleming, just what do you find so amusing, sir?”
Mr. Bernard Lorne did not turn up for the second last set, which was just as well, because Elizabeth Bennet needed to find some privacy. She searched for her sister and saw Jane in conversation with Lady Anne, Anne de Bourgh, and Anna. If Mr. Darcy and I ever marry and have children, I shall definitely refuse to christen any daughter of ours ‘Ann.’ Enough already. She made her way over to the ladies, curtsied, excused herself for interrupting, and asked Jane to accompany her.
“Jane, I need to find some privacy, or I shall simply have to tie my garter in public.”
“Elizabeth Bennet, you would not dare do something so extremely shocking and improper.”
“Well, most certainly not. But look.” She lifted her skirt a few inches so Jane could see the stocking and broken ribbon pooled around her ankle. “I am forlorn, but not for Lorne, and not engaged for this blasted set after all. However, it is unthinkable I might have to sit out the next set and a chance to waltz with Fitzwilliam ‘handsome barbarian’ Darcy. Please come with me and stand guard while I fix this blasted hosiery. Did you happen to bring any extra ribbon?”
“Yes, in my … Oh, no! Where is my reticule? I must have left it on the chair during supper. Lizzy, ask one of the footmen for directions to the library, as there should be no one there during a ball. I am just going to fetch my bag and shall be right behind you. Oh, and Elizabeth Frances Bennet, do not say the word ‘blasted’; it is terribly unladylike of you. Now go! I must make haste to find my blasted reticule. I do not want to miss a chance to waltz with another handsome barbarian named Fitzwilliam.” The pert, saucy smile so often associated with her younger sister was, in this instance, instead displayed on Jane’s normally angelic face.
With a servant’s assistance, Elizabeth quickly found the door to the library. She quietly opened it a crack, peered inside, and promptly pulled it shut while she questioned both her sanity and her eyesight. Good God. Was that … ? No. She scoffed at herself. I could not possibly have seen the scene I thought I did. Perhaps I need a pair of spectacles. The intrepid Lizzy Bennet again eased the door ajar, took another peek, and was stupefied by the spectacle of the pair in front of her. None other than the very proper Fitzwilliam Darcy was, indeed, holding Charles Bingley in an embrace. There was no mistake. Her handsome barbarian’s right arm encircled the other good-looking hooligan, and Mr. Darcy’s hand rested on the back of Mr. Bingley’s waist. Remain calm, Lizzy old girl. Remember the sayings of Publilius Syrus: ‘The eyes are not responsible when the mind does the seeing’ and ‘A suspicious mind always looks on the black side of things’. Surely Mr. Bingley can logically explain the black side of things my suspicious mind sees, and then Mr. Darcy and I shall put this behind us and move forward.
“ … and now move your left foot gracefully forward. No, Darce, your other left foot!”
Colonel Fitzwilliam became tired of humming the waltz tune and stopped to take a breather. In the silence, a feminine gasp was heard from the direction of the door; the three gentlemen fr
oze in position.
Darcy: Good God. Was that … ? No. I could not possibly have heard what I think I just heard. Fate would not be so unkind. Would it? He slowly turned around.
Bingley: Fiend seize it! To hell with this! I am out of here! Sorry, Darce. He quickly headed for the door.
Fitz: I would probably relish this as a comical dill-emma was I not involved in the same pickle. With a sour expression on his face, he fumbled in his pocket for the key to the library and followed his friend.
Bingley’s face was flaming as he curtly bowed to Miss Elizabeth and mumbled what might have been an apology. Elizabeth stepped aside to allow him to pass and was surprised to see Colonel Fitzwilliam hard on his heels. The officer also bowed abruptly and muttered something unintelligible as Lizzy moved farther into the library.
The unmistakable sound of a key being turned in the lock from the outside caused her to reach for the doorknob. Elizabeth’s frantic assault on the immovable object proved futile, and she said a silent prayer. Good Lord! I cannot possibly remain in this room with only Mr. Darcy, although I would certainly like to hear his explanation ... and perhaps a declaration of his intentions. Lizzy turned to face the other occupant and hoped this turn of events might turn out to be a turning point in her life. With her back pressed against the door, she watched the gentleman turn in her direction.
In the hallway, on the other side of the same portal, the red-coated officer had second thoughts about locking the lady in the library. On the one hand, he wanted to do a good turn for Darcy; on the other, he knew he should allow Miss Elizabeth a chance to escape from the room, his cousin, and her fate. His loyalty to family, he decided after a moment’s hesitation, was the key point in favour of Darcy. Colonel Fitzwilliam was no turncoat. He turned away and quickly strode down the corridor.
Jane Bennet was surprised to pass Mr. Bingley in the hallway without any sort of acknowledgement from the gentleman. He was alarmingly coloured up and in an obvious state of mortification. Well, that is very peculiar! Oh, dear, I hope it is nothing serious. As Jane neared the library, she turned her head to watch the poor chap hurry toward the ballroom. When she turned back … OOF! She found herself up against a solid, crimson-coated chest, encased in a pair of red-sleeved arms of steel, and surrounded by a very alluring masculine scent. Jane was breathless, not due to the impact, but because the chest, arms, and scent belonged to the body of none other than her handsome barbarian, Colonel Richard ‘Stud-Muffin’ Fitzwilliam.
Mr. Darcy Takes the Plunge Page 17