by Meg Osborne
“Miss Elizabeth! Perhaps you will do the honour of dancing with me this evening. Your sister, it seems, is in need of rest, and I ought not to dance with her alone.”
His words were uttered with cheerful resignation, and Darcy envied him the ability to converse so freely with either woman. He did not often envy Charles, but when it came to ease of manner and simple affection, Charles far outstripped him.
With a last bow, he retreated from the dancing crowd into the comfort of the crowd, where he could wait out the rest of the evening unobserved. If his gaze strayed rather more often than it ought to where Elizabeth Bennet was dancing with his friend, he would make no comment on it.
“JANE, LIZZY! SAY GOODBYE, dears, for poor Mr Bennet is ready to retire and I really think we ought to leave.”
Mrs Bennet’s voice rang with regret at being forced from the party, yet she, too, had been seen to hide at least one unladylike yawn behind her fan. Elizabeth smiled, conscious that it was indeed quite late and everybody would be ready for their beds.
She grabbed Jane’s hand and pulled her into the crowd to bid their friends a last farewell. Charlotte had already left some time previously, so Elizabeth had only perfunctory goodbyes to make. Jane, on the other hand, was a favourite of many and seemed determined to give each and every one all the time the required to say goodbye, regardless of how long it delayed her family. When they reached Mr Bingley, this was doubly true.
“Good evening, Miss Bennet,” he began.
“Good evening, Mr Bingley,” she replied.
They would pause, and smile at one another, and then, with a sigh, he would begin again.
“Well, I must bid you good evening, Miss Bennet.”
“Yes. Good evening, Mr Bingley...”
At the third such repetition, Elizabeth took matters into her own hands.
“It has been so wonderful to see you again, Mr Bingley, and of course, you must pass on our farewells to your sister and Mr Darcy, unfortunately, I cannot see them at present.”
At length, she extricated Jane from Mr Bingley’s orbit, and the two sisters made their way for the exit, halting only when a masculine voice called, “Miss Bennet?”
Elizabeth stopped where she stood, not needing to turn around to know it was Mr Darcy who hailed them.
“Oh, Lizzy, there is Miss Bingley! Do, please, permit to bid her farewell a moment.”
Before Elizabeth could stop her, traitorous Jane slid her arm free and hurried off to converse with Caroline Bingley, leaving Elizabeth alone and undefended against Mr Darcy. Drawing in a fortifying breath, she turned, slowly, and faced him.
“You are leaving?” he asked, his brow creased with the same severity he seemed perpetually to inhabit.
“It is very late,” Elizabeth said.
“Yes.”
They stood in awkward silence for half a moment more, before Elizabeth spoke again.
“Good evening, Mr Darcy.”
“Miss Bennet -” he held up a hand, as if to delay her leaving by a gesture, where he lacked the response. He hurried his words out, as if either to speak them before she could say another thing to prevent him, or before he thought better of them himself. “Miss Bennet, I must apologise to you.”
This was so unexpected that Elizabeth reeled back a step in surprise, lifting her gaze to his to check she had not misheard. Their eyes met for a brief moment, only, before his dropped back to the ground, and he ground out the rest of his words in a barely audible mutter.
“It was never my intention for you to overhear my comment to my friend, but that does not excuse me the rudeness of making such a comment to begin with. I was -” his lips quirked. “How did you phrase it? Odious?”
Recalling to mind the precise manner with which she had described Mr Darcy’s comments to Charlotte, Elizabeth blushed.
“It seems you are not the only one whose comments were not intended to be overheard,” she murmured.
“And yet yours were altogether more deserved than mine.” Mr Darcy bowed, stiffly. “If we are to be neighbours, we must at least be civil. I hope you will accept my apologies and we might speak no more of the matter.”
