“I’m afraid I have already asked Mrs. Fieldstone to dance that dance with me,” said Mr. Darcy, taking Elizabeth by the arm and pulling her closer to him.
“Oh,” said the woman, straightening up and looking at Elizabeth. “I don’t believe Mrs. Fieldstone and I are acquainted.”
“What a shame,” said Darcy, ignoring the clear hint for an introduction. He tugged on Elizabeth’s arm. “Come, Mrs. Fieldstone, we are meant to be dancing even now.” He yanked her out onto the dance floor with him.
Elizabeth was not sure how to deal with that exchange. She had found herself not at all pleased with the way that the other woman had spoken to Darcy, not pleased at all. She realized that she felt possessive of him as well. He didn’t want her with Chivsworth and she didn’t want him with other women. But he could demand fidelity of her, while she could never demand the same of him.
But she did not speak of that. Instead, she said, “Mr. Darcy, if you do not introduce me to anyone, then I shall have no one to speak to.”
“You aren’t here to socialize,” said Darcy. “You’re here to keep those vultures off me.”
“Vultures?” she said. “That’s what you are calling the single women of London?”
“Picking at scraps off the dead,” said Darcy. “I think it’s an apt comparison.”
“You are not dead, sir.”
“No, I suppose not,” he said. “But I wish I was.”
“What?” She was horrified.
However, at that moment in the dance, they were obliged to switch partners and she ended up in the arms of another man, who whirled her around for several moments before returning her to Mr. Darcy.
“What a thing to say!” she admonished him. “You can’t wish you were dead.”
“I should rather be dead than be at this ball,” said Darcy. “I hate everything about these wretched things. The crowds, the loud music, the way people tend to get drunk on punch. It’s all abominable.”
“Ah,” she said. “I see. Yes, you are set upon, sir. The miseries that you must endure are myriad.”
Darcy arched an eyebrow at her. “If I didn’t know better, I would say that you were making fun of me.”
She smiled. “Making fun, sir? Why, what a thing to say.”
And then she was handed off to another partner. All the while she was away from Darcy, she found herself smiling, and thinking of their dance together at the Netherfield Ball all those years ago, when she had tried to coax something that resembled a conversation from him. He was a bit of a grumpy man, was he not?
They rejoined.
Darcy continued to plead his case. “You may not think it is so horrid, madam. You are a bright and witty beautiful woman, who enjoys all this noise, I rather imagine. But for someone like me, it is torment.”
Beautiful, he had said. He had said it again. She could not stop smiling. “So, now you are in torment? Why, a beautiful woman like myself might become offended if all a man does is complain when he dances with her.”
“I am not complaining about you.” Darcy was annoyed. “Often, it is quite frustrating to talk to you, do you know that? I once told you that you willfully misunderstood me, and I think—”
“Oh, relax, Mr. Darcy,” she laughed. “I am only teasing.”
“You are making fun of me.” His eyes narrowed, but now there was a smile playing at his lips.
“I would not do so, but you make it so terribly easy,” she said, and then, as she dissolved into gales of laughter, she switched partners again.
When she was returned to Mr. Darcy’s arms, he seemed in better spirits. His voice was deeper as he spoke to her. “I think I am within my rights to order you not to make fun of me.”
“Oh, you are going to order me around?” She laughed again. “How remarkably out of character, sir.”
“I do not order people around usually,” he protested.
“Indeed?”
“Miss Be—Mrs. Fieldstone, you are… are…” His gaze was intense.
“Yes?” she said, and she found she had quite been robbed of her ability to breathe.
And then the song ended, and the dance was over.
He pulled her close, winding her hand around his arm. “I mean it,” he told her. “You must stop it.”
“I shall be as serious as the grave from here on out, Mr. Darcy.”
“Oh, see that you are,” he said, mock-imperiously. “As we both know, I am incapable of jesting.”
She laughed. “Oh, Mr. Darcy, did you just make a joke? At your own expense no less?”
