by Jann Rowland
“Then what do you propose?”
“I thought it was clear,” replied Fitzwilliam. “I have been calling on you, speaking, sharing of myself, and seeking to understand you better in turn. Is that not the purpose of these courting rituals? The fact that I have your father’s blessing truly only smooths my way and in no way sets the matter in stone.”
“And if you propose and I reject your suit?”
“Then I believe we will have nothing further to discuss.” Fitzwilliam returned her steady look. “Really, Lady Emily, I would have thought this much would be evident. Your father is not trying to force you into anything with me, nor am I. You are an estimable young woman—of that I am aware. What I do not know is if we are compatible. That is what I hope to discover. The question is, whether you wish it. If you do not, then I will not bother you again.”
Lady Emily sighed and turned away, her gaze far away. Her father looked up at that moment and caught Fitzwilliam’s eye, and though Fitzwilliam could see some concern in the older gentleman, he shook his head, asking him not to intervene. The earl gave him an almost imperceptible shrug and turned back to his book, though he remained watchful.
“My behavior has not been the best,” said Lady Emily. “I acknowledge that. I have been engaged in much reflection these past days, and I have discovered things about myself I do not like.”
“We are all less than perfect, Lady Emily,” said Fitzwilliam. “We all fall short of the mark.”
“But we will never improve if we do not reflect and strive to do better.”
“That I cannot deny. But I did not speak to you to demand your improvement or to shame you in any way. You are already an estimable woman, and I think highly of you.”
Lady Emily turned to him and regarded him for several moments before speaking. He thought she seemed a little annoyed, though whether it was his presence, her father’s presumption, or something else which was promoting it, he could not be certain. She did not seem to be opposed to his attentions, but Fitzwilliam could not determine it. But if she did not wish for him to continue to visit her, he would not impose upon her.
“Very well,” replied she at last. “But I give no promises at present.”
“I am not asking for a promise. We shall take it slowly, and whatever comes of it, so be it.”
The lady nodded and then turned away. Fitzwilliam was feeling oddly relieved. Though he was still unable to determine his own wishes, it seemed he was not indifferent to her. It would be an interesting time, he was certain.
Chapter XXXI
Elizabeth’s second assembly in Derbyshire was different from her first. Being a known and accepted member of society was one difference, the result of which was her increased confidence upon entering the room and being a more frequently sought after dance partner. The other difference was, of course, her engagement to William with whom she was to partner for the first dance. She had not known what a rare occurrence this was until Colonel Fitzwilliam informed her.
“I have a burning desire to see the tumult your dance with Darcy will bring,” said the colonel as they were standing to the side of the dance floor soon after their arrival. William had been detained by some acquaintance, and thus she was nominally alone with Colonel Fitzwilliam, the other members of hers and the Pemberley parties standing not far distant.
“Why should it be of any great interest?” asked Elizabeth. No one knew of their engagement, so she was not certain how William’s dancing with her—which he had done at the first assembly—should interest the gossips of the neighborhood.
“Because Darcy never dances the first.”
Elizabeth turned to Colonel Fitzwilliam, noting his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Never?”
“I believe you have heard of how Darcy has been hounded by unmarried ladies and their mothers since receiving his inheritance?” When Elizabeth indicated she had, Colonel Fitzwilliam continued: “Because of this, he has made it a practice to never dance the first with anyone to avoid giving any young lady any indication of preference. He also never dances twice with the same lady.”
“Both of which he will do tonight,” said Elizabeth, a hint of trepidation building in her stomach.
“Exactly.” Colonel Fitzwilliam’s eyes darted to where Miss Bingley stood near her brother and Jane. “It will also be intriguing to see Miss Bingley’s reaction to your first dance, not to mention the second. Every time he attends a function with her, she becomes less subtle in her attempts to induce him to stand up with her for the sets which you possess. I would not be surprised to see fireworks from the woman.”
Miss Bingley was, Elizabeth noted with absent-minded interest, not behaving as she had during the functions in Hertfordshire. During those, her barely concealed contempt and overt arrogance had not made her many friends. Here, however, where there were attendees of a higher station, she was acting as if she belonged in such company, her bearing suggesting confidence, yet restraint. But the way her eyes often darted to where William still stood, the hungry look in her eyes, like a wolf, starving on a diet of field mice, spoke to her continuing ambitions.
“Poor Miss Bingley,” said Elizabeth, not feeling sorry for the woman in the slightest.
“Poor Miss Bingley, indeed,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, laughing under his breath. “You must concede she is a most deserving recipient of the set-down she is likely to receive should she rise above herself tonight.”
“Rise above herself?” asked Elizabeth. “By my account, she has already climbed the heights of conceit.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed. “I believe you are correct, Miss Bennet.”
At that moment, a Mr. Smallwood, one of the gentlemen of the neighborhood with whom Elizabeth shared an acquaintance, approached and asked her for the first dance.
“I am sorry, sir, but my first dance is already taken, as are the next four.”
“I see,” said Mr. Smallwood, with an expressive glance at Colonel Fitzwilliam, which was returned by means of a grin. Elizabeth did not quite understand why were amused. “You are a popular partner, it seems. In that case, if I might, I should like to secure your first available dance.”
