by Riana Everly
Waiting just inside the house was a grand looking lady, a few years Mr. Darcy’s senior, whom he introduced as Lady Philippa. “Lady Philippa is my cousin, sister to Colonel Fitzwilliam, of whom you might have heard mention,” he explained to his guests. “She has graciously agreed to act as hostess this evening.” Suitable bows and curtseys were exchanged, before he continued the introductions, now speaking to Lady Philippa, “Miss Elizabeth has met Richard, and I do believe they and Anne conspired against me at Rosings.”
“Indeed, Miss Elizabeth,” the lady’s voice was low and deep. “And how did you find my brother? If he was successful in helping you avoid the worst of our aunt, he must not have left you with too terrible an impression. Do, come and sit by me, and we may gossip about those we know in common.” To Elizabeth’s surprise, the lady bestowed upon her a smile quite like Richard’s, linked arms with her, and led her through the grand doorway at the end of the entrance hall, beckoning the others to follow.
The party now filed into a well-appointed and comfortable parlour where they would be served with a selection of sweetmeats and tea and where they might converse in comfort for a time before the meal was served. A large dog, similar to the one Colonel Fitzwilliam had brought along to Rosings, lounged at the foot of what must be his master’s chair. As the guests entered, the hound raised its sleek head and cast intelligent eyes on the newcomers, then shifted to its feet and trotted over to Mr. Darcy. The man absently reached down and scratched the large grey head, evoking a gentle whimper from the animal.
“Cabal,” he intoned to the animal in a voice Elizabeth had never before heard, “Sit.” He pointed to the small rug by the fireplace near the chair, and the animal obediently returned to its former position, where it might protect its master from all harm.
“My dog,” he needlessly informed his guests. “I ought not to make a habit of allowing him to remain when I have company, but most of my guests are known to him, and he to them, and they make little objection. Indeed, you are the first dinner guests outside of my immediate circle whom I have entertained here since my father passed on five years ago.” He patted his thigh and the dog was almost immediately by his side again. Darcy knelt and more deliberately scratched the furred head once more. Then he rose, saying, “I find myself somewhat uncomfortable being a host, and Cabal, as always, helps me find the calm I often so desperately need.”
“Am I of so little importance, then Cousin,” Lady Philippa laughed, “that you value your hound above me?”
“No indeed,” his response was serious, “but whilst I rely upon you in your role, I am nevertheless the master of this house and the host, which entails its own responsibilities, and Cabal’s presence settles my mind.” He gazed down at the placid hound, then returned his eyes to his company. “But you are here now,” his voice brightened somewhat, “and I am less anxious than I had expected. I can have Cabal returned to the upper floors if you prefer it.”
Having grown up on a country estate, Elizabeth was comfortable with personal pets, and Mrs. Gardiner began to speak of her own dog growing up. “It is difficult in the city,” she explained, “for us to have a large hound, but I do miss the animals we had around the house. Miss Pierce has suggested a small lapdog for Samuel, saying that having such a companion can be an effective means of helping him concentrate on appropriate behaviour and of settling him when events become difficult for him to manage. We have been considering her suggestion…” She allowed her thought to fade.
“Indeed, I find Cabal to be thus for me,” Mr. Darcy’s voice grew more animated. “He is comforting and ever-present, and I know he does not judge me poorly when I am troubled. When he is near, I have an easier time in company, although I know not why. I must admit I had him with me in my carriage on that first day I came to call on you, Mrs. Gardiner. Without his solid and reassuring presence, I would have turned tail and fled long before arriving at your house.”
“Then, for certain, sir, let him stay!” cried Elizabeth.
“May I meet him?” Samuel asked. “I should like to know him, if he won’t bite me.”
Darcy led the lad to where Cabal had returned to his carpet by the hearth and showed him how to speak calmly to the beast and stroke its soft head. Before long, the lad was settled most happily at the animal’s side. Cabal withstood the boy’s tentative ministrations with the utmost of canine patience, and Samuel’s eyes grew bright and his smile open. When he raised his head to look at his mother, Elizabeth could see her aunt’s decision written upon her face to give much serious consideration to Miss Pierce’s suggestion.
