Rescued by Mr Darcy

by Anne-Marie Grace

  “My brother practically insisted,” Caroline said, her tone saying quite clearly—to Darcy, at least—that the Bennets were not her guests. Darcy caught a flash of anger cross Elizabeth’s face—it seemed she had heard the same thing—and he fought the urge to smile.

  “Miss Bennet,” Bingley said, ignoring everyone except Jane Bennet. “Would you do me the honour of sharing the first dance with me?”

  Jane turned pink, and Darcy saw that Mrs. Bennet looked quite pleased as well. A small pang of worry hit him—Mrs. Bennet seemed much too pleased, and much too impressed with Netherfield—and of Bingley’s attention toward her eldest daughter. But Darcy shook it off. Mrs. Bennet had done nothing to deserve such poor assumptions.

  “It would be my pleasure, Mr. Bingley,” Jane Bennet replied quietly, smiling at Bingley.

  “Excellent,” Bingley said, beaming as he offered his arm to Jane.

  Elizabeth looked from her sister to Bingley and back, also looking quite happy. Darcy enjoyed seeing Elizabeth so pleased for her sister—it brought out layers of beauty within her.

  The other members of the Bennet party had melted into the growing crowd—presumably to find their own dance partners, Darcy thought. But Elizabeth remained. Darcy noted that she glanced and smiled at him several times while they were standing together. Each time, Darcy felt his heart leap within his chest.

  “Good evening, Miss Elizabeth,” he said warmly, bowing in greeting.

  “Good evening, Mr. Darcy,” she replied, equally warm, and returned his bow with a graceful curtsy.

  “Would—” Darcy began to ask her to dance as well. However, Caroline seemed to know what he was going to ask, and cut in before he could say more.

  “I think all our guests have come,” she said smoothly. “It is time to begin the dancing. Don’t forget, Mr. Darcy, you promised me the first dance.” She was not looking at Darcy as she said this, but at Elizabeth. Elizabeth flushed and glanced away from both Darcy and Caroline.

  Darcy felt anger rise within him—he had made no such promise! And if he had, he would have thought that Caroline was better mannered than she had shown.

  He suddenly hated the manners impressed upon him. He wanted nothing more than to set Caroline straight, to let her know, once and for all, that he did not care for her in that way. To repay her for the hurt now spreading across Elizabeth’s face. But he could do no such thing. His manners would not allow him to treat anyone in such a way—certainly not his best friend’s sister.

  But the look upon Elizabeth’s face was distressing. She looked embarrassed and hurt, as if Caroline had slapped her.

  “Perhaps we shall see each other later in the evening,” Elizabeth said quietly, eyeing Darcy and Caroline.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” he said desperately, wanting to explain, but she had already curtsied and pushed herself away from him.

  Darcy could feel the satisfaction radiating from Caroline. He set his mouth; duty prompted him to dance with Caroline, but a dance was all she would ever get from him. Elizabeth had to know that, and he would explain it all as soon as the wretched first dance was over.

  Chapter 23

  Elizabeth

  Elizabeth felt the hot sting of embarrassment. Silly, she thought to herself as she pushed through the crowds filling Netherfield. Silly to think that Mr. Darcy would want her company. She scolded herself for building up her hopes over the past days. She could not believe how incorrectly she had read his words and manners!

  Mr. Darcy had been unfailingly polite and kind throughout their short acquaintance. Ever since that horrid night on the road, Elizabeth had been becoming accustomed to Mr. Darcy’s presence in her life. She could hardly believe she had allowed herself to read affection into his conduct! Like some silly child caught up in a novel. It was obvious, now, that his affections lay with Caroline Bingley.

  She could understand; her brother was his best friend and they had undoubtedly spent a great deal of time in one another’s company. Elizabeth had thought, perhaps, Mr. Darcy had merely tolerated the close acquaintance. But she could now see that interpretation was a mere manifestation of her own hopes.

  Not that she had hopes for Mr. Darcy, she corrected herself quickly. She had a passing interest in the man, that was all! No reason for her to feel quite so disappointed, to be certain.

