by Nancy Kelley
"And what kind of entertainment would you have me offer? A card party?"
She shook her head, revealing for a moment the graceful curve of her neck. "Oh no, sir, for anyone can give a card party. No, from one of your standing nothing less than a ball would suffice."
"A ball!" Colonel Forster offered her his arm and they walked out of Darcy's earshot.
The impropriety of his own behavior in eavesdropping struck Darcy then, and he stayed where he was, at least for a time. He never let Miss Elizabeth out of his sight, however, and he was pleased when, some minutes later, she came back his direction in the company of Charlotte Lucas.
The soft cadence of Miss Elizabeth's voice drew Darcy closer. He thought he heard a hint of amusement, and he looked over at her to find those intelligent eyes fixed on him. "Did not you think, Mr. Darcy, that I expressed myself uncommonly well just now, when I was teasing Colonel Forster to give us a ball at Meryton?"
Darcy was dismayed to realize she had discerned his eavesdropping, but once discovered he could not pretend he had been doing otherwise. "With great energy," he agreed, "but it is a subject which always makes a lady energetic."
Her eyes laughed at him, and he hoped he was forgiven. "You are severe on us."
"It will be her turn soon to be teased," said Miss Lucas. "I am going to open the instrument, Eliza, and you know what follows."
Miss Elizabeth turned back to her friend, and if a frown could be merry, that was the expression she wore when she addressed Miss Lucas. "You are a very strange creature by way of a friend, always wanting me to play and sing before anybody and everybody! If my vanity had taken a musical turn, you would have been invaluable, but as it is, I would really rather not sit down before those who must be in the habit of hearing the very best performers."
Never before had Darcy seen a young lady turn down an opportunity to display her talents. Miss Elizabeth had yet again captured his attention, and he very much desired to hear her play. Surely she possesses more skill than she is willing to acknowledge.
He watched with some interest as Miss Lucas cajoled and eventually prevailed upon her friend. "Very well; if it must be so, it must," Miss Elizabeth said finally. She gave Darcy a sly glance and said, "There is a fine old saying, which everybody here is of course familiar with--'keep your breath to cool your porridge,'--and I shall keep mine to swell my song."
Despite Elizabeth's protestations, Darcy found nothing lacking in her performance--in fact, quite the opposite. Her voice is clear and pleasant to listen to, and her playing light and unaffected.
The same could not easily be said of Miss Mary Bennet, who succeeded her at the pianoforte. If Miss Elizabeth's playing reflected her easy manners, then Miss Mary's was as pedantic as she, and about as pleasant to listen to as the sermons she favored. At the inducement of her two younger sisters, Miss Mary soon switched from sonatas to light airs, good for dancing. Darcy watched with a sense of mild astonishment as the two young girls danced about the room, their open smiles inviting the officers to join them--an invitation the men did not quickly turn down.
Gay laughter broke into his thoughts, and Miss Lydia sailed past him in the arms of an officer. From the grin on the young man's face, it was clear whatever comment he had just offered had not been entirely appropriate. Why does her father not take control of her? If Georgiana ever behaved so...
His ruminations were interrupted by their host, and Darcy braced himself for a supercilious display. He had discovered quite early in their stay in Hertfordshire that Sir William Lucas felt the distinction of his presentation at court a bit too strongly.
The gentleman did not disappoint. "What a charming amusement for young people this is, Mr. Darcy! There is nothing like dancing after all. I consider it as one of the first refinements of polished societies."
Darcy did not turn from the frolicking couples. "Certainly, sir; and it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongst the less polished societies in the world. Every savage can dance."
This subtle setdown would have told an astute man to leave the subject alone, but intelligence was not one of Sir William's fine qualities. The man smiled and said, "Your friend performs delightfully," as they both watched Bingley take the eldest Miss Bennet to the floor, "and I doubt not that you are an adept in the science yourself, Mr. Darcy."
Years of experience told Darcy where this was going. Sir William Lucas had two daughters of marriageable age, the eldest nearly twenty-seven, which would be considered firmly on the shelf in London society. If he admitted he could dance, he would soon be coerced into dancing with one of the Miss Lucases, but Darcy would not lie. "You saw me dance at Meryton, I believe, sir."
The jovial man rocked back on his heels. "Yes, indeed, and received no inconsiderable pleasure from the sight. Do you often dance at St. James's?"
Darcy's brows snapped together. Of all the insinuating... "Never, sir."
But Sir William would not be dissuaded. "Do you not think it would be a proper compliment to the place?"
"It is a compliment which I never pay to any place if I can avoid it," Darcy replied, his words both honest and brusque.
Sir William continued to speak, but Darcy knew not what the subject was. Something far more interesting than the gentleman's courteous comments caught his attention--Miss Elizabeth was walking back toward them, this time alone. If I could but ask her to dance...