Tea was soon brought in by a young maid, and light and general conversation ensued. Lady Philippa was adept at engaging all of her guests and even shy Maria Lucas seemed happy and at ease. “Are you comfortable in that chair, Master Samuel?” the lady asked. “It is so lovely to see young faces in this room once more. We await only one guest.”
At that sentence, Mr. Darcy sat up straight with a stricken look on his face. He schooled his features quickly, but Elizabeth, who had been most attentive to his deportment in his own house, noticed. Under the pretence of helping her to some tea, Mr. Darcy pulled her aside and quietly but desperately said, “Miss Elizabeth, I must ask your thoughts quickly. I still have time to act.”
“What on earth is the matter, Mr. Darcy?” she replied in alarm.
“There is nothing wrong, but I do wish to avoid a rather bad social faux pas. I have indeed invited another guest this evening…” He left off as if uncertain how to proceed.
“But sir, this is your home and you may invite whomsoever you wish. If your cousin has no objection to this guest, why ever should I?”
“Indeed, that is true, but this guest is known to you, and until this very moment, I had not given thought to how my actions might affect one of our company. It was intended well, you must believe me, but all of a sudden I have come to feel that I have made a terrible mistake. I fear that once again I have failed to give thought to how my actions might affect others.” He paused, flustered, and Elizabeth heard herself calmly and rather loudly asking how Mr. Darcy took his tea in order to cover the silence and to dispel any curiosity on the part of others in the room.
Then, more quietly, she added, “What have you done, and how may I be of help?”
Mr. Darcy’s face fell as he replied, “I am afraid I will once again do harm to… well, to your sister.” He breathed in deeply to fortify himself and then blurted out, “I invited Charles Bingley. He is only recently returned to town from visiting his family in the North, and I wished to make reparations for my cruel actions of last autumn. I wished to reunite him with Miss Bennet. But once again, I thought not of how inviting him this evening might affect both him and your sister. Pray tell, what shall I do? Shall I have my doorman keep him aside whilst I explain my error?”
“Oh!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “This is a quandary, sir! I do wish I had known of your plans earlier, so I might ask my sister of her thoughts and feelings in the matter. But it is done now, and too late to ask the parties involved. Does Mr. Bingley know of Jane’s presence here tonight?”
“No, no he does not,” Mr. Darcy sighed. “I have failed them, and you, once more.”
“Me?” She was astounded. “How, pray tell, have you failed me?”
“I thought only of myself. You have worked so hard to help me learn to think of how my actions affect others, and yet, at this time when so much may depend upon a single meeting, I neglected all your words and lessons and thought only of myself and my own actions. And, in doing so, I have brought about yet another occasion to hurt one whom you love. I am most sorry, Elizabeth.”
“‘Tis not too late, sir. Instruct your butler to remove Mr. Bingley to another room when he arrives. I shall speak with Jane now, and when Mr. Bingley is ready, you must then speak with him. What you say will, of necessity, depend on Jane’s response to me. You have not failed, sir, for whilst you thought of others later than you might have otherwise done, you did thin
k of them. And your intentions, once again, were good. Rest easy while I speak with my sister.”
As Mr. Darcy quickly exited the room in search of his butler, Elizabeth took a cup of tea over to Jane, and explained Mr. Darcy’s lapse. If the lady were at all discomposed by the news that her former friend might be joining the party, her serene countenance did not express it. Only the slightest change in the direction of her gaze let Elizabeth, who had known her longer than almost everybody else, see that she was feeling distressed by the information.
“Mr. Bingley is invited?” she repeated, her voice unnaturally even. “How pleasant it will be to see him again.”
“Oh, Jane,” her sister replied warmly, “this surely must distress you. He knows not that you are here, and we do not know his thoughts.”
“I am well, Lizzy, truly I am!” came the reply. Jane’s voice was as calm and reasonable as ever, but now a flush was delicately stealing over her pale cheeks. “We may meet as common acquaintances, and all will be well. Do not worry over my account.”
