by Jane Grix
She smiled prettily at him. “I will.”
For a moment, Darcy stood there, overcome by happiness. He wanted to kiss her. He leaned forward and she reached upwards.
Their lips met and instead of feeling joy, Darcy sensed that something was different. Elizabeth was warm and willing in his arms, but her hair did not smell of roses.
She smelled different. Of lavender.
He pulled back, confused, just as a few of Bingley’s guests gathered round to congratulate them.
“Is this an engagement?” a young woman asked.
Elizabeth smirked and nodded happily. “It is. But of course, Mr. Darcy will have to speak to my father first and get his permission.”
Someone laughed and patted him on the back. “I don’t think you’ll have any difficulty there. Congratulations, sir.”
Darcy stiffened, not because he was offended by the man’s familiarity, but because he had a sinking feeling that he had made a terrible mistake.
“Elizabeth?” he asked as he looked down at her.
For a moment, she looked frightened by his fierce tone, but then she laughed and tapped him with her fan. “La, sir. Don’t even joke that you proposed to the wrong twin. I’m Lydia as well you know it.”
Darcy pulled away from her, horrified.
For a moment, he felt that he might faint or even cast up his accounts. He staggered.
“Are you all right?” one of the men asked as he reached out to steady him.
Darcy angrily shrugged out of his grasp and straightened his coat. No, he would never be all right again.
Darcy looked at Elizabeth’s twin, the young woman who had tricked him into thinking that she was Elizabeth.
Darcy felt as if he had been sentenced to the gallows. There was no getting out of his predicament. He had proposed to a gentleman’s daughter before witnesses. He had kissed her.
If he backed out now, his reputation as well as hers would be ruined. She could sue him for breach of promise, and she would win. Pemberley would be at risk.
His actions could possibly harm Georgiana as well.
Darcy ran his fingers through his hair, wishing that he could think clearly, that he could find a way to solve his problem.
If only this were a dream.
It felt like a nightmare.
He had thought that marrying Elizabeth would horrify his friends and family but jilting her sister Lydia would be even worse.
He glared at Lydia. “I must speak to your father.”
“Yes. Please do. Right away.”
He strode into the ballroom with Lydia hastily trying to keep up with her shorter legs. “Do not talk about this,” he ordered. “Not until I speak to your father.” He hoped, he prayed that there would be a way to extricate himself from this disaster.
As he walked toward the card tables where Mr. Bennet was seated, Lydia waved at Mrs. Bennet and exclaimed, “Oh, Mama, I have the best news and you will never guess!”
Mrs. Bennet followed after them. She demanded, “What is it, Lydia. And why are you with Mr. Darcy?”
“It is a secret,” Lydia said with a giggle. “But it won’t be a secret for long!”
Darcy saw that Lydia’s behaviour was drawing attention. People around them were staring and whispering. He spoke through a clenched jaw. “Mr. Bennet, may I speak with you privately?”
“Is that possible in a ballroom?” Mr. Bennet asked as he stood.
Darcy said, “I don’t think Bingley will mind if we retire to the library.”
Bingley, who had noticed their procession across the ballroom, was joining them as well. “Of course, I don’t mind, but what is happening? I don’t understand.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Darcy saw that Elizabeth had left the dance floor and was walking towards them.
Lydia said loudly, “I am engaged. I am going to marry Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy should have known that she would not keep silent with such news.
Mrs. Bennet grew pale and clutched her hands together over her ample bosom. “Truly? Good gracious, child. You and Mr. Darcy? Who would have thought it? Lord bless me! Only think! And is it really true?”
By this time, Elizabeth was close. Her eyes grew wide and she looked at him as if to say as well – is it true?
Darcy felt as if a dagger pierced his heart. He nodded briefly.
There was a shriek and the sound of someone falling to the floor, which alarmed the crowd. Someone called for smelling salts.
But it was not Elizabeth who fainted; it was Caroline Bingley who now lay on the floor in a tumbled pile of orange silk. Bingley knelt beside her.
The ball had turned into a melodrama.