“You may, sir. I would be happy to dance with you.”
Mr. Smallwood thanked her and after bowing, he departed. Elizabeth turned back to Colonel Fitzwilliam and fixed him with a stern glare.
“I should like to know the reason for the byplay between you and Mr. Smallwood, sir.”
“It is quite simple, Miss Bennet,” replied the colonel, his readiness to respond proof he was enjoying himself. “Smallwood understands Darcy has been calling on you, and the purpose of his request was to see if you were engaged for the first dance. I believe he has his answer.”
“But I might be dancing the first with my father!” exclaimed Elizabeth. “I will dance the second with him.”
“Ah, but even if you danced the second with Darcy, it would be tantamount to dancing the first, given your father is in attendance. Your dances with me, Bingley, and Edward do not signify nearly so much, given Darcy’s known attentions. I doubt there will be anyone in attendance who is not aware of your engagement by the end of the evening, even if you have not announced it by then.”
Then with a smirk and a bow, Colonel Fitzwilliam turned and departed. Elizabeth watched him go, wondering at his temerity, until the sound of a most welcome voice interrupted her thoughts.
“Is Fitzwilliam being his usual insolent self?”
Elizabeth turned back to her fiancé and favored him with a smile. “Nothing more than usual. In fact, I find his observations to be amusing, and often quite correct.”
“He does have his uses,” said William.
With a laugh, Elizabeth touched William’s arm and said in a fond tone: “I suppose he does.”
Before they could exchange any further words, the screech of a high-pitched voice interrupted them, and a flurry of pastel green skirts forced their way in between Elizabeth and Wil
liam.
“Oh, Mr. Darcy, what a wonderful locale this is! I dare say I have not seen anything to compare with Lambton for its quaintness and all of Derbyshire for beauty.” Miss Bingley directed a scathing glance at Elizabeth. “It is certainly more beautiful than many other places I have recently seen, and the people here are more cultured, better bred, and quite obliging.”
“I am happy you approve of our little corner of the kingdom, Miss Bingley,” replied William with that exaggerated patience Elizabeth had noted in his tone every time he was forced to speak with her.
“Who could not approve? I doubt there is anywhere which could hope to compare with it. I believe Derbyshire to be the best of all counties, and one where, if one is privileged to live, one would scarcely wish to leave it again.”
“I believe you have stated my opinion quite succinctly, Miss Bingley.”
Miss Bingley beamed at Mr. Darcy, as if he had just told her she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. “I believe the evening is about to start, sir. I so love to dance, and I am anticipating partnering with the best society has to offer.”
Forced to stifle a laugh, Elizabeth put her hand before her face, wondering at the woman’s utter lack of tact and delicacy. She clutched William’s arm in a grip which might have been made of steel, and the impression she gave was of a sprig of mistletoe, hung from the ceiling at Christmastide. Should he raise his arm above his head, Elizabeth was certain she would hang off it, much like the aforementioned parasite.
“Then I wish you well in it,” replied William. He gently disengaged Miss Bingley’s claws from his arm—or as gently as one could, considering her tight grip—and approached Elizabeth. “Miss Bennet, the music for the first set has begun. I believe this is my dance.”
“Of course, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth, laying her hand in his.
As he was leading her to the dance floor, past Miss Bingley, Elizabeth could see the utter shock on her countenance. But before she was out of sight, Miss Bingley’s expression descended to utter rage like the sun falling past the horizon. She had always been at odds with Miss Bingley, ever since their first meeting. But the look on the lady’s face suggested that whatever enmity they had possessed had now blossomed into full hatred. “That was smoothly done, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth, as they began the steps of the dance.
“Less smoothly than it could have been.” William grimaced and shot a glance at the fuming woman. “In the past, I would dance with her, if only to do my duty to my good friend’s sister. But I think tonight I will not even do that much. I have done everything short of telling her to her face that I am not interested in her, but still she persists.”
“While I pity the woman, I do not blame you, sir.” Elizabeth laughed. “I also do not blame her for fixing her sights on you, though her actions are irksome. You are quite the catch, if I do say so myself.”
“If her motives were as pure as yours, I would agree. But she has nothing more than wealth, status, and a life of ease in mind.”
“Then I would add the crime of not knowing you to the list of her offenses. I have seen you work very hard, indeed, when necessary.”
“But she only sees parties, balls, being looked on with envy—the trappings of wealth. I am only the means to an end.”
“Poor, William,” replied Elizabeth, fixing him with a saucy smile. “To be chased after for such things must be a blow to your manly pride.”
William grinned back. “I am counting on you, my dear, to put an end to such things. I cannot imagine a better woman to forever remove me from consideration from all fortune hunters.”
“I will do my best.”
Their immediate playful banter having run its course, Elizabeth turned her attention to those about her. There were many in attendance, and most of her friends were to be found on the dance floor dancing with those of the neighborhood. Jane was engaged with her husband, not far away, and Olivia danced with Edward, which brought a smile to Elizabeth’s lips. The siblings had grown closer since she had arrived.