“Certainly not,” he said. “I could never do such a thing. As you say, it would be remarkably out of character.”
She tightened her grip on his arm.
“Heavens,” he breathed in her ear. “I have missed you.”
She turned to him sharply, and they gazed at one another.
But they were interrupted by a loud female voice exclaiming, “Oh, Mr. Darcy, I thought that was you! How marvelous.”
There was something familiar about that voice.
Elizabeth looked up, and came face to face with Miss Caroline Bingley.
CHAPTER TEN
Elizabeth wanted to shrink away. She had not thought there would be anyone at this ball who could identify her, as she had not had a wide circle of socialization in the years before she had been ruined. But here was a person from her former life. Miss Bingley would surely recognize her, and then what would Elizabeth do? She tried to remove herself from her spot by Mr. Darcy’s side, but he clutched at her hand, keeping her from escaping.
“Hello, Miss Bingley,” said Darcy in a dull voice.
“Soon to be Mrs. Heathspar, as I’m sure you’ve heard,” said Caroline, smiling widely. “The wedding is next week, can you believe it? I don’t know where the time goes.”
“I had not heard,” said Darcy, sounding utterly disinterested. “Congratulations.”
Caroline did not seem to notice that Darcy was not engaged. “I am so dreadfully excited. They say that marriage is the most wonderful part of a woman’s life, and you know, I believe it, for I have never been so blissfully happy in all my years. I have to say that I cannot imagine being more satisfied with my life.”
“How lovely,” said Darcy.
“Yes, my fiance is a most wonderful man,” said Caroline. “Surely, you know of him?”
“Mr. Heathspar?” said Darcy. “I cannot say that I do.”
“Well, the two of you must be introduced,” said Caroline. “You have so much in common. You both have country estates, for one thing. And you are both so very tall.”
“Ah,” said Darcy. “Well, that does sound like a foundation for quite the conversation.”
It was all Elizabeth could do not to snicker. Had Darcy always been this way with Caroline? She was beginning to realize that she may have misjudged the man, taking his delivery for dullness when he was in fact making of fun himself at times. Mr. Darcy was quite wittier than she had noticed at first blush.
“Indeed,” said Caroline. “You would both get on quite famously.” She seemed to notice Elizabeth for the first time. “Oh!”
Elizabeth’s heart began to pound against her rib cage. This was it. The moment when Caroline recognized her, and the news got all over London that she was Mr. Darcy’s mistress, ruining her name completely once and for all.
Back when she had been at the mercy of the rumors about her and Cumberbottom, Caroline had been amongst the most cruel, writing an awful letter to Jane, at once declaring her condolences for the death of their father and then cutting herself off from Jane’s society because of the “influence of your wayward sister.” She had been heartless and unfeeling, and it would have all gone easier without any word from her at all.
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” said Caroline.
Elizabeth let out a breath she had not realized she’d been holding.
Darcy introduced the two of them, introducing Elizabeth as Mrs. Fieldstone, of course.
“
Oh, I have not met your husband either,” said Caroline. “Can you point him out to me?”
Elizabeth lowered her head sadly. “Unfortunately, my husband has passed on.”
“Oh, how dreadful. I apologize,” said Caroline. “I did not mean to bring up such a painful memory.”
“That is all right. You did not know,” said Elizabeth. “Pray, worry not over it.”
“So, your late husband was… a gentleman landowner?”
“Amongst other things,” said Elizabeth. “He felt that it was important to have an investment in land and farming. After all, tradition is important. But he was also forward thinking and had investments in the trades as well.”
“I see,” said Caroline.
Elizabeth would have rather not volunteered so much information, for now she knew it would be spread across the entire ball that she was a rich widow with money to burn, but she couldn’t help herself. It was lovely to feel as though she had something to lord over Caroline Bingley. She was on Mr. Darcy’s arm, and it wasn’t exactly a lie. She did indeed have her own income. She was independent, and it felt good.
