by A J Woods
Elizabeth could not help but smile at her sister’s teasing, which did much to lighten her mood. She sat back and studied her surroundings, soothed by the quiet peace and the company of two of her favorite companions. Uncle Gardiner had retired to his study after a cozy family dinner and Elizabeth’s young cousins had long since gone to bed, leaving the ladies to themselves.
The Gardiners’ drawing room was by no means large, but what it lacked in size it compensated for in comfort and simple elegance, with paneled walls and window dressings of a pale rose print against a backdrop of light green. Apart from the sitting area surrounding the hearth, there was a card table and chairs, glass-front bookcases of rich, dark wood filled with leather volumes, and the writing desk, tucked into a private corner, where Elizabeth had spent most of her mornings since she and Jane had arrived in London.
“You have it right, dear Jane,” Elizabeth said. “I have done with writing, perhaps well past today.” At this, she looked pointedly at her sister, whose features immediately registered disappointment.
But their secret was their secret—Mr. Darcy might know of her novel’s existence now, due to Jane’s misguided insistence on helping with Elizabeth’s research, coupled with her desire to discover the story’s ending by any means necessary—but the sisters could not risk the news of Elizabeth’s endeavor reaching any member of their family.
If their mother knew that her second daughter was attempting to earn funds by her pen rather than by an advantageous marriage, well…all the smelling salts in England could not save her.
Elizabeth shuddered at the thought.
“Lizzy,” Aunt Gardiner began, setting down her sewing, “have you decided whether to accept Mr. Darcy’s invitation to call and meet Miss Darcy?” Her expression gave away her eagerness to hear an answer.
Her mother’s sister-in-law, Elizabeth was aware, thought very highly of the Darcy family because of their shared connection to Derbyshire, where Aunt Gardiner had spent time as a child. That she and her aunt could not agree on their impressions of Mr. Darcy was a matter of some contention.
Elizabeth glanced at Jane, who nodded her encouragement. They had chosen to reveal to their aunt only part of Darcy’s invitation, relaying only that he wished to thank them for their help with his sister’s birthday gift, and to allow them a chance to meet her. It was not necessary to mention the bit about his personal library, leading as it would to obvious questions.
“I have indeed decided,” she answered, raising her shoulders a little in the hope of gaining bravery as she prepared to speak aloud the words she’d mulled over for the past hour, realizing as she had that she would have to put her manuscript’s continuation on hold until a different solution could be reached.
Jane’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You have?” she echoed. “That is wonderful news!”
Oh, no. She has it all wrong, Elizabeth thought.
“You are very excited, Jane,” their aunt exclaimed before Elizabeth could interject and set things straight.
“I am just happy to meet Miss Darcy,” Jane said, her voice quite high-pitched. “Her brother cannot praise her enough, and it would be lovely to have a new acquaintance in Town. She is but a few years Lizzy’s junior.”
“You will be disappointed with my answer then,” Elizabeth said, grimacing as Jane’s smile collapsed, “as I am afraid I must refuse.”
From their aunt, she omitted the truth that she had already done so regarding Darcy’s offer to drive them home; on the matter of the use of his library, as she recalled, she had not been quite so firm, at least not in her verbal response. “We are acquainted from Netherfield, it is true, and it is kind of him to request a visit,” she explained, not at all sure whether she fully agreed with her own statement.
Was it kind, really? Or did the man have some unspoken motive for asking them around? She could not yet draw any fixed conclusions about his character.
“But we are so very different, and Mr. Darcy does not even reside near Hertfordshire. I believe we would meet Miss Darcy only the once, and never see her again. It does not stand to reason that we should intrude on their family, if that is to be the case.”
“You are not wrong on that account,” Jane said, not meeting Elizabeth’s eyes. “I suppose by your logic, it is for the best that we do not visit.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” Aunt Gardiner said, her tone solemn. “I know you have set your mind about Mr. Darcy, Lizzy. Yet, I still believe there must have been some kind of misunderstanding between you. For I cannot bear to think ill of someone from Derbyshire, and regarding his family, though we are not of the same circles, I have never heard a harsh word.”