  Elizabeth found herself in the ballroom, watching the various couples line up for a dance. Jane was nearby, with Mr. Bingley, and she caught Elizabeth’s eye. Jane raised her eyebrows, and Elizabeth could see her concern. Elizabeth smiled back and waved, she would not allow her own misstep take away from Jane’s enjoyment of the evening—or her partner.

  She may have been wrong about Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth thought, but there was absolutely no possibility she was wrong about Mr. Bingley. The man had not taken his eyes from Jane from the moment they walked through the door. The way he gazed at her sister made Elizabeth’s heart ache—both from happiness for Jane and from another feeling that she could not quite place.

  Elizabeth continued to walk, taking in the conversations around her and examining the pairs now engaging in the first dance. Elizabeth could see Charlotte laughing as she danced with an older militia officer—a captain, if Elizabeth remembered correctly from their brief meeting at the public assembly.

  She was glad to see her friend enjoying herself. Charlotte hardly ever allowed herself such pleasures. Lydia and Kitty were, of course, dancing with a couple of brightly polished lieutenants, and she could see Mrs. Bennet holding session with some of the other women of the county.

  It was rare for Elizabeth to feel lonely—especially at large parties such as this. However, as she continued to meander through the crowd, she felt very much alone. Her sisters and mother were all occupied, as was her friend. Even Mary and Mr. Collins were dancing with one another, though Elizabeth winced as they stepped on one another’s toes, and were generally ungraceful. But still, they had each other.

  “I suppose I could have been out there with Mr. Collins,” she said to herself softly.

  Her words immediately turned into a grim laugh. Even this loneliness was far preferable to the permanent company of Mr. Collins. However, even that thought was not enough to banish her feelings of loneliness and humiliation over Mr. Darcy’s snub. She started to feel the heat in the room and her head spun although she had not even set a foot on the dance floor. Fanning herself with her hand, she decided she needed some fresh air.

  Glancing about the ballroom, she saw one of the large curtains billowing slightly, indicating an open window. She walked directly to the window, not glancing about. With a sigh of relief, she leaned against the sill and let the cold night air cool her face.

  “Miss Elizabeth?”

  She jumped, not expecting to hear her name, much less from so close. She spun her head and saw that Mr. Wickham was standing a few feet away, seemingly also enjoying the breeze. She must have walked right past him in her eagerness to catch a breath, and she blushed deeply.

  “Mr. Wickham,” she said, giving him a quick curtsy. “I must apologise for walking past you. I am afraid my mind was on other things.”

  “That, Miss Elizabeth, was quite obvious.” He gave her a warm smile, fortunately not seeming offended by her lack of awareness. “By the look on your face, your thoughts are both far away and quite troubled.”

  Elizabeth was surprised that Mr. Wickham had so accurately interpreted her expression. And despite her misgivings about the man, it was impossible for her not to notice that his piercing blue eyes were full of concern. Instead of answering him, she gave him a noncommittal shrug. She had no desire to confide in this man, no matter how pretty his eyes. But Wickham seemed unperturbed by Elizabeth’s hesitancy.

  “Yes, quite troubled,” Mr. Wickham determined. “I have known you but for a short time, Miss Elizabeth, but that has been quite long enough to realise that you are never without words. For something to have you so speechless now, it must be truly terrible.”

  “An exagg
eration, I assure you,” Elizabeth said blandly.

  “Ah, she speaks!” Mr. Wickham replied, smiling once more. Elizabeth could not help herself, and she returned his smile. Rumours or no, he was being quite kind. “Now, will you tell me what bothers you on this fine evening?”

  “I should not burden you with my paltry concerns,” Elizabeth said carefully. This newfound warmth toward the officer was not enough to make her trust the man.

  “Then you force me to make some educated guesses,” Mr. Wickham replied as he straightened his jacket and leaned close to her, looking deeply into her eyes.

  Elizabeth felt a shiver run up her back—he was very close. But she determined that he would not force her back. Instead, she opened her eyes wide and waited for Mr. Wickham’s insights.