“Mr. Darcy is still able to put off the meeting, dearest.”
“No, I wish to see him. Yes, it is my wish. I shall remain calm, and we may continue as friends. I have no worries that his intentions are other than neutral, for otherwise he would not have left in such a hurry last November. No, he suffers no attachment to me, and I shall manage with poise and equanimity. Indeed,” said she, “once this first meeting is over, I shall feel perfectly easy. I know my own strength, and I shall never be embarrassed again by his coming. I am glad he dines here this evening. It will then be publicly seen that, on both sides, we meet only as common and indifferent acquaintances.”
“Yes, very indifferent indeed,” laughed Elizabeth. “Oh, Jane, take care.”
“My dear Lizzy, you cannot think me so weak, as to be in danger now?”
“We shall have to see how the gentleman himself responds, but I think you may be in very great danger of making him as much in love with you as ever.”
As soon as she had uttered these words, Jane gasped and whispered, “If he were ever in love with me, he should not have left.” But Elizabeth had no opportunity to question her decision not to inform her sister of Mr. Darcy’s machinations in removing Mr. Bingley from Netherfield, for at that moment, a footman approached her, requesting her presence in the library immediately. Mr. Bingley must surely have arrived, and Mr. Darcy needed her assistance!
Excusing herself, and asking Jane to cover for her absence with the excuse of needing to attend to private matters, Elizabeth slipped out of the room and followed the footman through the house towards the library. She hardly had time to take notice of her surroundings, but was aware that the house was most finely appointed, with the most elegant of fixtures and furnishings, while still remaining restrained and refined. There was none of the gaudy and ostentatious display of Rosings here, and Elizabeth wondered how much of the current state of the house was due to Mr. Darcy himself and how much to his parents before him, or possibly his sister.
All too soon she was at the door to the library, which the footman opened without ado and ushered her inside. Mr. Darcy stood by a bank of shelves near the fireplace, anxiety etched in his entire being, his posture rigid and his face a relief carved in stone.
“You came!” he breathed in disbelief.
“You thought I would not?”
“‘Tis unorthodox. You will be missed. You will, of course, be free to explain the circumstances if asked. Thank you.” He took her hands in his and squeezed them quickly before releasing them. “Thank you,” he repeated. He furrowed his brow for a moment, then asked, “What of your sister? Is she in agreement?”
Lizzy nodded. “So she tells me. Her face and voice are as unruffled and serene as ever, but she is distracted by the news. Nevertheless, she assures me she is happy to meet with your friend and allow him back into her circle as a disinterested acquaintance.”
“Disinterested!” Darcy shook his head in disbelief. “If you knew the trouble we took to convince him of her own indifference! No, please… I would not repeat this argument, for I know how wrong I was. But I can assure you that my friend’s affections were engaged. He admired her greatly. I imagine he does so still.”
The pain of this revelation was as acute now as it had been upon the first hearing of it, and yet with the knowledge of Darcy’s reasoning, it was less troublesome to bear. Lizzy let out a long sigh and then asked after Mr. Bingley himself. “Is he here?”
“Mr. Bingley has only now arrived and awaits me in my study. Will you come with me as I speak with him? I find I am more able to consider others’ points of view when you are with me.”
She did not quite know how to respond to that last statement, and, instead, asked after Mr. Bingley.
“I have not yet seen him,” Mr. Darcy explained. “I wished to have you with me when I explain my thoughtless actions of this evening.”
“But sir, will he truly respond honestly and candidly if he sees me by your side? Not only am I somewhat of a stranger to him—someone to whom he would never open his heart—but I am the sister of the woman under discussion. I believe he must be allowed to have his true feelings heard, and this would never happen were I to accompany you.”
Mr. Darcy’s face paled again. “Damnation!” he exclaimed, then quickly apologised for his foul language. “I had not thought of that.”
Searching for a solution, Elizabeth chewed her bottom lip, then proposed, “Why do you not go and greet your friend, and explain the situation. I shall await you here, and can join you in a moment if I am needed. This will be my excuse, too, for my absence from the salon. I stumbled upon your library and found myself so entranced with the books that I lost track of time! Everybody will believe that of me.”
