Elizabeth discovered quickly why Colonel Fitzwilliam was Darcy’s particular friend in the family, as the Viscount’s slurred speech indicated he had already made a close acquaintance with spirits that day. His two sisters spoke cordially enough, but their faintly incredulous looks reminded Elizabeth of the Bingley sisters, and their conversation revolved solely around events of the Season which they must have known could mean nothing to Elizabeth.
They spent over an hour in stilted discussion in the sitting room, with no one daring to raise the question of the absent bridegroom. The butler came in twice to inform Lady Matlock that dinner was ready, but each time she waved him away. Elizabeth smiled graciously, but underneath her spirits were troubled. What could possibly have delayed Darcy this long? Did he have no appreciation of the uncomfortable position he had placed her in?
Lord Matlock’s countenance became sterner as time wore on, and finally he barked, “Where is that damned boy? I will not be kept waiting any longer for my dinner.”
Lady Matlock, no doubt with the ease of long practice, appeared not to have heard her husband, and continued in her conversation with one of her daughters while making a subtle signal to one of the footmen.
The butler reappeared a minute later, and this time Lady Matlock rose and announced that dinner was served.
Elizabeth suspected her colour was high as the colonel escorted her into dinner and took the seat which had obviously been intended for Darcy. He continued to chat amiably with her as if nothing was amiss, but she noticed that he tapped his fingers restlessly on the arm of his chair.
The elegant array of dishes presented before them was far beyond what Elizabeth had ever seen at a family dinner, but she did not have to feign a fashionable disinterest in food since her appetite seemed to have fled. She concentrated on keeping her chin high and a smile on her lips, as if she had not noticed anything was amiss in Mr. Darcy’s absence, nor that Lord Matlock complained loudly about each dish and threatened to dismiss the cook no less than three times.
The first remove was already in place when a footman delivered a folded paper to Colonel Fitzwilliam. He opened it and scanned it quickly, then folded it and returned it to the servant. “From Darcy,” he announced unnecessarily, since the entire table had gone silent and was looking in his direction. “The matter that delayed him is more serious than it initially appeared, and he is uncertain if he will be able to leave it at all today.”
“That damned puppy!” the Earl growled. “Where is he, anyway, that is more important than his own family?”
“I do not know, but he mentions calling a surgeon for someone, so apparently there is some sort of emergency. Miss Bennet, he sends his most particular apologies to you, and says he will contact you in the morning.”
“Thank you, Colonel,” Elizabeth said calmly, though inside she felt much less certain. She had caught a glimpse of the note while he was reading it, not enough to make out more than a word or two, but she was sure the handwriting had not been Darcy’s.
The meal seemed interminable after that. Elizabeth did a respectable job of presenting her usual lively self, but it was nothing more than an act. When Lady Matlock stood, indicating that it was time for the ladies to withdraw, Elizabeth felt she could stand it no longer, and she whispered softly in the Colonel’s ear.
He nodded understandingly, then said, “I fear that Miss Bennet is much troubled by a headache, and hopes she might be excused from the remainder of the evening.”
Lady Matlock, showing her good breeding, turned to her guest with an expression of concern as if she believed the patently weak story. “My poor dear! Of course you must go home at once. A cold compress over one’s eyes is a sovereign remedy for a headache, and it has saved me more than once. You must promise me to try it yourself. I cannot bear the thought of anyone suffering from a headache for a moment longer than is absolutely necessary.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam volunteered to see her home, refusing her offer to take a hackney cab. “Darcy would never forgive me if I did otherwise!” he said.
“Damned boy,” grumbled Lord Matlock to nobody in particular, leaving his wife to receive Elizabeth’s thanks for the invitation.
By the time she was in the carriage, Elizabeth could no longer maintain her bright smile. It was like a bad dream, being abandoned by Darcy and subjected to his uncle’s ill temper and the supercilious looks of the younger members of the family. If Colonel Fitzwilliam had not inherited his mother’s good manners, it would have been completely unbearable.
The colonel made no pretense of idle chatter this time. “I do not know what could have happened to Darcy. It is quite unlike him, I promise you, to fail to appear, and I know he was most anxious to see you. I am certain there must be a good reason that will be revealed to us in time.”
“Is it possible he has been injured? Or Miss Darcy? You mentioned a surgeon.”
“I cannot see how he could have sustained a serious injury tonight. He said that Lord Regenfield had sent for a surgeon; perhaps it was for his lordship.”
Elizabeth rubbed her chilled hands together. “Perhaps whatever delayed him in the first place simply took longer than he expected.” She tried to keep her tone brisk.
“Perhaps. I cannot say.” The colonel’s firm tones told Elizabeth that he knew what had originally delayed Darcy, but that he had no intention of sharing it with her.
After a mostly silent ride, they arrived at Gracechurch Street. Colonel Fitzwilliam walked her to the door.