  “Yes, I was afraid of this.” Mr. Wickham sighed.

  “Afraid of what?” Elizabeth asked, her curiosity getting the best of her.

  “You, Miss Elizabeth, are suffering from an affair of the heart.” Mr. Wickham sighed deeply.

  Elizabeth gaped at him.

  “Why would you say such a thing?” She asked, trying not to give away how perilously close Mr. Wickham had been to the truth.

  “You are an eligible young woman, at a party,” Mr. Wickham said with a laugh. “You have wandered to a window, alone, while your friends and sisters are dancing. How could I guess anything else?” Elizabeth pressed her lips together, annoyed that she had been so utterly transparent. “And now I see that I have hit the mark,” Mr. Wickham continued, the laughter in his voice fading. “Won’t you tell me what is the matter?”

  Elizabeth looked sideways at the man, trying to decide if she ought to trust him. She had two different stories running through her mind, each describing this man in vastly different terms. Which was the one to believe?

  “I’m afraid that I have hoped most foolishly,” Elizabeth admitted slowly. “I misread the behaviours of a certain gentleman, and now I feel quite ridiculous.” Even as she spoke, she remembered that Mr. Darcy had equal differences in those two tales—another man whom she could not make any determinations upon.

  “A gentleman, you say?” Mr. Wickham said slowly, gazing about the room. “Not an officer, a gentleman. Hmm…” His eyes seemed to take in everyone and everything at once. “I see our host is most happily engaged with your charming sister, and every other gentleman to be seen is someone with whom you would not engage your considerable wit. Therefore, I am forced to conclude that the object of your woe is none other than our mutual acquaintance, Mr. Darcy.” His face seemed to grow darker as he realised of whom Elizabeth had spoken.

  “I had not intended to tell,” Elizabeth admitted. “But I cannot deny that you have deftly drawn the correct conclusion.”

  “What did he do?” Wickham asked somewhat harshly. He seemed to notice Elizabeth recoil at his tone. “I apologise, he still has a way of making me quite angry.” Elizabeth nodded, understanding Mr. Wickham’s frustration better than she ever had before.

  “I am not certain it is just for me to blame him for anything,” Elizabeth said. “For he did not do or say anything that would suggest greater affection than that which is required by passing acquaintances.”

  “And yet,” Wickham said gently. “You are neither foolish nor stupid. You are quite aware of the motivations and actions of others. It seems unlikely that you would so misinterpret his intentions.”

  “I did not think I would do such a thing,” Elizabeth agreed. “But tonight, such events have transpired that I am forced to realise my intuition is distant from actuality. But now his course is clear: Mr. Darcy never had any affection for me. His heart has clearly always belonged to Caroline Bingley.”

  “You judge yourself too harshly, my dear,” Wickham said softly. “Mr. Darcy is well accustomed to toying with women. You are not the first to fall for his subtle charms nor, I suspect, will you be the last. He takes a perverse joy in making people feel affection for him and then pretending it was never so.”

  “I do not wish to believe him capable of such things,” Elizabeth said sadly.

  “Yet here stand two of his victims,” Wickham said. “I, who loved him like a brother, and you, who merely grazed the edge of his disgusting game.”

  “He seemed so genuine,” Elizabeth mumbled, embarrassed for Wickham to know her feelings in such detail. “I thought he must truly have affection for me.”

  “He is a Darcy of Pemberley House,” Wickham said. “I do not mean to be cruel, Miss Elizabeth, but he was always going to marry a woman with riches like Caroline Bingley. He never would lower himself to marry someone with your humble background. If I know Darcy, I would say that he was more likely to offer you a carte blanche and a position as his mistress. I doubt you would be the first.”

  Despite Wickham’s attempts to avoid cruelty, Elizabeth felt the sting of his words. Her face turned crimson with a different sort of embarrassment. She felt sick with the insinuation that Mr. Darcy was only interested in her for such a sordid reason as a carte blanche! She knew her family was of modest means, but she had never felt ashamed of that fact. Until she met Mr. Darcy.

