“Mr. Darcy’s affections remain; the gentleman asked me to marry him,” she confessed.
It was time Elizabeth sought the counsel of another. Perhaps Jane could sway Elizabeth’s decision one way or another. In truth, Elizabeth would welcome the advice of another if it meant she would know her heart’s desire.
“And am I to wish you happy?” Jane asked in curiosity.
“Mr. Darcy says I must give him an answer this evening or he will withdraw from my company forever.” Elizabeth continued to watch the gentleman and his sister; she meant to claim every memory she could of him.
“Oh, Lizzy,” Jane pleaded. “Please tell me you did not refuse Mr. Darcy again. Your countenance betrays your attachment for the man.”
Elizabeth turned her gaze upon her sister.
“It is not as easy as permitting my heart to lead. I could not bear it if after we speak our vows that we become a poor imitation of a contended couple. Look at our parents. When Papa married Mrs. Bennet, he knew the passion of young love. How can I be certain not to make my dearest parent’s mistake?”
“You and Mr. Darcy hold nothing in common with our parents,” Jane countered. “Mama cannot compete with Mr. Bennet’s sharp wit and desire for knowledge, whereas you and Mr. Darcy are both intelligent beings, who would never permit only passion to rule your days.”
Tears filled Elizabeth’s eyes.
“That is the part which frightens me. Mr. Darcy and I have flayed each other raw upon more than one occasion. Will our stubbornness destroy us?”
“Do not the majority of your arguments deal with your defense of Mr. Wickham?” Jane questioned. “Can you not place yourself in Mr. Darcy’s stead in regards to his former friend?”
“I hold no allegiance to Mr. Wickham,” Elizabeth declared.
Jane’s features displayed her exasperation with the conversation, but Elizabeth clung to the hope that her sister would instruct Elizabeth to marry Mr. Darcy. Even so, she knew Jane would not go so far as to order Elizabeth to be happy: Marrying Mr. Darcy would be Elizabeth’s decision alone.
“I see.” Jane hesitated. “I cannot speak to what brought our parents together. Our previous conjectures all lead to Mr. Bennet being captivated by youth and beauty and the appearance of good humor, which youth and beauty generally gives. Certainly none of us experienced a very pleasing picture of conjugal felicity, and as unfair as it is, the fact that mama did not deliver an heir for Longbourn must lay heavy between them. It would be an unspoken accusation never upon our father’s lips, but often within his mind.” Elizabeth thought of the scene with her mother in the garden and knew Jane’s speculations true. “Father’s line will end with him, and that fact must give Mr. Bennet pause, and Mama must know failure smartly. Yet, even with knowledge of the failure of our parents’ marriage, Mr. Bingley and I carve out a bit of happiness. Can you not do the same with Mr. Darcy? The man means to please you.”
“What if we never know accord?” Elizabeth could not admit, even to herself, that she feared failure as strongly as did her mother. “The gentleman claims his temper too little yielding and that he cannot forget the follies and vices of others nor their offenses against him.”
Jane’s frown lines deepened.
“You make Mr. Darcy appear the ogre. Do you not think Mr. Darcy was considering the actions of those of Mr. Wickham’s nature when he spoke thusly? Wickham, by your own accounts, betrayed every principle Mr. Darcy holds most dear. Look how Wickham displayed no regard for our futures when he seduced Lydia. It is only with Mr. Darcy’s allegiance that my dearest Charles and I reunited. And you cannot ignore how Mr. Darcy attended to your criticisms in Kent. You spoke quite elegantly of the changes you noted in the gentleman when you returned from London the first time. Surely in all these facts, you could find something about the man to please you.”
“Mr. Darcy pleases me quite well,” Elizabeth admitted. “The question remains whether I might please him.”
“Do you wish to please the gentleman, Lizzy?”
“Very much so,” Elizabeth whispered. “I do not go more than a few minutes of the day without thinking of the Master of Pemberley.”
Jane turned Elizabeth toward where their father watched the festivities with a bemused smirk upon his lips.
