"Darcy!" Mr. Darcy turned and came face to face with Benton Fowler. "You did not tell me that you were coming to the theatre tonight," he said, shaking Mr. Darcy's hand.
"I did not know myself, at the time" Mr. Darcy replied, sheepishly. "I only decided to come when I heard that Pantani would be singing," he added as an afterthought. He did not want to tell Mr. Fowler his real reason for coming to the theatre on this night.
"Ah, Pantani," Mr. Fowler replied. "I first heard him on the Continent years ago. We are in for a special evening." The two men chatted, while Mr. Darcy surreptitiously surveyed the crowd. Suddenly, Mr. Fowler tapped Mr. Darcy on the shoulder.
"I say, Darcy. Who is that ravishing creature on the arm of Bingley?" Without looking, for he dared not look in Elizabeth's direction until he had prepared himself, Mr. Darcy answered.
"Her name is Jane Bennet, and she is his fiancée," he said as he braced himself for the inevitable.
"Quite stunning; but I must say I never imagined Bingley with a brunette. He has always had a preference for blondes." Mr. Darcy's head spun around, and he grabbed the railing and peered over the balcony. His eyes immediately met Elizabeth's. She was indeed on Mr. Bingley's arm. Jane Bennet was nowhere in sight. Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy stared as each other for a moment. Then Elizabeth lowered her eyes as she approached the steps. Mr. Darcy swallowed hard. After a minute he turned to Mr. Fowler.
"I was mistaken, Fowler. The lady with Bingley is not his fiancée. She..." Before he could say more, Mr. Bingley, Elizabeth, and a couple he assumed to be the Gardiners, approached.
"Good evening, Darcy, Fowler," Mr. Bingley said a bit sheepishly. Mr. Darcy tried to appear disinterested, but he could not help staring at Elizabeth. For her part, she was having equal difficulty distracting herself. "Darcy, you know Miss Bennet, of course, but please allow me to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. Miss Bennet, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, this is Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy and Mr. Benton Fowler." Handshakes and curtseys were exchanged. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Fowler were fixated on Elizabeth and Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner observed Mr. Darcy with great curiosity.
"Are you a fan of the opera, Mr. Darcy?" Mrs. Gardiner assayed boldly. If neither her niece nor Mr. Darcy was inclined to speak, she would certainly not hold her tongue. Mr. Darcy had to force himself to focus on the lady's question.
"Yes, Mrs. Gardiner. I have loved the opera ever since my parents first took me as a child." Elizabeth opened her mouth as if to speak, then shut it, averting her eyes. "Have you ever seen Pantani perform?" Mr. Darcy asked Mrs. Gardiner, trying to keep some semblance of a conversation going. Mr. Gardiner, Mr. Bingley, and Mr. Fowler had fallen quite easily into a discussion of the evening's program.
"Pantani?" Mr. Darcy's heart leapt at the sound of Elizabeth's voice. Mrs. Gardiner was equally pleased at this small victory. Slowly and awkwardly, Elizabeth and Darcy made small talk about the principal tenor, the opera company, and the night's program, with gentle prodding from Mrs. Gardiner. The conversation was as delicate as a peace negotiation, both Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy afraid of saying the wrong thing and wanting to say so much. "I have never seen this opera before, sir. Are you familiar with it?" Elizabeth asked as the group made its way toward Mr. Bingley's box.
"It is one of my favorites, Miss Bennet...please, allow me to offer you my libretto. It may enhance your enjoyment of the performance," Mr. Darcy said, holding out the small leather-bound volume. Elizabeth hesitated.
"I could not deprive you, sir," Elizabeth said haltingly, but Mr. Darcy insisted, and he pressed the book into her trembling hand and bowed to the ladies before disappearing into his own box. Mr. Bingley followed him into his box and hastily explained the absence of Jane Bennet.
"Unfortunately, she tripped and sprained her ankle," he said apologetically. "I would have postponed our outing entirely if Jane had not insisted that we come. I think she was more interested in bringing you and Elizabeth together than in her own health." Mr. Darcy colored slightly.
"I hope it is not serious," he replied with genuine concern. His respect and admiration of Jane Bennet had increased considerably since their meeting at Netherfield. Mr. Bingley assured Mr. Darcy that Jane's ankle would heal in a matter of days. "And what of Mrs. Bennet? I did not know that she had also come to town," Mr. Darcy said. Mr. Bingley sighed.
