Together in Perfect Felicity

by P. O. Dixon

  Of a Long Duration

  Phoebe was nothing if not persistent. Thus far, all of her efforts to garner Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy’s attention had been entirely in vain. She was not too nonsensical to discern the gentleman behaved toward her as though he barely even knew she was alive. This after having been in company with him on any number occasions since his arrival in Hertfordshire. It was as though he had completely mistaken her meaning when they were together in the Netherfield library, for she was certain her intentions were clear.

  Tonight will be different, she silently declared, having prepared with more than the usual care for the long anticipated Netherfield ball.

  “Have you seen Mr. Darcy?” Phoebe asked her cousin Elizabeth soon after she entered the ballroom.

  Elizabeth shrugged. “I have not been looking for him.”

  “But you are looking for someone, no doubt,” said the other young lady, her brow arched.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Because of the manner in which you have been gazing about the room looking, here and there and everywhere in between.” Pausing, she inspected her cousin from head to toe.

  “You do look quite lovely this evening, no doubt in hopes of conquering all that remains unsubdued of your lover’s heart. I shall spare you the trouble of passing the entire evening in such a lovelorn way. Your Mr. Wickham is not here. He is gone to London.”

  “How do you know that?” Elizabeth asked, her expression a little less cheerful than it had been before Phoebe’s revelation.

  “His friend, Mr. Denny, told my papa as we arrived together. I can tell by your dour expression my news meets with your disappointment, but you need not to be too terribly vexed for there are a great many handsome dancing partners gathered about from whom to choose.”

  Phoebe giggled. “I might even be prevailed upon to spare a set with my Mr. Darcy.”

  My Mr. Darcy, indeed, Elizabeth silently mocked her cousin’s silly appellation for the gentleman. I should be surprised if he dances with anyone at all save the pernicious Bingley sisters. Heaven forbid he might stand opposite young ladies whom he perceives beneath him in consequence.

  Supposing he was the cause of Mr. Wickham’s absence, her ire she scarcely suppressed. Had he not taken enough from Mr. Wickham? Did he mean to deny him the pleasure of a ball too?

  At that moment, the object of Phoebe’s fascination entered the room. What a striking contrast he was to all the other gentlemen with his tall, handsome person and noble mien. His impeccable attire only added to his appeal.

  Not that Elizabeth was affected, she promptly reminded herself.

  “Oh! Cousin Lizzy,” Phoebe cried. “I have a very good feeling about tonight. Pray, wish me good luck.”

  She was about to escape her cousin’s side when Elizabeth took her by the arm. “Phoebe, where are you going?”

  “Why, to speak with Mr. Darcy, of course. It has been far too long since I saw him last.”

  “But you cannot merely walk up to a man of his consequence and embark upon a conversation as though you were acquaintances of a long duration. He will think of it as an impertinence.”

  “For heaven’s sakes, Lizzy. If I did not know better, I would say you were jealous.”

  “I most certainly am not!”

  “Then, pray, stop behaving as though you are.” Saying that, Phoebe jerked her arm away from her cousin’s grip and stole away, intent on putting herself directly in Mr. Darcy’s path.

  Whether Mr. Darcy had deliberately thwarted young Phoebe’s scheme, Elizabeth could not rightfully say. Perhaps it was merely a coincidence that no sooner than Phoebe was close enough to the gentleman to commence a conversation, he turned and walked away.

  Elizabeth breathed a sigh in relief, for at least her cousin was too sensible to trail along behind him, and for that Elizabeth was grateful. She rather pitied Phoebe, owing to her cousin’s foolish pursuit of the gentleman.

  Later that evening, Phoebe got her second chance.

  “Pray, do not look too eager ladies, but Mr. Darcy is coming our way,” Phoebe said.

  Upon approaching Charlotte, Elizabeth, and Phoebe, the gentleman bowed. The ladies curtsied. Despite what appeared to be her best effort to appear calm and collected, Phoebe’s enthusiasm was evident. Not that Mr. Darcy would have noticed. It seemed he only had eyes for Elizabeth.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” he began, “may I have the next set?”

