Pride and Proposals

by Victoria Kincaid

  It was an odd sensation—to feel sorry for a man like Mr. Darcy. When Jane had married Charles Bingley, Mrs. Bennet’s demeanor had suggested a secure income would solve all their problems. However, Mr. Darcy did not appear to be carefree but just the opposite. The anguish she saw in his eyes the night before? She might not know its source, but it was real enough.

  Feeling sorry for Mr. Darcy. An event she never believed would come to pass. Perhaps the sun would rise in the west tomorrow, and pigs would fly. Elizabeth laughed a little at her own sense of whimsy.

  Idly admiring some gloves, Elizabeth recalled when she almost lost Richard’s townhouse. Mr. Darcy had come to her rescue. If only there were some way she could help him!

  How silly! What could Elizabeth Bennet from Longbourn do to help the master of Pemberley? But still, was it not incumbent on her to make the attempt? At least she could be a friend to him—just as she was to his sister.

  Even as the thought occurred to her, Elizabeth rejected it. Being friends with another woman was a simple matter. For an unmarried woman to be friends with an unmarried man … the rules of propriety would make it very difficult.

  Still …

  Elizabeth could not forget the idea that she must somehow help Mr. Darcy. The idea of being his friend was strangely appealing. He was often complicated and vexing, but recently, he had seemed to value her opinion and enjoy her company.

  Yes. She was resolved, despite the obstacles. To the extent propriety allowed, she would show Mr. Darcy her friendship and endeavor to help him through this difficult period in his life.

  When she visited Georgiana throughout the upcoming months, Elizabeth would see Mr. Darcy— and would do what she could to demonstrate her friendship.

  ***

  In preparation for tonight’s dinner, Darcy had taken exquisite care with his attire, even though it was a simple evening at home. Georgiana had invited Elizabeth; he would see her for the first time since he had made a drunken fool of himself three nights ago. He held little hope of redeeming himself in her eyes, but he must be a model of self-control and rectitude.

  Indeed, he was pleased Elizabeth seemed willing to still associate with Georgiana at all; if she was unsettled by his presence, Darcy was prepared to simply quit the room for the sake of her comfort. But the thought sent cold chills through his heart. Without the aid of large quantities of brandy, how would he survive another visit hiding from her? Even a temporary exile would be the worst punishment imaginable.

  You should have considered that before you got foxed, commented an angry voice at the back of his mind. He could offer no excuse. Despite knowing the possible consequences, he had indulged in self-pity and inebriation. He deserved any punishment he suffered.

  Except exile from Elizabeth.

  He adjusted his cravat, hoping the damn thing was still even. Fussing with it earlier had nearly driven his valet to distraction.

  No wine, no brandy, and particularly no port, he admonished himself as he strode down the hallway to the drawing room. Before reaching for the door knob, he braced himself. What would he find inside? Would she ignore him? Act cold and distant? Cutting? Swallowing hard, he opened the door.

  Elizabeth and Georgiana were seated together on a settee, their heads—dark and light—bent over a book. They looked up in unison as Darcy entered. His eyes darted directly to Elizabeth, fearing his reception. “Miss Bennet.” He nodded a greeting.

  “Mr. Darcy.” Her smile was warm enough to melt the dread surrounding his heart. Darcy released a relieved breath. Perhaps she had forgiven the incident in the hallway.

  “Elizabeth brought me a novel as a present!” Eyes shining with excitement, Georgiana held up the small brown book. “It is one of her favorites, but an author I have never read.”

  Relief swept through his body, making his knees weak. She does not hate us! “That is very thoughtful of you.” He attempted to convey his gratitude for her forgiveness in the warm look he returned to Elizabeth but feared he merely appeared pained.

  As he approached the settee, Elizabeth rose, watching him steadily. “The bookseller also had the latest volume of Mr. Wordsworth’s poetry. I remembered our lively conversations about his verses at Rosings, so I purchased it for you.” She held out a book that had been resting in her lap.