"Nor did I. She insisted on staying with Jane, who had tried to get her to come out tonight as well," he said with an expression that needed no explanation.
"And where is Miss Bingley tonight?"
"She decided to remain at home. It was the strangest thing. When I first told her that I was taking the Bennets to the theatre a few days ago, she seemed rather interested in coming out with us. But yesterday she suddenly told me that she would be staying home this evening. I know she has no great love for Jane or Miss Elizabeth, especially after our dinner at the Gardiner's our first night in town, but--."
"What happened at the Gardiners'?" Mr. Darcy asked, all curiosity.
"Well, Miss Elizabeth mentioned your name. She didn't speak of your proposal to her per se, but merely invoking your name in conjunction with her own was enough to make Caroline nearly faint," Mr. Bingley said, shaking his head at the revelation.
"I am afraid I probably made matters worse when I saw your sister yesterday," Mr. Darcy confessed. "She accused Miss Bennet of spreading rumors about me, and I..." Mr. Bingley's eyes lit up.
"Darcy! You did not!" Mr. Darcy shook his head and smiled as Mr. Bingley disappeared, his laughter echoing down the corridor. Mr. Fowler soon replaced him.
"I say, Darcy. That lady is most enchanting." Mr. Darcy felt a pang of jealousy and suddenly wished he had not invited his old school chum to join him in his box. "If she is not Bingley's fiancée, who is she? More importantly, what is he doing with her?" Mr. Darcy hid his glare in his program.
"Miss Elizabeth Bennet is Jane Bennet's sister. Miss Jane Bennet injured her ankle but insisted that the others come out this evening," he intoned.
"She is unattached then? Better and better!' Mr. Fowler said. Mr. Darcy wanted to tell Mr. Fowler of his own interest in Elizabeth, but did not feel that he had that right. Elizabeth, meanwhile, sat beside her aunt and uncle, clutching Mr. Darcy's libretto in her hand. She said a small prayer of thanks that her mother had chosen to remain with Jane. Having her mother present at her first meeting with Mr. Darcy would have been intolerable. Elizabeth thought back to her mother's untimely arrival. Everything about it boded ill.
Mrs. Bennet had been uncommonly silent since her arrival, even when confronted with Jane's injury. She had allowed Mrs. Gardiner to take charge of the situation and made no argument when Jane insisted that Mr. Bingley and his party go on to the theatre without her. She was up to something, of that Elizabeth was certain, but try as she might to figure out what, Elizabeth was woefully distracted by the certain knowledge that Mr. Darcy was in the same building, less than a hundred feet away. She had seen him. She had spoken with him. He had touched her hand when he gave her the libretto. She looked down and fingered the slim volume. Elizabeth opened the libretto and read, To Fitzwilliam, from your loving mother. She turned a few pages and found a piece of paper, a note from his mother. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she opened the note and read,
Since you insist on spending so much time at the opera (your father and I do hope that your interest is in the music!), I thought this might be of use to you.
Elizabeth blushed, and quickly replaced the note. She closed her eyes and remembered her first sight of him at the top of the stairs. Her heart had raced; her throat had become dry. She was glad of Mr. Bingley's support or else she might not have had the courage to take that first step. And suddenly, too swiftly, she found herself face to face with Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth opened her eyes and smiled, glad that she had not swooned like some frail heroine in a novel. She glanced to her left and saw her aunt smiling at her. Elizabeth blushed again and returned to perusing the libretto.
"He is very handsome, your Mr.
Darcy." Elizabeth's embarrassed reply was no more than an "Mmm." But Mrs. Gardiner was not satisfied with that. "I grew up not five miles from Pemberley, you know. Our family was not of the first circle, of course, but we did see the Darcys now and again. The late Mr. Darcy was a fine man." Elizabeth dropped her pretense of reading the libretto and looked at her aunt. Mr. Bingley entered the box, and taking the seat on Elizabeth's other side, observed her reactions to her aunt's comments.
"You did not mention this before, Aunt."
"I really had not thought about it. The younger Mr. Darcy also seems like a very fine man, Lizzy." Elizabeth began to squirm in her seat and felt relieved when the concertmaster and conductor made their appearance in the orchestra pit. Elizabeth sighed and attempted to focus her mind on the stage. In another box a short distance away, Mr. Darcy tried to do the same. But his mind kept going back four months to that night in another theatre when Elizabeth sat opposite him. Now she was closer, much closer, and yet Mr. Darcy had never felt farther away from her than he did at that moment.
