by Zoe Carter
‘You are early, Darcy,’ he said.
‘No earlier than you,’ said Mr Darcy.
He took a cue from the side of the table and rubbed chalk into the tip, then watched his cousin as Colonel Fitzwilliam potted three balls. Then the Colonel missed and Mr Darcy bent over the table, lining up a ball in his sights before striking the cue ball. There was a satisfying click! as the balls hit each other, and one of them ricocheted into a side pocket.
‘Good shot,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam approvingly.
Mr Darcy potted three more balls before he missed, and once again it was his cousin’s turn.
‘I have decided not to leave Rosings tomorrow as arranged,’ said Mr Darcy, as he watching his cousin play. ‘I find I can spare a few more days and I have decided to stay.’
‘Oh?’ asked Colonel Fitzwilliam, glancing sideways at him before giving his attention back to the billiard table. He struck a ball satisfactorily and then asked, ‘Is there any reason?’
‘I do not visit Rosings very often, and I do not suppose I will be here again soon, so I might as well extend my visit now that I am here.’
‘It wouldn’t have anything to do with Miss Elizabeth Bennet, would it?’ asked Colonel Fitzwilliam in a jovial manner.
Mr Darcy did not answer and Colonel Fitzwilliam stopped playing, surprised at his cousin’s silence.
‘It does!’ crowed Colonel Fitzwilliam. ‘There is no point in denying it, Darcy, I can see it in your face. So you have decided to stop pretending at last, and own that you admire her.’
‘Very well, then. Yes, I admire her. But I have a long road ahead of me if she is to admire me.’
‘You are worrying needlessly,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam with a hearty laugh. He played another stroke and sent another ball skittering across the table. ‘A man of your wealth and position cannot fail to win the hand of any lady he favours.’
‘There you are wrong,’ said Mr Darcy.
And, after swearing his cousin to secrecy, he told him everything.
Colonel Fitzwilliam gave a low whistle.
‘I knew Miss Elizabeth had a lot of character, but I did not think that even she had enough character to refuse a man like you. If you can win her, you will be fortunate indeed. I wish you luck, cousin, and I will do everything in my power to help you, however little that may be.’
‘So that you can marry Anne?’ asked Mr Darcy, with a raised eyebrow.
Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed good-naturedly.
‘You are very cynical, Darcy. Why should I not want to help you for your own sake?’
‘I dare say you would, if I asked you, but I am certain you prefer to help me when there is something in it for you as well. Do not worry, I do not blame you for it. I think you and Anne will deal well together. She has always liked you, and I know you have always liked her. It is a suitable match in every way. Lady Catherine cannot object to your pedigree, and your father cannot object to Anne’s birth, or her fortune. I wish you luck.’
Colonel Fitzwilliam put his cue onto the billiard table and went over to the drinks table. He poured a brandy for both of them and then handed one heavy, cut-glass receptacle to Mr Darcy.
‘Good luck,’ he said. ‘To both of us.’
He raised his glass and drank the brandy in one go.
Mr Darcy said, ‘Good luck to both of us,’ and drank his brandy off likewise.
‘So, when will your assault on the lady begin?’ asked Colonel Fitzwilliam.
‘I do not like to think of it as an assault. I prefer to think of it as —’
‘Wooing?’ asked Colonel Fitzwilliam, with an air of mockery.
‘Yes,’ said Mr Darcy, looking at him earnestly. ‘Wooing.’
Colonel Fitzwilliam said, ‘Then it must be serious.’
‘Yes. It is,’ admitted Mr Darcy.
‘Very well,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam, raising his glass again. ‘Then I wish you good luck with your wooing.’
Miss Elizabeth Bennet was unaccustomedly nervous as she dressed for the evening at Rosings. She had been happy to tease and plague Mr Darcy when she thought he despised her, for she had realised early on that she must stand up to him or she would grow afraid of him. But now, things were different. He admired her, and he was capable of being wounded by her. That meant she would have to be more circumspect, for she did not want to give anyone pain, not even Mr Darcy. She was by nature a kind person and to torment someone was not in her nature. But she was still wary of Mr Darcy, for she knew he had done her sister a great deal of harm, and he had done Mr Wickham a great deal of harm, too.
