Mr. Darcy's Indiscretions

by Valerie Lennox

  Jane drew back, looking Elizabeth over. “I don’t fully know what has gotten into you, Lizzy. You are behaving entirely unlike yourself.”

  “That may be so, but so are you.”

  There was a noise behind them.

  Elizabeth turned. “Hello?”

  She caught just a glimpse, a flash of Lydia, dashing into a path in the woods, wearing one of her new gowns.

  “Lydia?” said Jane. “What are you doing?” She picked up her skirts and ran after her sister.

  Elizabeth came hot on her heels.

  But Lydia had a lead on them, and she was hurrying through the woods quickly.

  They yelled at her to stop.

  She didn’t.

  CHAPTER SIX

  It was some time before they caught up with Lydia. By that time, they were halfway to Meryton, and Lydia was very cross with them.

  “Why did you have to notice me?” she said. “You’ve forced me to run, and now I probably look a fright.”

  “What are you doing out here?” said Jane. “You can’t be running off in the woods at this hour, not alone.”

  “I told Mama I wasn’t feeling well. Kitty will confirm I have gone to bed,” said Lydia. “No one would have known if you two hadn’t been out walking so late.”

  “Where are you going?” said Elizabeth.

  Lydia wrung her hands. “You’re going to try to stop me, and I won’t let you.” She turned and began walking down the road.

  “Lydia!” said Jane. “We aren’t going to simply run after you all night.”

  “Aren’t we?” said Elizabeth, cringing. “What else are we going to do? Bodily restrain her?”

  “Perhaps we should,” said Jane. “We don’t know where she’s going.”

  They started after their sister again.

  She turned a corner onto another road, and strains of music filtered through the trees. By and by, they came to an old barn, which was full of light and conversation spilling out into the darkness.

  Lydia stopped before going in, running her hands over her hair. “It’s a secret sort of ball,” she told them. “It’s for the officers at the regiment. They are doing all sorts of dances that they can’t do elsewhere. Like the waltz.”

  “A ball?” said Jane. “And you here without a chaperone? What could you be thinking?”

  “It’s a masked ball,” said Lydia, taking a mask out of her reticule.

  “All of us here without a chaperone,” said Elizabeth.

  “And you and I without masks,” said Jane.

  “Not that a mask would conceal your identity, Lydia,” said Elizabeth. “All of the officers know you marvelously well. You are rather distinctive.”

  “We are all ruined,” said Jane quietly. “The entire family destroyed.”

  “Lydia, see reason. Let’s go before anyone sees us,” said Elizabeth.

  “I don’t see why it matters,” said Lydia. “We walk alone all the time. Why Jane went alone to Netherfield!”

  “During broad daylight,” said Jane.

  “So darkness makes a difference?” said Lydia.

  “We are at a ball,” said Elizabeth. “In the company of men.”

  “A secret ball,” said Jane. “A ball in which they do scandalous dances. All of it is decidedly unsavory.”

  “Well, I don’t think the waltz is that unsavory,” said Lydia. “Why I predict that within a few years, everyone will be doing it.”

  “Except us, because you’ll have ruined the entire family,” snapped Elizabeth. “Father will die. We’ll be turned out of Netherfield, and we’ll have no way to support ourselves.”

  “I shall simply become a courtesan if that happens,” sniffed Lydia.

  “What?” said Jane.

  “You don’t even know what a courtesan is,” said Elizabeth.

  “Certainly I do,” said Lydia. “She’s a woman who doesn’t have to get married and gets lots of lovely gifts from all her gentleman patrons.”

  “I think there’s a bit more to it than that,” said Jane tightly.

  “I’m going in,” said Lydia.

  “You most certainly are not,” said Jane.

  At that moment, two figures stepped out of one of the barn doors and began walking toward them.

  Elizabeth and Jane immediately seized Lydia’s arms and dragged her into the shadows.

  The figures drew a bit closer, and Elizabeth recognized them both.

  It was Mr. Darcy and Mrs. Fortescue. The latter was fumbling with a mask on her face.

  “Stop a moment, let me help,” said Mr. Darcy.

  She turned her back to him.

