His Uncle's Favorite

by Lilian, Lory

  “I will inform him; I might accompany him.”

  “That would be a perfect arrangement, sir,” she replied politely, though she felt she was not quite as anxious to see Mr. Wickham as she pretended to be. She noticed that the set had ended and briefly wondered where a certain gentleman might be.

  “Miss Elizabeth, if you are not otherwise engaged, would you do me the honour of dancing the next with me?” Mr. Darcy’s request, which Elizabeth had ceased to expect, was as shocking as his appearance and his friendly voice. He was smiling tentatively, awaiting her answer. He was only a few steps away, and Elizabeth felt uncomfortable again. He always makes people feel uneasy around him. Well, not all people; apparently Lady Sinclair felt quite well. She felt her face warming from her outrageous thoughts and averted her eyes.

  “I…thank you, yes…”

  Lord Matlock said something, but Elizabeth did not comprehend his words; Mr. Darcy took her hand, and they stepped together to the dance floor. A cold sensation prickled her spine as she felt the pressure of his fingers upon hers. Yes, it was beyond any doubt: he always made her uncomfortable in a way that no other man did.

  “Miss Elizabeth, my sister asked me to convey to you her regards. She is eager for your visit tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, sir. I look forward to seeing her, too. I expected she would not be here tonight, but I confess I secretly hoped for her presence.”

  “Usually she attends small gatherings at Lady Selina’s, but when she discovered the number of guests for tonight’s ball, she preferred to remain at home. She is not fond of large gatherings. Nor am I, but I could not afford the luxury of refusing my cousin.” He smiled again as if he were expecting her to understand him.

  “So you were forced to be here tonight, sir? That is not a kind thing to say; it might offend some people.” She tried to mirror his smile.

  “I hope it did not offend you, Miss Elizabeth; that was not my intention.”

  “I am not so easily offended, sir.” She laughed, and he looked slightly uncomfortable.

  “But you seem to enjoy your time very well. I feel fortunate to have secured a dance with you as I imagine your card is full. I took a chance, and I was rewarded.”

  “Had you asked earlier, you would have known that my card is not full.” She stopped and averted her eyes again. What came over her to say such a thing?

  “I would have asked earlier, but I did not dare disturb you. You appeared always to be surrounded by old and new acquaintances.”

  “As were you, sir.”

  For the next minutes, they continued to dance in silence, looking at each other. Their gazes held; their hands met briefly when the dance demanded it.

  “I noticed you met all our and Lord Brightmore’s cousins,” Darcy said.

  “Indeed. Most of them seem to be pleasant and friendly, at least on a first impression.”

  “Most of them are. Though sometimes first impressions can be misleading, that is not necessarily the case with our cousins.” His voice was light, and he was smiling at her, but she was certain she could guess the hidden, tacit censure directed at her.

  “One does not always need a long time to make a friend of a new acquaintance—or to decide that an acquaintance will never be a friend, no matter how much time passes.”

  “True. However, previous experiences have shown me that one should be guarded before deciding which acquaintance deserves to become a friend if one does not want to be disappointed.”

  “I am not sure that I agree with you, sir. I would rather be disappointed from time to time than avoid making new friends. People deserve a chance to prove themselves worthy before their characters are judged, even those who are below one’s situation in life.”

  “I have always admired your wisdom. Let us make an agreement: both of us shall allow new or old acquaintances a chance to prove their worthiness before judging their characters. Shall we?” He sounded more serious than a ball conversation would require.

  “It is strange that you are interested in an agreement with me under any circumstances, Mr. Darcy. However, such an agreement cannot but be accepted.”

  “I am glad you approve. I have been interested in reaching an agreement with you many times, but somehow it seems we are meant to argue whenever we meet. More than once I have wondered whether one or perhaps both of us purposely search for subjects upon which to disagree.”

  “Of one thing you may be certain, sir: any argument we might have had was never purposely begun on my part.”

  “That is a great relief.”

