Chapter 3
Elizabeth had looked surprised to see him again this morning. Darcy’s good intentions of staying away for several days had disappeared after a hellish night of hearing Bingley’s words resound in his head—not the part about the decadence of his society; that was half forgotten. No, it was the bit about Elizabeth he could not forget. Do you know why Miss Elizabeth took such a dislike to you? He was sure it was not true. Elizabeth enjoyed his attentions and his company. But suddenly little things she had said to him in the past came back to him, and he started imagining barbs in her comments. He had to see her again to get that nonsense out of his head. Just in case there was anything to Bingley’s comments, he would make certain to sound respectful of her family and neighbours in Meryton.
Of course, that was easier said than done. He could not start out by saying he respected the society in Hertfordshire; she would think that more than odd. Once again he wished for the sort of felicity of tongue possessed by Bingley or his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. After some anxious thought, he said, “How did you come to move to London while your sisters remained in Meryton?”
“My uncle had space for only one, and since Jane was not available, he chose me. A true miscarriage of justice, since by all rights I should have the worst life of all, and instead I have perhaps the best.”
Her words shocked him. “The worst? Why should you have the worst?” Especially when she might have been mistress of Pemberley, had matters gone slightly differently.
“Ah, you have found my guilty secret. You see, it is my fault that my family had to leave Longbourn.” She said it gaily, but he could sense a tension underneath.
“Your fault? How could it be your fault?”
“I should not tell you this, but I hope I can rely on your discretion.” She looked up at him mischievously. “Do you remember Mr. Collins, your aunt’s clergyman?”
“He would be difficult to forget.”
“I refused an offer of marriage from him. Had I accepted him, my mother and sisters would still have a home at Longbourn, and Jane would not have had to marry where she had no inclination. There, is that not a terrible crime?”
“No, the crime would have been had you married Mr. Collins.” Even mentioning the idea left a bad taste in his mouth.
“But Jane is paying the price for my choice. She would have agreed to marry Mr. Collins had he chosen her, since our mother wished it, but he settled on me because everyone expected Jane to… make a different match.” She looked away into the distance.
He did not want to think about that, but he did wish to ease Elizabeth’s distress. “I wonder if your sister could have been happy with Mr. Collins. Suppose you had the choice of marrying either Mr. Collins or your sister’s husband. Which would you prefer?”
“If I must choose one?” She sounded dubious.
“Yes, which would it be?”
“Jane’s husband, Mr. Browning,” she said promptly. “I would rather suffer indignities than marry a fool.”
“Perhaps your sister feels the same way. Would she have wanted you to marry Mr. Collins against your wishes?”
“No, indeed, but Jane has a gift for seeing the best in any situation.”
“And your gift is to see the amusing side of every situation.”
She laughed. “You are quite right. I shall immediately put all my guilt behind me and thank God it is my family suffering in my place.”
Once again, Darcy was taken by delight, knowing himself able to bring a smile back to Elizabeth’s face. It must have been nonsense, what Bingley had said.
She glanced to one side, then the other, and then said to him in a teasingly covert manner, “Do you know what my worst sin is? If I had the chance to do it over again, I would still refuse Mr. Collins.”
“Thank God for that.” His words were heartfelt.
She gave him an odd look. “You are full of surprises, Mr. Darcy,” she said dryly.
“Speaking of surprises, I called on Bingley yesterday.” Why had that slipped out? He had not meant to say it, had in fact determined he should not mention Bingley to Elizabeth at all, but all this talk of Elizabeth married to other men had left him off balance.
“Look! A green woodpecker! I have not seen one here before.” Elizabeth pointed to a bare oak tree. “Is Mr. Bingley well?”
Now he could hear the tap-tap-tap and see the woodpecker’s crimson crown as he coursed his way up the trunk. Usually he delighted in the sights Elizabeth showed him. She observed details he never noticed, things that brightened the natural world around them, but today he had difficulty summoning enthusiasm. “He is well physically, but in such a mood as I have never seen him. We almost had words.”
