“Aye, I suppose. But then I will never understand why a woman might spend months completing some complicated needlework, only to pick it apart and start all over again.”
“No muslin is killed in the process, sir.”
“Oh and I suppose you have never enjoyed a fresh pheasant with game sauce for dinner?” He teased, laughing at her.
“I confess I have,” she replied. “Perhaps more than I ought to, given my sympathies towards the poor bird.”
It was a truly beautiful spring day and Elizabeth enjoyed their walk; how could she not be happy? She was being escorted by a handsome and amusing man through Bath at its most picturesque. Light reflected off the yellow stone of the grand buildings and everything was bathed in a warm glow. They stopped on Pulteney Bridge to admire the view. The flow of the River Avon commanded their attention for a good while. She could feel the warmth of the sun on her shoulders through her dress and Mr Yorke smiled indulgently at her. If she were to fall in love, it would be a perfectly fine moment to do so. She decided she would not resist or shy away from his attentions as she had done with other men; she would endeavour to enjoy them. Did she prefer him above anyone else? She honestly could not say, but she resolved to try him on for size, to see if they fit together. He seemed as likely a candidate for her heart as any she had met in such a long time and he certainly seemed determined to fall in love with her in return.
They looked for fish and watched the play of the birds as they swooped, ducked into the water, and rose again into the trees. Mr Yorke’s countenance suddenly turned serious and Elizabeth saw him swallow hard, his shoulders straighten. He reached for her hand. “Miss Bennet…”
Elizabeth felt panicked and drew back, despite her good opinion in his favour. If he were about to say what she thought he was, it was a step too far, too soon. She silently pleaded with him, her eyes desperately trying to forestall, to warn him not to try. He looked at her for such a long time.
“Miss Bennet, do you suppose…? Do you think it might be possible?” He smiled again. “Do you think we might go a whole day in Bath without rain?”
Her smile was wide, her relief palpable. “I think anything is possible.” She allowed him to hold her hand briefly in concession as he assisted her down the steps into the riverbank gardens, where she met with his sisters.
She was amused and delighted by the Yorke sisters. She had thought their brother’s first description of them, the day they had stood beneath the print shop gable to escape from the rain, as being rather cruel, but she realised they were exactly as he had said - one fat, one thin and both very sweet and amiable. Harriet was almost as wide as she was tall, yet had a most beautiful smile and such an open expression and a wonderful gaiety that Elizabeth liked her immediately. Sophy was more reserved but with excellent manners. While Elizabeth’s figure was on the slimmer side of what was now considered fashionable, Sophy was very thin, her wrists impossibly small, her neck and face rather birdlike. She had a timid speaking voice and at once threatened to be overpowered by her sister, but waited patiently for her chances in the conversation and when she had the opportunity to talk, she did so freely, displaying both intelligence and good taste.
It was Harriet though, who immediately grabbed Elizabeth’s arm and walked ahead with her, leaving Mr Yorke to escort his other sister. “Now I’ll wager that if you hadn’t known we were sisters before, Miss Bennet, you would not have guessed it.”
“I own that I would not, but it happens that I am one of five sisters and, regrettably, I look nothing like any of them. They are all fair and tall. I am the runt of the litter.”
“Oh, Miss Bennet,” Harriet giggled. “You must not speak of yourself so. Why, Frederick has had us up half the night describing your charms to us and I felt sure he must be exaggerating. How delighted I am to meet you and find you just as he described.”
Elizabeth ducked her head.
“But I embarrass you. I am sorry. You must tell us what’s to do in Bath, since we are just arrived.”
“Oh you will not be wanting for entertainment. In fact, there is a concert tonight at the assembly rooms you should consider attending if you like music. There are some beautiful songs to be performed.”
“Will you be attending yourself?”
“No, regrettably my aunt and I are engaged to dine with The Earl and Countess of Matlock this evening.”