“Mr. Bennet?” Darcy prompted and the two of them stepped out of the room into the hallway.
In the background he could hear Mrs. Bennet speaking. “Oh, my sweetest Lydia! How rich and great you will be! What pin-money, what jewels, what carriages you will have! I am so pleased – so happy. Such a charming man! So handsome and so tall!”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Once they were both in the library, Darcy lit some candles and Mr. Bennet said, “I think we should both sit down, don’t you?”
Darcy wanted to bury his face in his hands and howl, but he did as Mr. Bennet suggested. They both sat in tall backed chairs, facing each other.
For a long moment, they were both silent – Mr. Bennet waiting for him to speak – and Darcy not wanting to say the words that must be said. “I made a mistake,” he said finally. “I proposed to your daughter Lydia thinking that she was Elizabeth.”
Mr. Bennet said, “Ah, that explains it. For a moment, I thought you had lost your mind.”
Darcy let his breath out in a sigh of relief that was almost a laugh. Thank goodness, Mr. Bennet sounded like a reasonable man. He said, “So what am I going to do?”
Mr. Bennet said, “You are going to marry Lydia.”
Darcy startled, “But I thought –”
Mr. Bennet held up his hand to interrupt him. “Believe me, I am sympathetic to your plight, but you have made your bed and you must lie in it.”
“I did not mean to propose to Lydia. I thought she was Elizabeth and she let me believe that. I called her Miss Elizabeth and she did not correct me.”
Mr. Bennet said, “And why should she? If you don’t know the difference between them, you deserve to be hoodwinked.”
Darcy stiffened. “I won’t marry her.”
Mr. Bennet said, “I don’t think you have a choice.”
He was right and they both knew it. Darcy tried another tactic. “As her good father, how can you want me to marry Lydia when I love her sister?”
Mr. Bennet said, “If I let you jilt her, I would not have a moment’s peace from either Mrs. Bennet or Lydia. And it is not as if I could let you take Elizabeth instead because she dislikes you.”
Darcy was dumbfounded. “I beg your pardon? Why would you think that?”
“You said she wasn’t handsome enough to dance with. A girl doesn’t forget something like that.”
His hasty words to Bingley now condemned him. Darcy saw that he was fool – first in not realizing how wonderful Elizabeth was, and second in mistaking Lydia for her.
It seemed that he should have followed the advice he gave Bingley – to wait until he was older and wiser before he tried to court a young woman.
He said, “Very well. I will marry Lydia if I must.”
Mr. Bennet said, “Her dowry is only a thousand pounds, but I assume that to a man of your wealth it does not signify.”
Darcy knew he would have taken Elizabeth with nothing, but he would go mad if he thought about his missed opportunity. He said, “I will have my solicitor meet with yours about settlements.”
“Thank you.”
Darcy stood. “If nothing more needs to be said, I will take my leave.”
Mr. Bennet said, “You may not want my advice, but I will give it.”
Darcy waited politely. It did not matter what Mr. B
ennet said, but he would be his father-in-law, and there was no point in offending him.
Mr. Bennet said, “From my observation and experience, I think very few marriages are happy. I recommend that you find some way to entertain yourself. Personally, I read.”
IN THE MIDST OF THE pandemonium that was now Netherfield’s ballroom, Elizabeth interrupted her mother’s good wishes to speak to Lydia. “What has happened?”
“I am going to marry Mr. Darcy,” Lydia said brightly.
Elizabeth could not believe it. She pulled Lydia aside to speak to her privately while Miss Bingley was being revived. “But you wanted Mr. Wickham.”
Lydia shrugged. “I hope I have the good sense to prefer a man with ten times his consequence.”
Was Lydia so mercenary? Then Elizabeth remembered what she had said about acting in her own best interests. And she knew that most people would consider marrying a man with ten thousand pounds a year to be wise. She said, “I am merely surprised. I did not think that either of you knew each other well enough to get engaged.”
“You are right. We hardly know each other at all, but we’ll remedy that once we’re married.”
Elizabeth did not know what to say. “Then I wish you happiness.”
