by Lilian, Lory
They took their seats at the dinner table, joining the conversation. It took only a couple of minutes for Miss Bingley’s comment to arrive.
“I find it strange that anyone could spill coffee on themselves. A lady should be careful how she behaves, especially in company. But of course, we cannot expect someone who rarely leaves her small country estate and the nearby four and twenty families to behave properly in illustrious company.”
“May we cease speaking about this incident? It is quite irritating. I need more pleasant and witty subjects to enjoy my dinner,” said Lady Sinclair sharply.
“Yes, I agree, your ladyship,” said Miss Bingley.
“Then, by all means, do introduce some witty subjects, ladies,” said Darcy severely. “I have long desired such an unusual event to occur.” His voice was as rude as his words, and his sister stared at him in disbelief.
“Mr. Darcy, you seem in low spirits,” Lady Sinclair replied. “Is there anything we can do to improve your disposition? Your mood has spoiled my appetite.”
“Forgive me, your ladyship. From now on, I shall take your appetite into consideration before allowing my disposition to be openly displayed,” Darcy answered coldly.
“Oh, am I wrong, or has Mr. Darcy’s disposition changed for the worse since Miss Eliza retired to her room? I have to say, sir, that this revelation is quite astonishing to me. I remember a time when you were not at all partial to Miss Eliza’s charms; in fact I remember your avoiding her as much as possible—not to mention her mother. Do you remember when they all invaded us at Netherfield? You even had an argument with Mrs. Bennet; it was so amusing. But then Miss Eliza managed somehow to improve your opinion, and at some point you even called her pretty…”
Darcy lifted his eyes from his plate and put down his tableware.
“Yes, I did find Miss Elizabeth pretty, but that was only in the beginning when I did not know her well enough. It has been many months since I have come to admire Miss Elizabeth Bennet and to consider myself privileged to be her friend.”
The astonishment of Mr. Bingley’s sisters, as well as Lady Sinclair’s incredulous disdain, brought an awkward silence to the dinner table. Lord Matlock, interrupted in his animated conversation with Lord Sinclair, turned to Miss Bingley with a sharp smile.
“Miss Bingley, I have long wanted to tell you something. You are a handsome, intelligent young woman and fortunate enough to have a nice dowry. Young men should be clamouring for your attention. Sadly, you are bitter, mischievous, and spiteful. I have yet to hear a single kind or generous word from you about anyone unless you have an interest in flattering that person. Why is that? These are appalling traits to a man, you know. I have to say that, if you continue this way, you will end a spinster; I hope you are aware of that. Lady Sinclair and Mrs. Hurst are not kind either, but they can afford it; they have already secured their husbands while you have not been so fortunate.”
Miss Bingley turned white as the blood drained from her face; for a moment, Darcy wondered whether she was able to breathe and briefly considered that she might need help, but he did nothing, barely able to contain his mirth.
Lord Sinclair, who normally should have been offended by the severe criticism of his wife, laughed heartily and emptied his glass of brandy.
Angrily red, Mrs. Hurst and Lady Sinclair looked furiously at Lord Matlock, but their anger turned wild when they noticed Eliza Bennet, smiling from the doorway.
In the midst of that dreadful moment, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley rose and invited the ladies to their seats. Jane took her place near Mr. Bingley, and at the other side of her, Mrs. Gardiner sat to the left of Lady Selina. At the opposite side of the table, Elizabeth was almost forced by Miss Darcy to take the seat between her and her brother.
The footmen brought the next course, and the food was the object of everyone’s attention for some time. The gentlemen, warmed by brandy and wine, opened multiple and various conversations, and soon the din of voices made it difficult to understand to each other.
“You seem very quiet,” Darcy said to Elizabeth in a low voice. “Are you well?”
“Yes, thank you. I was just thinking… It seemed you had an entertaining debate while we were gone,” she whispered, a smile on her lips.
“‘Very entertaining’ is a description that does not do it justice.” He smiled. “May I dare presume that you heard a part of it?”