It was one thing for him to tell his nurse that he meant to repair matters. It was another thing to actually do it. He might even change his mind. Whatever the case, she would require some proof before she was willing to relent towards him.
‘I have always liked you in that gown,’ said Charlotte, as she entered Elizabeth’s bedchamber. ‘The lace trim gives it an air of distinction without being overpowering. It sets your hair off beautifully. I am seldom jealous, or even envious, but I must admit I would like it if my hair was as thick and lustrous as yours, Lizzy.’
‘You have your own beauty, Charlotte,’ Elizabeth said.
Charlotte gave a rueful smile.
‘I am not a beauty, Lizzy, and you know it as well as I, but I thank you for your kind words. However, I like to see beauty, even though I do not possess it.’
‘If we are talking of beauty, then I am nothing compared to my sister Jane,’ said Elizabeth.
‘That is true,’ said Charlotte, in a matter-of-fact manner. ‘But Jane is not here and you are. I do wish you would give serious consideration to Mr Darcy, Lizzy. I am sure he admires you. He watches you when he thinks no one is looking, and a smile plays about his lips which is unlike any other smile I have seen on his face. It is gentler than his usual expression, and there is real admiration in it. His eyes warm, too. He is not a demonstrative man but I believe there is real affection there. You should not ignore the preference of a man like that, Lizzy.’
Elizabeth felt uncomfortable. She wondered whether to confide in Charlotte, but there had been a little coolness between them since Charlotte had married Mr Collins and she decided against it. If she told Charlotte that she knew Mr Darcy admired her, then Charlotte would press her to secure Mr Darcy’s affections as quickly as possible, and Elizabeth did not want to be hurried. Mr Darcy was still unknown to her in many ways and it would take more than an overheard conversation and a few uncomfortable recollections to make her perform a complete about-turn in her opinion of him.
Charlotte’s next words confirmed her in her opinion to keep silent.
‘Do not let your preference for Mr Wickham stand in your way. He does not have a half of Mr Darcy’s consequence,’ said Charlotte.
Elizabeth’s animosity towards Mr Darcy was revived at this mention of Mr Wickham.
‘No, indeed he does not,’ said Elizabeth sourly. ‘Mr Darcy saw to that. He deprived Mr Wickham of the living he should have had, so that now Mr Wickham does not even have the consequence he was brought up to expect. Mr Wickham now has to turn his hand to anything that offers, instead of being confirmed in the career that was rightfully his.’
Charlotte seemed about to speak but then closed her mouth, seeing that further conversation on the subject was useless.
Elizabeth arranged her shawl around her shoulders, picked up her fan and said, ‘I am ready, Charlotte. We must not keep Mr Collins waiting. Let us go down.’
Mr Darcy might have some excuse where my sister is concerned, she thought. But he does not have the same excuse where Mr Wickham is concerned.
Chapter Seven
The evening being fine, they walked across the park to Rosings house, as they had done on their first evening there. But how different were Elizabeth’s feelings when she entered Rosings that evening! If not for her headache the day before – and if not for her dislike of Mr Darcy – she could have been entering it this evening as Mr Darcy’s
betrothed! The thought of Lady Catherine’s face at that news set Elizabeth inwardly chuckling. It would almost have been worth being betrothed to Mr Darcy, just to see the look on Lady Catherine’s face! How that fine lady would stare, and start, and protest! How she would rage and blow! She would order Mr Darcy to break off the betrothal at once, no doubt, and probably send Elizabeth to practice the pianoforte in the housekeeper’s room!
‘I am glad to see you are in better spirits, Lizzy,’ said Charlotte. ‘You seem in good cheer. It must have been the walk that improved your spirits. You are sure to entertain the gentlemen.’
‘I hope I entertain everyone,’ said Elizabeth.
‘I am sure you will,’ said Charlotte. ‘Lady Catherine is lucky to have you as her guest.’