When Mrs. Gardiner came to greet them, her bright smile faded when she realized it was not Mr. Darcy who stood beside her niece. The colonel briefly paid her his respects, then bowed and departed.
Mrs. Gardiner frowned in concern. “Lizzy, you do not look well. Where is Mr. Darcy?”
Elizabeth pulled off her gloves and tossed them aside. “I do not know. He failed to make an appearance.”
“He did not attend? Oh, my poor Lizzy! What reason did he give?”
“He sent a note about some sort of emergency.”
Mrs. Gardiner closed her eyes briefly, then put her arms around Elizabeth. “There must be a good reason.
Mr. Darcy is not the sort to ignore his responsibilities, and yesterday he was so anxious to see you.”
“Perhaps he will prove to have a very good reason. If you will excuse me, aunt, I would like retire now.”
Her aunt reluctantly let her go, saying, “I am certain he will be here first thing in the morning to explain himself.” Elizabeth did not respond.
CHAPTER 23
Elizabeth’s night was mostly sleepless. Lying alone in the dark, her imagination would not be bounded, and in it she had seen Darcy lying in a pool of blood or drowned in the river. What could possibly have kept him from her, if not some terrible accident? Her cheeks burned with mortification at the recollection of her dinner at Lord Matlock’s house. It would have been a disaster if it were not for the good breeding evinced by Lady Matlock. If Elizabeth could feel gratitude for anything about that endless evening, it was to her.
She did not know what she would do if there was no word from Mr. Darcy this morning. The fear delayed her from making an appearance at breakfast, as if somehow waiting longer would increase the chances that she would find happy intelligence there on her arrival. He could not have changed his mind about marrying her, could he? The engagement had already been announced, and surely his honour if nothing else would demand that he follow through on it, or so she hoped. She would not have believed it possible that she could doubt him so, but she would have equally disbelieved that he would strand her with his uncle and aunt.
When she finally descended, Mrs. Gardiner was waiting for her, a smudged newspaper sitting before her.
One glance at her aunt’s face was enough to convince Elizabeth that her fears were justified. Her stomach twisted.
“Lizzy, my dear.” Mrs. Gardiner took her elbow and led her to the table, going so far as to pull out Elizabeth’s chair for her.
&n
bsp; Numbly Elizabeth obeyed her and reached for the newspaper, quite out of keeping with her normal manners. She scanned the headlines, but they were all about the Peninsular War or the doings at St. James Palace. Her eyes jumped from article to article, scanning for Darcy’s name.
Mrs. Gardiner pointed to a paragraph in the society column. “I am so very sorry, my dear. I would never have thought it of him. We have been sadly misled.”
One must be led to wonder whether young people today understand the meaning of betrothal. It is with great shock that we report an unfortunate disturbance at Lady R’s soiree yesterday when Mr. D of Derbyshire, whose engagement was noted in these pages only a fortnight ago, was discovered in a tender moment with Miss S, late of Somerset, who is also betrothed, but unfortunately not to the gentleman in question. One can only offer one’s deepest sympathies to Miss F’s intended who found himself in the embarrassing position of discovering the twosome, though it might perhaps be noted that he has had a most fortunate escape. We can only hope for the continuing good health of the two gentlemen (if such a term can be applied to one of them) this morning, as rumour has it that a dawn engagement between the two was discussed.
Her eyes blurring, Elizabeth read it a second time in the vain hope that she had misinterpreted it the first time, but the words swimming before her refused to change. Surely it must be some sort of mistake, a matter of a misplaced letter when it might have been a Mr. E, not Mr. D, but how many gentlemen of Derbyshire could have announced engagements a fortnight ago? Or perhaps it was just gossip, an attempt to smear his name in revenge for some imagined slight, but he had been inexplicably absent at dinner. It could not be true. He was not the sort to dangle after one lady when engaged to another. But how well did she in fact know him? Was it anything beyond her own desire to believe him honourable that made him seem so? Or had slaking his lust for her rendered her of little interest to him? No, that she could not believe, recalling his tenderness toward her the night of her arrival.
She had so often thought the worst of him, and always been proved wrong. This time it would be different.
They were engaged, and she would stand by him. She blinked back her tears of pain and anger. Now was not the time for them. “It could be nothing more than gossip,” she said with greater calm than she felt. “I will not rush to judgment on him before I know the facts of the matter.”
“That is a most sensible attitude, Lizzy. We should allow him to defend himself, although if it proves to be true...”
“Should it prove to be true, I will know what to do.” Elizabeth kept her voice steady with an effort. It was hard to know what to believe, but Darcy had always been truthful with her. She would ask him about it directly, and trust him not to create a scene.
They did not have to wait long, although it seemed that each minute lasted days. It was still before midday when Mr. Darcy was announced by the servant. Elizabeth tossed her embroidery aside without her usual care as she rose to her feet.