  “I thought he was different,” she whispered. “I had heard you speak of his cruelty and his arrogance; indeed, heard others tell similar tales. But I thought for certain he was misunderstood.”

  “He plays the part well,” Wickham said bitterly. “The poor, misunderstood, rich man. But now you have seen his true nature. Unless you need to see more evidence? Perhaps you wish to reserve your opinion until he makes his offer?”

  “Indeed, I do not,” Elizabeth said harshly. She felt utterly humiliated and had no desire to wait to see if Mr. Wickham were right. If Mr. Darcy’s affection were rooted in so despicable a place, she had no desire to see it confirmed. And she had already seen the evidence of Mr. Darcy’s affection for Caroline. That too, she had no desire to see.

  She felt tears begin to form in the corner of her eyes. She felt overwhelmingly ashamed already, and she did not want to add to her shame by weeping in front of the gathering crowds of dancers.

  “If you’ll excuse me.” She ducked her head and started to move away from the officer in red.

  “I think not,” Wickham said, touching her arm gently. Elizabeth was surprised, but not displeased, to feel the warmth of his hand just above her elbow. “I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to disappear into the night, to cry solitary tears. Not after Darcy has treated you in such a disgusting manner. Please, allow me to take you on a walk in the gardens?”

  Elizabeth looked up at Wickham’s eyes—such a striking shade of blue, and full of worry for her. She saw more emotion in them than she had ever seen in Mr. Darcy’s mysterious brown eyes. As her first tears began to fall, she nodded.

  “Come now,” he said warmly, leading her through the crowd. “It just so happens that I think I know of something that will cheer you up.”

  Elizabeth, still crying quietly, trying to hide her face from everyone, gave a small laugh. She doubted anything Wickham had to show her would take away her hurt, but she was grateful that he was willing to try.

  Chapter 24

  Darcy

  It felt as though the first set of dances would never end. Darcy mechanically went through the steps, hardly paying any attention at all to Caroline. More than once, he had to hurriedly correct his steps to avoid crashing into another dancer. Each time, Caroline’s eyes flashed with unexpressed anger, as if she knew why he was so distracted.

  Darcy hoped she did know. It was far past the time for Caroline to realise that they had no future together. Far past the time that she realised that his affections belonged to another. Far past the time she should have ceased her petty barbs and plots.

  “You seem to be a thousand miles away,” Caroline observed through gritted teeth as they made their way off the dance floor. “Your clumsy attempts almost embarrassed us.”

  “I do apologise for being such a disappointment to you,” Darcy said absently, not caring if he
offended. His mind was far too occupied with finding Elizabeth. “Perhaps it is time you put your hopes upon someone else.”

  Caroline stopped dead at his words, gaping at Darcy. After a second, he realised what he had said, and a distinct heat crept onto his cheeks. He swallowed hard, but looked Caroline in the eye. He would not take back the words, however harsh they may have been. It was time for her to accept the truth.

  “How dare you speak to me in such a manner,” Caroline hissed. “May I remind you that you are a guest in this house? And that proper guests do not abuse the lady of the house in such ways?”

  Darcy felt the burn of shame—he had not intended to hurt Caroline. He quickly decided to mend the situation as best he could. He still would not take back the truth of the situation, but he could apologise for the manner in which he delivered that truth.

  “I apologise for my harsh and unthinking words,” Darcy said slowly. “But I cannot pretend to ignore your advances any longer. You cannot pretend to be ignorant of the fact that I have always seen you as a sister—a sister, but nothing more.”

  Caroline looked as though Darcy had slapped her. Darcy was grieved to see that her chin had begun to quiver, and tears were filling her eyes. He wished he could make the situation better, take away the obvious hurt she was feeling, but he knew that anything he said or did in comfort would only make the situation worse.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  Caroline took a deep breath, stood up straighter, and lifted her chin into the air.

  “I have no notion to what you refer,” she said loftily. “You speak as if my affection was anything other than sisterly. I assure you, I have never considered you anything but a brother. It is quite proud of you to assume otherwise. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” She turned on her heel and left quickly, practically pushing people aside in her haste to get away from him.