by Jann Rowland
Before she could reply, however, a disturbance appeared on the far side of the dance floor near the main entrance. She could hear the sound of raised voices, and wondered what it could mean.
Chapter IV
the sight of George Wickham at Bingley’s ball surprised and disgusted Darcy. The sight of Wickham dancing with Miss Elizabeth Bennet made Darcy want to call the libertine out. It was not enough he had left Georgiana a broken girl, depressed and silent, but he now intruded on Darcy’s presence yet again. Was it by chance or design? Darcy could not say, but he had learned never to discount Wickham’s ability to cause havoc wherever he went.
While Darcy watched, he could see that the man was likely plying Miss Elizabeth with the story of his history with the Darcy family—or at least his version of it, which contained enough truth mixed with falsehood to mislead the unwary. Darcy thought Miss Elizabeth was intelligent enough to separate the truth from the falsehood. But he could not be certain. As such, Darcy determined to find Miss Elizabeth after the dance, if only to ensure she was not caught unaware of George Wickham’s true character.
Subsequent events, however, rendered Darcy’s resolve impossible. For as the dance was coming to a close and Darcy was considering how he might approach her, a disturbance arose at the entrance to the ballroom, and he could hear a strident voice over the music. It was a voice he knew well.
“Where is Darcy? Where is my nephew? I will see him at once.”
How the blazes had Lady Catherine known where to find him? And why had she come? Lady Catherine was entirely capable of insulting everyone in attendance within moments of her arrival. Thus Darcy sought her out immediately, intent upon silencing whatever tirade she had come to deliver.
A ring of gawkers and whispering masses had formed around the lady’s entrance, and while the woman looked this way and that, demanded in her loudest voice and most offensive tones for his attendance, she seemed to have insulted no one yet. And when Darcy forced himself free of those who were standing and whispering, he noted Fitzwilliam’s presence by her side. A sigh of relief escaped his mouth, for he knew his cousin would be a great help in controlling her.
“I am here, Lady Catherine,” said Darcy, approaching her and fixing her with a frown. It would be necessary to ensure she did not see a crack in his armor, for if she did, she would strike with the ruthlessness and precision of a master swordsman. “Why have you interrupted my friend’s ball?”
“Why?” demanded Lady Catherine. “Why, indeed. I should have thought you would know in an instant why I have come.”
“Yes, Darcy,” said Fitzwilliam, smirking in his insufferable way. “Why else would your aunt travel miles and miles at night on the hunt for you? I cannot imagine that you cannot guess her purpose.”
“Really, Fitzwilliam,” said Lady Catherine testily. “This is not helping.”
For perhaps the first time in his life, Darcy found himself agreeing with his aunt, a most curious sensation, to be certain. But Lady Catherine was already speaking before Darcy could think to answer.
“I have come to protect my daughter’s interests, of course! I received word only two days ago that there was some Jezebel in residence here who is attempting to distract you from your duty. It cannot be allowed!”
“Let us move this conversation to another location,” said Darcy, frustration with his aunt threatening to make him lose his temper. “There is no reason for us to declare our family’s private business where all may overhear.”
It was a wonder that Lady Catherine allowed Darcy to lead her away. Usually, she would not have worried about the opinions of others, one reason why her brother, who abhorred scandal, could not tolerate the woman. Darcy caught Bingley’s eye, and when his friend nodded toward a parlor not far from the ballroom, he made for it, being certain to close the door behind him. Or at least he attempted to do so, for the person of the woman’s toadying parson was at the door and called out to Lady Catherine before Darcy could shut the door.
“Mr. Collins!” cried Lady Catherine. “Come in here at once.”
“Yes, your ladyship,” said the groveling parson. He scampered toward her, bowing every two or three steps, mumbling words of obedience and praise which were quite unnecessary to the situation. “I am here, your ladyship.”
“I can see you are,” said Lady Catherine, her voice hard and unfriendly. “Now, Mr. Collins—did you or did you not inform me that a young lady of the neighborhood was usurping my daughter’s position?”