  His fingers worked at the knots of the mask at the back of her head, deftly untying them. “Are you certain you want to do this?”

  “There is no one else, Darcy,” said Mrs. Fortescue. “That money has been earmarked for charity, and as long as I am continuing to assist the officers in learning to dance, my late husband’s son cannot take it from me. But if he learns that the lessons have ceased, then he is within his rights to demand it all back. It is the only money that I have. And I know that you are counting on the money as well.”

  Darcy retied her mask in place. “You are supposed to be in mourning. If anyone recognizes you, it would be calamitous for your reputation.”

  “Oh, my reputation is going to be destroyed eventually, as you well know. It’s only a matter of time.”

  “Yes, that is another reason why it’s perhaps not in your best interest to be doing the demonstration. Everyone will be watching you, with their eyes on you, and someone will notice—”

  “It’s fine,” said Mrs. Fortescue.

  “I think we must find some other woman to dance with me,” said Mr. Darcy.

  “There is no time,” she said.

  “Well, not for tonight,” said Mr. Darcy. “But perhaps for the—” His voice cut off and he turned and looked directly into the shadows where Elizabeth and the others were hiding. “I say, is there someone there?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Elizabeth tightened her grip on Lydia’s arm. Stay still, she thought furiously at her younger sister.

  But Lydia did not. She struggled and yelled out, “Ow!”

  Mr. Darcy strode forward and discovered them. “The Miss Bennets.” His face was half shadowed, but Elizabeth could see that he had arched an eyebrow. He looked a bit amused. “Well, three of the Miss Bennets anyway. Where is Miss Catherine? She was the other with you on the street, was she not?”

  Mrs. Fortescue hurried over and peered over Mr. Darcy’s shoulder. “What did you three hear?”

  “That you are out at a ball when you should be in mourning,” said Lydia. “Personally, I think that’s a marvelous idea. Why allow mourning to ruin one’s fun? I should like to think I would do the same thing.”

  “This is no place for three unchaperoned young ladies,” said Mr. Darcy.

  “As we well know, sir,” said Jane. “My sister Elizabeth and I were simply trying to collect our younger sister Lydia.”

  “I’m not leaving.” Lydia stamped a foot. “At the very least, I want to see a waltz. How else am I to see one?”

  “Oh, is that all that troubles you?” said Mr. Darcy, looking more amused. “In that matter, I can satisfy you. My old friend Mr. Bingley has contracted myself and my partner to do a demonstration of the waltz at his ball.”

  Indeed, the Bingleys had visited Longbourn personally earlier that day to invite the family to a ball at Netherfield only five days hence.

  “Oh,” said Lydia, brightening. “Well, that is very good to know.”

  “Yes, so you see, if you are but patient, you will see a waltz,” said Mr. Darcy. “Now, let your wiser elder sisters take you home.”

  “Oh, must we go home?” Lydia folded her arms over her chest.

  “I think so,” said Jane, putting an arm around Lydia’s shoulders and drawing her along. “I must say, a waltz at a proper ball like the one at Netherfield, it does tend to support your prediction
that everyone will be dancing it soon.” She smiled at her sister.

  “I don’t want to go,” said Lydia. But she allowed Jane to guide her down the path, away from the barn.

  Elizabeth hung back. She scurried over to Mrs. Fortescue. “Listen, if you need someone else to dance your part, I would be willing to do it.”

  Mrs. Fortescue was taken aback. “You know how to waltz?”

  “Well, no, but I am a quick study,” said Elizabeth. “I am not the most skilled of dancers, but I am reasonably talented at such things. I shall learn it.”

  “You could not learn it in time for tonight,” said Mrs. Fortescue.

  “No,” said Mr. Darcy. “But perhaps in time for the Netherfield Ball.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “You seem quite familiar with my partner.”

  Elizabeth noticed he was not saying Mrs. Fortescue’s name, and she decided this must be deliberate, in order to protect her reputation. “We are… acquainted,” she said, even though they had not been properly introduced at all. “I promised I would help in any way I could. Please.”

  “Elizabeth!” called Jane, who was now quite far down the path.

