by Jayne Bamber
“Richard and I mean to depart within the hour. If you write tomorrow, you can forward it along to Bourghleigh Hall, near York.”
“And what is at Bourghleigh Hall, near York?”
“Something – someone who is going to make Aunt Catherine very angry.”
Elizabeth laughed again. “I approve already.”
***
William wrote every day of his journey to York, both of his travels with Richard and of his affection for Elizabeth. She was not surprised that his feelings, like hers, had begun on the night of the ball, and he used some incredibly risqué language in describing the anticipation he felt at returning just in time to dance with her again at Richard and Jane’s engagement ball, or even to explore a library with her. His fourth letter confirmed his arrival at Bourghleigh, though by the time it arrived in London, Elizabeth knew William must be on his return journey already.
She visited Darcy House daily. Wedding preparations for Jane and Richard were already underway, and when it became too overpowering, Elizabeth made her escape to speak with her grandmother, who was every day asking to look at Elizabeth’s letters from Darcy, and laughing wickedly when she was refused.
William had been gone a week when Lady Eleanor’s injuries had healed enough for her to return to Matlock House, and on that morning Elizabeth remained at home. Cousin Will paid them a visit, eager to confide to Elizabeth, Rose, and Uncle Edward that his friend Mr. Bingley had gone to Darcy House that morning on a particular errand. Elizabeth was delighted, Uncle Edward beamed with pride, and Rose declared herself thoroughly envious; Cousin Will met all of their reactions with equal affability.
They had been chatting together for half an hour when another caller was admitted to the room – it was Mr. Smythe, carrying a bouquet of flowers. He had called twice that week, while Elizabeth was at Darcy House, but she had not responded to the calling cards he left – indeed, she had forgotten about the man entirely.
Clearly he had not forgotten her; he appeared as keen as ever to recommend himself to Elizabeth. He greeted them all warmly before taking a step toward Elizabeth and offering her the flowers. “I fear I offended you, when last we met,” he said breathily. “The opposite of my intentions, I assure you.”
Uncle Edward stepped forward to intervene. “Yes, well, young man, whatever your intentions, I think I had better ask you to desist, and hint that my niece is very soon to be engaged.”
Elizabeth looked with wide eyes at her uncle, both surprised to hear him speaking so sternly, and still unaccustomed to her amorous accord with William. She was not sure that she would soon be engaged, but this was hardly the time to refute it, when it suited her purposes so well.
“Engaged?” Mr. Smythe looked at her with astonishment, and then his eyes sought Mr. Collins. “I see,” he said coldly. “I have clearly misunderstood you, dear Miss Bennet.”
“Sir, I must ask you to leave,” Uncle Edward said, folding his arms in an imposing stance between Elizabeth and Mr. Smythe. “It would be best if you did not return.”
Mr. Smythe’s countenance looked rather hateful for a moment, before he schooled his expression into one of guarded disappointment. “Very well, sir,” he said, giving Elizabeth one last glance before tossing the bouquet of flowers into the fire and storming out of the room.
The room was silent for a moment, and then Rose began to shift her gaze between Elizabeth and Sir Edward, laughing nervously. Sir Edward gave Rose a quelling look, and she was obliged to lean on Mr. Collins for support.
***
William and Richard were away for nine days, returning late in the afternoon on the day of Richard and Jane’s engagement ball. Elizabeth was disappointed that she would have no opportunity to see William until that evening, as her preparations for the night were well underway, and this time Rose was getting ready alongside her.
Rose was a fortnight away from her seventeenth birthday, and after a week of alternately begging and cajoling her father, and seemingly being on the verge of tears every moment, she had been granted permission to attend the ball. Her toilette proved to be a massive undertaking, though Elizabeth attempted to remind her blissfully frantic cousin that this night was not her official debut, and was indeed meant to honor Jane and Richard.
“Yes, I know that, Lizzy,” Rose huffed, trying on her fourth gown. “I am sure I could not upstage Jane for all the world. She is so very beautiful! Now what do you think of this one?”