  “However, I am not as sure of your motives,” she continued.

  The music stopped, and he offered her his arm, good humour obvious on his face.

  “It appears we shall have to continue our conversation later—and most likely our argument, too,” he said, slightly inclining his head towards hers. Holding Mr. Darcy’s arm and stepping towards her family and friends, Elizabeth fought the same feeling of uneasiness.

  “Oh, Darcy, what a lovely idea to ask Miss Elizabeth to dance! I was wondering whether you would do it, considering how rarely you dance, and I really cannot understand why, my boy,” said Lady Brightmore. “You are such a handsome young man, and you dance so well. You should smile more often; smiling is quite becoming on you. Oh, look at those pretty dimples; you look so much like your father! I had a crush on the late Mr. Darcy, you know?” her ladyship whispered to Elizabeth, her cheeks red and her eyes sparkling. Elizabeth tried to hide a smile: her ladyship clearly had enjoyed one glass of wine too many.

  She turned to Mr. Darcy, hardly restraining her laughter; he looked embarrassed, a trace of redness colouring his cheeks, and she noticed that she was still holding his arm.

  The invitation to dinner came as a relief. They walked together, Elizabeth still on Mr. Darcy’s arm while the viscount accompanied Jane. However, once they reached the table, Mr. Darcy had to leave them as his seat was separate from theirs. As he walked away, Elizabeth found herself wondering whether he felt regret or relief that he could not stay with them. She briefly asked herself the same question but rejected it instantly as the colonel took a chair next to her.

  Dinner was mostly a pleasant affair, though Elizabeth was not quite herself—nor was Jane. From time to time, Elizabeth could not resist searching the room; Mr. Darcy was not too far away, but he was content to speak to Lady Selina and Lord Brightmore. Lady Sinclair—seated at least four places away from Darcy—was the heart of the conversation with everyone around, and more than once she asked specifically for Mr. Darcy’s opinion. Each time he replied politely but briefly, and Elizabeth could not hide her smile, remembering a similar situation with Mr. Darcy and Caroline Bingley.

  Elizabeth’s thoughts were occupied primarily by Mr. Darcy’s puzzling behaviour and their conversation. In truth, there were times she was certain he was purposely arguing with her only to reveal her flaws, and other times she was certain he enjoyed her company. No, not certain—with Mr. Darcy, one could never be certain of anything. And there was also Lady Sinclair and… Why did I think of Lady Sinclair? She should not be a subject of interest for me.

  After supper, the gentlemen retired to the library and their brandy.

  The room was warm, and there was such a din of voices that Elizabeth rose from her seat and left the ballroom, convinced that no one would notice her brief absence. She walked along the hall until she reached the music room. She entered the room, closed the door, then touched the piano briefly, remembering the evening she and Miss Darcy played together. Poor Georgiana was so frightened to sing in front of her relatives. How could she possibly be Mr. Darcy’s sister? Was he ever frightened—of anything?

  Elizabeth could not say how long she stayed in the music room. She knew she should return before her aunt and Jane looked for her. She opened the door carefully as she could hear voices from the hall; two ladies were talking. The music room was dark, but a few candles tentatively lightened the hall. With no little surprise, Elizabeth recognised
one of the women as Lady Sinclair. Elizabeth was about to open the door and greet them when the subject of their conversation stopped her.

  “What other reason could Darcy have to dance with her? He never dances; he barely danced with me, which I would find offensive from any man except Darcy.”

  “Other men would have danced with you, Eve.”

  “True, my dear.” Lady Sinclair laughed. “Oh well, it will be interesting to follow. He could not have any serious designs on her; she is a country nobody. Perhaps that is precisely what is attractive about her—nobody will expect him to have a serious attachment.”

  “They all seem to be under Lord Matlock’s protection. I seriously doubt Mr. Darcy would have any improper thoughts regarding his uncle’s protégée. He is well known as a gentleman of honour. Am I wrong?”

