When Mr. Darcy Met Lizzy

by Mary-Anne Seaton

  To this opened faced self deceit- for that was what Elizabeth could allude this disbelief of Mr. Wickham’s opinion- Elizabeth had no means of convincing her sister, but she had convinced herself of her opinions and there was scarce anything to be done to change her mind.

  Mr. Bingley and his sisters paid a visit to Longbourn as she and Jane were discussing this issue and Elizabeth saw the light find its way to her sister’s eyes at the visit. What her sister ever saw in the two Bingley women as to call them her friends was beyond Elizabeth- for their visit to Longbourn further displayed their superciliousness and haughty disdain of her family. The sisters particularly avoided any conversation with Mrs. Bennet who was too busy attending Mr. Bingley with her favours to care for them either; they also were reserved with Elizabeth in their address and would not deign to open their mouths to utter a word to the rest. Only to Jane were they the epitome of graciousness and friendliness, expressing how they missed her company so and hoping for her appearance at the ball.

  Mr. Bingley, however, was worthy of compensation for his sisters’ slight. While giving his principal attention to Jane, he addressed the purpose of their visit to the whole family without a single air of superciliousness in his speech as opposed to every word that fell off the lips of his sisters. “It is my pleasure to invite your delectable presences to Netherfield for the very much sought after ball.” Here, he looked meaningfully at Jane who gasped in delight. “It will be my utmost felicity to have the entire household attend the ball.”

  In his address, none could find a fault and even Mr. Bennet smiled in agreement when Mrs. Bennet exclaimed how fine a gentleman he was both during their presence in the house and long after they were gone.

  Upon the departure of the party, the Bennet family gave way to the excitement about the impending ball and began to prepare for it in a variety of ways that can only be had in the Bennet household that one would be disposed to think it was the first ball of the season. Even Mr. Collins, whom Elizabeth prevailed upon to give his verdict on the dance, was not disinclined towards it- much to her surprise.

  “I am by no means of the opinion,” he said most willingly, “I assure you, that a ball of this kind, given by a young man of character, to respectable people, can have any evil tendency; and I am so far from objecting to dancing myself, that I shall hope to be honoured with the hands of all my fair cousins in the course of the evening; and I take this opportunity of soliciting yours, Miss Elizabeth, for the two first dances especially, a preference which I trust my cousin Jane will attribute to the right cause, and not to any disrespect for her.”

  Immediately, Elizabeth realized the graveness of her error in asking him the question for she had fancied in her head, pictures of herself and Mr. Wickham dancing those dances Mr. Collins asked for. Short of expressing herself rudely, she saw no other course to take but to graciously grant him the request and make space for Mr. Wickham in subsequent dances. With the acceptance, however, came the thought that there was more to the request. With careful study of her cousin, thenceforth, she saw that he paid more attention to her than he did the rest. She thought, therefore, that he must think to, through her, fulfill his wishes for an atonement of inheriting the estate to herself and her sisters upon her father’s death. Her mother, on her part, never failed to suggest as only she could without adequate verification that she was agreeable to the match should the proposal be anytime made. Elizabeth consoled herself with the intelligence that the proposal was not yet made and very well might never be made.

  *****

  The day of the dance came- though the Bennet ladies had hitherto despaired that it would not for it had rained an awful lot from the day after the invitation which was a Friday all through Monday that they had all thought that Tuesday was at a peril of the rain’s unceasing assault. However, by some fate which at last consented to smile upon Hertfordshire, Tuesday dawned bright and clear; and but for the large puddles that filled the roads, there was naught amiss to grieve over in attending the ball.

  Only a quarter of an hour of arriving at Netherfield informed Elizabeth- and Lydia- that Mr. Wickham was not one of the guests at the ball and this increased her irk at Mr. Darcy for she knew that somehow, he was responsible for the nonappearance of the man. It was thus with some despondency that she danced with Mr. Collins; who was by far the most unpleasant dancer she had ever had the misfortune to dance with. Her mood began to gain some semblance of improvement when the dance was over with him and she was with her friend Charlotte Lucas.