“Well, I probably shan’t see you for quite a while,” said Caroline. “I’ll be off on my honeymoon, after all. To the continent. For two months.”
“Oh, how lovely,” said Elizabeth, smiling coolly. “I also visited the continent on my honeymoon. We traveled all over for nearly six months, in fact. Mr. Fieldstone was fond of saying that life was short and meant to be enjoyed.”
“He sounds like a wonderful man,” said Caroline. “How sad that he was taken from us too soon.”
“Yes,” said Elizabeth, smiling inwardly.
“Oh, I must take my leave,” said Caroline. “I see my sister beckoning for me.”
Elizabeth could see Mrs. Hurst, and she was paying no attention to Caroline whatsoever, but she only nodded and said her goodbyes.
When Caroline was gone, Mr. Darcy arched an eyebrow at her. “Six month honeymoon, hmm?”
Elizabeth flushed, feeling embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I must admit I don’t like her. She was dreadful to Jane and then cruel to me in the wake of what happened with Cumberbottom. I know you and she are friends.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” he said. “I am acquainted with her brother, but I have always found her a bit… shrill.”
Elizabeth laughed.
“Anyway, you mustn’t concern yourself with the likes of Miss Bingley. Her opinion is worth nothing in London. No one cares a bit for her. She is no one, do you see?”
Elizabeth looked away. “Well, if she is no one, then I am less than no one.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “You are the widow of Mr. Fieldstone.”
She couldn’t help but smile back.
“Oh, dear,” Darcy suddenly said.
“What?” said Elizabeth.
“Oh, it’s Georgiana.” He gestured. “She’s sitting down.”
They made their way over to where Georgiana was sitting.
“What are you doing?” said Darcy. “Why aren’t you dancing?”
“Oh, well that awful Mr. Rattiner asked me to dance,” said Georgiana. “I hate dancing with him. I can always smell his breath, and he smells dreadfully of onions. It is distressing. So, I told him no.”
Darcy sighed. “You didn’t.”
“Well, now I can’t dance with anyone,” said Georgiana. It was considered impolite for a woman to refuse a dance with a partner. She might say, however, that she was exhausted and would not dance at all for the rest of the evening, which was what Georgiana had done. “So, can we go home?”
“Georgiana, I have made myself abundantly clear on a number of occasions—” Darcy began, but he was interrupted by the approach of Mr. Bingley.
Elizabeth gulped. If his sister had not recognized her, perhaps Mr. Bingley would not either. She could not be sure.
“Hello there, Darcy,” said Bingley, grinning widely. He nodded at Georgiana. “Miss Darcy.”
“Hello, Mr. Bingley,” said Georgiana.
“How are you?” said Darcy. “Enjoying this spectacle?”
“Oh, I am looking forward to the day when Caroline’s wedding is complete and I do not have to accompany her to these things every night of the week,” said Bingley, chuckling.
“You are lucky that she is to be wed.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Bingley. “Both sisters well taken care of. Now I’ve got no worries.” He turned to Georgiana. “Miss Darcy, would you care to dance?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Georgiana. “I’ve refused Rattiner, so I can no longer dance with anyone.”
“Georgiana, that is not at all how one should say such a thing,” said Darcy, looking exasperated.
But Bingley only laughed. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. How positively unfortunate.” He turned to Elizabeth. “And who is this, may I ask?”
“Ah, yes,” said Darcy and made introductions between the two of them.
After that was done and pleasantries exchanged, Bingley said, “Mrs. Fieldstone, would you care to dance?”
“Oh,” said Elizabeth, looking at Mr. Darcy and then back at Mr. Bingley. “Why, certainly. Thank you, that would be lovely.”
* * *
When Elizabeth returned from her dance with Mr. Bingley, who had told her she looked familiar, but did not seem to recognize her either, she found Mr. Darcy sitting with Georgiana and looking sulky.
“I don’t want to marry Mr. Bingley!” Georgiana was saying. “I don’t know why you are always trying to push the two of us together.”