“A misunderstanding, indeed,” Elizabeth scoffed.
Aunt Gardiner and Jane shared a glance that Elizabeth did not try to interpret.
“Well, a new year is nigh upon us and you will be here a few weeks yet, so anything could happen,” her aunt said, smiling softly as she picked up her sewing. “In time, I believe all will be sorted. A person’s true character cannot stay hidden for long.”
Chapter 4
What kind of a damn fool…Darcy muttered to himself as his valet assisted him in dressing for breakfast. How could he have left two female acquaintances to walk such a long way home in the snow? His lack of action on the subject was simply abominable. He should have pressed harder…absolutely insisted that they ride in his carriage.
Oh, he was no gentleman today.
“Pardon, sir?” Roberts asked as he brushed a coat nearby.
Darcy cleared his throat, not realizing he’d been mumbling loud enough for his man to hear. “It is nothing that anyone can help me with, Roberts,” he said. “Not even a man of your skill and experience.”
Now, to Elizabeth Bennet’s list of faults, Darcy could add: causing him to forfeit his manners, and to jabber to himself like a madman.
Roberts helped him on with his coat and left the room, and Darcy made his way downstairs to the morning room, where a delicious-looking spread awaited him on the sideboard. He had filled his plate with eggs and ham, and was in the middle of buttering a thick slice of toasted bread when a footman announced Bingley’s arrival.
“Good morning!” Charles greeted cheerfully, entering the room. He accepted a plate from the footman and, as comfortable in Darcy’s house as in his own, began to fill it before sitting at the table across from his friend.
“I was not expecting you until later, Charles,” Darcy said before taking a sip of tea. He swallowed and placed the cup in its saucer. “Is everything alright?”
He studied his friend’s face, noting brief hesitation before Charles gave an answer.
“All is well,” Charles said, sounding, at least to his friend’s ear, not entirely convinced at his own proclamation. He opened his mouth as if to say more, then decided against it.
“What is it?” Darcy prodded, folding his napkin on his lap.
Charles hadn’t yet touched his food.
“Your features are not well suited to hiding things from an old friend,” Darcy added with a grin.
Charles cleared his throat. “I have heard some news,” he said, “from Caroline.”
Darcy nodded, hoping his expression did not belie the unease he felt at hearing the name of Charles’ sister. The lady had designs on him, he knew, and made no secret of her intention to convince him to marry her, an event which he swore on the souls of his beloved late parents, would never take place.
“It seems a pair of acquaintances from our time at Netherfield have been here in Town these last weeks,” Charles continued.
Suddenly, Darcy’s breakfast did not sit well in his stomach. He did not say anything for a few moments, trying to decide whether to share the events of two days prior.
“Caroline has not visited them,” Charles said. “Though upon hearing the news I encouraged her to do so. To my disappointment, she was not enthusiastic about the suggestion, but it would be improper for her to wait much longer, and I have no intent
ion of offending connections who were nothing but kind to us during our stay in their village.” He picked up his fork and began to poke at the eggs before him with excessive vigor.
The firmness with which his friend spoke did not escape Darcy, and made him keenly aware that Charles’ feelings remained unchanged on the subject of Jane Bennet. He took a sip of tea and swallowed, buying time to think.
“I confess I have met them recently, while on an errand at Hatchards.”
Charles dropped his fork and it crashed to the floor, prompting a footman to run over before he picked it up himself and wiped it on his napkin, thanking the servant as he waved the man away. “And you did not share this with me?” he asked, his expression dour. “Why ever not?”
“Charles…” Darcy began, pausing to gather his thoughts. His friend had a very different way of looking at the world than he, and, as strongly as Darcy believed it best to discourage the man’s feelings for Miss Bennet, he did not wish to cause any more harm than necessary.
