Particular Intentions

by L. L. Diamond

  December 7th 1811

  Elizabeth stared, bewildered at her surroundings upon entering the opulent hall. Gilded mirrors and enormous portraits hung upon the wall, a large bouquet of roses and other out of season flowers was set upon a shiny mahogany table in the middle of the room, and marble tiled floors gleamed in the candlelight.

  What sort of friend had her uncle made?

  Uncle Edward’s arm pulled her closer as he stepped forward in the queue to greet the hosts of the event. By the looks of the carriages and the crowd inside, the ball would be a tremendous crush. She had never attended an affair such as this, and the idea caused a frisson of excitement as well as trepidation. How would those in attendance treat her? Would they be rude since she was not a part of high society or would they be curious?

  As they made their way to the ballroom, she spotted the hosts near the wide doorway, greeting guests. Two grown men stood to either side, presumably their sons. The elder gentleman was tall, distinguished, with some silver in his hair and dressed in a fine black suit. He was neither garish in his dress nor foppish, but conservative, and his appearance spoke of money.

  His wife was tall for a lady and wore a beautiful ivory silk gown with a sheer overlay. Pearls and rubies adorned her neck, ears, and wrists, and even trimmed her gown. Upon her head she wore a small tiara of matching jewels, but it was not ostentatious. She was tasteful and elegant.

  Before Elizabeth could examine the sons, they stood before the regal couple, so she and her aunt curtsied as her uncle bowed.

  “Gardiner,” the gentleman exclaimed, “Mrs. Gardiner, you are acquainted with my wife, Lady Fitzwilliam and my sons, Charles and Richard. I am so pleased you could attend.”

  Uncle Edward shook the man’s hand. “The pleasure is ours, Fitzwilliam. I appreciate you including my niece when we indicated she would be visiting.”

  Did he say Fitzwilliam? Could this be Mr. Darcy’s uncle? How many Fitzwilliams could there be in England? Her fingernails dug into her palms as she perused the guests milling about her.

  A hand between her shoulder blades pressed her forward. “May I present my niece, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Elizabeth, this is the Earl and Countess Fitzwilliam and their sons Lord Charles Wentworth-Fitzwilliam, Viscount Milton and Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam.”

  She started and gave a small dip of a curtsey. “I am pleased to make your acquaintances.” When she lifted her eyes, Lady Fitzwilliam’s eyes skimmed from Elizabeth’s feet to her face, pinking when she realized she had been caught.

  “I hope you enjoy the ball, my dear.” The countess’ expression was open and kind, not that it quieted the rush of thoughts whirring in her mind. “I do expect we shall have a crush, but the musicians I have arranged are quite talented and my cook has been working on tonight for the past month.”

  Her uncle placed a hand to his stomach. “Then, I anticipate the offerings at supper.”

  Lord Fitzwilliam gave a rumble of a laugh. “You are similar to my son in that regard. His assessment of any ball has nothing to do with the music or the company, but the food. He never misses a meal at home when he has the time. If he is not at our table, he is dining with his cousin Darcy. I believe he is looking forward to the meal as well.”

  Elizabeth flinched. They were relations! Would Mr. Darcy be in attendance this evening or would he spend time with his sister? She was staying with Lord and Lady Fitzwilliam, was she not?

  “Lizzy?” She startled and looked forward. Aunt Marianne held her arm outstretched for Elizabeth to join them. With a quick dip of a curtsey to their hosts, she followed. Hopefully, she had not missed any information of import while she was wool-gathering.

  When she came side to side with her Aunt, Elizabeth wrapped her arm around her aunt’s. “Were you aware of their relation to Mr. Darcy?”

  “Dearest, there is not a soul in London who is unaware of the connection between the Fitzwilliams and the Darcys. Forgive me if you feel deceived, but we worried you either would not come if you knew or you would fret from the moment you were told until the end of the evening.”

  “I feel ill.” She swallowed with difficulty. “I would have much preferred to have our first meeting without all of society bearing witness.”

