by Jann Rowland
“It appears Miss Bingley is not completely cured of her desire to be mistress of Pemberley,” said he, maintaining a straight face.
“Or perhaps she is,” replied Elizabeth. “It may be nothing more than jealousy and a desire to prevent me from obtaining that which she was not so fortunate as to secure.”
Mr. Darcy regarded her, a hint of a smile playing about his mouth. “If that is so, she may wish to take care. Envy can be a harsh taskmistress, and if she does not control it, her new beau may take offense.”
“Oh, so he is a suitor?” asked Elizabeth.
“I do not think it correct to refer to him in such terms,” replied Mr. Darcy. “Bingley mentioned he has called on her a few times, but I believe his interest is not yet sufficient to call him a suitor.”
“Then I wish Miss Bingley well,” replied Elizabeth, her manner mischievous. “For if he is a suitor, then she will have no choice but to give up her interest in you. Her words suggest she has not, even now, given up some measure of hope you will ‘come to your senses.’”
Mr. Darcy chuckled and shook his head. “If she still does hope, she does so in vain. There is no more chance of my marrying her than of my dancing in the streets in naught but my waistcoat.”
“That is an interesting picture,” replied Elizabeth. “I think it will keep me amused for some time.”
After an enjoyable time at the exhibit, the party made their way back to Mr. Darcy’s house, parting with the Bingleys when leaving the academy. That Miss Bingley looked on her with added contempt, Elizabeth noticed, but she did not pay any attention to the supercilious woman. They traveled back to the house in silence, for they were all tired from their exertions, and when they arrived, they went their separate ways. Though Jane and Georgiana both returned to their rooms to rest, Elizabeth found herself less fatigued and took herself to the library to read. It was there that Lady Anne found her.
“Elizabeth,” said the lady as she stepped into the room and approached. “It seems your years of walking have served you in good stead. Why, I thought Georgiana would fall asleep in the carriage, and yet you have chosen to forego rest in favor of the written word.”
“Perhaps they have,” said Elizabeth with a smile.
“I was also interested to witness your behavior with my son.” Lady Anne paused and added: “Though I recognized a change before today, it was more marked than I have ever seen. Do you wish to share the reason for this change of heart?”
Surprised, Elizabeth gaped at the lady. “I do not think our behavior has been that different.”
The soft smile with which the lady regarded her seemed to suggest to Elizabeth she was being daft. “While I am certain you did not notice, it was evident to everyone else present. Why do you think Miss Bingley forgot herself enough to speak openly in the presence of a man she hopes will be her suitor?”
When Elizabeth still did not comprehend, Lady Anne shook her head. “Is not inattentiveness to all about you the very essence of love? I myself spoke to you on one occasion and you did not even notice me speaking, and I know there was at least one other instance of the same. If Georgiana did not wish so much for you as her sister, I think she might be quite offended.
“Add to this how you never strayed from William’s side,” said Lady Anne, chuckling at Elizabeth’s dawning realization, “and the way conversation flowed with effortless ease, and one might be forgiven for assuming there was already a courtship if he did not know.”
The more the lady spoke, the more Elizabeth became embarrassed, which led to further amusement and, consequently, even greater blushing. When Lady Anne fell silent, Elizabeth could not muster a response, for every interaction, every word spoken between herself and Mr. Darcy she recalled, analyzed, and the fact of her inattention to anyone else became obvious to Elizabeth.
“I had not realized I was being so unmindful,” managed Elizabeth at length.
“That is obvious, Elizabeth,” replied Lady Anne. “I quite despaired of you after my son’s last incident with you. But it seems you have mended that rift so well it might not have existed at all.”
“He apologized,” replied Elizabeth. “He promised to do better in the future, and so far, he is making good on his promise.”
“That is good to know,” said Lady Anne. “As I told you, William is not the man who offended you twice—I can only attribute it to his unacknowledged interest in you, and his misguided attempts to fight his attraction.