“I did not see the benefit in so doing. We were only briefly acquainted with the family. Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth are in London but a few more weeks and are occupied with their relations. I believe they were engaged for the Christmas season and will be leaving in but a fortnight.”
Bingley’s skin had turned a rather disconcerting shade of red. “So, I am given to understand you did not invite them to your upcoming ball, even though the whole of London will be attending?”
“Well, not the whole of it, surely. ‘Tis only a private ball, after all, for a small number of—”
“The point eludes you,” Charles interrupted through clenched teeth.
“As a matter of fact, it does not,” Darcy explained. “The truth is, I gave an invitation of a different sort and was promptly rejected, therefore it did not stand to reason that I would issue another.”
Charles narrowed his eyes. “I do not catch your meaning.”
Overcome with sudden weariness—at Elizabeth’s obvious dislike of him, at Charles’ disapproval of the way he’d handled things, and at his own astonishment of how much it all mattered to him when indeed it should not—Darcy studied his friend closely.
“What I mean is, I am certain the Bennets want nothing more to do with me—with us,” he said. “And I have chosen not to pursue the matter.”
Charles’ pale eyebrows rose so high on his forehead that they almost met with the edge of his curly blond hair. “While I am not surprised to hear of this development, I cannot say I blame them.”
He paused, running a hand over his face, ruddy with winter wind and frustration, then pointed a finger across the table at Darcy. “As your old friend, I will speak plainly; you have not behaved as your usual, honorable self where that family is concerned. I neglected to say so on prior occasions, which I regret, but it must be stated now.”
“I had only your best interest in mind. I did not see your affection for Miss Bennet returned in equal measure, and I did not wish to see your heart broken by one particular lady when there are so many others who would be glad of your attention.”
His countenance softening, Charles took a sip of tea before meeting his friend’s gaze. “You may not have seen it, but I felt it. Perhaps with more time, I could have discerned with assurance whether her feelings were equal to mine. Unfortunately, as I now understand, the chance to do so is lost to me.”
“Charles—”
Bingley held up a hand. “No, do not apologize.”
“I was not going to,” Darcy said. “At least not for my intentions. In suggesting we remove so quickly from Netherfield, I was only trying to save you from a marriage which, to be clear, I still maintain would not have resulted in your happiness.”
“I will be the judge of that,” Charles said firmly. “And you will make it possible for me to do so.”
“By what means?” Darcy asked, though he’d begun to envision where this was leading.
Charles smiled broadly as he took a last sip of tea and picked up his fork, apparently intending to finally tuck into his breakfast. “You will invite them—the entire household—to your ball on the eve of the new year, of course.”
Darcy sighed, but nodded in acquiescence. “That’s what I was afraid you would say.”
He had to admit there were certain truths included in his friend’s little speech, and perhaps it would be for the best to let Charles grasp, once and for all, that Jane Bennet, though she’d shared a dance or two with him in Hertfordshire, did not return his love.
“It is settled then,” Charles said, grinning as he banged a palm against the table, causing the footman to wince.
“I could not disagree more,” Darcy countered. “Upon your request, I will invite the Gardiner household to the ball.”
But in fact, nothing is settled, he thought.
And, he feared, where the profoundly exasperating Bennet sisters were concerned, it likely never would be.
If there was anything on Earth Elizabeth did not wish to receive two mornings later, it was another invitation from Mr. Darcy—this one tangible and composed in elegant masculine penmanship on superior quality paper. Nonetheless, that is exactly what transpired as she breakfasted with Jane and the Gardiners. And to think, she had just nearly succeeded in clearing him from her mind after their recent meeting; she could now only imagine that in another month’s time she might have forgotten the man entirely and been free to go on with life.
She sighed heavily as her eyes wandered over the page, inadvertently drawing the attention of her breakfast companions.