Lydia said, “I know what you are thinking. You don’t like Mr. Darcy, and you find it difficult to believe that I could like him. But the truth is, we are quite different. If I can’t have Wickham, it doesn’t matter whom I marry, so I might as well have a rich husband.”
Elizabeth supposed that made some sense. “I did not realize that Mr. Darcy cared for you.”
“Oh. He doesn’t. Not yet, at least.”
Elizabeth frowned. “What do you mean?”
Lydia laughed. “Don’t tell anyone,” she said quietly, “but he thought he was proposing to you.”
“Good heavens,” Elizabeth breathed out, feeling faint. Mr. Darcy had wanted to marry her?
She wanted to ask Lydia what he had said, but Lydia was saying, “It was such a good joke, I could hardly keep from laughing.”
Elizabeth stomach sank. “You can’t trick a man into marrying you.”
“Of course, I can. Women do it all the time. And don’t worry, we are enough alike that I don’t think he’ll mind.”
Elizabeth remembered the set look on Darcy’s face and thought that Lydia was overly optimistic. He had been furious.
Lydia said, “I don’t know why you care, anyway. You told me that you didn’t like him and that you didn’t want anything to do with him.”
Elizabeth remembered her angry words earlier that evening. How long ago that seemed and now she wished she had been more reasonable and moderate in her expressions. She had been angry at Darcy because he wanted to separate Bingley and Jane, but now he was going to marry Lydia?
Which was worse? she wondered.
At this point, Darcy and her father returned to the ballroom. Darcy looked tired as if he had aged ten years. He spoke briefly to Bingley, saying that he was retiring to his bed and would be leaving Netherfield in the morning.
“But Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Bennet cried, stepping forward. “What about your fiancée, my dear Lydia? I assume Mr. Bennet gave his approval of your suit?”
Darcy bowed. “He did, ma’am, and I will marry your daughter in a year. Until then, I have other matters to take care of.”
“A year?” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. “I don’t believe in long engagements.”
Darcy’s eyes narrowed and Mrs. Bennet, seeing his annoyance, quickly retreated. “Not that a year is too long, if that is what you two young lovers wish.” She smiled at Lydia. “Don’t worry, my dear. It will give us more time to plan the wedding clothes.”
AFTER LYDIA’S ENGAGEMENT and Miss Bingley’s faint, the party at Netherfield dwindled to an awkward close with everyone leaving after a hurried supper. Elizabeth had a headache and was eager to go home.
As the Bennets waited for their carriage, Mrs. Bennet invited Mr. Bingley to join them for a family dinner in the future, any time he wished, saying, “You do not need to wait on a formal invitation.”
Bingley was suitably grateful for the offer but informed her that he was obliged to go to London the next day.
“And how long do you plan to be gone?” Mrs. Bennet persisted.
“No more than a week,” he assured her.
“We will dine together then,” she said happily. “And perhaps you can bring your friend Mr. Darcy back with you.”
Mr. Bingley looked uncomfortable. “I do not know his plans at the present time.”
Mrs. Bennet said, “I am sure he will let us know,” and smiled at Lydia. “I think he may be going to get you a ring, my dear.”
This talk of rings made Elizabeth think of Wickham and Miss King, and Lydia must have been thinking something similar, for she frowned.
During the carriage ride back to Longbourn, Mr. Collins said, “I did not want to speak earlier, but I feel that I must inform you that any engagement between Mr. Darcy and your daughter Lydia is impossible. Mr. Darcy is promised to Miss de Bourgh. I have heard it mentioned by Lady Catherine several times.”
Mrs. Bennet said flatly, “Well, her ladyship must be mistaken, because he said he would marry Lydia and we all heard it.”
“Perhaps he changed his mind about Miss de Bourgh,” Mary volunteered.
Mr. Bennet said firmly, “An honourable gentleman doesn’t change his mind,” which ended the conversation, although Mr. Collins muttered, “My point, precisely.”
Elizabeth said nothing, and she wondered what Mr. Darcy was feeling that evening.