  She thought the moment as good as any to ask her friend how she fared about the matter and gave voice to the thought that was uppermost in her mind at present.

  “Charlotte, I know of the pain it gives you to mention him,” she began with care, “but I must ask- how have you fared thus far and I do hope that he has not been paying any more attentions to yourself.”

  A blush crept slowly upon her friend’s face but her expression was grave and steady when she answered; “No- he has not been paying any sort of attention to me that anybody would find it hard to believe that we are acquainted in the least. And as to how I fare, I can only say that I have mended as well I can- thanks to you my dearest Eliza; and thoughts of him are far from my mind.”

  Since the reply so given was exactly what Elizabeth wanted to hear, she could have no quarrel with it, but she felt some underlying bitterness in her friend’s voice and made to comment upon it when Mr. Darcy appeared in front of her. He, after the exchange of civilities (which Elizabeth had heretofore avoided in silent disdain over what she perceived as Mr. Darcy’s fault for Wickham’s absence at the ball) requested for her hand at the next dance. So surprised was she that she gave her consent and instantly regretted it, even as he turned away to await the termination of the current dance.

  At the continuation of the dance, she found herself in his hands with a silence hovering over their heads as dark as the night sky. She had a feeling that he judged her in his mind; and that the dance was requested only to mock her for knowing what he presumed to be her waywardness of character from their first meeting. Since she had already decided that his opinion of her was of no consequence with her, she allowed the silence to prevail. No quarrel had she with it anyway- he was a man she highly disproved of and dancing with him was the height of all mortification for her. She could only now be grateful that Mr. Wickham was not at the ball to witness her disloyalty and of which she reminded herself that she would not have accepted Darcy’s hand were Wickham to be present and that it was Darcy’s fault that Wickham was not. Unable to think of a more befitting punishment for the man whom- she had to acknowledge danced exceedingly well, she decided that a conversation might serve the exact purpose since he so evidently abhorred it. Her comment about the dance elicited but a short response to which she responded tartly that it was expected to converse during the course of a dance. This brought on a small argument till Darcy asked;

  “Would you and your sisters be so inclined to thither to Meryton often times?”

  Though the question was totally unanticipated, she found in it an opening to discuss Wickham and gladly answered that: “Yes, they did,” and that: “When you met us there the other day, we had just been forming a new acquaintance.”

  To her comment, Mr. Darcy responded in a violent change of disposition and: “Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends. Whether he may be equally capable of retaining them is less certain.”

  Quite unable to help herself, Elizabeth said most sardonically, “He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all his life.”

  In that moment, Sir William Lucas interrupted their dance on his way to the other side of the room, and with a low bow to Darcy commented: “I have been most highly gratified indeed, my dear sir,” said he. “Such very superior dancing is not often seen. It is evident that you belong to the first circles. Allow me to say, however, that your fair partner does not disgrace yo
u, and that I must hope to have this pleasure often repeated, especially when a certain desirable event, my dear Eliza, shall take place. What congratulations will then flow in! I appeal to Mr. Darcy. But let me not interrupt you, sir. You will not thank me for detaining you from the bewitching converse of that young lady, whose bright eyes are also upbraiding me.”

  Indeed Elizabeth was looking at her friend’s father with none so praising eyes for the unsolicited comment he made most particularly about Jane and Bingley. She loathed to impress on Darcy, any thoughts towards the anxiety over his friend’s and her sister’s inclination towards each other, but it seemed, alas, that Darcy already had his mind on the exact thoughts she feared.

  Well, things will be as things are wont to be.

  Darcy’s fixation on the other couple was short lived, however, for he soon bestowed her with his intense dark gaze.

  “Sir William's interruption has made me forget what we were talking of,” said he to her with a frown on his brows.