  Darcy extended his hand automatically to take the volume. His fingers closed about the book’s spine, savoring the texture and weight. She has given me a gift! “I-I thank you, Miss Bennet.” He was entirely too stunned to frame another response.

  Her eyes regarded him uncertainly. “You do not already own it?”

  “No, indeed. It is a most welcome addition to my library.” He stared in wonder at the slim blue book, feeling as if he held a miracle in his hand.

  “Very good.” She shot him another uncertain smile and settled herself once more beside Georgiana.

  Darcy got himself into a chair, only staggering slightly. He was utterly nonplussed. He had prepared for coldness and disdain, not warmth and generosity—as if he had braced himself for a blow that had never come.

  By the strict rules of propriety, he should decline a gift from an unmarried woman, but he had never been less inclined to follow the dictates of propriety. Refusing the gift would embarrass Elizabeth, and he had mortified her sufficiently for the week. Besides, the unassuming blue book had already become his favorite, and he had yet to open it.

  Elizabeth knew how improper her gesture was, yet here she had flaunted the accepted rules. Why? What was he to think? Could Elizabeth possibly be flirting with him?

  The thought caused his heart to beat a fast, relentless rhythm.

  However, as she discussed the novel with his sister, Elizabeth seemed only slightly aware of his presence. Hardly the behavior of a flirt. And the smile she had bestowed on him had been gentle, not at all coy or enticing.

  No, it would be presumptuous to think he had won her regard. He turned the book over in his hands, telling himself it was simply a friendly gesture. Elizabeth had purchased a book for Georgiana and had bought one for him as an afterthought. Darcy must not presume any other meaning.

  Elizabeth and Georgiana were no longer conversing; his sister was drinking her tea. Darcy seized the opportunity. “You are too kind to us, Miss Bennet.”

  She smiled at him, but her eyes quickly dropped to her lap. “It is you who have been kind to me. The friendship you and Georgiana have shown over these few months has been of immeasurable benefit during a difficult time.” Of course. She was speaking of Richard’s death. Darcy had almost managed to forget about Richard and his role in her life. How was that possible? “It is unfortunate that we did not have the opportunity to become cousins in truth,” Elizabeth said as she patted Georgiana’s hand. “You and Georgiana feel like members of my family—almost as if we are cousins.”

  Georgiana clasped Elizabeth’s hand. “Yes, indeed! We are quite like cousins, are we not William?” Unable to utter a word, Darcy merely nodded.

  The two women continued to speak, but Darcy did not attend to the conversation. Elizabeth viewed him as a cousin, akin to an older brother. The message could not be clearer, despite being unintentionally delivered.

  It was for the best. Nothing had changed. Although he still loved Elizabeth, he could never act on it. He would satisfy himself with being her honorary cousin. Compared to the fear that she would refuse the acquaintance, this was a delight, he reminded himself.

  Yes, honorary cousin was a great prize.

  Why did some part of him remained unconvinced?

  Chapter 10

  Darcy resisted the impulse to fuss with his cravat or yank at his cuffs. His ensemble was perfect; his valet had fussed over it for an hour. But his hands must be occupied; he pushed his fingers through his hair. Had he had disordered his valet’s careful arrangement? Guiltily, Darcy smoothed the locks into place. Next his fingers worried the edge of his hat where it rested on his knee.

  There was no helping it. His hands could not bear
to be idle.

  In the seat across, Georgiana remained stiffly erect, barely moving despite the swaying of the carriage. Her face was devoid of color; her hands twisted in endless circles in her lap. She was too terrified to fidget with her clothing or her hair, but she watched Darcy as if she longed to follow his example.

  The Darcys did not perform well to strangers.

  Tonight was the grandest performance of all: Georgiana’s coming out ball. The last few weeks had been a flurry of invitation lists, menu selections, and dress fittings. Georgiana had borne it without complaint, but with all the enthusiasm of a child presented with a plate of cold gruel. She relished the opportunities to purchase the latest fashions, but all other tasks were a burden.

  At least it would soon be behind them.

