Love Calls Again

by Lucianne Elsworth

  "Miss Bennet, Miss Catherine, please feel welcome in my house. I sincerely hope you spend a pleasant evening in good company," said he with an absolute lack of demur.

  "I thank you, Mr Darcy," said Kitty between giggles. "Pray, Georgie, will you be long here?" she said to her friend.

  "Not much longer, I believe."

  "Then I shall wait for you inside."

  Mr Darcy's surprise at their easy talking could not be hidden from his eyes. He obviously had not been apprised of Kitty's acquaintance with Miss Darcy. Looking rather bemused, he paid his tribute of politeness by bowing respectfully to the ladies before allowing them to mingle with the others in his house.

  Darcy, then, had a terrible battle with his own eyes, which reluctantly abandoned Elizabeth's adored retiring figure, to rest again on the uninviting grey countenance of Mrs Darcy's.

  After the last guest was welcomed in, Mr Darcy made his entrance with both his wife and his sister clinging from each arm. Immediately, Miss Darcy looked eagerly for Miss Bennet and her younger sister. In spotting their figures among the guests, Miss Darcy let go of her brother's arm and dashed towards the ladies. Her countenance, however, betrayed acute unhappiness.

  "The ball will be open in a few minutes now. Are you not exceedingly happy?" asked Elizabeth to the sad-looking girl.

  "I am." she said unconvincingly.

  "Then, why are you not showing it?" asked Elizabeth, rather puzzled.

  Much as she had waited for the night of her coming out, Georgiana could not hide her sadness at the absence of her cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. She told of her disappointment to Kitty and Elizabeth.

  "'Tis only I wish that my cousin were here. I had hoped that he should have stood up with me at my first ball."

  "Your cousin? Colonel Fitzwilliam?" asked Kitty.

  "Yes. The very one."

  "To be sure you must miss him very much," said Elizabeth politely.

  "Aye, Miss Bennet. I love him so dearly." Elizabeth listened to her confession in concealed astonishment. Yet, she dared not ask the girl if her feelings were in earnest, or she was just referring to family attachment.

  Sobbing bitterly, Georgiana continued. "No one knows anything from him! It has been a whole year… I fear he might…" Elizabeth saw Georgiana's eyes well with tears, and her heart sank, too. She feared the same, only that she could not share her sorrow with anyone. Was it possible that Georgiana was suffering so much because she was in love with Richard?

  Just then, the handsome figure of Mr Darcy turned to behold them. He whispered something into his wife's ear, and, abandoning her company, began to make his way in their direction.

  Elizabeth's heart lurched in her chest. She swallowed back the lump in her throat, and closed her eyes.

  Be composed, be composed…

  When she opened them back, Mr Darcy was merely a few steps from them. He wore a devastating smile upon his face, as if he knew the exceptional power his presence held over her emotions.

  Indeed, he did not know.

  "There comes your brother. Pray, Georgiana, smile, be composed." Taking a handkerchief, she wiped the tears from Georgiana's cheeks. "Do not betray what you feel to everybody present, especially your brother. Perhaps he has not observed you yet."

  Georgiana nodded and smiled. She saw her brother approach. He was the only man she could forgive for not being Colonel Fitzwilliam; the only one that could have gained a smile from her. She dispersed her tears to smile upon him.

  "Miss Darcy." he said playfully. "The music is about to start. Shall we?" He sent an inviting look towards Elizabeth and Kitty that sent shivers down the former's back. "Will you two ladies do me the honour to dance the third and the fourth with me? One at a time of course." He flashed a smile at them, but his gaze lingered for a moment on his favourite lady's eyes, and Elizabeth thought she could drown in the darkness of his stare.

  Kitty made a courtesy and giggled happily. It seemed giggling was the only sound she could ultimately make.

  Elizabeth looked confused, and her face was flushed, so angry had she grown at her inability to contain her feelings. Her heart was racing, and the lump in her throat stayed on. Lord, Elizabeth! He is merely being polite! You must simply refuse. 'Tis what he is expecting she berated herself.

  Looking straight into his eyes, albeit unwillingly, she managed to utter a civil refusal. "I thank you, Mr Darcy, but I do not feel inclined to dance for the moment."

