by P. O. Dixon
She creased her brow and rested her hand on her cheek. Of course, he did apologise for his rudeness at the Meryton assembly; I remember that much. He said he admired me. He took my hand in his, and we ran up the stairs to escape the rain ... and then, when—
Elizabeth chastised herself for her romantic musings. What am I thinking? Mr. Darcy flatly refused to help me. I declare, I cannot abide the haughty man.
“I do not believe he did not come here to check on my welfare for himself!” Elizabeth said aloud.
* * *
Darcy looked in on his sister in the music room practising on the pianoforte. As soon as she paused for a brief rest, he raised the question that had plagued his mind all morning.
“How was your visit with Miss Elizabeth, Georgiana? Pray tell she fares much better.”
“Yes, Brother, Miss Elizabeth’s health is recovering nicely.”
“Did she enjoy the fresh flowers and fruit?”
“I suppose so. She seemed delighted by the gesture. However, I must admit she was rather quiet. Odd, I did not take her for being shy.”
Elizabeth is hardly shy. I hope she does not view my sister as an impediment to her sister’s prospects.
Georgiana stood from the pianoforte and cajoled him to sit with her. “Brother, you must admit I have been exceedingly patient through all this. I believe I deserve answers. Do you not agree?”
“Answers? To what are you referring, Georgiana?”
“Oh, I speak of this entire affair with Miss Elizabeth Bennet. You have yet to give me a full account of how she came to be in our mother’s room.”
“Georgiana, I have told you nearly everything there is to tell. Miss Elizabeth fell ill whilst visiting me. I had no choice but to tend to her needs as best I could, what with the entire staff out of the house.”
“But why was she even here? You have to admit it is not entirely proper.”
“True, it is not proper, but to be honest, Miss Elizabeth is known for doing what she wants to do when she wants to, especially when it comes to matters of importance to her.”
“Why do I suspect you like that about her?” Georgiana said. He recalled how often he spoke of Elizabeth in his letters from Hertfordshire, thus suffered no surprise by his sister’s supposition.
“I confess. I admire Miss Elizabeth a great deal. However, she came here because she wanted a favour of me, a favour I am not inclined to bestow.”
“Brother, what type of request would bring a young woman from across town, and why would you deny her, especially if you admire her, as you say you do?”
Darcy took his sister’s hand and squeezed it. The truth was he did not fault Caroline Bingley for having spread the false rumour of a possible alliance between his sister and Charles Bingley. How many times had he secretly wished for the same, especially after her experience in Ramsgate with George Wickham?
“The situation is complicated. I will only say that Miss Elizabeth has her view of certain matters, and I have mine. The two are miles apart. You need not worry on either score.”
Chapter 6
Any time he dined at the Hursts’ home in Grosvenor Square, it was marked as a momentous occasion, or so it seemed. Miss Caroline Bingley, in all her bright regalia and none too subtle perfumes, sat across the table from him whilst her sister, Louisa, and her sister’s husband, Mr. Hurst, sat on either side of him. The only other addition to the party was his friend, Charles Bingley. Indeed, they enjoyed an evening reminiscent of their stay at Netherfield Park months earlier.
“Pray tell, Mr. Darcy, how did you find your stay at Latham Hall?”
“I always enjoy visiting my friend, Lord Latham, Miss Bingley.”
“His sister, is she as lovely as ever?” Caroline said. Not that she cared one fig about Lady Gwendolen. Caroline had a keen sense of detecting any woman who had Mr. Darcy in her sights. Darcy would be hard-pressed to pretend he did not notice. Any woman who dared to compete with her in that regard, she detested. How she must have bristled upon learning from Charles that Darcy had joined Lord Latham at his country estate for an extended visit.
“Lady Gwendolen is as she ever was.”
“How wonderful! Did she ask after me?”
Darcy raised a befuddled brow. “I beg your pardon?”
“I inquired if Lady Gwendolen asked after me.”
“I heard the question. I am confused about your purpose. Even if you and Lady Gwendolen were the best of friends, which I know you are not—I suspect you two are not even acquainted—why would she ask me about you?”