“I did. I have to say, sir, that for someone as reserved as yourself, who is always in perfect control, you are doing a poor job of concealing your feelings. If you continue in this way, our secret will last until tomorrow at the latest.” She cast a quick glance at him, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
“Please forgive me. I have no excuse for not keeping my word but—”
“Excuses are not needed.” She smiled teasingly. “I was just wondering—perhaps you should write my father after all. In some circumstances, a week can be a very long time.”
He stared at her, and she turned her head to meet his eyes; for a heartbeat, they looked only at each other, oblivious to their surroundings. His expression spoke to her more eloquently than words, and the gleam in her eyes was all the reply she need offer.
“Miss Bennet seems exceptionally happy tonight,” Darcy said a few moments later.
“Yes, she is; she just shared some extraordinary news with us. But I presume you already know, do you not, Mr. Darcy?”
He hesitated a moment. “Yes, I do; Bingley and I spoke earlier, and I expected he would do something when he returned from riding.”
“I see… Did you… Did he propose because you told him to do so?” Her voice was suddenly hesitant and expressionless. He stared at her intently.
“I hope you are still mocking me. You cannot imagine that Bingley proposed to Miss Bennet for reasons other than genuine affection; he has waited long enough.”
“Forgive me; I did not mean to imply otherwise… It is just that…”
“There is no need to apologise. You have every reason to fear my interference, whether for good or ill. It is also true that I spoke to him and encouraged him a little.”
“Does Mr. Bingley do anything without your approval?”
“Dear God, I surely hope he does,” he replied seriously, and she covered her mouth with her napkin to cover her laughter. “He just… As my uncle said earlier, patience is a virtue only when it does not crush passion and daring,” he whispered. “Bingley has had much patience and wisdom recently, but too little daring. In that, I confess I encouraged him.”
“Yes, but you said…” She paused a moment and looked around to see whether others might hear her then leaned to whisper back. “You said that passion and daring need a strong character and a superior mind to keep them under good regulation. Is that the difference between crushing the passion and keeping it under good regulation? If it is, pray explain it to me because I confess I do not see one, sir.”
“It is an extraordinary difference, Miss Bennet. But I cannot explain it to you, as I am afraid it would be difficult to put into words. However, I dare to promise that you will understand it for yourself quite soon.”
His words were difficult to understand indeed, as she could barely hear him, and his low, whispered voice increased her anxiety, unsuccessfully hidden behind a tentative smile. She was not certain of his meaning, but what her mind did not comprehend, her heart and her body sensed and yearned for.
Her sister Jane was happy now; Mr. Bingley had finally proposed to her, and Elizabeth anticipated that they would be the most wonderful, kind, and generous couple.
It was now time to allow herself to feel her own happiness.
She startled when he leaned and whispered to her again. “As for your riding lessons, Miss Bennet—I would suggest we start them either at Longbourn or at Pemberley.”
She fought to keep a calm voice when she replied. “I shall take your suggestions to heart, sir. What would you consider to be the perfect time?”
“Pemberley,” he said
gently but decidedly, and she could not contradict him.
Chapter 17
The hunting party set out at dawn.
From the window of her room, Elizabeth watched them depart, heavyhearted and regretful. The sun was just rising, and it was impossible to decide whether the sky or the fields looked more beautiful. She should have learned to ride earlier.
She could see Jane near Mr. Bingley, and she smiled, imagining how happy her sister must feel.
Though their engagement had yet to be approved by Mr. Bennet, Mr. Bingley proved to be incapable of withholding such a secret—so much so that the happiness of it seemed to illuminate his face. Generously, Mrs. Gardiner took on the task of writing Mr. Bennet herself, and she did not hesitate to assure Mr. Bingley and Jane that they would surely have Mr. Bennet’s consent and blessing. Hence, the engagement lost its secrecy almost immediately.
Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were shocked and angered by the news, and their rudeness increased accordingly. Though they made an effort to display civil behaviour, their displeasure and disapproval could hardly be concealed.
Lady Sinclair wasted little time and even less interest on the event, but she could not be remiss in congratulating Jane for the good fortune of “securing a husband whom you surely could not hope to find in your own neighbourhood.” Kindly, Jane thanked her for the good thoughts while Elizabeth wondered how Lady Sinclair managed to be even more disagreeable than Miss Bingley.
Still attempting to bring order to the storm of thoughts that invaded her mind and heart, Elizabeth returned to her bed as soon as the house quieted.
When she woke again, the sun was up, and a beautiful, warm, sunny day invited her outdoors. She hurried downstairs and found the children and their governesses having breakfast together. Three little boys and a girl instantly claimed her notice with restless determination, and their joy soon captured Elizabeth’s complete attention.
Immediately after breakfast, the children went out and played together on the front lawn under the close supervision of their governesses.
Alone in the house, Elizabeth tentatively returned to the library and, more precisely, to the subject of her deep curiosity.
As she had spied a few days before, on the shelves were miniatures in which she could easily recognise Lady Selina, the colonel, the viscount, Mr. Darcy and Georgiana—some alone and others with their parents. For a moment, Elizabeth took up and looked closer at a portrait of the entire Darcy family: a beautiful, blonde lady and a handsome and impressive father together with their young son and baby girl.
At length, Elizabeth reached the miniatures that had intrigued her earlier. Undoubtedly, in all three of them, Mr. Wickham was pictured—at various ages—with a lady who should have been his mother. Her handsome features were inherited by her son, and their eyes seemed as similar as the pictures were able to reveal. Elizabeth looked at each with growing interest and no little puzzlement, trying to uncover the mystery that induced Lord Matlock to keep those miniatures close to his family’s. After all, Mr. Wickham was merely the godson of his brother-in-law.
The only answers she could find gave her little satisfaction, so she abandoned the struggle, and for some time she allowed herself the delight of reading a favourite book. Then, a couple of hours later, she returned to the miniatures—to those of the Darcy family—lost in her thoughts and troubled by other worries: What would Lady Anne and Mr. Darcy say about their son’s choice? Would they accept for their heir a woman from a situation so below their own? Would they ever have accepted her?
She was abruptly interrupted by a din of voices, and she barely had time to raise her eyes before she saw Lady Selina and her husband, Mrs. Gardiner, Jane, Mr. Bingley, Georgiana and Mr. Darcy filling the large room. All were dressed in their hunting attire, obviously tired but in high spirits, followed by the children, coming in search of Elizabeth. As Lady Selina and Mrs. Gardiner were instantly claimed by their brood, Lord Brightmore and Mr. Bingley hurried to find drinks for everyone. Mr. Darcy moved towards Elizabeth, and their smiles met halfway.
His hand asked for hers, and only then did she notice she was still holding the miniature of the Darcy family. She blushed in embarrassment and struggled for an excuse.
“I was looking at the pictures…” she said, showing him the miniature.
He appeared surprised and glanced at the picture then at Elizabeth.
“I remember when that one was drawn. Georgiana was so small… My mother held her but she was not feeling well…so my father took her from time to time, but she was not accustomed to his arms so she cried all the time. Poor father was so distressed.” He laughed nervously as he explained, his countenance changed by evident emotion.
“Your mother was very beautiful,” she whispered.
“My sister was one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen.” Lord Matlock’s interruption startled them both; they were still holding the miniature with their joined hands and had no time to separate. The earl seemed not to notice their improper posture.
“I think Georgiana will be just like her one day. She is still very young, but she looks very much like Anne.”