"Jane, dear, was Lizzy staying with the Gardiners when you arrived in town?" Mrs. Bennet asked as she made a survey of the bedroom where her brother had carefully deposited Jane.
"Of course not, Mama. You know that she has been staying with the Crenshaws. She only came to Gracechurch Street today because she gave up her bedroom to Mr. Crenshaw's houseguests."
"Well, I do not see why Mr. Crenshaw had to turn my Lizzy out on the street in favor of some stranger," Mrs. Bennet declared unreasonably. Jane shook her head as Mrs. Bennet swept the top of the mantel with her finger in search of dust.
"Mother! Mr. Crenshaw's eldest son Richard and his wife are in town only for a few days. He has not seen them in months. Lizzy gave up her room so that he could accommodate them and their children comfortably. It was Lizzy's choice to come here, mother, she was not 'turned out' of the Crenshaws' house."
"Well, if you ask me it is all extremely suspicious, Lizzy's running off to town suddenly to the Crenshaws, and then just as suddenly coming here." She nodded her head decisively. "Mark my words, there is something afoot." Jane was getting a headache, but she was too concerned about her mother's motives for coming to town to worry about her pain. She had some strong suspicions of her own, and she wanted to confirm them.
"What do you mean, Mama?"
"I think that our Lizzy is in some sort of trouble," she whispered. Jane covered her mouth, wondering if her mother's comment had anything to do the rumor Elizabeth had spoken about at dinner a few nights ago.
"What do you mean, Mama?" she said breathlessly.
"I believe that Lizzy's disappearance has something to do with a man," she replied in her affected whisper. "And I have proof." Jane was incredulous. "I had Hill turn out the bedding in your rooms after you both went away. I came in just as she pulled Lizzy's pillow from its case and what do you think I found?" Jane, too afraid to speak, shook her head.
"A man's handkerchief. In her bed!" Jane sighed. It was her mother's imagination after all.
"Mother, might it not be one of father's?" Jane reasoned.
"Your father's name is Bennet, child." Jane furrowed her brows in confusion. "This handkerchief bore the letter D." Jane nearly laughed out loud in her relief. Of course, she dared not reveal the name of the handkerchief's apparent owner, but at least Jane could take comfort that Elizabeth was certainly innocent of whatever her mother had conjured up.
"The minute I saw it I knew that she was in danger. Humph! Her father's favorite girl and right under his nose she carries on an illicit attachment, and Lord knows what else."
"Mother! How can you suggest such a thing! Lizzy would never--."
"I have taken it upon myself to do something about it. It would break her father's heart to know that Lizzy had fallen into the clutches of some libertine, some debaucher of innocents. Well, not one of my girls! I am going to find that cad and make him marry her!" With that, Mrs. Bennet rose and made her way to the door. "I will seek my brother's assistance. He will know how the blackguard is to be found." Jane sat there, gaping, long after her mother had left the room. Finally, she put her hands over her face and fell back onto the pillows. Her head throbbed, but she knew that Elizabeth's would feel far worse when she learned the truth behind her mother's visit.
• • •
The minute the intermission came, Benton Fowler expressed an interest in visiting Mr. Bingley's box. Mr. Darcy had no choice but to follow; he was not about to give his friend the advantage. When they reached the box, however, he found that Elizabeth and her aunt had gone to the ladies' lounge, and so he slipped back into the corridor while Mr. Bingley, Mr. Gardiner, and Mr. Fowler engaged in conversation. In a few minutes his strategy was rewarded, as Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner approached the box. Mrs. Gardiner tactfully detached herself from Elizabeth's arm, and pleading fatigue, returned to her seat in the box. Fearing that Mr. Fowler would also come in search of Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy offered to take her on a tour of the theatre.
"A tour?"
"Yes. The _____ Theatre is one of the finest and most famous in London. It was built in 1763," Mr. Darcy said, taking Elizabeth by the elbow and steering her away from Mr. Bingley's box. For the next few minutes, Mr. Darcy showed Elizabeth the theatre's grandly ornate interior that took three years to complete, the delicate murals painted by Italian artisans who immigrated to England expressly for the purpose of painting them. He spoke of the rich red velvet curtains and named the courtesan who supposedly chose the color, and told her of several famous operas that had premiered on its stage. Neither of them was paying much attention to what was said. Both were too afraid of what might happen if he stopped talking. Both were too moved by the heady experience of being in each other's company to ponder the conversation. It ended too soon. By the time Mr. Fowler caught up with them, it was nearly time for the second act to begin. Mr. Darcy was in such good spirits that he allowed Mr. Fowler to escort Elizabeth back to her seat without a challenge. He took her hand and pressed it to his lips. Their eyes met, and Mr. Darcy knew what it was to have hope.