“Speak to Papa,” Jane encouraged. “Mr. Bennet soothed my qualms regarding Mr. Bingley’s return to Hertfordshire. As you are our father’s avowed favorite, Mr. Bennet will be sore to part with you and will not be left quaking by Mr. Darcy’s wealth; yet, if our father acts as I suspect he will, Mr. Bennet will encourage you to claim your happiness.”
With a nudge from Jane, Elizabeth set her steps and her mind to the task.
“Why the long face, Lizzy?” her father asked as she slid in beside him. “Do you bemoan the lack of a partner? Shall I demand that Mr. Darcy claim your hand for the next set?”
Elizabeth denied the idea of her father placing her in an embarrassing situation, but she would enjoy a third dance with Mr. Darcy. She missed the gentleman’s closeness.
“Mr. Darcy and I stood up together twice.”
Her father’s gaze remained upon the dancers, as did Elizabeth’s.
“I believe it is quite telling, Elizabeth, that you did not rebuke my tease with the mention of another gentleman. I expected my very clever Lizzy to suggest that Colonel Fitzwilliam or Mr. Townsend would be equal to your liking as is Mr. Darcy.”
“No,” she said simply.
“So it is Mr. Darcy who claims your heart?”
Elizabeth smiled in rueful resignation.
“I am discovered as a fool.”
Although she did not look upon him, Elizabeth knew her father’s frown became a positive scowl.
“Why do you term yourself a fool, Lizzy? Do you doubt Mr. Darcy’s affections? I found your young man most persuasive.”
Although the impact of Mr. Bennet’s words took an elongated pause to register in Elizabeth’s mind, nonetheless, they had her turning to question her father. Annoyance claimed Elizabeth’s features.
“When did Mr. Darcy speak to you of me?”
Her father’s eyes abruptly softened when he looked upon her.
“You did not think I would permit any man to ruin your reputation, did you, Lizzy? Mr. Darcy wrote to me prior to the beginning of your correspondence. He explained what occurred between you and the gentleman expressed his fondness for my second daughter. Your young man asked my permission to woo you.”
“But you never spoke of Mr. Darcy’s intentions,” Elizabeth protested.
Mr. Bennet’s lips twisted in what appeared to be suppressed emotions.
“Mr. Darcy pleaded for my silence, but, in truth, I wished to observe with my own eyes your allegiance to the man. It spoke of the depth of your affections if you were willing to call upon Darcy’s bachelor household to learn more of his health, as well as your rushing to Pemberley to tend him.”
Elizabeth’s mouth thinned with displeasure.
“You knew of my escapades before you demanded a confession from me on the incidents?” she accused.
“Mr. Darcy was kind in describing how you set both of his households upon their heads,” her father declared with what appeared to be true respect. “The gentleman claims you will make a magnificent mistress for his properties–that many on his staff already hold you with great regard. Darcy claims you are cut from the same cloth as his late mother Lady Anne Darcy; needless to say, I prefer to think you are formed in the image of your Grandmother Bennet.”
“You approve of Mr. Darcy’s suit?” Elizabeth demanded in disbelief.
“I gave Darcy my consent to court you. He is the kind of man, indeed, to whom I should never dare refuse anything, which he condescended to ask.” Mr. Bennet shrugged, a hint of resignation in his manner. “What I wish to know, Elizabeth, is of your feelings. Are you resolved on having him?”
“I fear what will become of our joining,” Elizabeth admitted. “I could not bear…” She stifled her criti
cism of her father’s actions in dealing with the gap of understanding in her parents’ marriage.
“You could not bear to marry unless you truly esteemed your husband,” her father completed Elizabeth’s thoughts. “Unless you looked upon him as a superior. I understand your disposition, Lizzy. Your lively talents would place you in the greatest danger in an unequal marriage: you could scarcely escape discredit and misery.” Mr. Bennet gave a rueful shake of his head. “Child, let me not have the grief of seeing you unable to respect your partner in life. Yet, I do not believe it would be so with Mr. Darcy.”
With an effort Elizabeth gathered her composure.
“You do not?”
“From what I know Mr. Darcy’s affections are not the work of a day, but rather they have stood the test of many months’ suspense.”
“The man brings out my most shrewish tongue,” Elizabeth protested weakly, her resolve faltering.
A hint of regret rippled over her father’s expression.