  “Yes, by and by I come!” Elizabeth shouted back. She lowered her voice. “If you want me to do it, send word as I instructed you, through my kitchen maid.”

  “Collingsworth,” repeated Mrs. Fortescue.

  “Yes, that is her name,” said Elizabeth. “I must go.” She picked up her skirts and hurried after Jane.

  “Miss Bennet!” called Mr. Darcy.

  Elizabeth stopped. Jane stopped. Lydia stopped. They all three turned to look at him.

  He went after them. “Are the three of you intending to walk alone all the way back to your home?”

  “We walk alone all the time,” said Lydia.

  “How far is it?” said Darcy. “If I have the time, I will accompany you.”

  “That’s not necessary,” said Jane, and there was a note in her voice that brooked no argument.

  “Ah,” said Mr. Darcy. “Yes, I see. Certainly, after what you’ve heard of me, you would think that of me, but I assure you, that is not the sort of man I am. And as for your sister, well, I have a sister about the same age, who is wont to get into scrapes as well.”

  “I haven’t gotten into a scrape!” protested Lydia.

  “I assure you, we shall be fine on our own,” said Jane. “Come, Lizzy. At once!”

  “Thank you anyway, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said to him. And then she made haste to join her sisters. Together, they walked into the night, and back to their home.

  * * *

  Mr. Darcy peered into the darkness at the retreating women. He had the urge to go after them and insist that he conduct them home safely. There was a point in time in his life when his presence would have been welcomed by young women such as them. Indeed by all manner of well-bred young ladies. He had been too young to truly consider marriage then, but they had all wanted to ensnare him as a husband.

  Now, his contact with women was limited.

  There was Mrs. Forster, the wife of the colonel, who he had danced with on a few occasions when helping Mrs. Fortescue with the lessons, but other than that, Mrs. Fortescue herself was the only woman he’d touched in over a year.

  And their touching was only for dancing. They did the demonstrations for the men that came for lessons, or sometimes he and Mrs. Fortescue would demonstrate a dance at various balls, like this one. The waltz was a very, er, tactile dance, but dancing it with Mrs. Fortescue was no matter. She was like a sister to him. He thought of her as someone to protect, but never as a woman, never as attractive.

  Perhaps, as sad as it might be for her, he thought of her as tainted by Wickham.

  When he had suggested to Mrs. Fortescue that they get another woman to dance instead of her, he had not thought it through, not at all. But now, with the very tangible prospect of Elizabeth Bennet floating through the night and just out of his vision, he was forced to face it all.

  Dancing the waltz with her, a lovely young woman.

  He wanted it.

  But he was frightened by the way that he wanted it.

  Back in those days before Wickham had destroyed him, when he had been a sought-after, eligible young bachelor, he hadn’t given much mind to the women who wanted him. He certainly hadn’t been badly affected by any of them.

  If he was honest with himself, the first sight of Elizabeth Bennet had caused something of a disruption within him. Or perhaps it wasn’t the sight of her, but what she had said. He had tried in vain to still his tongue with her. He was not in the habit of engaging in conversations of that nature with women he had just met. But she had kept up with him, matching each of his retorts with one of her own.

  She had been sharp tongued and quick witted, and he had not forgotten her.

  Now, there was the possibility that he would soon have her in his arms, and the two of them would be whirling about a room together. He thought about the way that might feel, and his whole body felt far too warm.

  “…as though it was quite fortuitous that she and her sisters were here,” Mrs. Fortescue was saying.

  “Hmm?” said Darcy.

  “Are you listening to me at all?” said Mrs. Fortescue.

  “Yes, of course,” he said absently. He turned away from the wake of Elizabeth Bennet, trying to get himself back in hand.

  “You know, I do not think you are.”

  “We couldn’t possibly consider Miss Bennet for the waltz,” he said.

  “What?” Mrs. Fortescue cocked her head. “Why not? You were just saying we should find someone else, and she has volunteered.”

  “No, I couldn’t dance with her.” He shook his head, and he knew it was true. It had been too long since he’d touched a woman. It had been too long since he’d even allowed himself to consider a woman’s beauty. Why this woman had somehow burst through his defenses and taken root inside him, he couldn’t say.

