"In fact, Fitzwilliam," Mr. Darcy had confided to the Colonel over port a week a few evenings ago, "It was my talk with you about Miss Crenshaw that did the trick. If--."
Mr. Darcy stopped himself, realizing that he'd opened an old wound. The two had sat in silence for some time and when they spoke again it was on a very different topic. The Colonel returned his attention to his present company.
"I believe you still owe me an explanation, Miss Crenshaw. The Colonel's voice startled Olivia out of her own reverie. She had missed the Colonel more than she cared to admit, and she relished being in his company once more.
"Do we have to talk about it just now? I would like to enjoy the scenery--and your company, Colonel Fitzwilliam. It has been a long time since we walked out together." It didn't seem to occur to Olivia that their separation had been entirely her own doing, and the Colonel was too much the gentleman to remind her.
"I would be perfectly content to admire the scenery and share my company, ma'am." The Colonel gave her a sidelong glance. "Is this your way of conceding that you have no proof that you are responsible for the Darcys' marriage?"
"It most certainly is not, sir!" Olivia replied with a laugh. "But I will concede your point that some things are more important than the Darcys' love life."
"Such as?" The Colonel had no idea what she was talking about.
"Such as my own." This the Colonel understood perfectly.
"Your love life, Miss Crenshaw?"
"Well, actually, my lack of one." He remembered their last meeting and the circumstances of the rift between them.
"I suppose you expect me to help you to remedy that unfortunate situation, Miss Crenshaw," replied the colonel, heart pounding.
"I recall your strong objection to meddling in the affairs of others," Olivia stated matter-of-factly, "But I hope to persuade you to make an exception in this case." She looked deep into the Colonel's eyes. The military strategist in him admired the boldness of her attack. The man in him cowered in terror. He knew he was a lost man. Colonel Richard Thomas Fitzwilliam had never before faced the possibility of surrender, but he was determined to submit to Miss Crenshaw's will (whatever it was) graciously.
"Colonel Fitzwilliam?" The man was still smiling, but something in his countenance weakened Olivia's bravado...
"Fitzwilliam?" The Colonel felt his shoulder being roughly jostled and turned to see his cousin.
"Darcy? Why are you not on your honeymoon?" the Colonel asked groggily.
"What in blazes are you talking about? Wake up, man!" The Colonel was rudely jostled until he sat up and pushed his cousin's hands away.
"What are you doing in here?" the Colonel managed through a yawn.
"Have you any plans for this evening, Fitzwilliam?" Darcy asked, gingerly lowering himself onto the bed. He sat still for a moment as the pain in his head subsided. "I had plans for the theatre with Bingley and his sister for this evening, with a late supper here afterwards." He hesitated for a moment. "I thought you might be willing to play the host in my place." The prospect of an evening in the company of a disappointed Miss Bingley did not appeal to the Colonel. He lay back and closed his eyes, hoping that Miss Crenshaw still awaited his reply. "Fitzwilliam!" Mr. Darcy shouted a bit too loudly, and felt the name reverberate in his head.
"Why do you not go yourself? I once rode twenty miles of bad road in enemy territory with a worse head wound than the one you have!" The Colonel turned over and prayed for his cousin to leave him in peace.
"That would explain much," Mr. Darcy mumbled. He tried another tack. "The play is 'Twelfth Night.' You have always enjoyed Shakespeare's comedies. And Cook is preparing roast duck tonight."
"I still do not see why you cannot go to the theatre, although I will accept the dinner invitation," the Colonel said, climbing out of bed. "On second thought, I will go. I just remembered that the Crenshaws are going to the theatre this evening." Mr. Darcy gave him a knowing smirk as the Colonel began to rummage around in his closet for evening wear. "I understand they are bringing two ladies from Hertfordshire. Perhaps you were acquainted with them while you were there last year," he added casually. This isn't meddling, he rationalized. It is the truth plain and simple, and if it makes Miss Crenshaw happy--and by her calculation, several others as well--then he could live with the twinge of guilt he felt in his breast. "By the bye, Darcy. Do you think we should postpone our visit to Rosings for a few weeks? Darcy?" Mr. Darcy had gone back to his room and ordered a bath. An hour later, he and the Colonel were dressed and ready to set out for the theatre.