  Darcy frowned. He had not expected no for an answer. Not inclined? 'Tis perfectly normal that a guess should accept her host's request for a dance. Why cannot she be civil, at least? Is she unwell, or merely not inclined to dance with me?

  He could not help feeling hurt by her refusal, neither could he accept it. No, he would dance with her. She had come to him, to his house, willingly. She could not hide herself now, could she? No. He would not have it. How dared she refuse him a stupid dance! She knew perfectly well he did not like the exertion at all. His face prickled with anger, still, most civilly he bowed and thus answered-

  "Then, later perhaps." he insisted. "Do me the honour of sparing me the first waltz." Not waiting for her answer, he directed his eyes to Georgiana and led her to the dance floor.

  Elizabeth could not believe her ears. A waltz! He must be jesting! I would not dance with him a reel, least of all a waltz! What was he thinking? Does he not remember our understanding?

  He did not.

  Hence, Elizabeth was forced to decline many young men's petitions for a dance due to her declining the fourth with Mr Darcy. She watched with a pang of envy while Mr Darcy claimed Kitty's hand for the third reel after he had danced the first and the second with his sister. Anyway, if he had decided to forget their understanding to avoid each other's company as much as possible, she would not disregard it. Still, Elizabeth could not help the galloping of her heart within, each time she discerned Mr Darcy's intent stare on her. If only he had grown out of it she would have found the necessary strength to remain nonchalant in his presence.

  After the orchestra made a pause to rest she went up to Georgiana and the two girls conversed for awhile.

  "I see you are enjoying yourself after all," said Elizabeth.

  "Indeed. I am, Lizzy, I thank you. Dancing is so invigorating! I feel I could dance the whole night through!"

  "I am glad to see you thus."

  "You have not danced yourself, Lizzy. I understood you enjoyed the activity exceedingly well."

  "I do, as a general thing," she conceded.

  "I would very much like to see you enjoy yourself at my ball. Pray, Lizzy. Let me introduce you to a gentleman of my acquaintance."

  "Oh, no, Georgie. That will not be necessary."

  "Lizzy, I hate to see you standing in this manner. I must introduce you to someone. There is Mr Willoughby! I dare say he is very amiable, and very handsome, too. He is a favourite among the ladies of the ton." Thus expressed, in quite an extraordinary display of courage, absolutely inconceivable in such timid creature, she darted towards the gentleman, who happened to be only a few steps from them, and almost dragged him to Elizabeth's corner. "Mr Willoughby. Let me introduce you to my dear friend Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

  "Delighted to make your acquaintance Miss Bennet. John Willoughby at your service."

  Willoughby's manly beauty was not under discussion. After several minutes of amiable conversation his gracefulness was instantly perceived, too. Elizabeth herself had seen less of his person, for confusion, which crimsoned her face on lifting her eyes, had robbed her of regarding him. But she had seen enough of him to join in the admiration of Miss Darcy. He had a unique frankness and vivacity, and, above all, when she had heard him declare that of music and dancing he was passionately fond, she gave him such a look of approbation as to secure an invitation to dance.

  "Will you honour me with the next dance, Miss Bennet?"

  "I shall be delighted." declared she.

  When the musicians had rested well enough, music was restored
and the couples prepared to dance the first waltz.

  The first Waltz! Surely Mr Darcy would come to claim her hand! She tilted her head and saw this latter, grave as a churchyard, glaring at her and her companion. Elizabeth immediately lowered her eyes and avoided his.

  Just then, Willoughby secured her by her waist and they whizzed gaily around the ball floor.

  Little did he know of the turmoil this coupling was causing in his host's demeanour.

  Upon perceiving Elizabeth in the arms of Mr Willoughby, Mr Darcy had to fight the urgent impulse to put himself between them. He watched them waltz by with absolute disbelief, as if Willoughby had been doing the most preposterous demonstration of indecency in his own ballroom. His jealousy was excessive and his manners turned particularly uncivil towards his wife, who had been trying to extract from him an answer as regards their scheduled return to Kent.

  In the end, he could restrain himself no longer and, seeing that the dance had finished, he claimed Elizabeth's hand for the next waltz from Willoughby's arms.

