“Indeed,” Mr. Collins agreed. “I believe that it is a woman’s duty to cultivate whatever natural talents she may possess and let me say, Miss Elizabeth, that your ear for music is unsurpassed save for Lady Catherine herself. If you had access to the many resources at her disposal and had attended such concerts as would broaden and hone your understanding of music, I dare say you might even attain such wide discernment as Lady Catherine.”
“Miss Mary, have you ever desired to study music under a master?” Darcy asked, curious whether she would take instruction in this area or if her moralising would prevent her from accepting critique.
Miss Mary nodded, her eyes still fixed on her plate. She took a deep breath. “I, too, believe it is a woman’s duty to cultivate her talents, and I desire to cultivate mine in such a way. Though I practice regularly, having a music master is something I have often wished for.”
“Why have you not asked father for one?” Elizabeth asked her.
“He did not think it worth the trouble to engage one,” Miss Mary murmured so quietly that Darcy only made out what she said because he could see her lips.
Elizabeth frowned.
“I am certain my Cousin Bennet’s neglect in this area is but an oversight,” Mr. Collins said, apparently not hearing Miss Mary’s reply. “After all, it is a woman’s duty, nay, her delight to succour a man’s soul through music—particularly those delicate females born to the gentility. I shall speak to him and he will rectify the matter. Lady Catherine would not approve of such a haphazard approach to my fair cousins’ education. She has been instrumental in placing several educated ladies desirous of employment. Of course, you are not young enough for a governess, however, a companion would be able to provide a more structured approach to your education.”
Miss Mary looked positively frightened, while Elizabeth glimmered with amusement once more, probably imagining how such a conversation would go. Darcy was certain Mr. Bennet would gain great entertainment from the conversation, however, he doubted anything would change. Mr. Collins continued to ramble on about the importance of music and education and how he did not blame his fair cousins in the least for their lack of education, nor did it affect his regard for them—this he said while gazing adoringly at Elizabeth.
Darcy occupied himself with trying to untangle how Miss Mary might obtain a music master. If he and Elizabeth married, it would be a simple thing: they could invite Miss Mary to stay with them in London and Georgiana would gladly share her music master with Miss Mary. It would be the work of a moment to ask Georgie to encourage her. And, hopefully, she would be more open to critique from a non-family member. He could not imagine that Elizabeth had not already spoken to Miss Mary about her playing as Elizabeth’s was so much better, despite her lack of skill with the technical aspects Miss Mary excelled in.
Before long, dinner ended and the group filtered back into the ballroom. Fitzwilliam dragged Darcy to the relative privacy of one of the alcoves at once.
“I must confess: I did not believe your predictions would be so accurate,” Fitzwilliam began.
“I wish they were not so,” Darcy said with a sigh.
“I am still agog that you would choose to marry into such a family,” Fitzwilliam murmured.
Darcy shrugged. “We cannot choose our family members—I would not wish anyone to judge me based on Aunt Catherine’s behaviour. If Miss Elizabeth shared her family’s vulgarities, I would not wish to marry her.”
“True, true! Were I not a younger son, you might have competition for the fair maiden’s hand.”
Darcy glared at him.
Fitzwilliam raised his hands in surrender. “Just joking, old man! I wouldn’t dare invade your territory.”
“See that you don’t,” Darcy snapped as visions of Elizabeth smiling at Fitzwilliam during her time at Rosings swam through his mind.
“Besides, worry about Mr. Collins. Even two tables away I could hear Mrs. Bennet’s plans for her daughters.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” Darcy said. “He married Miss Lucas, and I do not know what I could have done to change that.”
“Perhaps you danced with Miss Lucas when Mr. Collins intended too?” Fitzwilliam suggested.
“No.” Darcy shook his head. “Mr. Collins has had plenty of opportunities to dance with Miss Lucas and has not taken them.”
Fitzwilliam shrugged. “Perhaps something small has changed his perspective of Miss Lucas. If you desire to ensure you are not cut out of the race, you could make your interest clear to the lady.”