“One commonly receives enquiries on the well-being of one’s dearest acquaintances.” Darcy cringed inside as a result of the look she bestowed. “Are we not the dearest of acquaintances, Mr. Darcy?” She glanced about the gathering. “I venture our time spent in Hertfordshire made us the closest of friends.”
Lips pursed from embarrassment at her sister’s forward behaviour, Louisa looked to her husband to rescue the dinner discussion and found an oblivious attendee. He had not peered up from his dish the entire time.
She raised her glass. “I offer a toast to friendship.” All save her husband, even the reluctant guest of honour, lifted their glasses. Louisa cleared her throat. “Mr. Hurst!”
For the first time since they sat down to dinner, he gave notice to the others gathered around the table. More aggrieved from being diverted from his meal than embarrassed, he raised his near empty glass. “Yes, my dear. What are we toasting?”
“Caroline remarked on what great friends we became during our stay at Netherfield. We are toasting our friendship.”
“Yes, capital! To friendship.” He swallowed the deep burgundy wine in a single gulp and signalled the footman for a third refill.
“Speaking of friendships, Caroline, did you not mention Miss Eliza Bennet’s being in town?” Both Darcy and Bingley paused in anticipation of her response. Caroline glared at her sister, for she had obviously spoken out of turn. Darcy wondered how she planned to wiggle her way out of this one.
“May I remind you, dear sister, that I said I have it on good authority from someone in Hertfordshire claiming an acquaintance with me—as though such a thing were possible—that Eliza Bennet is in town? I have not had a chance to see her for myself.” Darcy wondered at her mastery of the art of deception.
Louisa’s perplexed expression soon relaxed. “Of course, you have not seen her, dear sister.”
Caroline smirked. “I dare say our paths will not cross given we do not enjoy the same society.”
“You have a point, dear sister.”
“Mr. Darcy, what say you? Do you expect we shall enjoy the same society as Eliza Bennet? I recall you thought rather fondly of her fine eyes for a time. You even danced with her during the Netherfield ball. She was the only young woman in Hertfordshire who received such a privilege. Perhaps you might enjoy the prospect of dancing with her again.”
“I know of Miss Elizabeth’s being in town.”
He saw how that bit of news rattled her, and he knew she would rack her poor brain trying to determine how he learned of Elizabeth’s being in London. Yet another thing for her to fixate upon.
Bingley sat poised on the edge of his chair. “You know this, Darcy? Have you seen her? Have you spoken with her?”
“Yes, Bingley, in response to each of your questions.”
“Why did you not mention this before? Is Miss Bennet in town, as well?”
“Miss Bennet remains in Hertfordshire,” Darcy said calmly.
“But Miss Elizabeth is in town. If she is in Cheapside, I think it might be a good thing to pay her a visit. What say you, Darcy?”
“Heaven forbid, Charles!” Caroline put her napkin aside. “What would be your purpose? Do you go around visiting all the country nothings you have come across in your travels merely because you discover they are in town?”
“I dare say Miss Elizabeth is hardly as you describe, Caroline. She is my neighbour.”
“No, Charles, she is the si
ster of the woman whose family meant to ensnare you. I believe you are the last person Eliza Bennet would wish to see. You know how fiercely protective she is of that family of hers, how shrewish she is. Why subject yourself to her ire?”
“What say you, Darcy?”
“You surely do not need my opinion on those whom you should or should not call upon, Bingley.”
“Do you intend to call upon her?”
“Charles, do not be absurd,” Louisa said. “Mr. Darcy in Cheapside! I am sure he would sooner set foot in purgatory.”
Darcy said nothing, having resolved to stay out of the affair. Bingley might act as he chose as regards visiting Elizabeth, though he prayed he would not. Despite Elizabeth's words to the contrary, he was not persuaded one bit that Jane had fallen in love with his friend on an acquaintance of a few weeks. If his friend found himself the victim of a conniving mama hell-bent on finding a rich husband for her eldest daughter, he would not have him to blame for his ensuing misfortune.