• • •
Olivia no longer looked forward to an evening at the theatre with her friends. When the arrangements had been made three days prior, she eagerly anticipated an evening in the company of Jane and Elizabeth Bennet. Now, however, she was decidedly not in the mood for company. She regretted her row with Colonel Fitzwilliam. In fact, she couldn't exactly say why she was angry with him. He had refused to help her get Lizzy and Mr. Darcy together and without his help she didn't stand much of a chance of succeeding. But it was a moot point, anyway; Lizzy was to leave for Hunsford in the morning with the Lucas's, and Mr. Darcy was sick at home in bed. When the carriage stopped in Gracechurch Street, therefore, Olivia greeted Elizabeth and Jane with considerably less than her usual enthusiasm. Not that either woman noticed; Jane was enthusiastic enough for everyone in the carriage, and Elizabeth was consumed with thoughts of her own.
She was still disturbed by her daydream about Fitzwilliam Darcy. Well, not about Mr. Darcy, she insisted. It was a dream in which Mr. Darcy played a central role. It was a dream in which Elizabeth had to confront her guilt, but Elizabeth resolutely told herself she had nothing to feel guilty about. She hadn't hit him in the head! Elizabeth tried, unsuccessfully, to pay attention to the conversation between Jane and Mr. Crenshaw. Why was I dreaming about Mr. Darcy?
Elizabeth felt very uncomfortable, not precisely about the dream, but about what it represented. She clearly had no romantic illusions about Mr. Darcy. Yes, she conceded, Mr. Darcy was certainly handsome and wealthy. She supposed he was intelligent, articulate; she even had to concede that he had a sense of humor. But he was also an arrogant snob. No, he was worse: he was a presumptuous, arrogant snob. No, Elizabeth Bennet wasn't about to fall in love with Mr. Darcy. What bothered her most about the dream was that it portrayed Mr. Darcy as a sympathetic character. And she felt no sympathy for Mr. Darcy whatsoever, she told herself repeatedly. Whatever he suffered he deserved.
Olivia looked across the carriage at her friend. Lizzy does not look at all herself this evening. The Colonel and I were severe upon her this afternoon. I hope she is not angry with me. Although, Olivia reasoned, if she should be angry with anyone it is Colonel Fitzwilliam. After all, he was the one who teased her about Mr. Darcy. If only the Colonel had not been so unreasonable. If only she had had an opportunity to speak with him before he met Lizzy. If only Olivia hadn't lost her temper and ruined her only chance of assuring the happiness of her two friends. Sadly, Olivia conceded, she had certainly ruined her own chances with the Colonel as well.
• • •
Mr. Bingley whistled tunelessly as he carefully brushed his hair. He was in an extremely good mood. He was looking forward to an evening at the theatre and another opportunity to see Jane Bennet. He had learned at supper the other evening that Jane and Elizabeth Bennet were to attend the theatre with the Crenshaws tonight and Mr. Bingley happened to know that the Crenshaw box was directly opposite Mr. Darcy's. And since he would be attending the theatre at Mr. Darcy's invitation, he would be in a perfect position to observe his ladylove throughout the performance. That is, unless he was able to manage an invitation to join the Crenshaws for an act or two. It would be a most pleasant evening, indeed. It was a pity Mr. Darcy was unable to attend. He too, might have enjoyed the evening, since Elizabeth Bennet would be perfectly situated for Mr. Darcy's enjoyment of the evening as well. But Mr. Bingley wasn't about to let Mr. Darcy's being indisposed p
ut a damper on his plans.
Mr. Bingley put down the brush and adjusted his cravat for the third time. He thought back to this morning's visit with his friend. The expression on Mr. Darcy's face was priceless! The poor boy must have it very bad. But Mr. Bingley couldn't bring himself to feel any remorse for what he'd done. All is fair in love and war, my friend!
Mr. Bingley began to whistle again as he thought about his sister Caroline. She would not be pleased to see Jane Bennet this evening. He thought about how he would deal with her disapproval. Mr. Bingley now realized that his sister and Mr. Darcy had conspired to separate him from Jane Bennet, but however valid their reasoning may have been, he was not about to allow them to interfere again. Mr. Darcy might be a formidable obstacle to his plans, but Mr. Bingley knew that if he stood his ground, Mr. Darcy would respect his decision and let him have his way. He would have to live with Caroline, however, at least until the Hursts returned from the Continent. There was a banging at the door. Startled into silence, Mr. Bingley opened it to find his sister, resplendent in pumpkin-colored silk, glaring at him.