“No marriage is without its disagreements. It is when a couple does not express their concerns that a marriage must end or it must take a different form.”
Elizabeth thought Mr. Bennet spoke of his relationship with Mrs. Bennet. Her father and mother never argued. Even when Mr. Bennet teased his wife unmercifully, they did not speak in harsh tones to each other. Her mother would reprimand Mr. Bennet to which Elizabeth’s father would offer another unbearable taunt. Unbearable, Elizabeth thought. Was it not better for her and Mr. Darcy to voice their differences and then consent to disagree than it was to pick at a sore, which never healed?
“Mr. Darcy would make me an exemplary husband.” For the first time in months, Elizabeth knew she spoke the truth.
“Well, my dear,” her father said softly, “if this be the case, Mr. Darcy deserves you. I could not part with you, my Lizzy, to anyone less worthy.”
* * *
Acknowledging the fact she wished to claim Mr. Darcy’s affections, Elizabeth wished to do so immediately, but when she turned back to the ballroom the gentleman was no where to be found. She spotted Miss Darcy and the colonel upon the far side of the room, but as the night was soon to know an end, the crowded ballroom appeared unrelenting in the barrier it presented. Continuing to search for the tall, imposing figure of Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth systematically made her way to where the colonel and Miss Darcy awaited the last dance of the evening.
Elizabeth wondered if Mr. Darcy meant to stand up with another or whether he took her desertion after supper as her answer.
To her frustration, multiple friends and neighbors halted her progress to offer felicitations to her family upon Lydia’s and Jane’s joinings. With each, Elizabeth responded with civility, but her mind was elsewhere.
At length, she reached the colonel’s side.
“Pardon me, Colonel, Miss Darcy, but do you know the whereabouts of Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth attempted to sound nonchalant, but her fear of losing Mr. Darcy’s affections forever shook her to her core.
The colonel smiled with what appeared to be sympathetic humor.
“I believe my cousin meant to speak to his valet regarding Darcy’s travel plans.”
Elizabeth no longer bothered to disguise her agitation.
“Mr. Darcy means to leave?” Elizabeth’s voice squeaked as a flood of emotions washed over her.
“As is customary with my cousin, Darcy rarely consults me in such matters. I am frequently at his disposal.”
Elizabeth’s lips parted in dismay.
“But my business with Mr. Darcy is not complete,” she declared in growing anxiety. Elizabeth analyzed her options: She knew she could not storm the guests’ quarters to confront Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth also realized she committed more than her share of rule breaking in the past, which she had yet to ask God’s forgiveness. If Mr. Darcy meant to leave her, Elizabeth would not prostrate herself before him.
“What type of business?” A warm breath brushed the hairs along the back of Elizabeth’s neck, and she spun around to find a rather odd expression upon Mr. Darcy’s countenance.
She glanced to the engaging grins claiming the colonel’s and Miss Darcy’s lips. With an effort Elizabeth gathered her composure.
“Might we walk the room, Sir?” Her voice sounded breathy and unsure, but Elizabeth felt gratitude at being given a second chance.
Mr. Darcy tilted his head in a familiar fashion, as if he studied her every move, but he offered Elizabeth his arm.
“Fitzwilliam,” he said to his cousin, “you will escort Georgiana to her quarters.”
The colonel presented an expression of congeniality, as he winked at Miss Darcy.
“I intend to dance once more with my precious girl, and then we will make appropriate farewells. Does that meet your pleasure, Georgiana?”
What appeared as mischief marked Miss Darcy’s eyes.
“As this is my first foray in society, I wish to claim every memory afforded me.”
Elizabeth shot a tentative glance to Mr. Darcy, who smiled deep into her eyes. The gentleman turned their steps to a slow promenade of the room. For several minutes they said nothing.
Even so, Elizabeth could feel the heat of his strength claim her arm, while tingles of excitement rushed through her veins. She was so engrossed with Mr. Darcy’s closeness that she did not realize he led her out into the darkness of the terrace.
“We cannot…” she began, but Mr. Darcy stopped just outside the open terrace doors.
“What business?” he demanded.