“Forgive me, your lordship, I did not mean to intrude; I just found the miniatures and—”
“Oh, do not trouble yourself, my dear; there is no intrusion at all. You will find many other pictures in the house. There is even a larger gallery upstairs. You may look as much as you want. George Darcy was very lucky to marry my sister; I think every bachelor in London hoped to court her, but he was the fortunate one. He was a good man; he almost deserved her.” The earl laughed as he fought a tear. “Mathew, be so kind as to pour me a full glass of brandy, son; it is the least you can do since you took away my daughter.” His son-in-law obeyed instantly, laughing in good humour, oblivious to their conversation.
The earl enjoyed a generous gulp of brandy. “Miss Elizabeth?”
“Yes, your lordship?” she whispered, her hand finally separating from Darcy’s.
“Anne always hoped and prayed that her children would have a happy life; she wished nothing less and nothing more for them. As for George Darcy—he was not a man easy to please, but he would approve of you very much.”
Elizabeth stared at him in disbelief; with a large smile on his face and with sadness impossible to conceal in his eyes, Lord Matlock watched her with tender care. She struggled against her own emotions, considering what she should say and briefly wondering whether the earl knew about their arrangement or was only perceptive enough to guess the truth. Finally, still uncertain how to proceed, she allowed her heart to guide her, so she gently embraced the earl and only whispered, “Thank you.”
“There is nothing to thank me for, my dear.” He took another gulp from his glass then returned to the other guests, followed by Elizabeth’s smiling eyes.
Darcy and Elizabeth were alone again, face to face, a short distance from the others; their intense gazes needed no words to convey their feelings.
“I wrote your father last night, and I asked Miles to send the letter early this morning. I suspect your father might receive it tomorrow,” he eventually broke the silence.
“Oh,” she said. So he had already written her father; he had little patience for waiting. She felt content—and happy.
“I also asked him to keep the news private for now. I think we should wait a little longer before making an announcement. I do not wish to suspend Bingley’s joy. He deserves to be the centre of attention for a time. I hope you approve my plan.”
“I do—most heartily.” She smiled. “I can wait as long as you think necessary.”
“Not too long. Though I care about Bingley’s joy, I care more about my own. I have been a selfish man all my life, and I surely shall not start being generous now.”
***
The entire party retired to change and prepare for an early dinner. Elizabeth spent some time with her sister, who seemed not fatigued at all. Jane was more talkative than ever before. Elizabeth never would have imag
ined Jane displaying her happiness so openly, and though she did not entirely agree with Jane’s praise of Mr. Bingley, her heart melted seeing that Jane had finally found the happiness she long desired.
Though they did not have Mr. Bennet’s response yet, Jane hoped their father would approve a wedding date at the beginning of October. Elizabeth smiled in tender understanding; surely, there was no reason to worry about Mr. Bennet’s consent.
Dinner began earlier and lasted longer than usual. The conversation was mostly dominated by discussions of the hunting party and the performance of each rider. Lady Sinclair had the pleasure of being much admired and praised for her skills; more than once, she commented that she raced against Mr. Darcy, and only the superiority of his horse allowed him to win the competition. After the third mention of her defeat by Darcy, the gentleman finally intervened.
“Lady Sinclair, I must beg your pardon; I was not aware that we were racing. I thought we were merely riding with the others. Had I known it was a competition, I gladly would have allowed you to win it.”
“You are most generous, sir, but I do not like easy victories. There would be no need for you to allow me to win. I always find a way to win competitions that truly interest me.”
“I dare not contradict you further,” he said briefly, and Elizabeth wondered whether it was possible that Lady Sinclair did not recognise his sharp irony. He was not being generous but slightly rude.
Not long after this exchange, dinner ended, and Lord Matlock invited the gentlemen to join him in the library. At that moment, Mrs. Gardiner excused herself from the other ladies, explaining that she was tired and needed to retire to her room. Soon after, Lady Selina followed Mrs. Gardiner’s example, so in the drawing room there were only Elizabeth, Jane and Georgiana to face Lady Sinclair, Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley. Neither of them spoke much to each other, so the situation became a bit awkward. A few minutes later, Lady Sinclair rose unceremoniously, said a cold “good night,” and suddenly left the room.