"Will you cease that infernal whistling! It is enough to drive a person mad!" Miss Bingley cried, sweeping into the room.
"I am sorry, Caroline," Mr. Bingley said insincerely. He went to take a last look in the mirror. Miss Bingley followed him.
"What are you so happy about?" she demanded, crossing her arms and continuing to glare at him.
"Why should I not be happy?" he challenged, and as Miss Bingley could think of no plausible response, she didn't answer. She picked a mote of dust off his shoulder.
"Charles," she asked suddenly, as she turned him around and fidgeted with his cravat. "Did you have a nice luncheon with Mr. Darcy?" Mr. Bingley's face dropped.
"We did not go to lunch. I am afraid I have some distressing news, Caroline." She looked at him expectantly. "I am afraid Darcy has had a little accident. He will be unable to join us at the theatre this evening."
"An accident? What manner of accident?" Miss Bingley cried, gripping her brother's arm.
"Nothing too serious, don't worry. But he has to stay in bed for a few days."
"Do you think I should call on him?"
"You! Of course not! It would be highly improper for you to enter a bachelor's house unattended." Miss Bingley was too exasperated to blush at her brother's suggestion.
"I meant in your company, Charles, of course! I would not dream of compromising myself by appearing on Mr. Darcy's doorstep alone." Mr. Bingley eyed his sister suspiciously for a moment.
"I have received a note from Darcy saying that he's sending Colonel Fitzwilliam in his place. He will pick us up in the carriage at the top of the hour." Charles felt a little guilty. He knew he should have told his sister about Mr. Darcy earlier, but she had been out shopping all afternoon and this was his first opportunity. Miss Bingley plopped ungraciously on Mr. Bingley's bed.
"Colonel Fitzwilliam," she spat. Her displeasure was evident. "That impertinent little pup!"
"I thought you liked the Colonel, Caroline," Mr. Bingley said, sitting next to her.
"I only tolerate him for Mr. Darcy's sake. I detest the man! Always about Mr. Darcy's heels, chattering nonsense. The man is a complete fool!" Mr. Bingley laughed at this depiction of the Colonel, knowing that its primary motivation was his sister's frustration at being denied an evening in Mr. Darcy's company.
"Caroline, the man is a colonel in His Majesty's army. He would hardly have achieved that rank if he was a fool!"
"And if he were not the son of an earl, I daresay he would only be fit to carry the boots of a Colonel. The man thinks he is God's gift to womanhood in his regimentals!" Caroline declared.
"Well, the 'pup' will be here shortly," Mr. Bingley said, laughing. "You had better go and get ready." Miss Bingley slowly rose and dejectedly quitted the room. Mr. Bingley chuckled at her and went downstairs to await his host. When the Darcy carriage arrived, Mr. Bingley sent word up to his sister. Miss Bingley immediately came down and begged to be excused, complaining of a sudden headache. Mr. Bingley wasn't surprised by her defection. He was, however, surprised when he entered the carriage to see both the Colonel and Mr. Darcy awaiting him.
"Darcy! I thought you were staying in bed this evening," Mr. Bingley exclaimed.
"I had a change of heart. Fitzwilliam, here, has convinced me that unless my head is gushing blood I may as well go about my regular business," Mr. Darcy replied with a smirk. The Colonel winked at Mr. Bingley. They had each surmised the real reason for Mr. Darcy's decision to come out this evening.
"Speaking of blood," quipped the Colonel, "Where is Miss Bingley?" Mr. Darcy was a bit taken aback by the remark and suppressed a smile, but Bingley was amused and let it show.
"I am afraid my sister developed a severe headache, no doubt in empathy with yours, Darcy." The three men enjoyed a laugh as the carriage pulled off.
• • •
"Livy?" Olivia was startled out of her reverie by the sound of Elizabeth's voice. "You seem to be a million miles away."
"I am sorry. I was just thinking about...I am sorry we teased you this afternoon," Olivia answered simply.