It surprised Elizabeth that Mr. Darcy offered no apologies for leading her into the darkness. If they did not return soon, her reputation would know another black tick.
“Could we not return to the festivities?” she pleaded.
Elizabeth meant to pull her hand free of his arm, but with a flex of his muscles, Mr. Darcy locked her arm to his side. Anyone who passed the door could view Mr. Darcy’s profile, but Elizabeth doubted they could see her. Even so, she did not wish to encounter censure from her neighbors.
“What business?” Mr. Darcy repeated.
Elizabeth gave her arm a second jerk, and this time Mr. Darcy permitted Elizabeth her freedom.
“I cannot remain here,” she insisted. “People will talk.” Elizabeth started past him only to find Mr. Darcy’s hand staying her retreat.
“There would be no gossip if you agreed to accept me.” He whispered in Elizabeth’s ear, as he played with a curl, which came loose from her chignon.
“Not here,” Elizabeth implored.
“Then where?” Mr. Darcy insisted.
Elizabeth did not bother to deny her exasperation.
“I hold no idea, but I cannot begin a relationship based on scandal.” The gentleman released his hold on her arm, and Elizabeth sidestepped him to return to the ballroom.
* * *
Darcy watched her go.
“Not well played,” he offered in self-chastisement. “But the game does not know an end.” He sighed deeply. When Darcy led her onto the terrace, he thought to steal a kiss. “The woman is by far the most confounding and the most enchanting creature I have ever known. Who else, other than Elizabeth Bennet, would risk calling upon me in my quarters one day and be afraid of joining me on a darkened terrace upon another?”
With a shake of his head, Darcy turned toward the ballroom.
“One more volley, Miss Elizabeth,” he said with a twitch of his lips. “I will know your acquiescence this night or the world will declare me as doddy as Lord Byron.”
* * *
Darcy noted the rush of color upon Elizabeth’s cheeks when he stepped through the terrace door. She joined her two younger sisters, but Elizabeth’s eyes met his. Not entirely set against me, he thought in triumph. Darcy arched an eyebrow, and Elizabeth pointedly turned her back on him, but only for a few seconds. He adored teasing her; Elizabeth’s contestations would keep him young.
From off to his right the musicians took up their instruments again for what would be the last dan
ce of the evening. Darcy knew Bingley intended to lead Miss Bennet out first before the other couples joined them. It was part of his friend’s surprise for his betrothed: To dance with all eyes in the hall upon them. Darcy thought it an admirable gesture upon Bingley’s part, but when he heard Bingley’s plan, Darcy considered himself too private to conduct such a show, but perhaps, he erred.
Sir William Lucas took to the dais to announce the last dance and to instruct others to permit Mr. Bingley to honor his bride-to-be with a few minutes alone on the dance floor.
Noting Mr. Lincolnton’s approach to claim Elizabeth’s hand for the set, Darcy moved to intercept the fellow, but Colonel Fitzwilliam was quicker. Darcy’s cousin stopped Lincolnton with what was likely an inane question, but one which Lincolnton could not ignore coming from an earl’s son. Darcy nodded his appreciation before crossing to Elizabeth.
“I believe this is our set, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy announced loud enough for those about them to overhear.
Something like disregard flashed in her eyes, but Darcy schooled his features to remain unconcerned. Mary Bennet whispered something in Elizabeth’s ear, and Elizabeth nodded her understanding.
“There must be some mistake, Mr. Darcy. We shared two sets previously.”
Darcy gave her a slow shake of his head.
“I err often, Miss Elizabeth, but never where sharing your company comes into place. You really must be more aware of your dance card, my dear. If you look at the card, you will clearly note my name for this set.”
“But, we cannot,” Elizabeth protested. “Unless…”
Darcy sensed several in the crowd edging closer so they might hear his exchange with Elizabeth Bennet. He knew many of them were privy to his “not tolerable enough” comment from the Meryton assembly. The onlookers would think his earlier attentions to Elizabeth during the ball were in his role as standing with Bingley for his friend’s nuptials, but no longer. Darcy placed that particular fact from his mind and concentrated upon the expression of hope crossing Elizabeth’s features.
Elizabeth Bennet's Deception: A Pride and Prejudice Vagary Page 17