Elizabeth hesitated. Her pride had been wounded by his words, but perhaps that was no more than she deserved. Did she really think so highly of her own looks that one man’s opinion carried such weight? She blinked, regarding Mr Darcy once more. And a man as proud as this? Yet even as she thought the words she recognised their fallacy. For some strange reason she did care what this particular gentleman thought of her, yet it did not matter just whether he thought her pretty, for any girl in a hundred might be pretty with the right dress and lighting and in a company of other, less pretty, companions. She wished Mr Darcy to respect her, to think her intelligent, to appreciate her character as well as her looks. How might he ever do that without getting to know her better? And how might she come to know his true character, for she felt sure she had glimpsed it, the merest hint of it, as they danced. And this Darcy she yearned to know more, not the proud, aloof man who stood to one side casting judgments like stones.
“Perhaps, Mr Darcy, we might both own our wrongdoing in speaking as we did. We are both a little too quick to form judgments and repent of them later. Shall we start afresh?”
Mr Darcy frowned, as if he did not quite take her meaning. Drawing a deep breath, she smiled up at him, and, seeing Jane was about to return to her, hurried through her last words of the evening.
“How pleasant it has been to meet you, Mr Darcy. I do hope we shall become better acquainted when next we meet. I believe you already know my sister, Jane. I am Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
At length, Mr Darcy’s frown relaxed, and the ghost of a smile tugged at his lips.
“I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Bennet. Until next time.”
“Until next time.”
Almost a Collision
“Oh, can’t we go home now?”
Elizabeth Bennet clenched her chattering teeth, sucking in a breath of ice-cold air before addressing her sister.
“Soon,” she said. “Come on, let’s hurry. If we walk quicker we’ll soon be home again, and the speed will warm us up.”
Kitty still dragged her feet, and Elizabeth began to rethink the wisdom of asking her youngest sister to accompany her on her morning’s tasks.
“I still don’t see why we couldn’t take a carriage,” Kitty moaned, though she did increase her pace a fraction.
“You know Father can’t afford for us to take a carriage for every little errand," Elizabeth said. “It is dry today, at least, and so it makes sense to save the cost of transport for days when it isn’t.”
Yes, it was dry, but after half a week’s worth of rainy days, it remained muddy underfoot. And dryness, in December, was no guarantee of warmth.
They had managed to call on the few people Elizabeth could no longer justify putting off, and she felt a small glimmer of satisfaction that while the rest of her sisters had sat idly at home, she had accomplished something with her day. Father would be proud of her, even if Mama would no doubt comment on the mud she had brought home with her.
“You could have brought Jane with you.” Kitty sniffed. “I was quite happily sitting by the fire before you insisted I come out with you.”
“If by “quite happily” you mean “bickering with Lydia and upsetting everybody by our arguing”, then I apologise for uprooting you,” Elizabeth said. “But you have to admit it is somewhat invigorating to get outside in the fresh air.” She took in a deep lung-full of cold air, in an attempt to illustrate her point, but the icy air tickled her throat and she coughed.
“Yes, you are quite right.” Kitty giggled. “It is so invigorating to be out here in icy temperatures, no doubt catching a cold.” Her eyes narrowed. “If I am unwell for Christmas, I shall blame you.”
“It’s Mary and Lydia who are more likely to be unwell,” Elizabeth said. “I swear neither of them has stepped foot outside in over a week.” She shuddered, not entirely du
e to the temperature, and shook her head. “I do not know how they can stand being cooped up in that stuffy house for so long.”
“I should like to be thus cooped up,” Kitty muttered. “At least then I would be warm!”
“Oh, stop complaining.” Elizabeth was growing weary of her failed attempts to cheer her sister. “Look, we are nearly home, and then you can spend the rest of the day in the fire, should you wish it. I shan’t ask anything more of you.”
This, at last, seemed to spur Kitty into motion and she began walking so quickly that she put quite some distance between her and Elizabeth. Lizzy thought for a moment about hurrying to catch up to her but instead decided to go at her own pace and enjoy what she could of the cold winter’s morning. None of her sisters had seemed enthusiastic about joining her on making any calls, and if Jane hadn’t pleaded with her to split Lydia and Kitty up - in order that their bickering would cease for an hour or so and allow her to soothe her headache unmolested - she would have gone alone. She looked around, admiring the deep green of the few trees that still kept their leaves, and enjoying the stark contrast of their bare-branched neighbours. A robin hopped onto the path ahead of her, and she smiled to see his jolly red breast. There was something about a crisp winter’s morning that could not compare with even the balmiest summer. She slowed a moment, watching the robin hop about on the path in search of breakfast, when some noise or other startled it into flight once more.