Elizabeth turned surprised eyes on him. “With Mr. Bingley? I thought him constitutionally incapable of quarrelling with anyone.”
By God, she could make him smile, even when his thoughts were dark. “He is set on leaving London society, returning to industry. He has always been a creature of impulse, swayed by his passions, but this was quite unexpected.”
Elizabeth knit her lovely brows. “Return to industry?”
“He feels that fashionable society has become degenerate and wants no part of it.” He found himself holding his breath, waiting for her to contradict Bingley’s assumption.
“Really? I did not have the impression Mr. Bingley objected to gentlemen’s entertainments,” she said tartly. “He amused himself well at Netherfield, did he not?”
He knew she was speaking of her sister, and that she intended him to notice. “Bingley has not a vicious bone in his body. He is goodhearted and charmed by everyone. He would never deliberately trifle with a lady’s affections.”
“Only by accident, then?” She gave him an arch look.
He smiled at her teasing, relieved that the moment of tension was past. “Perhaps then. He is, as I said, prone to impulsiveness.”
“And you are the opposite.”
Except when it came to her. “I strive to be rational.”
She smiled slightly, as if to herself. “Indeed. And do you enjoy your rational behaviour, sir?”
“No.” Good God, why had he said that? Hastily he tried to undo the damage. “Doing the right thing is not always enjoyable.”
“One man’s right is another man’s wrong.”
He took a deep breath. Here was his opening. “Bingley said I offended you when we first met.”
She let out a melodious peal of laughter and then put on a mock scowl. “No, indeed. You offended me before we were even introduced.”
A tightness wound through his stomach. “I must apologize, then.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Mr. Darcy, we both know you found Meryton society beneath you, and you did not care who knew it. And I would guess you feel the same way today.”
No one had ever spoken to him that way before, with such frankness yet amusement, but it hurt nonetheless. First Bingley, now Elizabeth. He put on his best indifferent look. “I am sorry I gave offense. I was not accustomed to country society.” Even he could hear how cold and haughty his words sounded.
Elizabeth tightened her hand on his arm. “And now I have offended you,” she said cheerfully. “So in that much we are equal.”
He could tell she was just jesting, playing with words as she always did, but the idea that she had ever thought ill of him still festered. “Yet you tolerate my company, Miss Bennet. Or perhaps you would prefer I depart.”
“No need for that, sir. You improve upon further acquaintance.”
It was like a knot had been released. “With such a beginning, I had no choice but to improve, did I not?”
“And I have no choice but to tease such a perversely rational creature! I despise perfection, sir, and must puncture it whenever I can, since I am so full of imperfections myself.”
At least this time he managed to bite his tongue before he told her she was perfection itself. It was reassuring to know he had a trace of self-control left.
***
Darcy poured himself a glass of brandy, then, remembering Bingley’s words about drunkenness, put it down again. After a moment he took it up again and rolled the liquor around his mouth, feeling the pleasant heat of it travelling down his throat. He needed a drink, after such a day as he had.
Elizabeth. He was in too deep with her. He should have seen it coming; after all, this was the same woman to whom he almost proposed marriage back at Rosings. He had lost his head over her then, and he was in danger of doing the same again. No, not in danger. He was well beyond that point.
But it would not do. It was one thing to enjoy her company and flirt with her when no one else was aware of it, but Bingley had spoken truly of the cutting tongues of their social circle. He could not imagine what would be said if they knew he was keeping company with a milliner’s sister, even if her father was a gentleman. They would assume she was his mistress. Marriage was out of the question. He would be a laughingstock, and no decent gentleman would so much as look at Georgiana. He could not afford to take any risk with her prospects, not now.
Why, oh, why had he interfered between Bingley and Jane Bennet? It had been done for the best, but if he had not, Jane would be Mrs. Bingley, and Elizabeth would not now be beyond his reach. Truly he was being repaid in the same coin he had given Bingley.