Uncle Gardiner looked up from his eggs and ham and offered his niece a hopeful smile from the head of the table. Just behind him, a single ray of rare winter sunlight peeked through a tall window that stretched along the cheery morning room. “I do hope all is well, niece.”
Elizabeth had the fleeting thought that on another day—a day in which she had not seen or heard the name Darcy—she might have better appreciated that cheeky shard of sunlight and suggested a venture out into the park to celebrate its presence.
This was not such a day.
She cleared her throat and arranged her features into a pleasant expression that was quite the opposite of what she felt. “It is, Uncle. All is as well as can be expected, considering that it seems Jane and I will not be able to evade Mr. Darcy any longer.”
“Mr. Darcy?” Uncle Gardiner asked, turning then to his wife who occupied the chair nearest his side. “Of your Derbyshire, my dear?”
Aunt Gardiner looked to Elizabeth for clarification and received a nod. “The very same. Of Pemberley,” she answered, dabbing quickly at her lips before placing the napkin in her lap, freeing her hands to clasp together in excitement.
Elizabeth found she envied her aunt; for she wished she could muster the same reaction to having her presence requested at such an event. “He has invited us to a ball at Darcy House on New Year’s Eve,” she explained. Unsurprisingly, this pronouncement was followed by glee all around the long breakfast table except, of course, at her own seat.
“Oh, it is kind of him to think of you both. You will have the most wonderful time,” her aunt said, cheeks glowing almost as much as Elizabeth knew her own mother’s would, had she made the same announcement at Longbourn.
Jane, who sat across from her sister, though slightly more subdued than the others, still lit up with energy. “We must have a look through the clothes we brought with us, Lizzy, and make certain we have proper gowns to wear.”
“I imagine you are right, sister, though it will not just be you and I looking into our wardrobes,” Elizabeth said, causing a brief ripple of quiet to descend upon the table before she explained her meaning. “We are all of us invited to the ball. You—Uncle and Aunt—as well, along with Jane and I.”
“Well, dearest,” Uncle Gardiner exclaimed to his wife, his eyebrows raised. “This is splendid news!” He looked at the three ladies. “We have been cooped up from the cold these last few days and an outing will do us a gre
at deal of good, I believe.” He turned again to their aunt. “I’d wager the ball begins late, so the children will not even have a chance to miss us.”
The couple smiled warmly at one another.
As the rest continued in their eager anticipation of the upcoming party, Elizabeth, her appetite completely vanished, sank lower into her chair and asked herself, not for the first time since the morning at the bookshop, why on earth she had come to London at all.
And why, oh goodness why, despite all her effort, could she not seem to be rid of Mr. Darcy?
“Lizzy, can you really not agree that this is the perfect solution to your troubles?” Jane asked later that night, as the two readied for bed in their shared guest room.
“How can a ball at Darcy House be the perfect solution to anything?” Elizabeth countered as she pulled pins from her hair and began to run a brush through. “I cannot seem to escape the man,” she said, not adding that her thoughts had indeed been fixated on him all day. “It was not enough to corner me in the bookstore; now he must have me captive in his own home so that he may vex me with utmost convenience.”
She slammed the hairbrush down on the dressing table with far greater force than she had intended, causing Jane to wince. “I am beginning to think he was placed on this earth for the sole purpose of bringing about my distress."
Jane shook her head and stared at Elizabeth with incredulity. “It brings me no pleasure to realize I am right; indeed, you do not see.” She slid a shift over her head, buttoned her bed jacket, and went to stand behind her sister, catching their reflection side-by-side in the mirror.
“Then by all means explain your reasoning to me,” Elizabeth demanded. “For if you do not, I may very well lose what little patience remains in my possession.”
Jane giggled and took up her sister’s thick brown hair, separating it into three sections before weaving them together. She had always been more accomplished when it came to plaiting and seemed to realize that Elizabeth would be soothed by the familiar ritual. “It is very simple, Lizzy. If you attend this ball, you will be inside Mr. Darcy’s home.”