There was time for no more. They were entering the splendid drawing-room, with its sumptuous carpet and curtains and its expensive furniture, with its china ornaments and other objets d’art. The curtains were still open as the days were lengthening, and there was a fading light with a low sun showing off the elegant gardens.
Elizabeth could not help glancing towards Mr Darcy. He was once more in command of himself and she would not have believed it possible he could ever say the things he had said, or uttered them in such impassioned tones. He truly was an enigma, so cool and haughty on the outside but with so much more on the inside. She had been trying to work him out since the Netherfield ball and she had still not managed it. The more she learnt about him, the more confused she became.
The gentlemen bowed. Mr Collins paid Lady Catherine some fulsome compliments and made a few clumsy remarks about Miss Anne de Bourgh’s beauty and elegance of dress. Charlotte wisely pretended not to hear her husband’s stupid comments. Colonel Fitzwilliam’s eyes sparkled with mirth but he did not say anything in reply to Mr Collins. Mr Darcy stood there as still as a statue, looking very imposing with his height and breadth encased in a perfectly fitting black tailcoat and cream breeches. But Elizabeth thought she detected a softening in his glance when he looked in her direction. It was lost, however, when his eyes looked downward as he made his bow, and when he rose again it was gone.
They all sat down. After a few minutes exchanging words about general matters, Lady Catherine sent them to the windows to admire the view, as she had done on the first evening. Elizabeth found herself somehow standing next to Mr Darcy. On the first evening, he had not bothered to speak but had contented himself with an arrogant glance over his aunt’s extensive parkland. Now, however, he put himself out to be polite. He pointed out one or two areas of interest, speaking to Elizabeth in a much friendlier fashion than was usual with him. There was some lessening of his reserve, and Elizabeth thought to herself, marvelling, It is true. He really does like me.
That, of course, did not change her opinion of him. But a small part of her could not help being grateful for the admiration of a man of so much consequence, whose acquaintance was so very wide.
Soon afterwards they went into dinner, which was, as always, a splendid affair. The long table was covered with a white cloth, on which there was so much silver it was positively dazzling. There were mountains of fruit in the middle of the table, as well as flowers, and crystal wine glasses which sent off shafts of coloured light.
Elizabeth found herself seated between Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam. The Colonel gave his attention to Miss Anne de Bourgh, who was seated on the other side of him, and Elizabeth found that Mr Darcy meant to talk to her. His silences of previous visits were now a thing of the past as he set himself out to please her. Lady Catherine was being entertained by Mr Collins, so there was nothing to prevent Elizabeth and Mr Darcy having a private conversation.
The first course of soup was brought in. Mr Darcy made general conversation, saying he hoped her head was better and other trivial things as they ate. But once the soup had been finished and removed, he said to her, ‘A few days ago you told me that your sister had been in London, and you asked if I had seen her there.’
‘Yes. I remember,’ said Elizabeth coolly.
She had been hoping to find out if he knew how cruel Miss Bingley had been to her beloved sister, Jane. For when Jane had contacted Miss Bingley, telling her that she was in London, Miss Bingley had ignored her letters in the most rude and insulting way. Instead of welcoming her former friend, she had turned a cold shoulder on her, and only paid a visit when it would have been unforgivably rude not to. Even then, Miss Bingley had visited for the shortest amount of time possible and said so little that it was obvious, even to lovely Jane, that Miss Bingley was a false friend who meant to drop her entirely.
But did Mr Darcy know about it? Was he a party to the cruelty? That was what Elizabeth wanted to know. When they had spoken of it before, Mr Darcy had said he had not seen Jane, which Elizabeth knew was true. But he had seemed evasive and she suspected he knew that Jane had been in town, even if he had not seen her.
And yet now he was opening the subject again of his own free will. She wondered what he had to say for himself.
‘Yes, that is true, I asked if you had seen her,’ said Elizabeth. ‘You replied that you had not.’