The memory of Elizabeth’s enchanting eyes, her lovely lips, her sweet voice, asking, almost begging him for what in her mind was a reasonable request inundated his thoughts. Yet, he would not even consider her entreaties. Not that he doubted his influence over Bingley. More that he suffered no belief in Miss Bennet’s sentiments. He had observed her at great length during their last evening at the Netherfield ball. He had detected no special regard on her part towards his friend. What he had observed was a mercenary mama and a malleable daughter. He had seen it before at other places, at other times. Scheming mamas, simpering single daughters, all aimed at his smitten young friend.
Settled in his carriage for a lonely ride to his home, Darcy’s thoughts returned to his sister’s account of her visit with Elizabeth in Cheapside. It would not do. A single night with her in his home had nearly caused him to toss every argument of reasonableness aside, every notion of familial obligations, and request her hand in marriage.
No. Darcy decided he had got the right of it. Better that he steered clear of Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
* * *
After dinner, everyone had retired to the Gardiners’ drawing room. The tea service was placed, and Mrs. Gardiner poured the first cup and handed it to Lady Susan. Her ladyship, an attractive, middle-aged woman, showed enormous pride in her late sister’s only daughter. By her own account, her niece had been such a godsend in the two years since her husband, Lord Townes, had passed away. In the little time she had spent with Elizabeth in her niece’s home that evening, she often expressed her appreciation of her niece’s deep affection for the younger woman.
“Have you given any thought to my request to spend time with you over the next few weeks?” Lady Susan said.
“I have thought of little else.”
“Then what say you?”
“I shall be delighted to be your companion. However, I should like to remain a guest in my aunt and uncle’s home.”
“I wish you would reconsider, though it shall be no inconvenience to have my carriage at your disposal.”
“You are exceedingly generous, your ladyship.”
“Indeed.” Mrs. Gardiner smiled at her favourite niece and her esteemed aunt. “Well, Lizzy, we have much to do if we are to procure the requisite gowns for your busy social calendar.”
“We have little time, my dear. I have accepted an invitation to the Langley Ball. It shall be my chance to introduce you to many of my friends. Fear not, you are sure to meet many pleasant young ladies of your own age. I intend for you to enjoy a glorious time.”
Lady Susan graced Mrs. Gardiner with a conspiratorial glance. “I would consider it so much the better if you should meet an agreeable young man in the process.”
* * *
Preparing for a ball has never been this time consuming. Elizabeth laid out the dress she had chosen for the evening. Even in a household of five daughters and a single maid between them, it did not take as long. Not that Elizabeth regretted her decision in accepting Lady Susan’s invitation. With luck, she might even encounter Mr. Bingley that evening.
Nor did she regret her decision to remain in Cheapside with her aunt and uncle rather than accept the invitation to be a guest in Lady Susan’s fashionable Mayfair establishment. Once she had accomplished her mission in ascertaining Mr. Bingley’s sentiments towards Jane, she planned to return to Longbourn forthwith.
Elizabeth picked up the emerald-green gown, walked over towards her mirror, and held it up to her slender frame. Her aunt and uncle had been generous in their purchases, but she would not take undue advantage of their kindness. Limiting the number of gowns she had chosen to five, she decided the addition of a shawl, well-placed laces, and various trims would stretch her wardrobe to last a few weeks. The gowns she had brought with her from home would have to suffice for other, informal occasions.
In due time, Lady Susan and Elizabeth stood at the top of the grand staircase at Langley House waiting to be announced. Elizabeth chided herself on her mixture of emotions.
This is ridiculous. I am not a schoolgirl, for heaven’s sake. I am nearly one and twenty. If only the flutter in her stomach would cease. When have I ever been this nervous?
Indeed, she was uneasy. This was her first occasion to attend such an elaborate soiree. How she wished she had Jane or her dearest friend, Charlotte, by her side.
Upon being announced, they descended the long staircase. Elizabeth wished for a glimpse of anyone she recognised, even Mr. Darcy. Well, no ... not Mr. Darcy. Perhaps Caroline? No, definitely not Caroline. Mr. Bingley? Yes, she prayed he would be in attendance.