Darcy glared at the man, and Mr. Collins licked his lips, seeming to feel the heat of it. “I do not think I put it precisely in that fashion, your ladyship.”
“You claimed he was on the verge of losing his head over one of your cousins! How can this be misunderstood?”
“I believe, your ladyship, that I only . . . That is to say . . .”
“Your foolish parson has led you here under false pretenses, Lady Catherine,” said Darcy, glaring at the parson. “I am not courting anyone, nor have I fixed my attention on any young woman. You are wasting your time, and you have brought infamy on the family for no purpose at all.”
“Is this true, Mr. Collins?” asked Lady Catherine, eyes narrowed. The parson appeared too frightened to move. “Well?”
“I would not say that, Lady Catherine. Mr. Darcy seemed quite close, indeed, to my cousin when he visited, and he danced with her this very evening. It is my understanding that she is the only young lady of the neighborhood with whom he has danced since coming to Hertfordshire. Since she is to be my intended, I was concerned.”
“It sounds as if your parson used what he knew of your wishes for Darcy to remove whatever competition he might have thought he had for the hand of the fair maiden.” Fitzwilliam snorted, his look at Mr. Collins contemptuous.
The very thought of this odious toad making love to a jewel like Miss Elizabeth filled Darcy’s throat with bile. But he mastered himself and focused on Lady Catherine, ignoring the ineffectual parson.
“Nothing has occurred between Mr. Collins’s cousin and myself, Lady Catherine. Yes, I have danced with her, but I have given her no special notice, nor has she sought it. As Fitzwilliam said, it seems your parson has played on your well-known eagerness to broker a marriage between Anne and me.”
Lady Catherine regarded him, suspicion alive in her eyes. In front of her, Mr. Collins had broken out into a sweat, but while he appeared eager to speak and defend himself, one glance from Lady Catherine silenced him.
“Then I have your word that you do not mean to offer for this woman.”
“Is my word required?” asked Darcy, fatigued already by this woman’s presence. “I am my own man, Lady Catherine, and may act as I see fit.”
“You are engaged to my daughter.” Lady Catherine’s tone might have shattered bricks.
Though he did not wish to incite an argument here of all places, Darcy was not about to allow his aunt to assert such things when she had repeatedly been told that Darcy had no intention of marrying Anne. Anne was no more amenable to the suggestion than Darcy was himself.
“Please desist, Lady Catherine. You are well aware that no betrothal agreement exists. My father denied your request when you asked. I am not engaged to Anne, nor will I ever be, by her will and mine. I will not speak on this matter again.”
While he might have expected an explosion of temper, Lady Catherine only glared at him. He knew she was attempting to gain the upper hand and cow him, as she might have done when he had been naught but a lad. But Darcy was a man full grown and had faced down those who were much more fearsome than his elderly aunt. It was a confrontation she would not win, though she likely possessed supreme confidence in her ultimate victory.
“Mr. Collins,” said she, turning to the parson, “it seems you were not overstating the danger. For your actions, I thank you heartily.”
“Of course, Lady Catherine,” said Mr. Collins, sounding like he was about to faint with relief. “I am your
humble servant, as always.”
A regal nod was the lady’s answer, after which she turned back to Darcy. “Since it is clear I must stay and sort this matter out, you will inform your friend I require two rooms—one for myself and one for Anne.”
“You brought Anne, and you left her in the carriage?” demanded Darcy.
“Of course not,” snapped Lady Catherine. “Anne is resting in a chamber not far from the entrance, as the journey fatigued her excessively.”
Darcy shook his head. “I will ask Bingley, but I believe you will need to depart in the morning.”
“I am not leaving until I have the assurances I require. If I cannot obtain them from you, then I shall have them from your little paramour.”
With those final words, Lady Catherine let herself from the room, Mr. Collins following behind her like an obedient dog. Darcy watched her go, wishing for what seemed like the thousandth time that he was not connected to her. His sainted mother had been fond of her, but she had become much more irascible and unreasonable as she had aged.