Darcy took half a step toward her as she drew near, but Sir William, ever attentive, beat him to it. "My dear Miss Eliza, why are you not dancing? Mr. Darcy, you must allow me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. You cannot refuse to dance, I am sure, when so much beauty is before you."
Darcy would have been glad to oblige Sir William, but Elizabeth withdrew her hand before he could take it. "Indeed, sir," she said to Sir William, a pretty smile on her face, "I have not the least intention of dancing. I entreat you not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg for a partner."
Unbeknownst to Elizabeth, her words drew Darcy's admiration more than anything else could have. How many London ladies had not done exactly that? "It would be a great honor if you would dance with me, Miss Elizabeth," he told her, speaking the words in earnest for the first time in his life.
Miss Elizabeth smiled and shook her head, and the stab of disappointment surprised him. Sir William seemed to feel it too, for he launched into an embarrassing speech. "You excel so much in the dance, Miss Eliza, that it is cruel to deny me the happiness of seeing you; and though this gentleman dislikes the amusement in general, he can have no objection, I am sure, to oblige us for one half hour."
"Mr. Darcy is all politeness," Elizabeth answered with another smile.
"He is indeed--but considering the inducement, my dear Miss Eliza, we cannot wonder at his complaisance; for who would object to such a partner?"
In answer to Sir William's obsequiousness, Miss Elizabeth merely raised an eyebrow and turned away. In so doing, she may not have given Sir William what he desired, but she had wholly impressed Darcy. She was utterly unlike any female he had ever met.
He pictured again the laughing intelligence in her eyes. Perhaps it is her eyes which render the rest of her face so attractive, he mused. They are so alive with emotion, so full of wit and good humor; one cannot help but be caught by them.
So absorbed was he in his own thoughts that he did not notice Miss Bingley approach from the side. "I can guess the subject of your reverie," she said in a low tone.
He looked at her and then back across the room to where Miss Elizabeth once again spoke with Miss Lucas. "I should imagine not."
Miss Bingley gazed out at the room, disdain evident on her features. "You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings in this manner--in such society; and indeed I am quite of your opinion. I was never more annoyed! The insipidity and yet the noise; the nothingness and yet the self-importance of all these people! What would I give to hear your strictures on them!"
She only echoed Darcy's e
arlier thoughts, but after his conversation with Miss Elizabeth, he could not agree with her. "Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow."
Miss Bingley raised her fan in a coy gesture. "Pray, tell me which of the young ladies has inspired such reflections?"
She now stood between Darcy and Elizabeth, so it was possible for him to look at her while she spoke and still observe Miss Elizabeth. His attention thus divided, it did not occur to him to dissemble. "Miss Elizabeth Bennet."
Surprise flashed through Miss Bingley's eyes, and Darcy realized too late the trap he had set for himself. "Miss Elizabeth Bennet! I am all astonishment." She flipped her fan open with a snap. "How long has she been such a favorite--and pray, when am I to wish you joy?"
The trap tightened, and Darcy winced. "That is exactly the question which I expected you to ask. A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment. I knew you would be wishing me joy."
He hoped to put her off by pointing out the ridiculous nature of her charge, but Miss Bingley showed her teeth in a feline smile. "Nay, if you are serious about it, I shall consider the matter as absolutely settled. You will have a charming mother-in-law, indeed, and of course she will be always at Pemberley with you."
This was too absurd to deserve an answer, and Darcy allowed her to continue to tease him on his future felicity. As long as she was thus employed, he remained at his leisure to watch Miss Elizabeth.
Chapter Six
"Darcy, you are wearing a path in what used to be a very fine rug."
Darcy continued pacing between the two leather chairs, heedless of Bingley's mild chastisement. "Why has she not written?" His fingers tapped a nervous rhythm against his leg as he considered all the dire occurrences which could have kept Georgiana from sending a letter.
"What has you so on edge?"
Darcy glanced back at Bingley. "I have yet to hear from Georgiana."
Bingley leaned back into his chair and assessed his friend. "I begin to think there is more to her removal from Ramsgate than you originally told me. Did something happen there?"
The lie sprung to his lips, but Darcy would not give it in the face of such a direct question. Still, I cannot tell him the whole truth... Bingley raised his cigar to his lips while he waited for an answer, and Darcy finally said, "I fear Georgiana received attentions from an unworthy suitor."
Bingley let out his breath on a long hiss. "That certainly explains your reluctance to leave London."
"Precisely. However, Richard is with her and he assured me... I just do not understand--"
"Why there has been no letter," Bingley finished.
Darcy did not have time to respond before a footman entered the room with a letter on a tray. "For you, Mr. Darcy."
Darcy snatched it up and gave a sigh of relief when he recognized Georgiana's elegant hand and his cousin's seal. He sat down in a chair by the window and began to read:
My dear brother,
I hope this letter finds you well and enjoying your stay with Mr. Bingley and his sisters. Please pass my regards on to them all.
I believe I am finally settling into life in town. Cousin Richard has been ever so kind since you left. He has even taken me to the Museum. I am sure I am a great trial, but he never complains.