Elizabeth paused, tilting her head to one side. Yes, there was a noise. She turned to see a carriage hurrying down the path towards her, and stepped to the side, although the path was not really wide enough for both carriage and pedestrians.
Who is that? she thought, not recognising the handsome vehicle as belonging to any of the Bennets’ neighbours. A Christmas visitor, perhaps, she thought, wondering which of their friends would be having guests to stay for the festive season. Surely they would have heard chapter and verse from Mrs Bennet if it was to be anyone worthy of their acquaintance.
Instead of slowing, as any carriage ought to on approaching a pedestrian, this held its pace, even increasing it, and Elizabeth barely had time to cry out before it reached her. It swerved at the last moment to avoid her, its wheels hitting a puddle and sending icy water and mud cascading over her, drenching her from head to toe. She was shocked into silence for half a second before sputtering something that was scarcely English in reaction to the carriage, noticing even as she began to form the words that it had not righted itself after its swerve. Moving at what seemed to be half-natural speed, Elizabeth watched in growing horror as the carriage slid and spun before crashing noisily into some trees.
“Lizzy?” Kitty hurried back down the path towards her, hearing the noise of the collision. “What happened?”
“Help me!” Lizzy commanded, wiping mud and rainwater from her eyes, and ignoring the feet that squelched uncomfortably in her boots. “Sir? Are you alright?”
The carriage’s driver had hopped down as the carriage fell, and had hurried to secure the horses. He clambered back over to help extract his passenger, and Elizabeth hung back as a handsome, elegantly dressed gentleman clambered out of the carriage.
“What the devil happened, Lee?” he asked, angrily, as he jumped down to the ground. His eyes lit on Elizabeth, and his features darkened further.
“Sorry, sir.” The driver bowed deferentially. “I swerved to avoid this young miss, and the carriage wouldn’t right again. I-”
His passenger silenced the man’s explanations with one look, which he turned back towards Lizzy with venom.
“Did you not hear the carriage approaching? You might have stood to the side and let us pass without trying to lame my horses!”
“You might have slowed down a little while passing a pedestrian,” Lizzy replied, anger rising in her chest. “Your carriage has soaked me to the skin by its careless progress. These aren’t London roads, sir.”
She flung an arm up as if to illustrate her point, succeeding only in flinging mud at her new acquaintance, who flinched as several drops of dirty water landed down the front of his expensive coat.
“Indeed they are not, for there anyone of sense might try to move aside when a carriage is approaching, no matter what speed, rather than foolishly attempt to stand their ground.” The gentleman turned to his driver. “Unhitch the horses, Lee, I shall take the strongest on to the house,”
“But sir-”
“Just do it. I shall have my friend send a carriage back to retrieve my belongings, and men to help repair the damage.” He took a quick survey of the carriage. “It does not look irreparable, though it will take time and manpower, neither of which we have here at present.” He turned to Elizabeth with an irritable glance. “I trust you were not injured in your folly, Madam?”
“Fortunately for you, I was not,” she retorted. “Though my clothes are ruined, and -”
“Clothes can be replaced, Miss -” He hesitated, looking at her expectantly.
“Bennett.” Kitty rushed forward, eager to insert herself into the drama playing out in front of her. “Miss Elizabeth Bennett, and I am Catherine - Kitty.” She even dropped a slight curtsey that prompted Lizzy to roll her eyes skywards.
“Indeed.” The gentleman looked little enough pleased by Kitty’s deference, which would usually have amused Lizzy, but this time it seemed to pour salt on the wounds he had already inflicted upon them.
“Are we not permitted to know your name, sir?” she called, as he mounted the horse his driver had liberated for use.
“Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy.” He bowed his head in cursory politeness. “And if you’ll forgive me, this has delayed me quite long enough already. Good day.”
Half a moment more, and he was gone. The sound of the horse’s hooves echoed in Elizabeth’s brain as she watched him depart.
“Can you believe -?”