  Elizabeth threw a quick glance at her cousin, who had nearly gasped out loud in the wake of her favorite’s slight. What was Elizabeth to do? Break her poor cousin’s heart? Or forgo her own felicity for the rest of the evening. Not that she was very happy about the gentleman damaging her cousin, even if unintentionally done.

  Elizabeth swallowed. “Yes, you may, sir,” she heard herself say.

  With that, Mr. Darcy bowed again and then turned and walked away.

  “Lizzy! How could you?” Phoebe cried. “I am sure I shall never forgive you for such a blatant betrayal.”

  Before Elizabeth could fashion a response in her own defense, Phoebe hurried off. Elizabeth meant to follow her cousin, but Charlotte seized hold of her hand.

  “Let her go,” Charlotte beseeched.

  “Oh, Charlotte! What have I done?”

  “You did the only thing you could do, given the situation. Had you refused Mr. Darcy you would have been obliged to eschew dancing for the rest of the evening. Trust me, Phoebe will realize you had no other choice in the matter soon enough.”

  “It is not only Phoebe’s wounded pride that concerns me but rather my own sentiments toward the gentleman that trouble me as well. How am I to endure standing opposite Mr. Darcy after what he has done?”

  “What has he done?” Charlotte begged.

  “Charlotte, you know very well how much Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham dislike each other. I have learned over the course of the evening that Mr. Darcy is the reason Mr. Wickham is not in attendance this evening.”

  “What can any grievances between the two of them have to do with you?”

  “How can you even ask me such a question? Who that knows of Mr. Wickham’s misfortunes as a consequence of Mr. Darcy’s ill-treatment would not side with the former? Men of Mr. Darcy’s ilk are far too eager to wield their power at the expense of the less fortunate.”

  “Eliza, you must allow that there are two sides to every story and thus far, you have only been privy to the so-called injured party’s account.”

  “If Mr. Darcy is innocent of Mr. Wickham’s charges, then let him come forth and defend himself. Unless and until he does, I shall stand by the more amiable of the two.”

  “I caution you, dearest Eliza, do not be a simpleton and allow your fancy for Mr. Wickham to make you appear unpleasant in the eyes of a man ten times his consequence. Besides, has Mr. Darcy not always been a consummate gentleman toward you?”

  Shortly after Charlotte’s speech, Elizabeth stood alone on the balcony. She needed a breath of fresh air as she pondered her intimate friend’s words, as well as prepared herself to spend the next half hour dancing with Mr. Darcy.

  Despite every attempt to forget the day he encountered her on the lane on her way to Netherfield and how comforted she felt by his attentiveness toward her, her body’s reaction to his nearness was always somewhat unsettling.

  Charlotte is correct, Elizabeth silently confessed. There are two sides to every story. But how am I to discern any measure of truth from Mr. Darcy? He is so taciturn and aloof. I doubt he and I will exchange more than a few quick words if any at all.

  Shall I comment on the size of the room and the number of couples? Would that draw him out? Perhaps I might mention that I find private balls more pleasurable than public balls. No doubt that is something the two of us might have in common. If I recall correctly, he seemed most uncomfortable at the Meryton assembly.

  As was often the case whenever Elizabeth allowed herself to dwell too long on the enigma that was Mr. Darcy, the memory of his nearness a
s he led her undetected to Jane’s apartment intruded.

  He had been so kind and courteous—exactly how a gentleman ought to be in view of my circumstances. She smiled a little. She wrapped her arms about her shoulders in remembrance of how comforting she had found his great coat draping her—how protected she had felt.

  Never had she felt that way in any gentleman’s company. Not even Mr. Wickham’s.

  I wonder if I shall ever feel that way again?

  Elizabeth shook her head. I must not allow myself to think this way. Her spirits rising just a bit, she smiled. Besides, what would my cousin Phoebe think?