He took another sip of the brandy, but it did not help. He would have to stay away from Elizabeth Bennet. No more jaunts to Moorsfield, no more basking in her smiles as they walked along the paths, her gloved hand fitting perfectly on his arm. No more. No more.
***
Elizabeth brushed a few stray snowflakes from her sleeves when she arrived at her uncle’s warehouse. His clerk, Mr. Johnson, stood to greet her, his eyes cheery.
“Miss Bennet, you brighten a gloomy day with your presence.”
She laughed at his flagrant flirtation and blew a snowflake off her glove in his direction. “It is winter, you know, so you must expect the gloomy days.”
“I shall not mind them in such company. May I take your wrap?”
“I thank you, no. I am here for only a moment to deliver some papers my uncle left behind this morning. Would you be so kind as to tell him I am here?”
“I fear I cannot oblige you, as he stepped out earlier. I expect him any minute, if you would care to wait, or I can give him the papers when he returns.”
“I think I shall wait.” If her uncle had brought the papers home in the first place, they were likely confidential. Besides, a few minutes in the company of the amiable Mr. Johnson was always a pleasure.
“But you must be cold. Will you sit by the stove and warm yourself? I would never forgive myself if you took a chill.” He gestured to a stool by the stove.
It was pleasant to engage in lighthearted banter with a charming young man. Despite his low station, he made her feel like an elegant young lady, and his quick wit was disarming. She was laughing at one of his stories when Mr. Gardiner returned.
Her uncle spared them a quick glance. “Lizzy, will you join me in my office?”
Surprised at his abruptness, she followed him into the small room filled with account books. “My aunt asked me to bring you these papers.”
“Thank you; I had wondered where they were.” Mr. Gardiner closed the office door behind him.
“Is there a message you wish me to bring back?” Elizabeth could think of no other reason why he would wish to speak to her privately.
“No, I only wished to say that you should be careful not to encourage Johnson in his attentions to you.”
“Attentions? He is just being polite.”
“Perhaps, but he is an ambitious young man and knows marriage into the family would further his career more than anything he could accomplish on his own. It would be a temptation to any man. But he is unsuitable; you must know that. He lives in a boardinghouse and has nothing to offer you or any other young lady.”
“That does not make him any less amiable, and I think you are leaping far ahead if you take a short conversation as a sign of impending matrimony.”
“Do you think he has not thought of it? I assure you, he has. As I said, he has ambitions.”
Elizabeth shivered, cold again after the warmth of the stove. It was an unpalatable idea that Mr. Johnson’s amiability might come from nothing more than an interest in bettering himself. She said sharply, “Do you think, Uncle, that Mr. Griggs’s interest in me comes from any other reason?”
“He is fond of you, Lizzy, and you know it. But in his case, marrying you would solidify his position in the firm, not elevate him beyond his station. He would provide for you.”
“I have not agreed to marry him. He has not even made me an offer.”
“But he will. We have spoken of it. He respects you, and that you do not know him well as yet.”
Elizabeth bit her tongue. She did not care for her uncle’s assumption that she would marry as he wished or the implication that he had given his consent without asking her first. But if she must marry Mr. Griggs, she was in no hurry to do so. She preferred her aunt’s companionship to his. “It is true that I barely know him.”
He smiled warmly. “I shall invite him for dinner one night soon. I do not wish you to be uncomfortable with him.”
“Of course.” She was in no position to refuse if her uncle insisted. Delay was a better strategy.
***
Mrs. Gardiner fussed with Elizabeth’s sleeve until it puffed out properly. “There, my dear. Now pinch your cheeks to get some colour in them.”