  Noticing his eyes on her, Georgiana gave him a tight smile, recognizing they were partners in anxiety. However, she did not know that Darcy’s anxiety did not spring at all from the ball itself. He was confident in his aunt’s arrangements; the event was bound to be a success.

  He was equally certain that Georgiana would perform very well. Although she did not share the easy manners and flirtatiousness of many girls her age, she was gracious and proper. She had practiced her dancing until it was flawless. Her conversation was appropriate, if a bit sparse. No one would find her lacking.

  No, Darcy’s mind fixated on Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Just today, she had put off her half-mourning colors. For the first time since his long ago visit to Meryton, Darcy could dance with her. The memory of their dance at Netherfield still haunted him, and he was determined to have another—or perhaps even two. Although he would never win her heart, he would allow himself this small pleasure.

  For one night, he would permit himself the fantasy that Miss Elizabeth Bennet was a woman he could pursue.

  Reality would reassert itself soon enough.

  Georgiana shivered, and Darcy chastised himself for neglecting his only sister. He leaned forward and wrapped his hand around both of hers. “Do not worry, dear heart. You will be brilliant.” Her smile was so brief he almost failed to note it. “Everyone will be charmed with your beauty and poise.”

  One side of her mouth quirked up. “I would be satisfied with not embarrassing myself by doing something like spilling lemonade on my dress or stepping on the Duke of Lennox’s toes.” Darcy laughed at this unexpected show of spirit. Elizabeth had helped her grow more confident in her own opinions.

  The carriage lurched to a stop. Any remaining color drained out of Georgiana’s face. Darcy gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before releasing it.

  “Courage, dear heart,” he murmured. She nodded stiffly, but as Darcy climbed out of the carriage he wondered if his words were really intended for her—or for himself.

  ***

  The room was bursting with women wearing silks or satins and dripping with jewels. The men wore the finest, best-cut suits Elizabeth had ever seen. She had attended a few balls with Richard, but nothing that could truly have been considered haute ton. This was, the Countess of Matlock had assured her, the premiere event of the Season—the occasion no one would dare miss. The size of the crowd suggested the countess had not been exaggerating. Most of the London ton seemed to be packed into the ballroom.

  The noise was quite deafening. The music was faint here, nearer the ballroom entrance, but the cacophony of conversation was overwhelming. Elizabeth and her Aunt Gardiner had withdrawn to a corner near the entrance, while her uncle fetched some lemonade. However, given the crush, she feared he might not return before the end of the week.

  “You were right,” she said as they surveyed the scene. Mr. Darcy had caused a minor row with the countess when he had insisted on inviting Elizabeth’s aunt and uncle, but he had prevailed.

  “Naturally!” Aunt Madeline said with a playful smile. “About what in particular?”

  “The gown. It was not an unnecessary extravagance.”

  “You look lovely,” her aunt said, raising her voice to be heard over the din. Elizabeth had not wished to spend extra money for the shop’s most expensive silk or lace. Although Richard had left Elizabeth a comfortable sum, she felt the need to be frugal.

  However, Elizabeth’s aunt had insisted the extravagance of the event required the best the shop had to offer. If Elizabeth had chosen a lesser fabric, she would have felt out of place in this august assembly.

  “That color becomes you,” Mrs. Gardiner observed. The gown was a pale yellow, which set off Elizabeth’s coloring. Having cast off her half-mourning only a week ago, she was still self-conscious about wearing any color. “I am sure many young men will be vying for your attention.”

  Elizabeth smoothed the curls over her forehead. “I fear you gravely overestimate my appeal.” Although her dress had cost an extraordinary amount, it was rather simple and plain compared to many of the extravagant creations worn by the other women in attendance. She pressed on a piece of lace at her neckline which refused to lie flat. It hardly signifies, she reminded herself. I am here because Georgiana invited me, not to impress anyone in attendance.

  “You do not believe any young men would be interested?” The tone of her aunt’s voice suggested she would not let this matter rest until Elizabeth had responded to her satisfaction.