  Later that evening, Elizabeth, once again, found herself all alone on the balcony. What a disaster the past half hour had been. Why had Mr. Darcy asked her to dance if he only meant to bait her into an argument about Mr. Wickham? Elizabeth searched her memory for the impertinent question on his part that had set their heated intercourse in motion: “Do you and your sisters often walk to Meryton?”

  His eyes thoroughly belied the innocence of his question. He had seen her conversing with Mr. Wickham. He was chastising her. By what right did he have to judge her for appreciating the character of a man whose character was in such stark contrast to his own?

  She had answered in the affirmative, and, unable to resist the temptation, added, “When you met us there the other day, we had just been forming a new acquaintance.”

  The effect was immediate. A deeper shade of hauteur overspread his features, but he said not a word, and Elizabeth, though blaming herself for her own weakness, could not go on. At length, Darcy said in a constrained manner, “Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends—whether he may be equally capable of retaining them, is less certain.”

  “He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship,” Elizabeth had replied with emphasis, “and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all his life.”

  A timely interruption by Sir William Lucas served to diffuse the increasing ire between them; however, the resulting reprieve did not last long.

  His surprising attempt at pleasant, albeit threadbare talk of books, had resulted in yet another contentious discussion of Elizabeth’s attempt to sketch his character.

  “And what is your success?” Mr. Darcy had inquired.

  “I do not get on at all,” Elizabeth had replied, shaking her head. “I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly.”

  “I can readily believe,” he answered gravely, “that reports may vary greatly with respect to me; and I could wish, Miss Bennet, that you were not to sketch my character at the present moment, as there is reason to fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either.”

  “But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another opportunity.”

  “I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours,” he had coldly replied.

  Gazing at the moon high above, Elizabeth pursed her lips. “I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours.”

  What did Mr. Darcy mean in speaking to me in such a fashion?

  Tidying her hair just a bit in preparation to rejoin the ballroom gaieties, Elizabeth released a frustrated sigh.

  Why am I even thinking about any of this? Mr. Darcy’s reason for asking me to dance more than likely was meant to frustrate Miss Bingley. Those two are so much alike, I begin to wonder why he does not marry her and in so doing answer her prayers.

  Not too displeased by this conjecture, Elizabeth pursed her lips. Of course, my cousin Phoebe would be terribly upset, but I, for one, would rejoice in his reaping such a prize as Miss Caroline Bingley as his bride after everything he has done to poor Mr. Wickham.

  Chapter 14

  an equal share of benefit

  From complete embarrassment as a consequence of her family’s unseemly behavior at the ball, to the mortification she suffered in her own home an hour or so earlier, Elizabeth was certain she did not deserve even a smidgen of the anguish she had endured.

  Her younger sisters, Kitty and Lydia, had made themselves entirely ridiculous with their girlish antics in pursuit of the officers in attendance. Her sister Mary had garnered the censure of all the other young ladies in the room with her lackluster exhibition on the pianoforte. Her own father had rendered poor Mary’s humiliation complete by interrupting her performance with what should have been a gentle admonishment but in effect had rendered his daughter heartbroken.

  Then there was the unseemly behavior of Mr. Collins, which further cast a disparaging pall on Elizabeth’s family, for upon learning of the connection between his noble patroness Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Mr. Darcy, her cousin embarked upon a most sycophantic attack of the latter.

  By then, Elizabeth was certain the evening could not get any worse. But alas, it did. Mrs. Bennet, who never really liked Mr. Darcy from the start, owing to his haughty nature and ill-mannered treatment of her neighbors, seemed to delight in the idea of boasting aloud that her daughter Jane and the handsome and amiable Mr. Bingley were soon to be married.

  While this was undoubtedly the favorite wish of Elizabeth, she was not so nonsensical as to voice her opinion out loud in such a setting and within hearing distance of someone who for reasons of his own might not relish such a prospect.

  She could not help frequently glancing at Mr. Darcy throughout her mother’s uncouth discourse, and every glance convinced her of what she dreaded, for although he was not always looking at her mother, she was convinced that his attention was invariably fixed by her. The expression of his face changed gradually from indignant contempt to a composed and steady gravity.