  "I believe you owe me the next, Miss Bennet," he said possessively.

  Elizabeth's eyes betrayed confusion and her partner hesitated to oblige Mr Darcy's insistent demeanour. Mr Willoughby noticed his dark glare and knew, albeit he was his host, that Mr Darcy was not a man to contradict. Hence, Willoughby, looking a bit taken aback, handed Mr. Darcy her hand with gallant readiness and bowed to both of them before stepping back.

  "You may think my question an odd one, I dare say," she said impertinently "but, pray tell me. Have we not reached an understanding yet?"

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "You know very well, sir, what I am referring to."

  "I cannot bear to have you think me irremediably stupid; yet I assure you I do not recall having achieved any kind of understanding with you, save this dance. Will you not tell me of what you are talking?"

  "Indeed!" replied Elizabeth. "You intend to tell me, sir, you do not recollect what happened at Netherfield on Twelfth Night?" she bore a stern look of disapproval and sounded seriously concerned.

  He made no reply; his complexion changed and his embarrassment was evident. The music had begun and they were compelled to hold each other and begin twirling around to the sound of the waltzing violins. However difficult to exchange conversation was, Mr Darcy managed to breathe a short confession into her ear.

  "I dare say I must apologise for my stupidity, Miss Bennet. I found I have probably entirely forgotten our conversation in Netherfield Park, if that is what you are referring to."

  "Indeed!" answered Elizabeth looking rather put out. "I have not forgotten it, sir."

  "If I am not deceived, you seem to adhere to your accustomed propensity to misunderstand me. I am afraid I cannot recollect a good number of my activities on that particular Twelfth Night because I had made the terrible mistake of abusing Mr Bingley's allowance of spirits."

  It was Elizabeth's turn to look puzzled. She was instantly reminded of his spicy breath of brandy.

  "Mr Darcy, you really mean to tell me you do not remember anything from our conversation that night?"

  "Unfortunately, much as I hate to confess this, I do not."

  "You will next tell me you do not remember our little stroll in the garden?" she snapped.

  "We strolled into the garden? In the cold?" The tone and the look upon his face told Elizabeth he was speaking in earnest. Suddenly it dawned on her the propensity for the inebriated to forget much of their activities whilst under the effect of the spirits.

  "Oh Lord! You do not remember!"

  She seemed to lose pace and almost stumbled. After inhaling deeply, she blinked twice, straining her brain to find what to say next, but words simply escaped her. It was he who broke the silence again.

  "You mean there is something utterly important for me to remember?" he said gaily.

  She nodded, biting her lower lip.

  "Pray, Miss Bennet. Give me a hint. Is this that I cannot remember connected with our conversation, or our walk?"

  "Both."

  "'Tis too much if I beg you to be more precise, Miss Bennet? I am beginning to feel concerned. Did anything happen after we walked out in the garden that I may need to remember? Did we go somewhere in particular?"

  "To the orangery."

  His throat dried. "The orangery?"

  "Yes."

  "Surely, you understand this is nothing to jest about."

  "I understand perfectly well, sir."

  "Indeed."

  He paused to think of the strange inclination he had recently acquired to eat oranges before retiring to his bed chamber. In the past, it had always been apples. Yet, ever since he had returned from that trip from Netherfield, oranges had turned into his favourite fruit, much as roses had been his favourite scent, ever since he had danced his first reel with Miss Eliza Bennet.

  "Did we go in there?"

  "We did, sir."

  "And of course we were alone?"

  She lowered her gaze and nodded silently.

  Just then an intense scent of roses emanating from her hair arrested Mr Darcy's nostrils and the memory of his lips upon her skin assaulted his mind. The feeling was exquisite, the remorse, yet was unbearable.

  "I think we must talk." he muttered.

  Scarcely had he said that, when the violins struck the last note and most couples left the ball floor to go for refreshments. Mr Bingley approached them from behind.

  "Darcy! I see you are entertaining my sister! Good. Good. I thank you. 'Twas too good of you to have thought of her and my sister Catherine." Then talking to Elizabeth, he added. "Now if you are not otherwise engaged, I would very much like to dance a waltz with you, Lizzy. You do it exceedingly well."