Lady Susan interrupted Elizabeth’s revelry. “You must not worry, my dear. Everything will be fine. By the end of the evening, you will be the talk of the town.”
Elizabeth smiled nervously. The society of Hertfordshire pitted against the pomp of a London le bon ton social event, rendered her ill prepared for the evening. The number of single young women seeking husbands outnumbered the number of eligible gentlemen in attendance by three. Fortunately, Elizabeth was not to be counted amongst the former; husband hunting, at least for her own sake, was the last thing on her mind. Elizabeth’s priority, her greatest hope for the evening, was to encounter Mr. Bingley, with the express purpose of doing what she could to reunite him with her sister.
She suspected Lady Susan might be disappointed with her stance towards marriage. So would her mother, who had given her specific instructions on how to go about winning a husband. Not that Elizabeth begrudged her mother. She had a point. Elizabeth was not getting any younger, and unless she planned to be a spinster, she reckoned she had better start thinking of her own matrimonial prospects. Given the rather limited society in Hertfordshire as well as the fact that she knew every eligible gentleman there, and none, save one, held the slightest bit of interest to her, perhaps staying in London for the remainder of the Season would be in her best interests.
“Elizabeth, my dear, you must stop fretting.” Arms linked, Lady Susan and Elizabeth crossed the room to where the dowagers sat.
Soon a distinguished, elderly woman, the mistress of the grand home, joined them. “What a delight it is to see you this evening, my dear Susan. Is this the young lady about whom we have heard?”
“Indeed, Alexandria. I have the pleasure of introducing you to Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Hertfordshire. Elizabeth, meet Lady Langley.”
Elizabeth knew from an earlier discussion with her aunt that Lady Susan’s husband, the late Lord Townes, was Lady Alexandria’s cousin. Standing proud, a full head above Elizabeth, not counting her elaborate headdress, the Grand Dame observed Elizabeth with thinly disguised curiosity. Elizabeth’s courage rose under such scrutiny. She observed Elizabeth from head to toe and smiled, giving Elizabeth the impression that she had been judged and deemed acceptable.
“Welcome to our society, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I do hope you find everything to your liking.”
“I know I shall. Thank you for inviting me, your ladyship.”
Lady Sus
an looked about the exquisitely decorated ballroom. “Now, where is your dear niece? I am anxious to introduce Elizabeth to her, and I am sure Elizabeth is anxious to be amongst the younger ladies, not tucked away in a corner with me.”
“My niece is around here somewhere. Better we find her soon, for it will be quite the crush, and you know how she abhors crowds.” She turned to espy an exquisite young woman moving gracefully across the room in their direction.
“Here you are, my dear. Your timing is impeccable,” she said upon the young woman’s approach.
The younger aristocrat bowed graciously in deference to her elders. “Your ladyships.” Dressed in a blue satin gown, complete with brilliant sapphires rivalling her own cerulean blue eyes, she presented a remarkable sight.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet, I present to you my divine niece, Lady Gwendolen Helmsley.”
Both young ladies curtsied. “Miss Bennet, I am pleased to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine, your ladyship.”
“Wonderful! Would you care to join me for a glass of punch?”
“Yes, do not let us detain you. You two run along and enjoy yourselves.”
The two ladies crossed the room, enjoying light banter along the way.
“I trust you are enjoying yourself this evening, Miss Bennet.”
“With pleasure, your ladyship and please, you need only call me Miss Elizabeth.”
“Oh, I beg your pardon. Have you many sisters or just the one?”
“I have four sisters, your ladyship. Three are younger.”
“I am so terribly jealous, for you see, Miss Elizabeth, I have none. You must tell me about them.”
In the next moment, something diverted Lady Gwendolen’s attention. Her ladyship laced her arm through Elizabeth’s.
“Come, Miss Elizabeth. I wish to introduce you to someone who is rather special to me.” The two ladies continued to make their way across the room. There, in the doorway, he stood—tall, dashing, and richly attired in stark black and white.