Elizabeth gave an affectionate roll of her eyes. “It is just as lovely as the first three, I am sure.”
“Ugh,” Rose cried, and tossed the gown aside in favor of the first one she had tried on. Elizabeth shook her head, nearly causing the maid to burn her with the curling tongs. “Have a care, Lizzy,” Rose laughed. “I daresay it shall be a big night for you, too.”
Elizabeth smiled to herself, thinking of William. The distance between them had indeed given her time to consider everything that had passed between them, and she sincerely hoped they would be afforded some opportunity to speak privately that night, for she had come to feel that she could wait no longer.
***
The party from Darcy House arrived fashionably late; Charlotte had already left the receiving line to mingle in the ballroom with Elizabeth when the Darcys arrived. Elizabeth felt her gaze drawn to William the moment he entered the room, and she felt the need to instantly be at his side, perhaps asking for some further elaboration on some of his rather saucy insinuations in the letters he had written her while he had been away in York.
She felt a little thrill in her chest at the recollection of his letters, and would have gone to his side directly, had Charlotte not latched on to her arm. “Heaven and Earth! Lizzy, who is that?”
It was only then that Elizabeth noticed the man with William – a tall, broad-shouldered, tanned gentleman who walked with Lady Anne on his arm, though he was a whole head taller than she. He was muscular, yet graceful in his step, dressed exceedingly well, and seemed to already be attracting a great deal of attention from at least one half of the crush in the ballroom. Elizabeth laughed at the sight of such masculine perfection. “That must be William and Richard’s secret weapon, Elliot de Bourgh.”
Charlotte sighed. “Oh my. He is… very welcome at Matlock House.”
“I am sure he is! Cousin, do you need some air?”
“I think I rather do,” Charlotte drawled, “though I should hate to turn my eyes away from him. What a pity he is meant for Cousin Anne.”
“I am not entirely sure I understand this scheme of theirs,” Elizabeth admitted. “I can see why they might assume Mr. de Bourgh could draw cousin Anne’s attention away from William, but would she really have him? He is still a second son, is he not?”
“Who cares?” Charlotte nearly panted.
“Very good point,” Elizabeth agreed. “I would still argue that William is the handsomest man in the room, but Mr. de Bourgh might be the second most.”
“Had I been in any doubt of your affection, that should be the confirmation of it,” Charlotte whispered, “for you are utterly wrong. Never before have I seen – Good Heavens, he is looking over here! Smile, Lizzy.”
“You smile, Charlotte. It seems such a waste that he should be for Anne, even if his family does want to get their hands on Rosings Park.”
“Your wisdom does you great credit,” Charlotte said with a wink and a sly smile. “And so much the better, because he is coming this way.”
Rose materialized at their side, clinging to Elizabeth’s arm. “You have had your share of balls and parties this season, Lizzy,” she whispered. “I hope you will remember that some of us have not had our fair share yet.” She straightened her shoulders, pushing her chest out as the Darcys and Mr. de Bourgh approached.
Elizabeth laughed and gave her cousins each a little nudge. “Poor Mr. Collins, will none of you think of him now?”
***
“Well Darcy, which one is she?” Elliot de Bourgh scanned the ballroom, smilin
g and nodding at any lady that caught his eye, and there were a great many.
“Over there by the fireplace, speaking with her mother – she is wearing the purple gown with gold striping.”
Darcy saw a brief look of distaste flicker across Elliot’s countenance before he schooled his expression into a more neutral look. “She is much changed since last we met, ten years ago.”
“As are you, I daresay,” William drawled.
“I have grown, I think, for the better,” Elliot laughed.
“Do you remain willing…?”
“If everything you and Richard have told me is true, I can expect to invest half of her dowry in recouping the losses my late uncle’s estate has suffered in the years of our aunt’s mismanagement, and still keep a house in Town besides. It is what my father wishes, and I have yet to meet anyone I really like – yes, I would say I am still willing. I have been since she was of age, but her mother would not hear of it.”