“Am I to meet this wondrous creature to whom you have lost your heart?” asked Fitzwilliam. Darcy turned and glared at his cousin, which prompted nothing more than a responding grin. “Or at least your head, anyway.”
“What is your role in this farce, Fitzwilliam?” asked Darcy, ignoring his cousin’s intended witticism.
Fitzwilliam shrugged in his usually insouciant way. “Lady Catherine entered my father’s house this morning as if she were a northern gale, screeching of betrayal, disloyalty, and treachery, and demanding his assistance. You know Father—he responded to her demands in as insulting a language as possible and flatly refused to interfere in your affairs. Lady Catherine held some hope of persuading him, even in the face of this, but by late this afternoon, even she was forced to acknowledge defeat.
“I only came along to protect Anne. Since Lady Catherine was essentially frothing at the mouth, I thought it likely she would kill her daughter with neglect in her zeal to prevent your marriage to another woman.”
Darcy sighed. “I truly wish you had managed to detain her for another day. It is a deuced inconvenience to Bingley to have her here. You know his origins. She will offend both Bingley and his sisters within an hour of making their acquaintance.”
“On the contrary, old man,” replied Fitzwilliam, “I suggest you owe me for my assistance. You have not spent the past five hours in a carriage with Lady Catherine ranting the entire distance. There were times when I considered the merits of simply throwing her from the conveyance and driving on.”
Darcy could not help but chuckle at Fitzwilliam’s jests, though there was truly nothing of this situation about which to laugh. Trust his cousin to always see the humorous side of any trouble and see that Darcy laughed about it at least once.
“I’ll see you are shown to a room, Fitzwilliam. I am certain you are fatigued.”
“I am quite well, indeed. In fact, I think I shall attend the rest of the ball if Bingley will allow it. I am quite curious about this neighborhood, for I understand there are some beauties in residence.”
Fitzwilliam grinned and slapped Darcy on the back. “Perhaps I shall find that elusive heiress for whom I have been searching these past years.”
A snort was Darcy’s response. “Then you will hope in vain. There is little wealth to be found in this neighborhood.”
“Then I suppose I shall simply enjoy the company.”
With a hand on Darcy’s shoulder, Fitzwilliam exited the room, leaving Darcy by himself. He did not know how he could manage to keep Lady Catherine from offending everyone in the neighborhood. At least that evening she seemed intent upon finding the bed in her room. Thank heavens for small miracles.
After Elizabeth made her escape from Mr. Wickham—and escape it was, as the man’s tale had made her decidedly uncomfortable in his presence—Elizabeth made her way closer to the door in an attempt to discover the reason for the sudden furor. In this, however, she was disappointed, as whatever had caused it had disappeared. Many who had been in the vicinity were now gossiping about the matter, but she had no time to stop and listen to gossip.
“You should have seen it, Lizzy!” cried Lydia a few moments later. It seemed her youngest sister had also been nearby, though Lydia’s account must be considered suspect. “It was a grand lady who entered the room, followed by another man. She demanded to see Mr. Darcy and fairly insisted on his attendance when he could not immediately be found.”
“And did Mr. Darcy appear?” asked Elizabeth. In fact, she already suspected the identity of the lady, though she could not say anything about her reason for coming in such a state.
“Yes. Between them, the two gentlemen led the lady from the room. They have not returned yet.”
At that moment, one of Lydia’s favorites among the officers approached, and Lydia lost all interest in gossiping with her elder sister. Soon she darted away with him, laughing in a raucous fashion, creating a scene wherever she went. Elizabeth grimaced, wondering yet again if there was some way to restrain the girl. Perhaps Mr. Bingley had some rope she could use.
The dinner hour was soon upon them, and as Elizabeth had been busy with her sister, she was not available to be asked to dance it, and it had not been previously secured. As such, she watched the dancing, swaying along with the music, and avoiding Mr. Collins when he came to close to her. She did not have a partner when she stepped into the dining room for dinner and was thus content to sit near Jane and Mr. Bingley, enjoying their closeness. At the same time, she tried not to fix Mr. Bingley’s sisters with a smug grin—it was apparent they were not enjoying the scene as much as Elizabeth was herself.