  In her mind, far removed from what he said but with her ears working well enough, Elizabeth wondered how a man so tall and handsome could have such pride, disdain and the lowliest of character in him- his very existence on earth was beyond her. Elizabeth therefore concluded in her mind, that beauty surely was not all that there was to a personality. This decided, she realized that he had said something to her of which merited her answer. With a silent rebuke of herself for the unsought admiration of his form, Elizabeth hastened to call her mind to order lest he realized that she made no answer to his address- she thus replied:

  "I do not think we were speaking at all. Sir William could not have interrupted two people in the room who had less to say for themselves,” she said, weary already of engaging him in a converse that would only lead to a dispute in opinions.

  The man kept his reserve and they each allowed the music to lead their steps in the dance, embracing the silence, but it so fell on Elizabeth to disturb the silence that she herself had encouraged.

  “I remember hearing you once say, Mr. Darcy, that you hardly ever forgave; that your resentment once created was unappeasable.”

  Her statement was unpremeditated and it appeared that Mr. Darcy was taken in by the abruptness of it for he gazed down at her with such rapt focus. Disconcerted by his attention but for a brief moment, Elizabeth continued:

  “You are very cautious, I suppose, as to its being created.”

  “I am.”

  His affirmation spoke of certainty in his belief. However, she was hard pressed to continue in the new train of thoughts that her mind had unwittingly set her upon.

  “And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?” she asked of him.

  Here, there was a small pause that she was about to repeat the question when he replied.

  “I hope not.”

  She paused here and looked directly upon his gaze before she impacted on him her next words.

  “Then, wouldn’t you rather say; say that it is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion, to be secure of judging properly at first,” she said in an emphatic manner.

  Mr. Darcy’s nostrils widened at her words, but other than that, she had no manner of gaining intelligence for the next words that fell from his mouth.

  “If you speak of a certain night at a particular tavern in Meryton, I daresay that there can be no further affirmation to be had by seeking further intelligence- the situation was one that spoke for itself, does it not?” he said coldly.

  “Indeed, it does,” she answered in equal measure of coldness and said no more.

  He had claimed to be of little prejudice but he was highly flawed in that regard. By his speech, he had condemned her to be a sinner with no redemption. With no effort made towards securing the truth of the matter, in his eyes, she will always be the woman he found in the tavern. She saw no way to influence him out of this conviction and even if there were, she would not deign to fix his opinions of her already.

  She said no more, and they went down the other dance whither they parted in silence. Elizabeth examined her feelings about the man with some reserve as she stood at the exact area where she and Charlotte had been standing before Mr. Darcy came to claim her for the dance. She wished to continue her discussion with her friend but since Charlotte was nowhere to be found, she was left at the mercy of her thoughts.

  Elizabeth resolved that she would no more deceive herself than anyone else. Despite her misgivings about the man, something in him still attracted her. However, Elizabeth was sensible enough to know that her attraction was close to that of a moth to a flame- it would scald her should she hearken to its call.

  Mrs. Bennet was standing close to some ladies to Elizabeth’s right and she could hear the content of their discourse- it principally centred on the probability of a wedding in Netherfield between Mr. Bingley and Jane; to which Mrs. Bennet most audaciously engaged and delighted in- much to her daughter’s chagrin who was listening in embarrassed silence. Elizabeth was of the opinion that so much talk about the wedding when there was not even a proposal in place yet, would cast the evil eye on the budding affair. Casting her gaze about the party of women, she could perceive that many of them were none too happy with the news, but the congratulations poured in nonetheless.

  Lady Lucas in particular looked peeved and sought to change the subject matter. “Did you hear that the Lawrences are quitting Garywood?” she asked.