“I cannot make it any more clear without making her uncomfortable. I have shown her that I care for her.”
Fitzwilliam shook his head exasperatedly. “Why should she think such a thing would lead to a proposal? Your stations are too different—”
“I am a gentleman, and she is a gentlewoman. So far we are equal,” Darcy said hotly.
Fitzwilliam held up a hand. “I am not disputing your choice. If nothing else, the proof of her suitability lies in your changed behaviour. However, that is not what the ton will think—nor my parents and Aunt Catherine. You know that a gentlewoman with an entailed estate and relations in trade differs greatly from your reputed ten thousand pounds a year and relations to the nobility.”
Darcy nodded stiffly. “That does not make their beliefs right.”
“I am not speaking of right or wrong! I am speaking of perspectives on the matter. And, from her perspective, I do not see why she would consider an offer likely. After all, only Bingley’s connections to trade make such a match acceptable for him.”
Darcy frowned. He had believed Elizabeth would jump at the chance to marry him Before and that she must have been wishing for a proposal—expecting one even, since he had been so incautious as to make his feelings plain. When she had rejected him, he had been shocked. But what if the idea had never even crossed her mind?
What if—what if her mother’s views had so seeped into her own that she did not expect anyone to offer for her?
No, she could not think herself likely to remain unmarried.
Darcy took a deep breath, his thoughts returning to the immediate problem. Elizabeth did not like Mr. Collins. If she feared her parents’ ire, she would not have rejected him when he proposed at Rosings. It followed that she would reject Mr. Collins even if he proposed.
“I will not press her until she is ready,” Darcy said firmly.
“Then you will lose her,” Fitzwilliam said. “Have you seen how she looks at you? She is as ready as she will be until you move forward. She will not risk—”
“Mr. Darcy, is something amiss?” Miss Bingley called.
Darcy wondered darkly how long she had been hovering out of sight, listening. Although perhaps their conversation would lead Miss Bingley to finally realize how hopeless pursuing him was.
“Not at all, Miss Bingley,” Darcy said, clasping his hands behind his back.
“Are you certain? You are not dancing,” Miss Bingley said.
Darcy suppressed a sigh. Miss Bingley of all people knew that he was not in the habit of dancing at balls.
“Is the next set starting?” Fitzwilliam asked with mock innocence.
“Not yet, no,” Miss Bingley said tartly. She fanned herself. “It is rather warm in here, is it not?”
“Perhaps you ought to stand by a window, Miss Bingley,” Fitzwilliam suggested.
The woman ignored his suggestion, choosing instead to remain by Darcy, complaining vociferously about her guests and comparing them unfavourably to the members of the ton. Through it all, Darcy ignored her. Surveying the ballroom, he noticed that Elizabeth was standing on the outskirts, Mr. Collins glued to her side.
“If you will excuse me,” he said and walked away, leaving Fitzwilliam to deal with the harpy. Fitzwilliam cast him a look promising retribution but responded to Miss Bingley’s complaint by beginning an anecdote about a dance the military had held on the Peninsula during Fitzwilliam’s assignment there.
Drawn to
wards Elizabeth, Darcy pondered Fitzwilliam’s words. Though he did not wish to make Elizabeth uncomfortable, the fear of losing her held him in check. However, if, as Fitzwilliam had suggested, he lost her due to inaction, it would not be any better. She would still be lost to him. In fact, it would be a kind of living death to know that she belonged to another.
“—I am perfectly indifferent as my chief object is, by delicate attentions, to recommend myself to you and, therefore, I shall make it a point of remaining close to you the whole evening,” Mr. Collins was saying.
Darcy froze, his gaze flickering to Elizabeth in horror.
Thankfully, Elizabeth appeared to be bordering on horror herself. Hopefully, that meant she did not intend to accept Mr. Collins if the man proposed—which was looking more and more likely. With this thought, Darcy fortified himself for an evening of parrying Mr. Collins’s advances. Resolve filled him. He would at least make his attentions equally clear until she asked him to stop. After all, she had not hesitated to halt their conversation in the gardens.
“Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy began. “Would you do me the honour of dancing the next set?”
Elizabeth looked genuinely distraught. “I am sorry, Mr. Darcy, I cannot. As I have told Mr. Collins, I am fatigued.”
Darcy smiled down at her. “Perhaps we shall have to resume our conversation about books then. I do not believe I have fully understood your argument regarding Sir Walter Scott’s views on the dangers of wealth.”
“I would enjoy that.”
“If you are fatigued, would you care to sit down?” Darcy asked.
Elizabeth glanced down at her feet, then towards the chairs.
Darcy suddenly recalled the many times Mr. Collins had trod upon her toes and wondered if she had suffered injury.
“That would be most agreeable. Thank you.”
“It is the least I can do for one who is so beloved of my horse,” Darcy teased, holding out an arm to escort her.
Only because he was paying close attention did Darcy note that Elizabeth limped slightly as they walked towards the chairs. Darcy glared at Mr. Collins. How dare the man inflict himself on others when he was a danger to everyone with whom he danced! Mr. Collins trailed behind them, apparently oblivious to Darcy’s wrath.
Darcy steered them towards where Miss Mary had been situated, noting that she was now on the dance floor with one of the officers. Mr. Collins immediately took the seat next to Elizabeth, forcing Darcy to stand as the other chairs were occupied.
“I am certain I am capable of entertaining my fair cousin,” Mr. Collins began. “Though your solicitude testifies to your graciousness, you need not trouble yourself to entertain her.”
Darcy forced a smile, despite his urge to throttle the man. “I am not ‘troubling myself to entertain her.’ Rather, I anticipate that she shall entertain me. Besides,” he looked down at Elizabeth, “Apollo would never forgive me were I to leave you.”
Elizabeth gave him a quizzical look. “Mr. Darcy, I do not believe I have met anyone as excessively attentive to their horse’s desires—even my sister and friend. I daresay you must be more of a horse enthusiast than either of them, something I did not think believe possible.”
“Perhaps it is not only my horse’s desires I would be attentive to. If you are too fatigued to entertain me with a conversation about Sir Walter Scott, or whatever topic you choose, I can certainly leave you in peace,” Darcy said, hoping that she would read more into the offer than a simple conversation.
“No, it would be my pleasure,” Elizabeth said with a smile.
Mr. Collins cleared his throat as though he had suddenly become a fussy chaperone. “I am not familiar with the works of Sir Walter Scott, although was it not he who said ‘oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive’? I do not hesitate to affirm that Lady Catherine has shown herself to be very much in charity with this principle. It is a most apt analogy as deception wraps one up securely and steals one’s freedom much as a spider wraps up its prey. Those who deceive may, at times, believe that such a choice provides a way to avoid difficulty. Little do they know that such avoidance only leads to greater difficulty later on.”
No matter how many times Darcy and Elizabeth attempted to steer the conversation back to the actual substance of Sir Walter Scott’s poetry—both the content and his style—Mr. Collins redirected it to matters of morality. In a way, Darcy was forcibly reminded of Miss Mary. Perhaps Mr. Collins simply did not know how to speak of anything else? Or perhaps he was determined to call attention to his status as a clergyman. Regardless, it made for an excruciating half hour.
At the end of the set, Miss Lucas and Fitzwilliam joined the group. Fortunately, Miss Lucas kept Mr. Collins occupied by asking minute questions regarding his parsonage and parish inhabitants. Fitzwilliam, on the other hand, appeared determined to tease Darcy by alluding to Miss Bingley’s obstinate pursuit.
Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled as Darcy retaliated by telling tales of Fitzwilliam’s childhood exploits—of toads left in nurseries for maids and nannies to find, of forbidden jaunts into the forests around Matlock and Pemberley in hopes of fighting ogres or wolves, of tricks played on servants and family members alike. Through it all, Fitzwilliam interjected his own tales of Darcy’s childhood, and Darcy found he could bear this with equanimity as Elizabeth’s joy was plain. In fact, his heart felt light and his spirits practically glowed as two of the people dearest to him laughed together.