“Though I am sorely tempted to speak further on the matter, I shall restrain myself.” Lady Anne then grinned and continued: “But I cannot refrain from informing you that should my son propose, I shall as a daughter. I have already informed you of Georgiana’s desire for you as a sister.”
Lady Anne stood and touched Elizabeth’s cheek. “Do not concern yourself that I shall interfere. I doubt my interference is required now.”
With those words, the lady departed, leaving Elizabeth alone with her thoughts. All thought of reading vanished, for her mind had focused on other matters.
At times, Elizabeth thought her thoughts were too chaotic for her to make any sense. They were a jumbled mess of feelings and impressions, of Mr. Darcy, herself, their recent interaction, not to mention the others in the house who appeared united in wishing to see a happy conclusion. Elizabeth even considered Mr. Bingley’s courtship with Jane, noting their actions with respect to each other, wondering if what she was gaining with Mr. Darcy was in any way similar. Then she realized that it could not be the same, for she and Mr. Darcy were by no means like Jane and Mr. Bingley. No, she would have to forge her own path, just like countless others had before her.
It was fortunate the ladies had the Fitzwilliam ball to anticipate, for Elizabeth was soon able to shed some of her introspection in favor of the upcoming event. Georgiana was more excited than she usually was for an event of this nature, and even Lady Anne, who appeared unflappable, harbored much more enthusiasm than Elizabeth had seen before.
“You will both have more fun at the ball than I,” said Georgiana one morning two days before the event. “For you have your beaux, who will be more than attentive.” Georgiana turned and winked at Elizabeth. “I shall even give up my first sets with my brother should he so choose—I cannot imagine he would prefer to dance them with his much younger sister than with the woman he fancies.”
“Oh, I am certain you will have beaux of your own,” replied Elizabeth, teasing her friend in return. “Shall you require the gentlemen to vie for your hand for the first sets?”
Georgiana laughed. “That is an amusing picture, Elizabeth, and perhaps I shall attempt it. But at present, I am content to witness the romances taking place about me. I have no hurry to become attached to anyone.”
“That is wise of you, Georgiana,” said Elizabeth. “It is a lesson I wish our younger sisters would learn.”
“If you delay long enough,” said Jane with a sly look at Elizabeth, “perhaps Lizzy will have something to say about whom you marry.”
Elizabeth glared at her sister in mock affront, but the other two girls could hardly contain their glee as they bantered back and forth. After a time of this, Elizabeth declared her intention of walking out, ensuring she informed them of her wish of escaping their teasing. The accusation only spurred them on.
“It is not often I am able to discompose you with teasing, Lizzy,” said Jane. “It is usually the other way around.”
“And I wish it to return to that dynamic,” replied Elizabeth.
Kissing her sister, she rose and departed, seeking her outerwear and a footman to accompany her. But the walk she desired was to be denied by the coming of a most unpleasant visitor.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” the sound of Lady Catherine’s voice interrupted her reverie as she began to descend the stairs. “How fortunate I have come upon you, for I must have words with you.”
In Elizabeth’s opinion, it was anything but fortunate, but she refrained from making that observation, knowing that Lady
Catherine already had reason, in her own mind, to despise her. The lady noted nothing of these thoughts, for she drew breath and began to make her case, the contents of which Elizabeth knew before the lady ever uttered them.
“You can be at no loss to understand the reason for my wishing to speak with you in private,” said the lady. “Indeed, I am certain you must have been expecting me to return to make my sentiments known to you.”
“Yes, it was my expectation,” said Elizabeth, impatient to depart. “That does not imply that I welcome it.”
Lady Catherine’s eyes bored into Elizabeth and the lady snapped: “It makes little difference to me what you wish. I have come to inform you of my displeasure, and you shall not move me from my purpose. If you were sensible of your own good, you would not act in such a way as to make my reproofs inevitable.