“No,” Kitty breathed. “Oh, I can’t wait to tell Lydia you were almost killed by a handsome man in a carriage. How thrilling!”
Lizzy sucked in a breath, too shocked and irritated to even begin correcting her sister. She glanced at the driver, but the poor man looked so exhausted that she could not bring herself to criticise him further for his folly. Yes, he had been driving fast, but no doubt that was only under the orders of his obnoxious master, who, Lizzy felt sure, would brook no excuses, nor listen to reason.
“Where was Mr Darcy heading to?” she asked, through gritted teeth.
“Netherfield Hall, Miss,” the driver said, turning his attention back to the carriage and assessing what he ought to do next. “He’s to spend Christmas with Mr Bingley.”
Netherfield Hall. Lizzy groaned. Then they would be neighbours. And for Christmas! There would be no avoiding the obnoxious Mr Darcy.
“Come on, Kitty,” she said, beginning to walk once more for home. “We ought to get back before we are missed.
AFTER WHAT FELT LIKE an age, Elizabeth finally reached home, with Kitty trailing after her in merciful silence. They had barely crossed the threshold of the house before Mrs Bennet could be heard in loud conversation with her other daughters.
“Mr Bingley is unwell!” She sounded almost gleeful in sharing the news and barely paused for breath as Elizabeth and Kitty entered the sitting room. “That must be the reason why we have not seen him these many days. I heard it from Charlotte Lucas, who heard it from - why, Lizzy, what on earth happened to you?”
“Did you attempt to swim home?” Lydia asked, with a giggle. All eyes fixed on Elizabeth, who managed, with effort, not to respond.
“My dear, what happened?” Only Jane exhibited any concern for Elizabeth herself, and not merely the state of her appearance, and only Jane stood to follow her wordless exit from the room.
Reaching her own chamber, Elizabeth shed layer after layer, each more drenched than the last, but finally, she was rid of all the physical reminders of her horrid altercation with that man. What had he said his name was?
“Mr Darcy,” she muttered with
distaste, as she finished dressing and began, at last, to feel like herself once more.
“Who?”
Jane had followed her into the room in time to catch this single word, and her eyes sparkled with interest.
“Oh, Jane, I met an awful man on the road today,” Lizzy said, flopping down on the bed. She patted the quilt next to her and Jane obediently seated herself, waiting expectantly for her sister to continue.
“I was walking with Kitty, we had almost done for the day and turned towards home when there was the most ferocious noise of a carriage approaching. I stepped aside of course, for the road was narrow, though certainly wide enough for us both to pass unscathed, had it not been careening down the road at a breakneck pace.”
“Oh, Lizzy, were you hurt?” Jane reached a hand out as if to assure herself of her sister’s physical well-being.
Elizabeth grinned.
“Entirely unhurt, except for my pride.” She grimaced. “And I can perhaps not say the same of my pelisse. Ah well, at least it was not new.” She leant back and stared up at the ceiling. “The wretched carriage swerved, drenching me in mud in the process but that is not the worst!” She proceeded to tell Jane a most thrilling account of the carriage’s overbalancing, the damage done to its wheel and the outrage this accident had caused its only passenger.
“I do not doubt he was shocked,” Jane mused. “Why, he might have been killed!”
“Then he ought to have bid his driver to slow down,” Lizzy said, unsympathetically. “He had the nerve to blame the whole unfortunate incident on me, as if my very presence is enough to derail carriages, and I go about just looking for busy, important men I can delay.” She mimicked the tone of voice Mr Darcy had used in their conversation, and felt a laugh rise up in her throat.
“Well, I am glad to see you not too deeply scarred by your ordeal,” Jane said, approvingly “Did this Mr Darcy say where he was heading in such a hurry?”
“Oh, but that is the part I most intended to tell you!” Lizzy sat upright, folded her arms across her chest and made her pronouncement. “Where do you think he was heading? Netherfield Park! I don’t doubt he is some friend of Mr Bingley’s here to spend Christmas with him. My darling Jane, I do believe we may be forced to see him again, no doubt very soon, for I shan’t spurn your Mr Bingley, no matter who his friends are -” Lizzy stopped, noticing Jane’s unhappy demeanour.