“Regrettably, Miss Bennet! How can an invitation to dine in such fine company be a source of unhappiness? Or maybe I should not ask.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Perhaps you ought not. I shall pretend that I regret only missing the concert, Miss Yorke.”
“My brother tells me Mr Darcy and his sister are also in Bath, with Lord and Lady Matlock. Will they be dining with you too?”
“I assume so, yes.”
“I am very interested to have a sight of Mr Darcy. What a tragic figure he is, his wife having died so young.”
“Harriet reads a great too many novels,” said her brother, who had caught up with them and overheard the last. “Men must have a dark secret, a mysterious past, a haunted soul, or they are nothing to Harriet.”
“Frederick thinks nothing of novels. ‘What are you reading’ he says, ‘oh, is it only a novel, ‘why do you waste your time on such dramatic nonsense’ he says.”
“Do you indeed, Mr Yorke? How undervalued the labours of the poor novelist are these days.”
“Do you read novels then, Miss Bennet? I would not have thought you a fan of Udolpho, a champion of all the Cecilia’s and Camilla’s?”
“I like to read a great many things, but I confess I like nothing better than whiling away a Sunday afternoon with a novel. I have read some of the greatest truths in novels; the intricacies of human nature laid out and explained in a way that no great tome of essays or history book can ever do and in such beautiful language, as to make me laugh or cry. I think a well written novel to be a rich source of treasure for the mind.”
Harriet clutched Elizabeth’s arm more tightly. “Well, I could not have expressed it as well as you do, Miss Bennet, but I see we feel the same way. We shall defy Frederick and read to our hearts content.”
Mr Yorke laughed, “I think Miss Bennet’s taste in novels might not be quite the same as yours though, Harriet. She probably does not insist every book she reads has black veils and skeletons in closets. Harriet will be most disappointed when she finally meets Mr Darcy and finds him a regular sort of gentleman.”
Elizabeth smiled mischievously. “Or maybe she will not. For he is quite dark, with a brooding temper, most silent and mysterious, he may well have a deep, dark secret.”
“And is he handsome?” Harriet stopped walking and waited breathlessly for an answer.
“Aye, I dare say he is. I have heard many people say so.”
“My goodness! Well I may fall in love with him at first sight,” said Harriet with a gasp and a delighted laugh.
Ten
"You look very nice, Georgiana. You should stop fussing now."
Georgiana Darcy looked away from the glass above the fireplace. She had not realised her brother had been watching her from where he stood by the drawing room windows. He had seemed preoccupied with the street below. They were the first to be ready, punctuality being a Darcy trait, rather than a Fitzwilliam one, and they waited alone for the arrival of both the rest of their family and their guests. She smiled at him "I was not sure about my hair."
"Tis fine, leave it well alone."
She had to smile at her brother's brevity and clipped tone. Anyone who did not know him might call him abrupt or rude. She knew better and understood he was trying to reassure her, but he was not accustomed to flattering women, or dispensing compliments designed to subdue their fears.
"I was thinking I might leave in a few days," he said.
"Leave Bath! You have only just arrived.”
He shrugged. "I am happier at Pemberley. You might stay if you wish. I am sure our aunt will arrange for you to be brought
home whenever you are ready. I do not wish to detract from your enjoyment."
"Fitzwilliam," she crossed the room and put a hand on his arm. "My enjoyment of Bath is great because you are here with me. To see you out in society again makes me happy, you have been too long shut away."
"It feels somewhat improper. I am still in mourning."
"There is no impropriety. It has been nearly a twelve month since Anne's death. I have known men to take a new wife in half the time." She touched the armband on his sleeve. "I know you are not like most men and your commitment to her memory does you credit, but it is time to let go a little. Could you not cast off the black? I am afraid it scares people."
Darcy chuckled. "Perhaps I like to scare people a little. It saves me the trouble of finding something to talk to them about."
Her look was tender. "I am not always easy in society either, but we have to exert ourselves."