  Elizabeth sighed, preferring to avoid the subject. The size of her dowry had always been an impediment to marriage, but Richard’s bequest had improved her financial situation greatly. Now that she was forced to think on the matter, she conceded that she might be considered a more desirable marital prospect.

  “You are a beautiful young woman,” her aunt continued.

  “I would not mind dancing, but I am not at all interested in entertaining suitors.” Elizabeth stared down at her gloved hands. Surely no one would expect her to seriously consider marriage so soon after Richard’s death, would they?

  “I understand, my dear.” Aunt Madeline’s voice was gentle and compassionate. “But you must contemplate it someday.”

  “Must I?” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Now that I have a measure of security … I do not know. Lately, the thought of living at Netherfield has held appeal.”

  “But, my dear, what about love?” Her aunt’s eyes were full of concern. “At such a young age, will you give up on finding love?”

  Elizabeth bit her lip, continuing to gaze at her hands. “Richard was such a dear companion. We were so alike, so well suited. I could never find another like him.”

  Her aunt considered this as she watched throngs of people jostle against and weave among one another. “Of course, you will not find another like him, but you might find another man you might love in a different way.”

  Elizabeth said nothing, not wishing to contradict her aunt. Instead, she allowed herself to be mesmerized by the dancers, whirling in a complicated pattern. She sighed a little. She did dearly love to dance.

  “Someone will ask you to dance, Lizzy,” her aunt said. “I am certain.”

  “I am acquainted with very few people here.”

  “At least you can dance with your uncle.”

  “Of course.” Elizabeth thought of her uncle’s indifferent dancing skills.

  “Miss Bennet!”

  Elizabeth turned at the unexpected sound of her name. Mr. Darcy had pushed his way through the crush to reach them. Had he actually braved the crowds to seek her out?

  She curtsied, and he bowed. However, now that he stood before her, he seemed to have forgotten why he had hailed her. He was regarding her seriously, his mouth slightly open. “Did you require my assistance, Mr. Darcy?” she prompted.

  “Yes, yes. Of course!” Mr. Darcy shook himself from his reverie. “Georgiana has been asking after you every five minutes. I finally undertook the commission to discover your whereabouts.”

  She suppressed an inexplicable sense of disappointment he had not sought her out to ask her to dance. “I did not think Georgiana would need me here! I cannot assist in the selection of dance partners. Your aunt�
�”

  Mr. Darcy interrupted with a smile. “Georgiana wishes your help with those things my aunt cannot assist her with. The countess can be … insistent. And of course, the ball itself is overwhelming.”

  “Of course. I did not realize!” Elizabeth was mortified. Did he believe she had abandoned her friend in her time of need? Was he angry?

  “I understand. So, I sought you out.” His tone was conciliatory. “May I escort you to my sister?” He waved his hand toward the front of the room.

  “Yes, of course.”

  Mr. Darcy extended the invitation to her Aunt Gardiner, but she decided to wait for her husband’s return before joining her niece. Darcy offered his arm, and together they made slow progress through the crowd.

  Perhaps it was Darcy’s height or his forbidding manner— or simply because many guests recognized him—but he fought through the crush far more easily than Elizabeth had earlier. Soon they reached their destination. Standing with their niece, the earl and countess had also put off their half-mourning and were resplendent in their finery. However, they could not outshine Georgiana, who wore a lovely white silk gown embroidered with small pink roses.

  Elizabeth smiled at Georgiana, proud of how beautiful and poised she appeared. Embracing the younger woman, she kissed her cheeks and exclaimed over her dress. Georgiana immediately commenced a long soliloquy about the ball and her dance partners. The gleam in Georgiana’s eye warmed Elizabeth’s heart; although Darcy’s sister was obviously nervous, she was also finding pleasure in the event. In fact, Elizabeth’s primary usefulness seemed to be lending an ear to Georgiana’s concerns and effusions.

  Georgiana was soon carried away by her next dance partner. Elizabeth noticed someone standing at her elbow. Turning, she discovered Lord Kirkwood, Richard’s friend. “Lord Kirkwood!” she exclaimed happily. He had been a tremendous help to her in the days following Richard’s death.