"Oh, you are, are you? You and your Colonel Fitzwilliam are up to something, and I would like to know what," she said archly.
"The Colonel and I are not up to anything. And he is not my Colonel," she said in a low and dejected voice. Elizabeth got up and slid into the seat next to her friend.
"What happened? Did you argue after I left?"
"I tried to enlist his aid...with Jane and Mr. Bingley, I mean," she whispered. "But he refused to get involved." Elizabeth was certain that there was more to the story than she was telling, but she didn't press for more.
"Mr. Bingley and Jane no longer need our help, I think," she whispered back. "I never did tell you what happened last night, did I?" she said, but thought better of revealing anything more in their present company. When the party arrived at the theatre, Olivia took the earliest opportunity to draw Elizabeth away from the others.
"Tell me!" she begged.
"I met Mr. Bingley in the park, after all," Elizabeth began. "Actually, he found me wandering about in search of you. He escorted me back to his home and we had tea. After we chatted a while, I was able to persuade him to escort me back to Gracechurch Street." Elizabeth smiled at the memory of Jane's first glimpse of Mr. Bingley.
"And?" Olivia pleaded, squeezing Elizabeth's arm.
"And he and Jane had a very pleasant reunion. At least I think they did. I was too distraught about you to notice." Elizabeth led Olivia back to her father and Jane and followed them up the grand staircase.
"And I was so miserable about you and Mr. Darcy that I could not--."
"There is no 'me and Mr. Darcy,' Livy," Elizabeth retorted. "In spite of what the Colonel may think, Mr. Darcy and I have never been friends and we probably never will be." Olivia felt Elizabeth stiffen slightly as she spoke. When Mr. Crenshaw stopped to speak with some old friends, Elizabeth pulled away from Olivia's arm and turned to enjoy the view from the balcony.
"Do not go disappearing on me this evening," she heard Olivia whisper behind her back.
• • •
The Darcy carriage pulled up outside the theatre only moments after the Crenshaw party's arrival. The three men ascended the stairs to the ornately decorated lobby and were immediately engaged in conversation with several of their London acquaintances. Mr. Darcy's eyes swept the room as he let Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Bingley do all of the talking. He spotted Elizabeth Bennet standing alone not twenty feet away.
Elizabeth had wandered a small distance away from her friends to better survey the scene. She loved going to the theatre and was as entertained by the crowds in the lobby as she was by the actors on the stage. She glanced back at Jane, who seemed to be looking out for Mr. Bingley, and sighed. Elizabeth wished she had never let Olivia talk her into going to that park. If she hadn't seen Mr. Darcy she wouldn't have run off, she would not have me
t Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy would not have gotten hurt...and Jane would not be looking so radiant and happy. Maybe it was for the best. No matter, there was no way to undo things now.
"Miss Brown, I presume," said a voice behind Elizabeth. Although he apparently wasn't addressing her, the identity of the speaker was unmistakable. She turned and confirmed that it was indeed Mr. Darcy who had spoken.
"Mr. Darcy!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "I should not have expected to see you here this evening. Colonel Fitzwilliam--," and here she blushed as the Colonel joined Mr. Darcy, "Told me of your accident yesterday. Should you not be in your bed, sir?" Mr. Darcy shot a quick glance at his cousin, who smiled benignly, before he answered.
"I thank you for your concern, madam, but I assure you I am well enough for an evening of Shakespeare." Mr. Darcy furrowed his brows. "You have met Colonel Fitzwilliam?"
"Yes," Elizabeth replied, blushing even more. Mr. Darcy wondered why. "We met this morning at Miss Crenshaw's house."
"Of course. Miss Crenshaw and 'Miss Brown' are dear friends," Mr. Darcy replied, invoking once again the name he now knew to be the invention of Miss Crenshaw. Why, he wondered, did she lie about Miss Bennet's identity? Elizabeth peered into each of Mr. Darcy's eyes. He enjoyed the examination, a smile playing about his lips.
"Are you sure you should be out of bed, Mr. Darcy? That is the second time you have called me 'Miss Brown.' I'm afraid his memory may be affected, Colonel Fitzwilliam." Elizabeth spoke out of genuine concern, but the Colonel could not resist the opportunity to tease his cousin.
So Long, Sentiment Page 7