"Do we? Says who?"
Georgiana gave him a reproachful look.
"Since when did you begin to give me advice anyway, little sister? Was it not always the other way around?"
"I am all grown up in case you had not noticed and I am concerned about you."
He kissed her forehead. "Do not be." He checked his pocket watch and looked down at the street again. "Let us hope our relations do not tarry too much longer or they will not be in the drawing room before our guests arrive." Just as he spoke they heard the commotion in the hallway of his aunt being accompanied downstairs by her husband - bickering and fussing at one another as they descended.
"Fitzwilliam, please do not go,” Georgiana pleaded. “Do not leave Bath yet. While I boast of being grown up, I confess, your presence in this house and at every social occasion makes me feel better. You give me confidence. I might face anything if you are with me."
He looked at her for a long while before acquiescing. He could deny his young sister nothing that was within his power. Having lost both parents by the tender age of eleven, he was all she had. His own life may have taken a turn into darkness and be full of disappointment but he would do anything to make Georgiana happy. He shoved aside his own unease and greeted his uncle and aunt, his cousin and then Caroline Bingley as they all entered. Then just as they had settled down, the footman announced Mrs Mountford and Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
Darcy stood, of course, as was expected during the greetings but he lingered at the back and watched while others talked, made enquiries as to health, exclaimed delight at seeing one another and generally made themselves agreeable. He had the embarrassment of seeing his uncle, on being presented with Elizabeth, stare at her chest while speaking to her, before pronouncing her a ‘fine girl’. Elizabeth, Darcy realised, was now a woman of four and twenty and not quite as innocent as she had been when he’d first known her. He could tell she was fully aware of where the Earl’s notice was directed and she bore the affront on her not inconsiderable front, with admirable tolerance and a quirky smile.
He moved to the window, his gaze directed again at the street below. Yet while he watched the ebb and flow of Bath he could not claim to have attended to any of it. Here she was again! Four years ago, after he thought he had left her behind forever in Hertfordshire, she had turned up at his other aunt’s house to disturb his equilibrium and torture him down to his very soul. It was as if he had committed some great sin and was to be punished for it by having they very thing he could not have dangled in front of him at odd intervals. He looked around to where she stood and noted, with a little surprise, that she looked as uncomfortable as he felt. He had never seen her nervous and unsure before, she always seemed to him to have an unfailing confidence, but now she fiddled with the sash of her dress and then with the cross around her neck, until Mrs Mountford discreetly took her forearm and pulled it down by her side to still her.
It must be his presence which gave her cause for alarm. How embarrassing it must be for her to be dragged along to a dinner with a man she detested; a man who had made such an ass of himself before her. To think he had almost embarrassed himself further the other night at the assembly. He’d been overcome with an urge to ask her to dance, to show her he bore no ill will. She would have had to say yes, politeness would have demanded it of her and how miserable she would have been to go through the steps with him. He turned back to the window, determined not to add to her unease. Tonight he would say as little as possible, sit as far away from her as he could and trouble her not. It was the kindest thing to do.
Elizabeth excused herself from the conversation between Mrs Mountford and Lady Fitzwilliam. It was with a deep breath and no small amount of trepidation that she crossed the room to stand behind Mr Darcy at the window. She said his name twice before he turned around. He tugged at his cuffs and frowned.
“I am sorry to disturb your reverie; I just wanted to express my apologies. I was unforgivably rude when we met the other night. I had not heard of your bereavement…”
“Georgiana passed on your apologies, as requested,” he cut her off. “Think no more of it. Do not trouble yourself. It is of no consequence.”
With the smallest of nods he walked quickly away, leaving her standing alone on the rug, in the middle of the room, and feeling a little foolish for having made the effort to seek him out. What had she expected, civility for a change, or perhaps that his manners might have improved? That they would converse freely, without thrust and parry, perhaps even laugh together, the past forgotten? It was obvious he had not forgiven her for rejecting him, or for the wild accusations she had slung his way. She sighed, shrugged her shoulders and re-joined the ladies.