  The only comfort Elizabeth had subsequent to the exchange was her belief in Mr. Bingley’s love for her dearest sister, Jane. Surely a man who was so much in love with Jane as Mr. Bingley was would never allow the deficiencies in her family to discourage his affections.

  The deep sigh of relief that Elizabeth exhaled was rendered mute by the gasp of abhorrence that escaped her some hours later.

  “Believe me, my dear Miss Elizabeth, that your modesty, so far from doing you any disservice, rather adds to your other perfections. You would have been less amiable in my eyes had there not been this little unwillingness; but allow me to assure you that I have your respected mother’s permission for this address. You can hardly doubt the purport of my discourse. However your natural delicacy may lead you to dissemble, my attentions have been too marked to be mistaken. Almost as soon as I entered the house, I singled you out as the companion of my future life.”

  Elizabeth could not believe it. She would not believe it. Her father had warned her that Mr. Collins had come to Longbourn with the purpose of choosing a wife.

  What have I done to garner such an undesirable distinction other than ignore the man and pretend he does not exist? This little unwillingness indeed!

  Even if she had felt anything other than utter revulsion for the ridiculous man, a proposal such as he then put forth would never suit. In response to Elizabeth’s adamant refusal of his offer of marriage, Mr. Collins had further insulted her thusly:

  “You should take it into further consideration that, in spite of your manifold attractions, it is by no means certain that another offer of marriage may ever be made you. Your portion is unhappily so small that it will in all likelihood undo the effects of your loveliness and amiable qualifications. As I must therefore conclude that you are not serious in your rejection of me, I shall choose to attribute it to your wish of increasing my love by suspense, according to the usual practice of elegant females.”

  All of her further protests fell on deaf ears, leaving Elizabeth but one alternative—that being to flee the man’s presence. Even as she hastened toward the door, she heard him say, “When I do myself the honor of speaking to you next on the subject, I shall hope to receive a more favorable answer than you have now given me.”

  Having immediately after that sought and received her father’s blessing on her decision to refuse her cousin’s hand,
Elizabeth found her sister Jane in the garden. By now the entire household was in an uproar over Elizabeth’s behavior and thus little by way of an explanation of what all had been said and done was needed. And as Elizabeth was not designed for being discontented, she put forth a lighter view of her present dilemma.

  “Pray, Phoebe does not soon hear of what I have done, for she will surely regard it as a sign that I am in love with her Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said.

  “Well, Lizzy, he did dance with you at the ball. I do not recall seeing him standing opposite Phoebe on the dance floor.”

  The discomfort she had felt in being an unintentional party to her cousin’s slight caused Elizabeth’s pulse to quicken. “Jane, what are you saying?” Elizabeth asked, hoping Jane did not see how those words had affected her.

  “All I am saying is perhaps Phoebe does have cause for concern.” She reached her hand out to her sister. “Not that you would deliberately set out to disappoint our cousin’s hopes, but as for Mr. Darcy, I dare say he behaves as though he does not even know our cousin is alive.”

  Elizabeth shrugged. “I am afraid you are correct. However, I have to believe that her interest in the gentleman is largely a consequence of her little matrimonial scheme. If she really knew what Mr. Darcy is like, I suspect she might not be nearly so enamored of him.”

  “I confess that Mr. Darcy has not made the most favorable impression on our acquaintances, but those who know him best: Mr. Bingley, Miss Bingley, Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, all of them think very highly of him.”

  “And what of Mr. Wickham’s opinion? Are his feelings to be completely disregarded?”

  “I must confess that there is a history between the two of them which none of us completely comprehend—not even Mr. Bingley, but I am rather inclined to rely upon the good opinion of the many to the ill-opinion of the one.”

  “Dearest Jane, that is because you are too generous to think meanly of anyone. And while I have been accused of being far too apt to willfully misunderstand, in such a case as this, I believe I understand both Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham well enough to know which of the two to side with.”