“Shall we go and speak with her?”
Elliot shook his head. “Not yet.” He glanced around the ballroom. “Which one is your lady, and which one is Richard’s?”
“You have already met Jane. She is engaged to Richard. Her sister Elizabeth, who has long resided in London, is just over there, in the magnificent green dress, speaking with Richard’s sister.”
“That is Richard’s sister?”
“Yes, Lady Charlotte Fitzwilliam.”
“I like the sight of her,” Elliot said with a grin. “See how the two ladies with her are laughing. She is witty and amusing like Richard, I can tell.”
“Yes, but Anne –”
“Anne has not thought of me in ten years, I am sure. I cannot make it too easy on her. The sport shall be better if I get her chasing me.”
By now William’s mother and sisters had gone ahead to greet Elizabeth and Charlotte, and by the time William and Elliot reached them, Richard and Mr. Bingley had approached their ladies to claim the first dance, which was just beginning.
Elizabeth was watching him with a wide smile, an expression his cousin Charlotte was mirroring as Darcy performed the introductions. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” Charlotte said, blushing crimson as she curtseyed to Elliot de Bourgh.
“The pleasure is mine,” said he, “and it would be greater still if you would dance with me, Lady Charlotte.” He flexed his arm as he extended Charlotte his hand.
“Yes, it would,” Charlotte breathed, taking his hand and making eyes at him as if he had just made her an indecent proposal.
Elizabeth was biting her lip to contain her mirth, and Darcy quickly whisked her away to dance before she began laughing outright. “I take it that was not part of your plan,” Elizabeth quipped as they began the steps of the dance.
“No, it was not... but that is Elliot de Bourgh.”
She laughed once more. “He is Cousin Anne’s relation, but you seem to know him well. I think you wrote that you were acquainted at Cambridge?”
“He and Richard were both a year ahead of me, and by then we all knew of Aunt Catherine’s dislike for all her in-laws – Richard decided to befriend him his first year at Cambridge on a lark, and over the years we both came to find his company some of our favorite amongst all our acquaintance. He is a good man.”
“He seems popular with the ladies,” Elizabeth said. “I wonder that he is not married already.”
“I have remained single all of these years, Elizabeth, because I have always known exactly what I wanted in a woman, and have only just recently, at last, discovered all that and more. Elliot is much the same. He is remarkably intelligent, but… odd.”
“What do you mean by odd – should I be worried for Charlotte?”
“What I mean is that he is clever, but not in the usual way. Your cleverness comes with a wit that absolutely sparkles in conversation. Elliot has never had to be adept at conversation in order to attract those that would speak with him, if you take my meaning. He knows what little compliments might please the ladies, but when his conversation is inevitably too intellectual, and his sense of humor rather dark – well, he has learned to often say less, and let people come to conclusions based on his appearance, rather than his mind.”
“Poor man! But he seems to be doing well enough with Charlotte,” Elizabeth whispered, looking around to see if the other dancers were listening to their conversation.
“He is rather wasted on Anne,” Darcy admitted in a low voice. “His father is pressuring him to marry, and has long had his eye on his late brother Sir Lewis’s estate. Aunt Catherine has avoided Elliot assiduously these ten years or more for fear of Anne growing attached to him. She despises the de Bourghs, though, I rather wonder she has not grown weary all these years of trying to push Anne at me, when she might at least have her daughter married to a willing and respectable gentleman.”
“Perhaps, like me, she considers you a more desirable man,” Elizabeth said, biting her lip very prettily.
William felt his cheeks grow warm as he gazed down at Elizabeth with adoration. “Do you really think so?”
“Can you doubt it? I think you are very fine to look upon, and I am in no way dismayed by your intelligent conversation. Elliot de Bourgh is tolerable, I suppose, but he is not handsome enough to tempt me.”