  But disaster would strike if he were to dance that closely with that woman. The very thought of having her that close, it made him tremble. The waltz, it was too intimate.

  “Why not?”

  “I just…” He shook his head. “She doesn’t know the waltz.”

  “It is not a difficult dance,” said Mrs. Fortescue. “Now, you had better come up with some better reason to exclude her, or I shall write to her on the morrow and invite her to my house to learn the steps. You can teach her.”

  “Teach her? I could not possibly.”

  “You have taught others.”

  “Men, other men,” he said. “I have never instructed a lady, and—”

  “Mr. Darcy, what has come over you?” She put her hands on her hips, and when she did so, her condition was a bit too evident for his liking.

  He passed a hand over his face. He could not risk Mrs. Fortescue’s reputation. Furthermore, this far along in carrying her babe, she really should not be on her feet so often.

  “Fine,” he muttered. “She can learn the dance. Send the letter.”

  Mrs. Fortescue smiled. “Finally, you are talking sense.”

  * * *

  The next morning after breakfast, Elizabeth noted that her mother and Mr. Collins were having a hushed conversation in the corner, but she couldn’t understand what they would wish to speak about that they didn’t want others to hear. She might have gone closer and inserted herself into the conversation to find out, but that would have meant being closer to Mr. Collins and having to listen to him speak, so she did not.

  Mr. Collins had spent much of his time conversing with Jane, who was better at being polite to him than Elizabeth could have managed on her own. Jane was much better at politeness in general.

  Yesterday, when the Bingleys had come to invite them to the Netherfield Ball, Wickham had accompanied them, and he had been as charming as ever, focusing almost all of his attention on Jane.

  Their mother had been joyous over this development, convinced that Wickham was seconds away from asking Jane to ma
rry him, that a proposal might come at any moment. She had said so on numerous occasions since, prattling about how Jane was so beautiful as to snare any man, but that she could do no worse than Wickham.

  But after the hushed conversation with Mrs. Bennet, Mr. Collins did not go to Jane as he usually did, but instead, came directly to Elizabeth.

  “Cousin,” he said, smiling at her with that horrid, too-wide smile of his. “You and I have not conversed nearly enough. Why, I have not heard your opinion on Lady Catherine nor of the decorations that I have described in such minute detail to everyone gathered. I am quite sure that your sisters and mother have offered their thoughts, but you have remained quite silent.”

  “Have I?” said Elizabeth. “Well, as I’m sure you well know, Lady Catherine can do no wrong.” And then she immediately regretted saying something so terribly sarcastic.

  “I do know so,” said Mr. Collins. “How observant of you to say such a thing.”

  Elizabeth glared at him. Was he daft?

  “What are your plans for the day?” said Mr. Collins. “I think I should like to spend the day as near you as possible.”

  “You would?” Elizabeth’s voice was a squeak.

  But at that moment, Jane hurried over. “Lizzy, I have need of you.”

  “Oh, of course!” Elizabeth leaped to her feet and hurried after Jane without taking her leave of Mr. Collins.

  Jane hurried through the house to the front door.

  Elizabeth followed after her. “Thank you ever so for saving me from Mr. Collins. How have you borne his speaking to you for hours on end each morning?”

  “I find he speaks without much care for what it is that I say,” said Jane. “And so, I let him go on and I think of other things. Not that any of that is important. We are going for a walk together.”

  “All right,” said Elizabeth. “I suppose so. But it looks as though it’s threatening rain.”

  “Oh, nonsense. It will be lovely.” Jane threw open the door. “Let’s go.”

  They stepped out of the front door.

  Jane started walking quickly and Elizabeth had to take fast steps to keep up.

  “Jane, are you quite all right?”

  Jane looked at her. “Listen, I know you have some strange grudge against Mr. Wickham, but I need you to set all of that aside. And if you are jealous of me and him, I am sorry for it. I have searched my feelings, Lizzy, and I find I can’t step aside for you. I would, truly I would, but it wouldn’t matter, because it is me that he holds in the highest esteem, and he would not take you in my stead.”