“Now, I shall not canvass matters which I have previously made known to you—by now you should know my sentiments. I will only say this: from this day forward, I require you to cease distracting my nephew. He is destined to marry my daughter, and I shall see that he will. No lowborn temptress will keep him from his duty—if you persist you will be censured and despised by all, for I shall see it done.
“In fact, it would be best for all if you returned to your home and let my family be, for your insistence upon imposing on my sister is most reprehensible. Regardless, I require you to stay away from my nephew, do you hear me?”
“I have heard you many times, Lady Catherine,” said Elizabeth, her patience almost exhausted. “I will note that it will be difficult to stay away from him, considering our residence in the same house at present.”
“Did I not inform you that you must return to your home?” retorted Lady Catherine.
“You did,” replied Elizabeth. “But as I am here at Lady Anne’s invitation and stay because of her wish for my presence, I hope you will forgive me if I count her wishes as superior to your own.”
Lady Catherine’s eyes blazed in outrage. “I am unaccustomed to such language, Miss Elizabeth. Do you not know who I am?”
“I know exactly who you are,” rejoined Elizabeth. “That is what makes your behavior so reprehensible—I might have thought someone of your exalted station would conduct herself better than this.”
“I will not be judged by one such as you!” cried Lady Catherine. “No, we shall not speak further, for speaking with you is as efficacious as speaking to a child. You will promise me that you will stay away from my nephew and that you will not even speak to him at the ball my sister is holding two days from now.”
“If you think I will make such an outrageous promise, you are out of your senses,” said Elizabeth. “I shall do nothing of the kind.”
The lady stared at her for several moments, and Elizabeth thought she would continue to make her case. But she seemed to come to the correct conclusion, though Elizabeth knew she would not be silent for long.
“So, you refuse to oblige me?”
“I thought that was clear, Lady Catherine.”
“Very well, I shall know how to act. Do not think your ambitions will ever be realized, for I will not allow it!”
Then the lady spun on her heel and made her way back down to the carriage, which Elizabeth noted had been waiting on the drive. At once Elizabeth realized she and the lady had aired their disagreement before the world, though she could see no one in the vicinity. As the lady’s carriage pulled away, Elizabeth hoped their argument had escaped the notice of the gossips.
The intended walk forgotten and now unpalatable, Elizabeth returned into the house where the housekeeper looked at her askance. It was fortunate the woman did not speak, for Elizabeth was uncertain how she would respond. She divested herself of her spenser and bonnet and made her way back into the house, occupying her time by slowly walking the corridors of the house deep in thought. That was how Mr. Darcy found her.
“Miss Elizabeth,” said he in greeting, his manner more formal than it had been in recent days. “I have been searching for you, for I wish to ask you a particular question. Will you do me the honor of opening the ball with me in two days’ time?”
It was all Elizabeth could do not to burst out laughing, for she thought no man wished for a woman to laugh at him when applying for her hand for a dance. Something must have eked its way past her control, however, for he frowned.
“I hope my application was not amusing,” said he, proving her supposition.
“No, it was not,” replied Elizabeth, allowing free reign to her mirth. “But when you consider the conversation I had not fifteen minutes ago, it is ironic in the highest sense.”
“Conversation?” asked Mr. Darcy with little eloquence.
“Lady Catherine,” replied Elizabeth, feeling lighter than she had since the lady departed. The mention of the woman darkened Mr. Darcy’s countenance, but Elizabeth shook her head. “I was departing for a walk and happened to meet her as she was coming to confront me. Among other things, she informed me I was not to even talk to you at the ball. Then again, given our previous dances, it is possible I could accept your application and still abide by her strictures!”
It was clear Mr. Darcy could not see the amusement in Elizabeth’s account. “What did she say?”
Elizabeth gave him a brief explanation of her conversation with the lady, and by the end, she could see he was not at all happy, likely considering going to his uncle’s house to berate her once and for all. While the lady would deserve every speck of her nephew’s displeasure, Elizabeth did not think it would resolve anything. Thus, she proceeded to talk him out of it.