Mr. Darcy smiled, although his hands were clenching and releasing, his thumb worrying against his fingers. “Yes. That will do. My study is through those doors,” indicating a set of doors between two sets of shelves, leading directly into the room adjacent. “Wish me luck, Elizabeth. I may lose a friend in this, but I must attempt to right my wrongs.”
With that, he pulled open the connecting doors and walked through, his stance as rigid as ever it had been.
Chapter Fifteen
Righting a Wrong
Even with the door closed between them, in the silence of the library, Elizabeth could hear the conversation next door. What should she do? To interrupt the tête-à-tête would be disastrous for Mr. Darcy; he had screwed up the courage and all of his newly learned skills to confess both his sins and Jane’s presence to his friend; an interruption now would send him back to the realm of the stiff, impersonal automaton whose cold hauteur spurred the disdain of an entire community within minutes. That would help neither Mr. Darcy nor Mr. Bingley. And yet, in good conscience, she felt most uncomfortable overhearing the conversation. It was a breach of trust, almost a betrayal. Mr. Bingley had no idea that she was present, and his words would not be tempered for her ears.
However, it seemed she had little choice, as Mr. Darcy began speaking the moment the doors were closed behind him.
“Charles,” he said, “it is indeed a pleasure to see you again. How are your family? I hope your aunt is well. Have your sisters remained in Scarborough or do they join you in town?”
“Darcy!” came the cheerful response, “The pleasure is mine to be here once again. That must be the most civil speech I have ever heard you make. And I do not believe I have ever yet heard you ask after my sisters. They are well, and thankfully remain in the North with my aunt. I appreciate the invitation to dine this evening, for I have only today returned to town, but what is this great secret you must discuss, that your butler shuttled me directly to your study? Is Georgiana here? Is she well?”
Elizabeth heard some shuffling, which she imagined to be Mr. Darcy’s feet, before the man spoke once more. “Georgiana is well and remains at Pemberley. No, I have other guests, about whom I need speak to you. But before that, I must make a c
onfession and an apology, and beg your forgiveness. Should you decide not to stay to dine, I shall understand.”
“What on earth is eating you, Darcy? This is so unlike you. Pray tell, what has happened, for it is surely something of great import! Speak, man, speak!” Elizabeth could hear Mr. Bingley’s tone of voice shift from abundant good cheer to apprehensive coolness, and thence to outright worry. His words grew louder and faster, his rhythm of speech clipped.
“Charles, sit. Please, let me speak my piece. Then you may scold and chastise me to your heart’s desire.” And with that introduction, he related the entirety of his misdeeds concerning Jane in the autumn of the previous year. His recitation was answered with absolute silence that lasted more than a minute.
When Mr. Bingley did, at last, speak, his voice was very quiet and still, as cold and as hard as steel. “If I understand you, you fully admit your inability to clearly observe and understand the feelings of others, and yet you separated me from the woman I admired more than any other based not on her words, but on something her mother said in passing?”
Mr. Darcy must have nodded, because there was another short silence before Mr. Bingley continued, his voice as cold as the grave. “And further, you knew of her presence in London these last months, but concealed this knowledge from me? You encouraged me to visit my aunt in Scarborough, not because you were concerned for my well-being, but because you did not wish me to meet Miss Bennet by some happenstance.” Now his voice began to rise in volume and fire. “Darcy, how could you? I have been pining up in Scarborough, hoping to mend my heart like the leather in my father’s factories, and she was here all the time? And she loved me all the time! Did you think so little of me that you could not let me decide for myself whether the woman cared for me? I thought she did, I thought I knew that she did, and I stupidly allowed you and Caroline to convince me otherwise. I am sore ashamed to have called you friend. Now, if you please, I must leave and determine the whereabouts of my angel, that I may beg her forgiveness and try to woo her back. If you have any information as to where I might find her, I demand it now. You may apologise to your gathered guests, whoever they may be, for my absence. Then I will be gone.”