  “You are not wrong. But nobody can control one’s thoughts. As for Darcy, he has few choices, regardless. I imagine he will shortly marry Anne de Bourgh. I am tired of hearing about their never-ending engagement, and I have hopes that marriage will change his perspective.” Lady Sinclair laughed.

  “Heaven forbid someone could control your thoughts, Eve. And speaking of marriage—yours surely changed your perspective. How is your husband, by the way?”

  “He is on a hunting party; I expect him to return to London in a week.”

  “But he will not remain in town long, I imagine, as I do not expect you will be tempted to leave London in this weather.”

  “To both your questions the answer is no.” Lady Sinclair laughed again. “Come—let us return to the ballroom. This wine makes me particularly tempted to dance again.”

  The ladies left, and for some time Elizabeth could not move. Her chest felt crushed by an enormous burden, and she could not breathe. She leaned against the wall, gathering her strength and struggling for air and then hurried along the hall to the entrance. Under a servant’s surprised glance, she opened the main door and stepped outside.

  The chill wind whipped across her face, and the snow on her cheeks mixed with warm tears of anger and helpless disappointment. She could only hope she misunderstood the words spinning in her mind. Were they truly speaking about her—and in such preposterous terms? Why would they do that? Mr. Darcy was engaged to Anne de Bourgh? Was she not his cousin? And if he were engaged, why should she care? He never spoke or behaved improperly, nor did he ever mention he was engaged. But why would he? After all, it was his private business. She could not care less if he were engaged!

  She gathered herself and returned to the ballroom. Her aunt and Jane were in the midst of Lord Matlock’s family. Mrs. Gardiner inquired about her and Elizabeth forced a smile as she confessed she was not feeling well. She admitted to a piercing headache and pretended her eyes could not bear the light because of the pain. Lady Selina invited her to retire to one of the guest rooms, but Mrs. Gardiner declared she would take Elizabeth home to rest. Immediately, Miss Bennet supported her idea, and shortly all three ladies were ready to depart despite Lady Selina and Lady Brightmore’s insistence. They declined any attempt to call for one of the gentlemen to keep them company. Mrs. Gardiner had her coachman waiting and decidedly said they would be perfectly safe. They did not wish to raise unnecessary concerns nor ruin the pleasure of the ball for the other guests.

  So, with little recourse, Lady Selina accepted her friends’ decision, taking a warm farewell of them and asking to see them all the next day. Mrs. Gardiner promised they would come for tea, and Lady Selina was content with the prospect.

  ***

  Hours passed, and Elizabeth could find no rest. Although she threw herself in bed as soon as they were home and assured her aunt and sister that she was feeling better, it only became worse. She recalled every word, every gesture, every face, and every glance from the ball. Were other people also thinking so ill of her?

  Morning came, but it brought little peace for Elizabeth. She did not leave her bed nor join the family for breakfast. Mrs. Gardiner encouraged her to sleep as much as she wanted, but she declared she would send for a doctor, as she was worried about Elizabeth’s indisposition.

  To avoid such a drastic measure, Elizabeth finally dressed, declaring she wanted to eat a little and rest later. Content, Mrs. Gardiner postponed the idea of fetching the doctor.

  During the noon hour, Mrs. Gardiner remembered they promised to have tea with Lady Selina. Jane seemed pleased with the idea, and Mrs. Gardiner declared she would take the children, too, so they could play with Lady Selina’s boys.

  Elizabeth asked to be forgiven but expressed her trust that she would be much better the next day. With some arguments and no little worry, the ladies finally left.

  For Elizabeth, the empty house and the silence surrounding her were a blessing. She hurried to her room and lay on the bed, closing her eyes and remembering once more all the details of the previous night. She became angrier at each passing moment, not so much against a certain lady but against herself for allowing the events to bother her so. The lady had danced with Mr. Darcy too; how dare she make such insinuations after a dance? And Mr. Darcy himself—how could he be friends with such a disrespectful woman? And what kind of friends were they, after all?