Tell me a little of Hertfordshire, Fitzwilliam. Is the countryside as beautiful as Derbyshire? I confess; I cannot believe anyplace could compare, but then I am biased.
I will be glad to return home to Pemberley. I cannot believe eight months have passed since I left. Oh Brother--how I long to see the sunrise over the Derwent again. Fitzwilliam, do let us be home this spring in time to see the crocuses bloom. As fond as I have become of London, I do not think anything in the world as lovely as those sweet blossoms peeking above the frosty ground in February.
I hope you are enjoying yourself as much in Hertfordshire as I am in London. Keep yourself well, and write to me when you can.
Your devoted sister,
Georgiana
Darcy reached the end of the letter and returned to the first page immediately. A second reading revealed no hidden sorrow, none of the reserve which had characterized the last few weeks he had spent with his sister. He breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed against the back of the chair.
Bingley, who had remained silent while Darcy read, finally said, "By the smile on your face, I trust the letter contains good news."
Darcy folded the paper and placed it in his breast pocket. "Indeed, Bingley."
"Perhaps I may impose on your good mood then. Colonel Forster has invited us to dine with the officers tonight. Of course I will go, but I would be glad of your company."
Normally Darcy would refuse such an invitation. He had nothing against the Colonel, but some of his officers had proven less genteel. Today, however, his mood was complacent. "I believe I will join you, Bingley."
"Join Charles where Mr. Darcy?" said Miss Bingley, who entered the room just in time to hear that last pronouncement. "Surely not at Colonel Forster's, for I know how little you care for such coarse manners."
"Nevertheless, I do mean to dine there tonight."
Her attempt at a pout looked more like a grimace. "But what of Louisa and me? We will be left quite alone if all the gentlemen are gone, for Mr. Hurst intends to go as well."
"Invite Miss Bennet to share the evening meal with you," Bingley suggested. "I am sure she would be willing, and you have said you enjoy her company."
Irritation flashed quickly across his sister's face, but she had no choice but to agree. A servant was dispatched with a letter for Miss Bennet shortly before the gentlemen left.
The evening passed much as Darcy had expected, coarse company with worse manners, but the food was surprisingly good. Colonel Forster reminded him a great deal of Richard, and between him and the two gentlemen there soon subsisted an easy camaraderie which made Darcy willing to overlook the roughness of the general party.
"Well, Darcy?" Bingley inquired when they were on their way back to Netherfield. "Was the evening as objectionable as you anticipated?"
"I admit, Bingley, it was not."
"Indeed not," Mr. Hurst interjected, with far more energy than he usually displayed. "I have not seen a better level of card play since entering the neighborhood."
Darcy leaned back against the carriage seat. "That is hardly surprising, sir. From what my cousin has told me, militiamen often have little to do in the way of regular duties. With so much time on their hands, of course they develop an aptitude for cards."
Mr. Hurst snorted. "Aptitude! Devilish skill is more like it. Bingley, if we ever have the opportunity to invite them to Netherfield, I should like a chance to play again with Mr. Denny in particular."
"I am sure Caroline would be delighted to host a true party," Bingley said. "I will ask her about it tonight."
However, they found Miss Bennet still at Netherfield when they arrived, and her presence drove all else from Bingley's mind. She smiled at them in apology when they entered the house. "I am so sorry to impose, but I wonder if I might borrow your carriage, Mr. Bingley. I am afraid I did not anticipate the rain, and rode over on horseback."
Her dismay caught even Darcy's sympathy, and Bingley tripped over his words when he invited her to stay the night instead. "Then when morning comes, we will send you on home."
When morning came, however, it was clear to everyone that Miss Bennet would not be going anywhere. The dampness in which she had been forced to remain for the whole of the previous afternoon had settled in her bones, leaving her with a chill and a nasty cough. Bingley insisted on calling for Mr. Jones, the local apothecary, and Miss Bennet was equally insistent that she must send a letter to her family, letting them know what had become of her.
After those messages were sent, the party sat down to breakfast, sans Miss Bennet
, who had been made comfortable in her room. They were just finishing their coffee when a footman entered and cleared his throat. "Miss Elizabeth Bennet is here, sir," he told Bingley.
"Well, show her in."
The gentlemen rose when Miss Elizabeth entered, dressed in a gown whose soiled hem told plainly that the road was still wet. Then she brushed a wayward strand of hair from her face, and Darcy saw her eyes, bright with exercise, and her loveliness banished all other thoughts from Darcy's mind.
His sudden awareness of her caught him off guard, and he moved to the side of the room, where he could observe her freely. Her windblown hair clung to her cheeks in a most beguiling fashion, and he realized with a start that she was one of the handsomest women of his acquaintance.
"I am sorry to trouble you so early," Miss Elizabeth said, and Darcy's attention was drawn to her lips. "I received a note from Jane. Please, is she very ill?"