He did not look happy to be there. In fact, Elizabeth wondered if it might be the last place he would want to be, as his expression lent credence to the tale in the newspaper. He came straight to her, though, reaching to take her hands in his.
“Elizabeth, I must apologize for my failure to join you last evening. I hope you know that I wanted more than anything to be with you, and nothing but matters of the gravest urgency could have kept me away from your side. I am beyond sorry to have left you to face my relatives by yourself. My cousin tells me you acquitted yourself admirably, but I can guess how difficult it must have been for you, and it is all my fault. My behavior was inexcusable, and I humbly beg your forgiveness for it.”
Although his words were appropriate, Elizabeth noted that he gave no word of explanation, and that he looked pained rather than overjoyed to be in her presence. A terrifying coldness settled itself around her heart.
She carefully extricated her hands from his and folded them behind her back. “Whether or not it is inexcusable remains to be seen when I am unaware of the nature of this urgent matter.”
He grew yet more pale, something she would not have thought possible. “It was a series of events, difficult to explain except that each delay led to another one. I cannot blame you for being angry with me. I have behaved unforgivably.”
“May I ask you one question?”
“Of course.”
She took a deep, shaky breath, glancing at her aunt for courage. “Were you, or were you not, discovered in an intimate moment with another lady last evening?”
He swore, then said. “I was, but it was not what you think. Believe me, Elizabeth, I would never….”
Her heart sank at his words. Somewhere she had kept the hope alive that it might be untrue, but now even that hope was gone. “Then we have nothing further to say to each other.”
“Elizabeth…”
“Nothing at all.”
He looked at her an expression of mingled incredulity and anger. “Surely you cannot believe that I would so much as look at another woman!”
“I would not have believed that you would fail me last night, either. Clearly my judgment leaves much to be desired.”
“If you will allow me to explain…”
“Please do.”
“I received an urgent message regarding a friend – Bingley, in fact - who was in some danger. I thought I could deal with the matter quickly, but when I found him, he was unwilling to leave his present situation.”
Elizabeth found herself growing more angry every moment. “Are soirees in London often dangerous?”
“When one begins to combine heavy drink and expert duelists, they can be.”
“And Bingley could not be trusted to handle these matters for himself without you to rescue him, yet you still found time to be caught in a compromising situation with another woman. Yes, I see it quite clearly now.
Thank you for your explanation.”
“And this is your estimation of me?” he bit out. “This is how little I am to be trusted!”
Mrs. Gardiner swept between them, holding up a hand toward each of them.
“That is quite enough, I think. I will remind you there are young children in this house. This can be discussed without raised voices and accusations. Come, Lizzy, I would have you sit down and hold that sharp tongue of yours for a few minutes. Mr. Darcy, as a guest in this house, you are not subject to my authority, but I cannot allow you to speak to my niece in that manner. If you cannot be civil, I must ask you to leave.”
Elizabeth, too hurt and angry to respond, turned her back on both of them and wrapped her arms around herself, tears of mortification filling her eyes.
In a voice of forced calmness, Darcy said, “You are quite right, madam. We have played this scene before, and the outcome was not a pleasant one. Forgive me for taking up so much of your time.” With these words he hastily left the room, and Elizabeth heard him the next moment open the front door and quit the house.
Elizabeth collapsed into a chair, her legs suddenly unwilling to hold her up. She barely noticed her aunt’s arm around her shoulder and could not hear the gentle words she spoke for the painfully great tumult in her mind.
How could she have been so foolish as to believe in his love? All her life she had heard that men wanted only one thing from women, and once they had it, they lost interest. She had not believed it, and even if she had, she would have sworn on her hope of heaven that Darcy was not such a one, that he truly loved her. But it was true. She had given herself to him - oh, such foolhardiness! - and now she was nothing more than an obligation to him. To the rest of the world, she would be nothing but a disreputable woman because of a broken engagement to a fickle man.
Her eyes widened as she realized she might not even be that fortunate. Behavior such as she had engaged in with Mr. Darcy might have consequences; that much she knew, but she had thought it of little import since they would be married soon. Now that was no longer the case, and if she proved to indeed be increasing, s
he would be ruined beyond a hope of redemption. Her hand stole over her abdomen. Was there still something of him within her?
But at that moment, the future hardly mattered to her. She had lost him, and the years ahead yawned emptily before her. How could she have been so foolish as to have believed him? How could he have betrayed her so?
Her aunt placed a cup of tea in her hand. “Here, Lizzy, you must drink a little,” she said in a soothing voice. “Take a deep breath – that’s right. And now just a sip of tea. Good. It is a terrible shock, I know, but you are strong and will survive this. Once you are calm, perhaps things will look a little different.”
“How could they possibly look different?”
Mr. Darcy's Letter Page 25