  “I have no doubt, but he has not responded to your uncle’s letter as of yet. We planned to attend prior to your coming to London, so the opportunity to reunite you with Mr. Darcy was a fortuitous circumstance.”

  Uncle Edward trailed behind as they entered the ballroom. People milled about from wall to wall, squeezing through the crowd to obtain drinks or find acquaintances. As they waited, a conversation behind them caught Elizabeth’s ear.

  “Viscount Milton cut a dashing figure, but I do hope Mr. Darcy will be in attendance.”

  “Why is that, Thea?” asked a condescending voice.

  “My mother believes he will finally seek a bride during this upcoming season, and we intend to ensure he chooses me.”

  Another voice laughed incredulously. “How do you intend to succeed in such an endeavour? Mr. Darcy is known for his refusal to dance unless Lady Fitzwilliam cajoles him, and he does not speak more than a few words to most ladies. I believe ‘Please excuse me’ is the phrase he uses most often.”

  “That was before I came out.” The original voice became haughty. “My mother and Lady Fitzwilliam are friends. My father is also of great political import to Lord Fitzwilliam. They will promote the match if I wish it.”

  “I would not be too convinced of myself if I were you. I have heard rumour he is courting a lady from the country.”

  One of the ladies scoffed. “As if Mr. Darcy would lower himself to consider such a woman. He will wed a lady of standing. Lord and Lady Fitzwilliam would not allow him to choose otherwise.”

  The voice was the first. The one who was certain she would become the next Mrs. Darcy.

  “Lizzy?” Her aunt pulled her from her eavesdropping, so her uncle could introduce her to a gentleman, who requested her first set. He was polite, but had a certain air about him that was not hard to place—he thought well of himself. As she settled into the familiar pattern, her nerves dissipated until she was returned to her aunt and uncle.

  Several gentlemen followed. One short and squat, who trod upon her toes, another tall with a thin frame and large stomach. He appeared as though he would fall forward at any moment with his disproportionate appearance, his stomach resembling the shape of a punch bowl without the stem. Withholding her laughter became a necessity after such a revelation.

  Her next partner required a bath in the worst of ways; his cologne did not help matters either. Would it be rude to hold one’s handkerchief to one’s nose while dancing? Perhaps a vinaigrette? He smiled before she moved to the gentleman beside her. Eww! Was that cabbage in his teeth?

  When she was delivered back to her aunt and uncle, she took the first good, deep breath since the last set began.

  “Miss Bennet?” Her insides jumped. Colonel Fitzwilliam stood before her, his red uniform striking in a room of men in black topcoats and trousers. “Would you dance the next with me?”

  The glint in his eye was off-putting, but she could not say no. What if Mr. Darcy suddenly appeared and requested a set? She could not refuse in the event he arrived. “Yes, I would be honoured.”

  Her thankful nose appreciated he had not the body odour of her previous partner as they made their way to where the set was forming and took their places.

  He tilted his head and took her measure. “I am familiar with your name. I believe you are acquainted with my cousin Darcy and my soon-to-be cousin, Bingley.”

  “Yes, I am. Mr. Bingley is leasing the nearest estate to that of my father’s, and when my sister Jane fell ill at Netherfield, Mr. Bingley was generous enough to allow me to stay until she was well. The last ball I attended was the one he gave at Netherfield.” The dance began, and he held out his hand as she scanned the room.

  “Bingley is in attendance with his betrothed, my cousin Anne de
Bourgh. They are at the end of the line, there.” He gestured with his head. “I am certain he would be pleased to greet you. Bingley is always a jovial fellow.”

  She attempted a smile. “He is very amiable.”

  He appeared to take no notice of her unease. His demeanour was sociable and without artifice. “Darcy was visiting with his sister and should be joining us soon.” He chuckled. “Just look for the dour, scowling face standing to one side of the room. You cannot miss him.”

  Her heartbeat quickened and pounded against her ribs. Mr. Darcy would be there! What would he say when he took notice of her? Would he be angry? He would not cause a scene, yet would he ignore her in order to discuss their disagreement in private?

  “But if you attended the Netherfield ball, you should know his habits in society well.”