Darcy laughed, spinning Elizabeth with the other dancers. “My goodness,” Elizabeth whispered. “Aunt Catherine certainly appears to be giving Uncle Henry the business over there.” She gestured with her head, and Darcy looked down the ballroom, to where Lady Catherine was indeed having what appeared to be an extremely unpleasant conversation with the Earl of Matlock.
Nearby, Anne was seated beside Mrs. Bingley, her eyes fixed on Elliot de Bourgh. He and Charlotte were dancing nearby; they were, by all appearances, getting along famously – Charlotte was looking at Elliot in much the same way as women always did, but Elliot looked more at ease than he ever had in such a situation.
“I worry for Charlotte,” Darcy observed to Elizabeth. “I know she is aware of the plan, but I think I had better speak to her after this, and give her some gentle reminder – or perhaps it would be better coming from you, woman to woman. I would hate to see her wounded.”
“It is so endearing, William, to see you looking out for her. I should not like to see her hurt, either. It is strange, for I know you brought him here to distract Anne, so that she might not hinder our progress as we grow better acquainted, and yet I wonder....”
She gave him such a tantalizing look that he let out a shaky breath, wishing they were alone. “What is it, my love?”
“I was only thinking that if our attachment was made known, if Aunt Catherine and Cousin Anne were made to admit their defeat, there should be no reason for us to fear their interference, and yet it would make your bringing Elliot de Bourgh here all for naught. Unless....” she glanced back at Charlotte, and then smiled up at Darcy and gave him a saucy wink.
They went down the dance together, and when they had gotten to the end of it, Darcy pulled her away from the other dancers and led her to a corner of the room. “If our attachment was made known...?”
Elizabeth smiled at him, chewing her lip again. “I told you I needed time, but with every letter I received from you, I....” She fell silent as two garishly dressed matrons walked past, gossiping. “Not here,” she whispered, and discreetly took his hand and led him out onto the balcony. The same balcony where….
“There, now,” Elizabeth said when they were alone together.
Before she could say more, Darcy reached up and placed a finger on her lips to still her. “A moment, my love. There is a matter of great import, to which I must attend.”
“Oh?”
He led her by the hand to the little stone bench, and sat down beside her. Without saying a word, he took her in his arms and kissed her. She was as responsive as she had been that night in the library, and so incredibly warm. She broke away from him and gave a happy little sigh, then looked about, suddenly seeming to realize where they were.
“Oh dear – oh, William, the Twelfth Night… tell me you did not see....”
“I did,” he sighed.
“Oh, my love. I did not – that is –”
“I know,” he said, cupping her hands in his. “I came out here that night, having just overheard what you really thought of me. Richard said I should try to get along with you for his sake, and I was beastly about it. Then I came out here and saw – well, I thought that in my attempt to dissuade him from pursuing you, Elizabeth, I had pushed him into the arms of the beautiful, mysterious starling who had captivated me and utterly captured my heart.”
“Would that it had been you, that night.”
He laughed. “That would have been a disaster.”
“I suppose it would have then. But now....”
“Now, I think you had better explain what you meant when you said that we should make our attachment known.”
“I think you know what I mean,” she breathed, wrapping her arms around him. “After nine days away from you, and everything you wrote in your letters, I find I cannot wait much longer.” She kissed him briefly on the lips, then on the jaw, and then pressed her body against him as she nibbled at his ear, her breath hot on his neck.
Darcy groaned as he held her close, his breathing ragged. “Elizabeth, we must marry at once!”
She laughed and rubbed her nose against his cheek. “After all our uncle’s scheming, it would serve him right if we took off for Gretna Green directly!”
He hugged her close, humming happily. “Say the word, Elizabeth, and I shall call for the carriage at once.”
She laughed. “Who do you think would be the angriest?”
“It would be a ten-way tie at the least. Our lady grandmother would absolutely throttle me.”
“Do you know, she asked to see the letters you sent me!”
Darcy blushed, remembering a few especially amorous lines he had penned in his first letter, with their evening in the library so fresh in his mind. “Oh dear.”