Of note, however, and to Elizabeth’s surprise, she noticed Colonel Fitzwilliam dancing with Lady Emily, and wondered at it. She turned back to Darcy, noting his knowing look.
“I see you have seen my cousin and Lady Emily.”
“I did, indeed, Mr. Darcy. Have there been any developments of which I am not aware?”
“There is nothing official, but Fitzwilliam has been calling on Lady Emily, with her father’s approval, I might add. I do not know if Fitzwilliam’s intentions have grown over time, but they do seem to be rather comfortable in each other’s company.”
Surprised, Elizabeth turned her attention on the couple, and she could immediately see what William had suggested. Colonel Fitzwilliam spoke with his usual animation, and though Lady Emily responded with much more reserve, as was her custom, she did not seem unhappy with his company. Elizabeth was unsure what to think. The residue of anger over Lady Emily’s callous actions had been washed away, replaced by a sort of indifference to the woman. She was not certain a friendship could ever be re-established.
“Then I wish him the best,” said Elizabeth. “It seems to me there may be some benefit to such an arrangement—on both sides, actually.”
“I agree,” replied William. “But I do not think he will propose unless he is assured of affection between them.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Either way, I hope he finds what he is searching for. He is a good man, and I think highly of him.”
“As do I,” replied William. The subject was then dropped, and they spent the rest of the dance, alternating between comfortable silence, in which their eyes rarely left the other’s, and playful banter.
Caroline Bingley was displeased. In fact, she was more than displeased. She was furious with that . . . that . . . chit!
This stay at Pemberley was to be Caroline’s crowning glory and achievement, and she had waited more than long enough for it. Mr. Darcy was reticent. He was careful and patient. He was sober and serious. She understood all these things about him, but enough was enough. He was also wealthy. He was of the first circles. He possessed connections to the peerage. In short, he was everything Caroline had ever desired in a husband, and she had no intention of losing him to some upstart country miss with more impertinence than sophistication!
Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Oh, how Caroline hated that name! She had loathed the woman from the first time she had met her, and the intervening months had only increased her disdain. Jane was, because of her pliant nature, somewhat tolerable, though Caroline still railed against her brother’s infatuation which had led him to attach himself to a most unsuitable woman. But Eliza was too much to be borne.
Worse, it seemed the chit had somehow managed to fool Mr. Darcy into thinking that she was a respectable woman, one who was worthy of receiving the attentions of a man who was as wealthy and high in society as Mr. Darcy. Caroline could not account for such blindness, but there it was. She had not wanted to believe it, but the talk at the assembly was rife with the attentions he had paid to her the last weeks. In particular, one conversation had caught Caroline’s attention.
“I see Mr. Darcy continues his attentions to Elizabeth.”
Fuming as she was over Mr. Darcy’s snub and how he had subsequently escorted Eliza to the dance floor, Caroline almost missed the comment. Careful to keep her composure, she turned slightly to where two young women were standing nearby, watching the dancers. They were both dressed well, though not overly lavishly, and while both might be deemed pretty, Caroline did not think either was anything special—certainly nothing to herself on that evening.
“As he has every time we have seen them together. I am happy for her—she is a good friend and will make him a good wife.”
“I think you may be putting the cart before the horse, Clara. Nothing has been announced yet.”
“Oh, pish tosh. I would be very surprised to learn they are not already engaged.”
“Per
haps, but she would not wish it to be spread about until it is official.”
The other first young lady—Clara—laughed. “She is a rare breed. If I were the recipient of Mr. Darcy’s attentions, I would be spreading it far and wide as soon as may be!”
“Which is likely why it is she who is the happy recipient, rather than you. Mr. Darcy knows she will do nothing of the sort.”
“I think you may be right, Deborah. But I am happy for her nonetheless.”
While Caroline did not put much stock in this talk of engagements, it was still worrying nonetheless. Caroline had supreme confidence in her own abilities, and she knew that Eliza Bennet, though she might fancy herself clever, would never be a match for Caroline Bingley. It was clear Mr. Darcy needed a reminder of who was the superior woman by society’s standards. And Caroline meant to remind him of it.
If it had not been so very pathetic, it might almost have been amusing. As Elizabeth moved through her succession of dances with her various partners, she watched Miss Bingley and her attempts to induce William to dance with her. Unfortunately for her, William remained impervious to whatever dubious charms she possessed, though that did not seem to cause her the slightest pause.
“Oh, Mr. Darcy,” exclaimed she after a particularly lively dance, “how well you dance. It seems to me you are dancing far more often than usual.”
“I am much more comfortable in Derbyshire society than I am in London, Miss Bingley,” replied William.
From what Elizabeth remembered of her first assembly here, it was nothing less than the truth—Mr. Darcy was dancing with greater frequency. But where Miss Bingley could only see the number of times he stood up, Elizabeth noted that he danced with Olivia and Jane, and then had begun to ask some of Elizabeth’s friends in the area for dances, knowing they were already aware of his attentions to Elizabeth, and that they would not expect anything more from him.
“These are your particular friends, so it is not surprising. I dare say you have known most of these ladies for some years.”