  "I am not engaged, Charles. I thank you."

  "Will you not dance with my Jane, Darce? I will be very much obliged."

  "It will my pleasure, Bingley. I shall ask her directly."

  Jane was delighted to accept Darcy's invitation to dance a waltz. It would be the first time she would dance said piece with a gentleman other than her husband. Not that she did not enjoy Bingley's standing up with her in a ballroom. But Darcy's superiority at waltzing was notorious and she was excited by the prospect of being his partner for once.

  Once the couples were ready, the orchestra struck up a fresh dance. It was a traditional waltz, and the couples went wildly around the floor, Darcy and Jane excelling the others by far. Their dancing was so invigorated that not a chance did they have to breathe a word while engaged at it. Jane's blond beauty seemed to be enhanced by Mr Darcy's strong arms, so much so that very soon the entire assembly had fixed their attention on them. How well they looked! Many a gossip, hence, went around on how unfortunate it was for such a handsome gentleman to be married to the wrenched creature sitting by the fire!

  No sooner had the orchestra struck the last note, then Jane expressed her wish to rest awhile. Her complexion looked dreadfully white and she found it difficult to breathe. Mr Darcy noticed she was leaning all her delicate weight upon his arm, and before they had reached a seat, Jane was unable to stand and fainted in front of all the guests. In no time, Mr Bingley was by her side, and he and Mr Darcy carried her urgently to the music room. There, Elizabeth tried to revive her with lavender water, while Mr Darcy sent a servant to fetch a Doctor.

  By the time the Doctor arrived it was almost dawn, and Jane had been carried upstairs to the guest room she had occupied since her arrival. The ball had already come to a natural end, the guests had been dismissed, and everybody had retired to their rooms. Only Elizabeth and Darcy were still awake, the former at the door of Jane's bedchamber, the latter in his study, both of them impatiently waiting for the doctor's report. Fortunately, Jane had recovered her healthy colour and did not feel unwell, save for a tiny repugnance for food. The doctor asked her several questions and then checked her pulse. After he had recommended that Mrs Bingley stay in bed in absolute quietness for three days, he exited the house, leaving a very plea
sed couple of prospective parents. A baby was on its way. Mr Bingley's grin occupied most of his face, and, to his wife's dismay and mortification, he ran to his friend to share the good news with him. Darcy felt both a bit concerned and at the same time enthusiastic. Mrs Darcy's return to Rosings was scheduled for the following morning, and he did not wish to detain her a moment longer in London lest she could take offence and retaliate. So, he favoured her travelling with her mother and a large retinue, and decided against accompanying them as it had been formerly planned, in view of the Bingleys' forced extended stay in his house.

  That, and the urgent necessity to settle matters with Miss Bennet. This was where his enthusiasm stemmed from. The mere thought of seeking her company, be it only with the prospect of conversing, was exciting in itself.

  For Miss Bennet's staying at Darcy House, very much as it had been a year before at Netherfield, was, of course, required, in order to secure Mrs Bingley's peace of mind. This might sound rather strange since it had been a good two years that the Bingleys had been married, and one would have expected Charles Bingley to be the source of Jane's comfort. But, unfortunately, Jane had not found much domestic felicity. Her bond with Bingley was not strong enough. Although he was a caring husband, Bingley lacked common sense. Added to this serious flaw in his character, Bingley usually acted in rather a rushed manner, never thinking twice before leaping. Much as Jane trusted the doctor's judgement, she feared her frenzied waltzing might have harmed the baby, and Bingley was too excited to be able to comfort her. Thus, since her dear sister was there, Jane begged her to stay by her side. Hence, a carriage was sent to Cheapside and Miss Bennet's trunk was transported to a guest bedchamber located in the west wing.

  After the whole house had retired, Jane and Elizabeth talked for a good time, very much as in their old days at Longbourn. When at last Jane's slumber won over her, Elizabeth wound a shawl around her and tiptoed to her own room. Unwilling to ring for a servant at such a late hour, she had barely slipped into her bed when she heard a light rapping at her door. Thinking it was the maid who had come to see to her comfort, she bid the nocturnal servant in.