  Something within her bristled. “On the contrary, Mr. Darcy was a complete gentleman last we were in company together. He stood up with me twice, my friend Miss Lucas once, and also partnered my elder sister for one set.”

  They parted due to the pattern of the dance, but the colonel’s grin was unmistakeable when he approached her once more. “So I was correct.”

  “I am afraid I do not understand. What do you believe you have deduced?”

  The colonel leaned towards her. “You are the Miss Bennet he is courting.” His voice was low, but his words burned her ears. Her mouth became dry, and she averted her eyes.

  “My cousin is too fastidious to partake of more than one set unless he had designs upon the lady in question.” An impish expression lit his face. “You have no idea the number of ladies here tonight who would maim or kill for such notice from him.”

  Her eyes looked to the ceiling for a moment at the ridiculousness of his last statement; it was certain to be a gross exaggeration.

  “He did not mention you were coming this evening. By his morose demeanour upon his return, I would have thought you remained behind in Hertfordshire.”

  “I arrived but two days ago to visit my aunt and uncle.” She would not comment on Mr. Darcy. She needed to speak to him, not about him.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam’s eyes bulged, and he gave a guffaw. “He does not know you are here. Oh! I shall enjoy this ball immensely! His reaction when he sees you will set the tongues of the matrons and their daughters wagging. Be careful for the claws, Miss Bennet. I am certain some young lady will attempt to sharpen hers upon you.”

  She took a sidelong glance around the room. More reason to fret was all she needed! “I sincerely hope your prediction proves false.”

  “It depends upon Darcy, of course. He does enjoy that mask he wears in public—the disapproving one in particular, but can he disguise his shock upon meeting you in my father’s house? I would wager the Major General’s horse he cannot maintain his stern and frightening visage.” A gleeful cackle came from the colonel.

  As the first half of the set ended, and the colonel’s incessant amused expression was beginning to wear. He was so determined to find humour at Mr. Darcy’s expense. Why would he wish Mr. Darcy to be disturbed so?

  When they began again, he took both of her hands and stepped to the music. “You must understand. Most of the ladies under five and twenty in this room have vied for Darcy’s attentions as well as some of those who are older. Some want his money and position and some just want…”

  She stepped over and turned with the gentleman beside her. When she returned to Colonel Fitzwilliam, she lifted an eyebrow. “They want?”

  A frown now graced her partner’s face. “Forgive me. I have come to the realization that I should not be so frank. I have been too free with my information.”

  She took the hand of the gentleman beside her and worked her way through the pattern until she again reached the colonel.

  “I would beg you finish your statement. I do not know what to make of how you ended it.”

  He groaned and leaned a hairsbreadth closer. “They do not want him for his mind or his friendship. Does that answer your question?”

  If they do not want his money, his mind, or his friendship, what… “Oh!”

  He gave a guttural exhale and closed his eyes for a moment. “Darcy is going to kill me.”

  She bit her lip and suppressed a giggle. Her first impression of the colonel was intrusive and annoying, but he began to strike her as humorous.

  “You have no need to mention what I have told you tonight, do you?” The dance ended, and he held out his arm. “Darcy is like a brother to me. Since we are so close, I could discern his improved spirits in his correspondence from Hertfordshire. I have no wish to cause mischief—I assure you.”

  He glanced about the room. “Let me return you to your aunt and uncle, and then I shall pretend we never met. I will also deny any charge that I informed you of inappropriate intelligence.”

  Biting back a grin, she tilted her head. “You did not say if he accepted those ladies.” The words had been meant as a tease, yet… she stopped short and her eyes hurt they bulged so wide. “Did he?”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam pivoted and looked her directly in the eye. “I cannot say.”

  “Cannot or will not?”

  He rubbed his hands up and down his face and stepped forward “I honestly do not know. For what it is worth, I have never known him to dally with the ladies and never had rumour of such an arrangement or assignation spread. Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

  With a bob of her head, she placed her hand once again upon his arm. “Thank you, Colonel.”