During dinner, the talk mostly centered around the appearance of the lady, and Elizabeth heard no less than ten theories as to why she had come. Her mother was as engaged in speculation as any of the other ladies. At least she was not crowing about Jane’s good fortune or her expectations for the rest of her progeny.
It was not until after dinner that Elizabeth saw Mr. Darcy again, and when she did, he was with another man. His companion was a veritable mountain of a man, standing taller than Mr. Darcy, with broader shoulders, and thick, powerful arms. He was dressed in the typical suit of a gentleman, but he carried himself erect as a soldier. And while he was not so handsome as Mr. Darcy, he appeared good-humored, and she soon discovered his mode of address was most definitely that of a gentleman.
“Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy, leading the other man toward her. “My cousin has requested an introduction to you.”
It seemed to Elizabeth that Mr. Darcy was performing this duty as if he was being led to the gallows, and she wondered at it. Was she so much of an embarrassment that he would not have wished to introduce her to anyone in his family? Elizabeth forced such a thought away and determined not to judge him, not knowing what he was about, and gave her consent.
“Fitzwilliam, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, a resident of Longbourn estate which lies directly to the west of Netherfield. Miss Elizabeth, my cousin Colonel Anthony Fitzwilliam, the second son of my uncle, the Earl of Matlock.”
Elizabeth curtseyed to Colonel Fitzwilliam’s bow, bemused at her introduction to the son of an earl. To the best of her knowledge, she had never known anyone of such an exalted state.
“Miss Bennet,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, bowing over her hand, “it is my pleasure and honor to make your acquaintance. I hope you are enjoying the ball this evening.”
“I am, sir,” replied Elizabeth. “But then again, is not an opportunity for fine food and drink at no cost to be relished?”
Colonel Fitzwilliam caught the teasing tone in her voice and guffawed. Even Mr. Darcy shook his head, a grin readily apparent, before excusing himself.
“You must know I meant enjoyment in the company.”
“Then yes, I have no complaints, Colonel. These people are all dear to me, for I was raised among them.”
“They are all
dear to you?” asked the colonel, his raised brow suggesting he did not believe her. “Surely there are some amongst their number whose company you could do without.”
“Oh, you are quite correct there,” said Elizabeth, catching sight of Mr. Collins. Colonel Fitzwilliam noted her look and his gaze followed hers. Mr. Collins had been watching them with some exasperation when the colonel shot a glare at him. It seemed Mr. Collins was unable to withstand such displeasure, for he immediately fled.
“I find I must agree with you, Miss Bennet,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. “I have spent a matter of five minutes in Mr. Collins’s company. I dare say he is entirely disagreeable.”
“You do not know the half of it, Colonel,” replied Elizabeth.
Grinning, the colonel leaned in and said: “I do not suppose you are an heiress, are you? I have been looking for one for these many years, and if you possess even a moderate fortune, I believe you will do very well, indeed.”
“I am afraid not,” replied Elizabeth, allowing a mournful note in her tone. “I am naught but the second daughter of five of a country gentleman. I dare say the son of an earl would expect fifty thousand, at least, and I, unfortunately, have only a fraction of that.”
“Then I suppose a dance will have to do,” replied Colonel Fitzwilliam, grinning once again. “If you will agree to it.”
Elizabeth was entirely willing to dance with such a charming man, and soon he had led her to the floor. They spoke in a lively and sportive fashion throughout the first part of their sets together, much as they had when they were standing beside the dance floor. The colonel, Elizabeth decided, was a man she would like to have as a friend, for he was gregarious, always ready with a jest, and well able to make her laugh. Some time passed before their conversation became more serious.
“I am surprised you are here,” said Elizabeth as they stepped around each other. “I do not recall your presence at the beginning of the ball.”