When the time came for his set with Miss Bennet, it was with great reluctance that Darcy tore himself away.
“Hello, Darcy! Come to steal my fair maiden, have you?” Bingley greeted as Darcy approached.
“With your permission, of course,” Darcy replied with a smile.
Bingley turned his worshipful gaze on Miss Bennet. “As the lady has already given her permission, I believe I have little recourse but to accept this loss gracefully.”
“I shall return,” Miss Bennet promised with a small smile.
Darcy studied her, trying to see what Elizabeth had proclaimed present Before. The smile she gave Bingley was no wider than the one she had given him, but perhaps it was a trifle softer.
“Do you enjoy dancing, Miss Bennet?” Darcy asked, deciding to use the same question that had sparked such a lengthy conversation with Miss Lucas despite its inanity.
“I do,” she said softly. “What about you, Mr. Darcy?”
“I enjoy dancing when I am acquainted with my partner. I must confess that otherwise, I find it tedious.”
“Perhaps that is because you are so highly sought after. I myself tire of dancing near the end of balls.”
“Why do you not rest then?” Darcy asked curiously.
Miss Bennet coloured. “Oh, no, I could not disappoint my friends in such a manner.”
“Perhaps they would not wish to disappoint you by leaving you sitting,” Darcy said lightly.
“Perhaps.”
“Miss Elizabeth tells me that you are a horse enthusiast.”
Miss Bennet chuckled. “Lizzy believes so. Of course, she believes that everyone who does not merely tolerate horses to be a ‘horse enthusiast.’ I have been informed that you too are a horse enthusiast, Mr. Darcy.”
“According to Miss Elizabeth’s criteria, I am.”
“Apollo sounds like a sweet horse,” Miss Bennet said.
“He is very enamoured with your sister.”
Miss Bennet studied him with her serene gaze. “Horses rarely dislike people their owners esteem.”
Darcy inclined his head. “Just so.”
“Mr. Bingley tells me that you have helped him enormously with Netherfield, even creating a master list of improvements to enact over the next few years.”
“Bingley is too modest. I have listened to him and provided my expertise where necessary. He is fully capable of creating such a list on his own—he only allows me to be involved.”
“I am glad he has such a good friend in you.”
Darcy suppressed a flush, thinking that as Bingley’s “good friend” he had separated him from this gentle, soft-spoken woman. But no, he would not repeat that mistake.
“It is I who is blessed by Bingley’s friendship,” Darcy demurred. “He has forgiven my many mistakes and my bouts of poor humour.”
“Is that not what good friends do?” Miss Bennet said.
“I suppose they do.”
From there, the topics ranged through Miss Bennet’s favourite pastimes, Bingley’s proposed improvements, and into Elizabeth’s childhood. In Miss Bennet, Darcy found an avid listener when it came to Bingley, though her questions mirrored his in their vagueness. He also discovered that Miss Bennet visited Longbourn’s tenants with Elizabeth and that she held a keen mind, despite her apparent determination to see the best in others and her inability to disappoint those she cared for.
On the whole, he was pleased with their dance, though he did not ask for information regarding Elizabeth’s preferences; it seemed too sensitive a subject to discuss in such a public setting. He did, however, believe he would be able to broach the topic when next he had opportunity as he was rather more comfortable with Miss Bennet now.
As the ball wound down, Darcy remained indebted to both Fitzwilliam and Miss Lucas, for, although Mr. Collins remained at Elizabeth’s side, he was often occupied in discussion with them, allowing Darcy to continue his conversations with Elizabeth. Though they discussed nothing of substance given the proximity of others, he found the evening more enjoyable than any other. Elizabeth had a way of keeping the conversation going, even when Darcy became lost in thought, trying to decide how best to make his intentions clear. Her observations of her neighbours appeared to be witty but without the biting edge of Mr. Bennet’s sarcasm. Likewise, he found her opinions on the current state of affairs in England to be well-informed and passionately expressed. He could not imagine ever tiring of her conversation or her soft smiles.
A Vision of the Path Before Him Page 27