  She was surprised by the sound of the doorbell and hurried to the parlour. A servant announced the visitor, and to her utter amazement, Mr. Darcy walked into the room.

  He bowed to her politely, but she could scarcely greet him properly, so preoccupied was she to discover the reason for his presence.

  He took a seat and inquired after her health, confessing he was at Lady Selina’s with his sister when Mrs. Gardiner and Miss Bennet arrived. He had been surprised not to see her and was worried to hear she was not feeling well, especially after their sudden departure from the ball.

  She assured him she was well and thanked him for his concern. Then she asked about Georgiana and was told that she remained at Lady Selina’s. He had come alone, and Elizabeth’s consternation grew. As she watched him attempt to start a conversation, it was obvious to Elizabeth that he had slept ill as well. His countenance was pale, his eyes showed dark circles, and no smile lit his face.

  After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her in an agitated manner, still standing, and finally spoke.

  “In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

  Chapter 8

  Elizabeth stared at Mr. Darcy, her cheeks burning, and for a moment, she wondered whether he was making fun of her. Her head felt painfully heavy, and the daylight was intolerable. His words sounded loud and clear, but their meaning was uncertain. He seemed slightly uneasy, and the trace of fatigue on his face became more visible with each moment. He looked at her as though waiting for a sign to continue, and she knew she should stop him.

  “Miss Bennet, please forgive my intrusion and the manner of my declaration. I can understand your surprise, your shock; to be honest, my presence here is a surprise even to me. I have thought of little else since last night, and I confess I did not sleep a single moment as I considered my decision to speak with you. But surely you cannot be surprised by my words as you must have noticed my inclination for you since we were in Hertfordshire.”

  She continued to stare at him in silent astonishment. Of what was he speaking? His inclination for her? ‘She is tolerable, I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me.’

  “Almost from the beginning of our acquaintance, I came to admire you. Yet, I must admit that, for a long time, I struggled with my feelings because of the obstacles presented by the differences between our families. I never would consider attaching myself to someone whose situation in life was so far below mine. I have always known my duty, and I am aware that I must fulfil my expectations and those of my family. And then, when I met you again in London among my uncle’s friends, seeing how pleased my sister was to be in your company and how happy I was myself, I became more and more certain that I might come to a dec
ision, even one against my judgement, because what has judgement to do with matters of the heart? It finally became clear to me that there was no other way to manage this painful situation, so I came here to plead for your acceptance. And I trust it might be to the advantage of us both to…”

  He continued to speak, more hastily with each word as if he were trying to convince not just her but also himself. While speaking, he paced the room, and she found it increasingly difficult to comprehend his statements. He has admired me from the beginning of our acquaintance? He is aware he should not even consider marriage with someone in my situation? And now he has come to propose some sort of arrangement? She felt her eyes stinging.

  “Mr. Darcy, I am afraid I cannot allow you to continue upon this subject. As you mentioned, I am shocked by your presence here and even more so by your words. I never noticed any inclination you might have for me; the only thing that does not surprise me is your disapproval of my family; that I have long noticed.”

  She looked around for a chair. A lump in her throat forbade her from speaking louder, and she struggled against the tears that threatened to overcome her.

  “You cannot seriously consider that I would accept such a proposal, so my answer will not be a surprise to you. And if you are truly disappointed, I hope it will be of short duration. I trust that your judgement eventually will overcome your regard and you will find other ways to solve any painful situation that might arise in the future.”

  She finished her reply and took a deep breath. As she spoke, his complexion paled, and the disturbance of his mind was impossible to ignore. He obviously struggled to maintain his composure as he stared at her, unable to reply. Elizabeth, her eyes riveted by his, felt the urge to sit. At that moment, he should have understood the ridiculous situation in which he had put himself and leave. After some time, in a voice of forced calmness, he spoke.

  “And this is all the reply which I am to have the honour of expecting! I might wish to be informed why, with so little endeavour at civility, I am thus rejected before I had the opportunity to finish my plea. But it is of small importance.”