Elizabeth felt a sudden pang of missing her mother. Mrs. Gardiner was more tactful and respectful to her when preparing to parade her before a potential suitor, but it was her mother’s excesses she was accustomed to. Her mother’s antics had always made her laugh, which, of course, was preferable to thinking about the situation. But it brought a smile to her face; she had never thought she might prefer her mother’s behaviour to her aunt’s. “There, Aunt. I think that is the best you can do with me. You can gild the lily only if there is a lily to gild.”
“Nonsense, Lizzy. You look lovely, and Mr. Griggs will be charmed. Come, they must be waiting for us.”
Elizabeth followed her aunt to the sitting room, feeling like a mannequin on display.
***
Mr. Gardiner wiped his face on his napkin. “Oh, yes, our Lizzy is a great walker. I believe she could walk from here to Hertfordshire if we would allow it.”
Mr. Griggs laughed a little too long at her uncle’s joke. Elizabeth gazed down at her folded hands, disguising her smile. Mr. Griggs was no Mr. Collins, thank heaven, but he had his moments. It was not a punishment to sit with him through dinner, but she found herself laughing at him as often as with him.
Mrs. Gardiner said, “Lizzy often enjoys a morning constitutional.”
Mr. Griggs turned to Elizabeth. “Not alone, I should hope. London is full of pickpockets and rogues.”
“I often go alone, but I take great care in choosing my locations, I assure you.”
“Where do you go?”
“St. Paul’s,” she said quickly. It was the first place she could think of that was far from Moorsfield. What a horrible moment that would be, if Mr. Darcy ever found her with Mr. Griggs. She would have to introduce them, which would be mortifying. But she was forgetting. Mr. Darcy would not approach her if she were with someone else.
A pleased look spread over Mr. Griggs’s broad face. “Ah, paying your devotions, then.”
She took a sip of wine to hide her smile. “It is impossible not to feel uplifted by the sight of Sir Christopher Wren’s masterwork.”
Her aunt coughed, but Elizabeth suspected it was to disguise a laugh. “Perhaps we should leave the gentlemen to their port, Lizzy, dear.”
“Of course.” Elizabeth stood and curtsied.
In the drawing room, her aunt picked up her sewing. “That went well, I believe,” she said.
“Yes.” Elizabeth was not certain what else to say. She reached for her m
ending.
Mrs. Gardiner shook her head. “Not tonight, Lizzy. You do not want to muss your gown.”
“A little sewing is hardly likely to leave me disheveled, and I doubt Mr. Griggs would care if it did.”
“He values appearances.” Her aunt expertly threaded a needle. “You must think of your future, my dear. Mr. Griggs is a good man, honest and hardworking.”
“Yes, I know that. He is a good match.” The best she was likely to make with no dowry. There were few men who would value a connection to the Gardiners as much as Mr. Griggs, and she could not live on her uncle’s charity forever. She felt a pang of guilt, knowing it was a strain for the Gardiners to support another person in the household, especially when Mr. Gardiner was trying to send whatever he could to Mrs. Bennet for her living expenses. It was unfair of her to look askance at an eligible suitor who could relieve some of the burden. As it was, her petticoats were almost worn through because she could not bear to ask her uncle for money, and her shoes were little better.
“For both of you. It would bring him into the family as well as the business. Your uncle plans to make him a partner, you know.”
Still, it stung, being married off for her mercantile value. “Not yet, I pray you. I am barely out of mourning clothes.”
Her aunt’s face softened. “Of course. Take your time, dear, and enjoy yourself a little. There is no hurry. But eventually you will wish for a home of your own, will you not?”
Elizabeth tried to visualize herself as mistress of Mr. Griggs’s home. She had never seen it, but she could guess fairly well. Keeping the house, a cap on her head as befitted a married woman, preparing to greet him after a long day of work.
In that moment, Elizabeth suddenly knew what she did want, and it involved dark eyes with an intense look and a scent of leather and fresh air, not the staleness of the countinghouse and a narrow street in Cheapside. When had this happened? Oh, this could not be. She could not afford to give her heart to a man she could never have.
Mr. Darcy's Obsession Page 3