“Well, you know him,” said Darcy. “And I know he would take care of you, and it would all be very tidy.”
“I’m not going to marry someone just because you like him,” Georgiana protested.
Mr. Darcy looked up to see Elizabeth. “Oh, there you are. Dancing with other men is not part of our arrangement, madam.”
“I could not refuse him,” said Elizabeth. “It would have been rude. And then I would have been in much the same situation as Miss Darcy, unable to dance, even with you.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter, because if Georgiana cannot dance, there is no reason for us to stay here. We shall retire. All of us.”
And so they left together. Darcy had his carriage deposit her at her house, and he walked her to her door.
“Will you come back?” she said.
“Oh…” He looked a bit flustered.
“That was what we had decided,” she said. “Was it not?”
“Was it?”
“I have procured the French letter,” she said.
He grimaced. “All right. Yes. I shall… I shall return.”
She went inside and made herself ready. After the ball, she felt as though she would like a bath, so she had one drawn, and she luxuriated in the warm water for some time. She thought it might be rather enjoyable if Mr. Darcy came while she was still the bath. She closed her eyes and imagined it, imagined his hands on her bare skin. It made her feel lightheaded and taut in the most pleasant of ways.
But it became clear that he was not going to come, so she got out and dried and dressed in her bed clothes.
She managed to stay awake for a several more hours.
He didn’t arrive.
Frustrated and exhausted, she climbed into bed. She was asleep in minutes.
* * *
Darcy felt nervous about bedding Elizabeth. Though she seemed eager for it, it had not eased his concern. Now, he had another worry. What if he could not please her? His experience with women was rather limited, and it had been since Anne that he had taken anyone to bed. That was quite a long time ago now. He knew that many men would have mistresses at the same time as their wives, but he had not wanted to engage in such things until his children were older. He thought that family should be his focus at first. So, he had not bedded anyone besides his wife. And after her death, well, he found the entire business distasteful.
Before that, there was only the s
cattered, drunken experiences of a young man, and he was not at all what he thought of as proficient in the matter.
There was also the fact that whenever he thought about being with Elizabeth in that way—really being with her—he felt a measure of guilt so great that he found it insurmountable. He felt that what he was doing with her was unforgivable, and he could not bring himself to…
Well, it was idiotic. Here he was, paying her ridiculous sums of money and he wasn’t even enjoying what he paid for. It Colonel Fitzwilliam knew, he would tell Darcy that he was being a dolt. Darcy knew that he was.
And truly, if it had been anyone else besides Elizabeth Bennet, it might not have been so difficult for him. But he had built the woman up in his imagination, ever since she had refused him.
He wasn’t sure why it was that had cemented her in his affections. It ought not have, by all rights. After all, a man like him never expected to be refused in an offer of marriage. He could have nearly any woman he wanted. Perhaps he wasn’t as connected as to reach the highest echelons of the peerage, but he was a wealthy, sought-after man. He had never even prepared himself for the idea that his proposal could be refused.
It should have turned him against her and made him despise her. For she had hurt him. Hurt his pride, yes, but also hurt him inside, made him feel unsure of himself and vulnerable.
And yet, this only served to make him want her more. What kind of woman could have such strength and such bravery to spit in his face thus? He could not have her, so he wanted her all the more. The incident with Cumberbottom only served to make her more unattainable. Now, she was a woman with a reputation. He couldn’t possibly marry her. She was forbidden to him. This made her nearly irresistible to him.
He thought about her sometimes. Most usually in the dark of night when he was alone. He thought of her skin and her bright eyes and the way that she laughed and the way that she scolded him. He thought of her in a high temper, refusing him, her face flushed as she demanded to know if he thought any consideration would tempt her to accept the man who had been the means of ruining the happiness of her sister. Something about her passion made him weak. His marriage did nothing to quell those thoughts of her. She was with him always.
Mr. Darcy's Indiscretions Page 8