She hugged her shawl around herself, thinking that he had meant to propose to her. She wondered what she would have said if he had proposed. She had been so angry at him, she most likely would have refused him, but now, knowing that he had been deceived, she felt sympathy for him.
No man, no matter how odious, deserved to propose to one woman and be forced to marry another.
And she didn’t think Lydia could make him happy. Despite his many faults, Mr. Darcy was an intelligent, cultured man. Lydia with her high spirits and lack of propriety would make him a terrible wife.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Two days after the ball, Jane received a letter from Miss Bingley, and it was opened immediately. The envelope contained a sheet of elegant, little, hot pressed paper, well covered with Miss Bingley’s flowing handwriting. Elizabeth saw Jane’s countenance fall as she read. “What is it?” Elizabeth asked. With all the excitement of Lydia’s engagement, Elizabeth had not talked to Jane about Bingley. She did not know if there was anything she could say to make her sister’s situation better.
Jane handed her the letter and Elizabeth read:
My dear Miss Bennet:
My sister and I had intended to remain at Netherfield for the holidays, but we have resolved to follow our brother to London and plan to dine in Grosvenor Street tonight.
From prior conversations, Elizabeth knew that Mr. Hurst had a house in Grosvenor Square. She continued to read:
When he left, my brother intended his visit in Town to be a short one, but I know that once he is in town, he will not be eager to leave. Particularly since he will be meeting with Miss Darcy.
My brother admires her greatly and I think an engagement is soon to follow. Unlike Mr. Darcy, I doubt that he will wait a year to make her his wife. Rest assured that when he does marry, you will all be invited.
By the time you receive this letter, we will be gone.
I do not pretend to regret any thing I shall leave in Hertfordshire, except your society, my dearest friend, but until we meet again, I hope we will correspond freely and often.
I wish you a most happy Christmas and a joyous New Year.
Your dear friend, Caroline Bingley
When she finished reading, Elizabeth folded the letter. “Caroline intends to stay in Town, but that does not mean her brother will. He can return to Netherfield any time he wishes.”
Jane said, “But what abo
ut Miss Darcy?”
Elizabeth knew that Mr. Bingley loved her sister, but that did not mean he would act upon his feelings – particularly with a good friend telling him to leave Jane behind. She said, “Honestly, I don’t know.”
Jane said, “Don’t tell Mama about the letter.”
“I won’t,” Elizabeth promised, although she did not think her mother would mind. Mr. Bingley had been surpassed by Mr. Darcy in Mrs. Bennet’s affections. Lydia was her favourite daughter now, and all her conversations were about Pemberley, Darcy House, and anything else she could learn about Mr. Darcy.
That evening, the family was invited to dine with Mrs. Philips again. Many of the officers were there, including Mr. Wickham. He stood near Miss King who was sporting a miniature ruby ring on her hand. Lydia said that it was quite pretty but that she was hoping for an emerald from Mr. Darcy. “As big a goose egg,” she said as she held out her hand and wiggled her fingers. She gave a snide smile to Mr. Wickham.
“Isn’t it wonderful to have so many engaged couples!” Mrs. Philips said. “I wonder who will be next.” She smiled meaningfully at Jane, who coloured and looked away.
Later that evening, Lydia said to Elizabeth privately, “You won’t believe what Wickham said to me tonight.”
“And what is that?”
“He said he didn’t blame me at all. Of course, I should marry Darcy if I had the chance.”
Elizabeth thought that was surprisingly civil of him and it suggested that his feelings for Lydia had never been deep.
“He also asked that if I did marry Darcy, would I put a good word in for him about the living?”
Elizabeth said, “What did you tell him?”
Lydia smiled. “I said no, why should I? If he wanted a better income, he should find himself a better heiress.”
Elizabeth did not know whether she should admire Lydia’s mean spiritedness, even if Wickham deserved it. “And what did he say?”
She smirked. “He said that whenever he kissed Miss King, he pretended it was me.”
Elizabeth covered her eyes with her hand and shook her head. This was more information than she cared to hear. Wickham was a scoundrel. She said, “I think it would be best if you avoided Mr. Wickham in the future.”