  “Miss Bennet!” Lady Fitzwilliam pushed through the crowd around them and glanced at her son. “Good grief, Richard. What more could you possibly have to say to her? I do not think you ceased babbling for the entire set!” She wrapped her fingers around Elizabeth’s elbow. “Now, Miss Bennet, if you would accompany me for a moment.”

  Without ceremony, Lady Fitzwilliam pressed through the revellers with an efficiency that displayed her experience at such events as Elizabeth struggled to stay close. A few ladies stopped the countess for a word, but never requested an introduction. Lady Fitzwilliam was polite and cordial, yet managed to excuse herself with alacrity.

  Elizabeth peered about the ballroom. “I should find my aunt and uncle. They will worry if I do not return.”

  She waved her hand. “Do not fret about Marianne. I mentioned I wished to have a word with you, and she did not object.”

  “You did?” Her aunt was on such intimate terms with Lady Fitzwilliam that they used their given names?

  “I have been in your aunt’s company a mere handful of times, but I know her to be a conscientious woman. She has kept a steady eye on you during the ball; I am certain of it. I would never dream of removing you from her watch without due warning.”

  They passed the punch table, and the countess steered her towards the back corner of the room.

  “Here we are,” she exclaimed.

  Elizabeth was pulled to the side and brought to a halt in front of a tall gentleman. Her eyes shifted from his cravat to the face of… “Mr. Darcy!”

  Chapter 17

  Elizabeth’s stomach jumped to her throat, the sound of her heart pounded in her own ears, her mind was blank. What could she say in front of a contingent of revellers? Was Mr. Darcy, I was a fool. I hope you can forgive me because I want to be your wife appropriate under such circumstances?

  Mr. Darcy stood straight and tall, but his eyes did not leave hers. He did not speak, but stared until he flinched.

  “Do not just stand there, Fitzwilliam. Greet the lady and request a set!”

  Elizabeth’s palms grew damp in her gloves, as he did no more than continue to gape.

  “You have always been a quiet young man, but this is preposterous!” With a tug of his elbow, Lady Fitzwilliam placed Elizabeth’s hand upon it before whispering in his other ear. He made to turn towards her, but she gave his back a push. This was mortifying!

  Without a word, he stepped forward and led Elizabeth to the edge of the dancers. His expression
was rigid, like stone, and his arm was just as unyielding. Was he displeased with her appearance?

  Her eyes burned and blurred as she blinked back tears. She would not cry! A deep breath was sucked into her lungs in an attempt not to retch at her feet. Why was she so weak when it came to him? Nerves never plagued her until she met Mr. Darcy. Now, she resembled her mother more than her usual self. What a nightmarish thought!

  The current set ended, and he led her to the floor. When they were in their places, the tingling from his stare prickled her skin.

  “I apologise for not greeting you properly.”

  Without delay, her gaze whipped to his face.

  “Please understand I am stunned to find you here. I was unaware you were in town.”

  “I arrived two nights ago.” Her voice was a bit scratchy, so she cleared her throat in as gentle manner as possible. “My father thought some time with my aunt would be beneficial.”

  The music began, so he bowed while she curtsied. She was back to holding a conversation in parts. How could they resolve matters in such a fashion and in such crowded company?

  “And is it? Beneficial, that is.” She followed the line between his eyebrows to the dark circles under his eyes. He was sleeping as poorly as she.

  “Yes, quite. My aunt has a great deal of good sense. I have found her counsel invaluable as of late, but then, her advice has proven useful in the past as well.”

  The dance forced them to take one another’s hands, so she grasped the opportunity to trace her thumb along his knuckles. Would he know she caressed him on purpose or would he believe her thumb slipped? Before she could catch a glimpse of his expression, he pivoted in the opposite direction, and she was forced to continue, passing through the pattern.

  When she made the circuit and returned to him, she drew herself up as tall as she could. She required every ounce of fortitude she possessed and would draw upon it! If they could not resolve their differences on the dance floor, she would endeavour to keep him in conversation. If she succeeded, he could not believe her still angry when the dance concluded.

  “My uncle delivered a letter to your home.”