‘And yet I think you meant more by your question than simply whether I had seen her,’ said Mr Darcy frankly. ‘I think what you really wanted to know was whether I was aware your sister had been in town. And whether I was aware that she had not been received in the friendly manner which was her due, after the attentions she was paid in Hertfordshire.’
Elizabeth was astonished. There was no subterfuge in his manner and it seemed he really wanted to talk about the situation. Well, if he could be honest, so could she.
‘You are right,’ she said. ‘And what is the answer?’
‘The answer is that I knew she was in town and I behaved very badly,’ he owned. ‘I knew that Miss Bingley meant to drop her and I did not protest. I also knew that Miss Bingley had kept the knowledge of your sister’s visit from Mr Bingley, so that he never knew your sister was in town.’
‘So that is why she never saw him,’ said Elizabeth.
‘Yes.’
‘Miss Bingley said that it was because he was paying attention to your sister, Georgiana.’
‘That is what Miss Bingley wanted to see, and it is what I wanted to see. We both felt that Mr Bingley would be a good match for my sister. Where both families wanted a marriage, we felt sure that, if there was no actual dislike on either side, one would follow.’
‘And my sister was to be sacrificed?’ burst out Elizabeth. She hastily lowered her voice, for she did not want to attract attention. ‘That was abominable.’
‘You are right, it was.’
‘You should not . . . ’ she began, meaning to argue with him, but then she realised he had said she was right. She looked at him in surprise. ‘You admit it? That you behaved badly?’
‘I do. I have many faults, Miss Elizabeth, but I hope that I am man enough – I might even hope, gentleman enough - to own them when I recognise them. I had no business interfering in Mr Bingley’s life, or in your sister’s life, either. My only excuse is that I thought it no more than a passing fancy on both sides, so I did not think I was doing any great harm.’
‘I can assure you that, in my sister’s case at least, you did very great harm,’ she said.
‘Then I am sorry for it. I never wished to hurt her.’
‘Fine words,’ said Elizabeth. ‘But there is a saying, Mr Darcy: “Actions speak louder than words.”’
‘I know the expression, and I have acted accordingly. I have written to Mr Bingley and told him that your sister is in town.’
‘And you think he will go and see her? I must admit that, although you were wrong to part them, Mr Bingley cannot have been very attached after all if he was so easily persuaded to leave my sister.’
Mr Darcy fell silent again. The next course of roast beef was served, and it was not until afterwards that the conversation resumed. Until then, an uncomfortable silence held sway.
‘ Yo
u evidently did not hear all of my conversation with my nurse, otherwise you would know that Mr Bingley’s neglect of your sister was not his fault. He has always looked up to me, as I am older than him and I have a greater experience of the world. I told him that your sister did not care for him; that she was just being polite and that she would forget him when he had gone. I did not put it in quite those words, but that was the impression I gave him. Only this persuaded him that he should not pursue your sister, as was his inclination.’
‘Oh, infamous!’ said Elizabeth vehemently.
Colonel Fitzwilliam looked round in surprise and once again Elizabeth had to moderate her tone.
‘I had not thought anything as bad as this,’ she said in a low voice.
‘I have apologised once, I will not do so again,’ said Mr Darcy, with a return of much of his stiffness. ‘To do so would be ridiculous. You must accept my apology or not, just as you please.’
‘I do not please,’ said Elizabeth angrily. ‘When I think of all the pain my sister has had to endure over the last few months because of you, I cannot forgive you.’
Mr Darcy retreated into his impenetrable shell of haughtiness and said, ‘Then if that is the case, there is no more to be said.’
Elizabeth felt her heart beating wildly in her chest as she thought of all the damage Mr Darcy had done. She longed to leave the table as she did not want to sit next to him, but it was impossible and so she had to remain there while the dessert was served. She ate little of it and tasted nothing. It was only when dinner was over and she was able to retire to the drawing-room with the other ladies that her anger started to dissipate and she was able to think more rationally.
Her beloved Jane was to be made happy, and that accounted for a lot.
But she could not forgive Mr Darcy for his part in her pain and she was glad that he was to leave shortly, after which she hoped she would never see him again.