When they were called into dinner, Mr Darcy was absent and by the time he arrived in the dining room the only empty seat was next to Elizabeth. She saw him look at the chair with some annoyance before stalking towards it. She arched her brow at him as he sat down. “Bad luck, Mr Darcy.”
He gave her a quizzical look before sitting but said nothing, flicking his napkin out and laying it across his lap in short, angry moments. It was not a large table and there were eight of them sitting down at it. She was close enough to Mr Darcy for their elbows to bump occasionally and when she reached for her wineglass and he for his soup spoon, their fingers brushed. He withdrew his as if he had been burned.
However, Elizabeth could not truly complain about the seating arrangements, for she had been directed to take a place next to their hostess and saw Lady Fitzwilliam meant to compliment her. However, the Countess was now speaking to Georgiana, on her other side.
“I understand you are in Staffordshire now. How do you like it?”
Surprised by Mr Darcy’s enquiry, Elizabeth coughed a little on the sip of wine she had drunk and it was a few moments before she could answer. “I like it very much, particularly the opportunities for walking. It is very different to Hertfordshire. I am used to orchards and neat fields, small brooks. Staffordshire is quite rugged and flat by comparison but I find some of the vistas about Oakdene quite breathtaking.”
“Yes, I’m sure they are,” he said, curtly, and then turned away from her to speak to Miss Bingley, who was on the other side of him. Elizabeth assumed he felt he’d done his duty as a dinner companion and considered there was no need to elaborate; or else he found her comments very dull. Either way she felt done with him. She was exhausted with the effort of worrying about what he thought of her. They might be in close company this evening and perhaps they would meet a few times again before she and Mrs Mountford quit Bath and then, she determined, she would quite forget about Mr Darcy. The memory of the earnest expression he had worn when he’d declared his love for her four years previously at Hunsford would be banished from her mind – forever, she was quite determined.
Lady Fitzwilliam turned back to her and was more sociable, conversing on all the safe subjects one would cover at dinner, before asking about Elizabeth’s family. “Do you have any brothers or sisters, Miss Bennet?”
“I have four sisters, no brother sadly.”
“I should ha
ve liked to have a sister,” Georgiana said shyly from the other side of the table.
“Georgiana, you would not say that if you’d had four of them. Why the petty thievery they would stoop to. I had not a bonnet, a glove or a hair ribbon that was not pilfered at some stage. And getting ready for a ball or party…” Elizabeth shook her head, “we never arrived anywhere on time, or without argument.”
“Still, you smile when you talk of them, Elizabeth. I am sure you love them dearly.”
“Your brother is not enough for you, Georgiana? Have I been failing you in some way?” Mr Darcy said sternly.
Georgiana looked aghast for a moment before she laughed at Mr Darcy, becoming aware that he was merely teasing.
Elizabeth looked on, surprised, and saw his features soften into a becoming smile. Though he might be taciturn and haughty with others, there was no mistaking his regard and affection for his sister.
“Five daughters, Miss Bennet! My Goodness, was your father disappointed not to have a son?” Lady Fitzwilliam asked.
“Not as much as he ought to have been perhaps. His estate is entailed away from the female line, so a son would have secured Longbourn for his children and grandchildren, but my father is a philosophical man and treats both hope and disappointment with the same equanimity. Now, my mother is a different character altogether. I have always been a source of great consternation to her. I am the second child and, after first having a girl, she was certain I was to be a boy. Blue caps were knitted in expectation, so when I arrived it was to her great vexation. Not only did I dare to be female but I was born on Christmas Day. My mother had been fattening up a great goose for the occasion and she never got to eat it, having been taken to bed in the morning and my not arriving till almost Boxing Day. She has scolded me for it ever since. I, apparently, have always been awkward.”
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