  Her statement was news to Elizabeth herself and she saw the interest of the group stirred- even Mrs. Bennet could not deign to be irritated at the change in subject because she dearly loved a good tale. Elizabeth, however, had lost interest in the women for the intelligence about the Lawrences quitting their home, Garywood (which was just north of Lucas Lodge) was of utmost importance- especially to Charlotte. Perhaps it was a reason that none of the family was at the ball, Elizabeth surmised. Immediately, she began to seek her friend from the people in the room when her sister came upon her. She had come to give Elizabeth the news that she had gained its intelligence about Darcy and Wickham from none other than Mr. Bingley himself. This new intelligence thus overthrew the old and Elizabeth stood with Jane to listen.

  “Mr. Bingley does not know the whole of his history,” began Jane, “and is quite ignorant of the circumstances which have principally offended Mr. Darcy; but he will vouch for the good conduct, the probity, and honour of his friend, and is perfectly convinced that Mr. Wickham has deserved much less attention from Mr. Darcy than he has received; and I am sorry to say by his account as well as his sister's, Mr. Wickham is by no means a respectable young man. I am afraid he has been very imprudent and has deserved to lose Mr. Darcy's regard.”

  Jane’s address was very nonsensical to Elizabeth’s hearing and she would have told her so if she hadn’t mentioned Mr. Bingley’s name in accompaniment of the information.

  “Mr. Bingley does not know Mr. Wickham himself?” she deemed fit to ask since the information reeked of bias.

  “No; he never saw him till the other morning at Meryton,” replied Jane.

  “This account then is what he has received from Mr. Darcy,” she concluded on a sagely nod and with such clear statement, Jane could harbour no resentment. “I am satisfied,” professed Elizabeth. “But what does he say of the living?”

  “He does not exactly recollect the circumstances- though he has heard them from Mr. Darcy more than once,” Jane replied without hesitation, “but he believes that it was left to him conditionally only.”

  But of course, he would. Would one have a cause to doubt a friend? Thought she.

  “I have not a doubt of Mr. Bingley's sincerity,” Elizabeth declared to her sister; “but you must excuse my not being convinced by assurances only. Mr. Bingley's defense of his friend was a very able one, I dare say; but since he is unacquainted with several parts of the story, and has learnt the rest from that friend himself, I shall venture to still think of both gentlemen as I did before."

  And she did exactly
just that; very much to Jane’s chagrin.

  ****

  In all truthfulness, Fitzwilliam could acknowledge that the ball was not so worst as he would have anticipated. Though Charles had suggested it many a time that he could seek his bed prior to the commencement of the ball, Fitzwilliam saw no need for it except that it would only fuel the conception that he was pride and disdaining of meeting with the people of Hertfordshire. The conception in itself had no disturbance with him; it was not for him to care about what people said behind his back and thus, he found himself with no reason for the special attentions he had paid to his toilette- such that even his valet was veritably surprised at the dark blue cravat he had him tie around his neck when he hitherto had never worn one.

  His gaze had sought out the one person he had chagrined it not to observe as soon as her family was admitted by an announcement into the drawing room. As he observed her, a tight constriction had appeared in his eyes that only disappeared after a cough or two- of which Bingley persevered in openly looking at him with a little smile on his face. He had ignored his friend in favour of turning his gaze back from whence it came. Elizabeth Bennet was dressed in what Caroline or Louisa might call ‘simple’ or ‘unfashionable’ but she carried her dress well. Her dress was of scarlet- in a shade not much unlike those of the officers but it was befitting on her form and the wide square neckline showed the perfection of her skin. A circlet of twisted silk material in conformity with the scarlet of her gown encircled her hair and her dark curls fell in ringlets upon her temple, framing her lovely eyes and bestowing on them, the appearance of mystery. Hers was a mystery he yearned to unravel, despite his many attempts to keep himself away from her.

  In the end, he had walked to her and asked her hand in a dance; and he had so surprised her and himself that her answer was rendered positively without hesitation. His retreat had been swift lest she changed her mind. For the entire duration of the dance, his mind had been occupied with how easily she fit into his hand and he had waged a silent dispute in his head in an attempt to figure out who his companion truly was. His silent reflections had done him no good in her favour- and neither did his speech for that matter.