When the final curtain came down, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Fowler rose to leave their box. Mr. Fowler immediately sought to gain the advantage denied him earlier, and he bolted for Mr. Bingley's box. Mr. Darcy followed silently. As he entered the box, he saw Elizabeth staring out over the crowd as it exited the orchestra level. She turned when Mr. Fowler addressed her, but her eyes immediately found Mr. Darcy. She politely answered Mr. Fowler's inquiries as to her opinion of the performance, and her impression of Mozart, but her mind was on the brooding man at the rear of the box. Mr. Darcy watched silent and aloof, much like the Mr. Darcy she had met in Hertfordshire, and Elizabeth felt a bit disappointed. She wanted to bring Mr. Darcy into the conversation, but could not find an opening. Mrs. Gardiner tried to engage Mr. Darcy in conversation fearing that he might flee in the face of a determined competitor. Elizabeth began to worry when she saw Mr. Darcy bow to Mrs. Gardiner. He is leaving! Mr. Darcy spared her one last look, and with a slight bow in her direction, he turned to depart. Mr. Bingley asked him something Elizabeth could not hear, but it was apparently unsuccessful in delaying his departure. Elizabeth bowed her head, as Mr. Fowler continued to prattle on. She looked at the spot Mr. Darcy had recently vacated; a moment later she bolted into the corridor after him, leaving a bewildered Mr. Fowler behind.
Elizabeth reached the stairs and saw Mr. Darcy at the bottom, headed for the door. She called out his name, but he either did not hear her or did not care to stop. Elizabeth almost gave up. Then she took a deep breath, lifted her skirts and raced down the steps and out the door. She called to him once again. Startled, Mr. Darcy stopped and turned toward her.
"Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said breathlessly. He instinctively put out his arm to support her.
"Are you all right, Miss Bennet?" he said softly, as he breathed in that intoxicating scent that had sustained him through the early spring. Elizabeth put her hand to her chest in an effort to st
ill her heaving bosom.
"Forgive me, sir. I did not mean to alarm you," she replied as she gasped for air. "It is just that you left so abruptly and..." Mr. Darcy, who had bent toward her to offer his assistance, stiffened slightly. He did not know whether his jealous reaction had helped or injured his cause. "...You did not give me a chance to return your libretto, Mr. Darcy, or to tell you that it did indeed add greatly to my enjoyment of the performance, as did your tour of the theatre." Mr. Darcy permitted a wry, crooked smile to escape his lips.
"I am very glad you enjoyed it, Miss Bennet," Mr. Darcy said as the tension began to drain from his body.
"This little book, on the basis of the inscription on the frontispiece, must be very important to you. I would not wish for you to forget it," she said, pressing the volume into his hand. Mr. Darcy stared at the book for a moment.
"I had only just remembered that I failed to retrieve it from you. I thought to call upon you in Gracechurch Street for it tomorrow." Elizabeth smiled archly.
"I hope that depriving you of a ready excuse will not prevent you from paying your call, Mr. Darcy." Mr. Darcy flashed one of his rare toothsome smiles, and spotting Mr. Bingley approaching to fetch Elizabeth, he bowed and took his leave.
"Wild horses would not prevent me, Miss Bennet." Mr. Darcy kissed her hand and then entrusted the love of his life to the care of his best friend.
• • •
Elizabeth might not have needed Mr. Bingley's carriage had she been able to float her way back to Gracechurch Street amid the clouds. Her head was in the clouds in any event, and she sat next to Mrs. Gardiner with a serene smile upon her face that was reflected in the faces of her companions. No words were exchanged for the length of the trip; none were necessary. When the carriage stopped at Gracechurch Street, Mr. Bingley declined to come inside with the family since Jane, who had been carried up to her room after supper, had most likely retired for the night. He did, however, reach out and squeeze Elizabeth's hand, and catching her attention, asked her to convey to Jane his love. Elizabeth was more than happy to be able to carry such a message to her sister and told Mr. Bingley so. Before releasing her hand, Mr. Bingley could not resist expressing his happiness in another quarter. He looked meaningfully into Elizabeth's eyes.
So Long, Sentiment Page 18