“I shall be happy to dance the first with you, Mr. Darcy. I hope we shall put our past missteps behind us and speak at length of many interesting topics. The opportunity to see Lady Catherine’s countenance as she watches us when she explicitly warned me against you, will be more than worth the price she will exact later.”
The quirk of his lips informed Elizabeth Mr. Darcy had seen the humor in her jest, though it was clear he was still annoyed with his aunt. To seal her quest to prevent his immediate departure, Elizabeth stepped forward and laid a hand on his arm.
“I am certain running off to confront Lady Catherine, though it might be satisfying, will resolve nothing, Mr. Darcy. Though I know she is your aunt, at present, she is being ridiculous. Is it not better to laugh than take offense?”
“You are unique among women, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy, his anger relinquished. “I know of no other woman who would not take great offense at my aunt’s insults.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “There is little reason to do so and much more reason to laugh. As you know, I dearly love to laugh.”
“Then I will count on you to induce me to laughter at the ball, for I suspect my aunt will provoke other emotions.”
“I accept your challenge, Mr. Darcy.”
“Thank you, Miss Elizabeth.”
When Mr. Darcy said her name now, it was like a caress. Her walk, the confrontation with Lady Catherine, even her thoughts as she had paced the house she now forgot. There were many more interesting things on which she could think, and Mr. Darcy was foremost among them.
Chapter XVI
A day before the ball a letter arrived which astonished both Jane and Elizabeth. Though letters from home were plentiful, they usually contained little more than the gossip of the neighborhood. Their mother included words of “wisdom” on how they may go about catching gentlemen, her annoyance plain at being forbidden to join them in London, while Mr. Bennet, when he took the time to write a few lines, spoke of missing them and desiring their return. There was little enough from their younger sisters, and when they did write, Mary wrote of her studies of the Bible and Fordyce and her concerns for the wildness of her younger sisters, while Kitty and Lydia spoke of their exploits with the officers and their devastation that the regiment was to decamp to their summer quarters in Brighton.
That morning, however, the letter was different, for though it was from Lydia, the words she wr
ote were not gossip, but known fact. The subject of it returned Elizabeth’s mind to Hertfordshire and the acquaintances—or one acquaintance in particular—she had left behind.
“I hope you do not have unwelcome news in your letter,” said Lady Anne, pulling Jane and Elizabeth both from their shock.
Elizabeth glanced up and noted the way the lady watched them, her interest containing a hint of concern. When Elizabeth looked at her sister, Jane shrugged and motioned toward the letter. Since the matter was one which had already been decided, it was not gossip. Thus, Elizabeth decided to speak.
“It is from our youngest sister, Lydia,” said Elizabeth, her caution inducing her to speak slowly. “Though her letters are often matters of little interest to anyone not of Meryton, she writes of a serious event which took place last week and concerns one with whom you are all acquainted.”
At Lady Anne’s confused look, Elizabeth clarified: “It is about Mr. Wickham.”
“Mr. Wickham?” demanded the lady, her gaze finding her son at the other end of the table. “How are you acquainted with that gentleman?”
The manner in which Mr. Wickham had spoken of Lady Anne and Georgiana had soured her opinion of the gentleman many weeks ago, and as such, Elizabeth did not question why the lady seemed to hold him in as much contempt as her son. A glance down the table revealed that Mr. Darcy had laid down his cutlery and was now watching them intently.
“Mr. Wickham joined the local regiment of officers last year, Lady Anne,” replied Elizabeth.
“I do not remember seeing him there, and I know would have recalled it. Did he not attend the ball?”
“He claimed business prevented his attendance,” replied Elizabeth. “As he said some unflattering things about you and Georgiana, I learned to question everything he said. To my shame, I had accepted much of his tales before that, though my dear Jane had the foresight to caution me against giving too much credence to his assertions.”