Elizabeth took up her bonnet and held it a little too tightly. She had introduced Mrs Mountford to her new friends when they had come across them in the milliners two days previously and while her aunt had declared the Yorkes ‘perfectly fine girls’, Elizabeth was left with the impression she would prefer her niece to be in more elevated company. “My engagement with the Miss Yorkes is quite a fixed thing. They will worry if I do not meet them. Please would you send my regards to Miss Darcy?”
“I will, I think she was disappointed not to see you when she came here with her aunt. You got on so well when we dined at the Fitzwilliams. May I tell her you will call soon?”
“Yes, of course.” Elizabeth smiled weakly and nodded her thanks to the footman who opened the front door for her. She said goodbye to Mrs Mountford and walked out quickly onto the street. She felt her aunt’s disapproval keenly and disliked being out of accord with her. Their affection for each other was deep and they rarely disagreed, but she had no wish to break her engagement with Mr Yorke’s sisters, and even less of a wish to visit with the Fitzwilliams. While she found Georgiana truly lovely, her brother’s company disturbed and discomposed Elizabeth in a way she chose not to analyse too closely. He had, by various turns, surprised, annoyed, confused and delighted her during their dinner engagement and she almost feared seeing him again. The evening had quite exhausted her, in every way and yet she had lain awake in bed for two whole hours upon their return home, thinking of certain looks he had given her, or various things he had said. She still did not like his manners much. He was still mostly silent and often rudely so, but she admired his affection for his sister and when he had deigned to open his mouth, he had been clever and perhaps, even witty. Restless, she had left her bed and crossed to the dresser, retrieving his letter from the book of verse. How many times had she promised herself she would burn it? She had crossed to the fireplace and almost thrown it into the dying embers, but had not been able to do it; her hand had stalled over the coals. The letter was part of her history now - she could not part with it - and so she had pushed it back into the book, and the book back into the dresser drawer. This did nothing for the equilibrium of her spirits and she found herself, in the days afterwards, seeking the uncomplicated and simple companionship that was to be found in Mr Yorke’s sisters. The frequency with which Mr Yorke found ways to happen upon their outings and cajole his way to her side was something she did not mention to her aunt.
The ladies met as planned and spent a pleasant hour in the Pump Room, looking over the arrivals book and examining the hats and gowns of each lady who passed their way, before walking towards the library, where one of the Miss Yorkes was perhaps too frequent a visitor. Harriet absorbed novels in a matter of days. Elizabeth had begun to tease her for it, saying she read too quickly and should instead take the time to enjoy each volume thoroughly. Yet Harriet exclaimed she could not, for she was always so keen to get to the end of the story. As they walked to the library, she also listened with fascination to Sophy Yorke, who spoke of the views around them, explaining the peculiarities of light, the colours they saw and how she wished to capture them on canvas or paper. Sophy had a talent for drawing and painting that Elizabeth could only wonder at. Sophy had shyly shown her some of her sketches and whilst Elizabeth had heard other ladies proclaimed as being proficient in art, she had always viewed their efforts as quite ordinary, or in some sad cases, quite dreadful. Yet Sophy was truly accomplished. Her pencil drawings were worthy of much praise and even someone as untutored in the subject as Elizabeth was could see her work should be viewed with admiration.
They were detained on their walk at the busy intersection of Cheap Street, where it met with the great London and Oxford roads, and were forced to wait for several minutes on one pavement, such was the profusion of carriages, horsemen and carts passing through. It was while they were stood still that Elizabeth heard a cry of ‘Miss Bennet’ and turned to see Georgiana Darcy being accompanied by the one man she had hoped to avoid. Georgiana looked so utterly pleased to see her, however, that Elizabeth could do nothing but return her greetings with enthusiasm. Mr Darcy she barely looked at, only to say good morning to, and as soon as her eyes did fall on him, he decided he would rather look elsewhere too. She made the introductions to the Yorke sisters. Georgiana was polite and more than friendly and spoke of knowing their brother. Mr Darcy offered them a barely discernible bow and looked over their heads at the busy road. She felt offended on her friends’ behalf at his lack of attention and seeing the way had cleared a little, declared they must be going.
“But we will see you at Lady Winslow’s tomorrow? I am sure you must be invited?” Georgiana asked.
Elizabeth had become rather inattentive to such matters lately and merely went along with whatever evening plans Mrs Mountford had made for them. She had been to so many parties in the last few weeks that they were all blurring into one, and she often only asked where they were going when they were already in the carriage, halfway there. How different to her time at Longbourn, when such occasions were anticipated for weeks, dresses chosen days in advance and the possible attendees speculated over for hours. “I believe so,” she finally answered but really had no idea of what the event was or whether she had an invitation. They said goodbye and crossed the road.
It was the sight of Harriet Yorke’s face that brought Elizabeth back to the present. The girl looked over her shoulder and across the road after Mr Darcy’s retreating form. Her eyes were wide and her mouth open, all agog.
“Did you find him as mysterious as you’d hoped?” Elizabeth asked.
“Oh dear, I did and is he not the handsomest man in all England, so tall and broad? And he has such an appealing air of sadness. Why, I almost fainted away at the sight of him.”
Sophy and Elizabeth shared an amused look, before Sophy said, “Oh Harriet, I am glad you did not, for you are such a great lump, I should never have managed to carry you home.” Harriet, rather than being offended, laughed loudly.
Mr and Miss Darcy walked towards Union Passage at about the same speed as Miss Bennet and the Yorkes walked away from it. Georgiana glanced up at her brother. “I thought Miss Bennet looked well.”
“Mmm, yes, but then she always does,” he offered casually.
“I am glad to hear you say so. Her manners are lovely, are they not? And she dresses so well. She certainly knows which styles suit her and she does not tend towards anything gaudy. I must ask her where she secures her muslin, such pretty patterns. Did you notice her yellow silk when she dined with us? I could not wear such a colour of course, but Miss Bennet, being so dark, wore it charmingly. It was so becoming on her.”
Darcy merely smiled.
“She has such a lively wit as well, do you not think? Such good sense and she played so prettily.”
“Yes, she does and she did. Georgiana, I wonder, should I run across the street to catch her up and offer for her immediately?”
Georgiana gasped and then, reality dawning, slapped his arm affectionately. “I am sorry, I should not matchmake.”
“No you should not, for you show not even the slightest talent for it.”
“But I once thought…did you not? I have always remembered you mentioning her several times when you returned from Hertfordshire with Charles and when you did, you were so alive, you had such an animation about you, I rather thought….” Georgiana dropped her head. “I confess I was surprised when you stopped talking of her and became engaged to Anne.”
Darcy sighed. “I think Elizabeth Bennet is a very engaging young woman but, Georgiana, she does not prefer me. There is no inclination on her side.” He smiled at the look of disbelief on his sister’s face and drew her arm through his, pulling her closer to share a confidence. “I know you think me the best of brothers, who could do no wrong, but you flatter me. I did not behave very well when I first met Miss Bennet.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“Oh nothing that terrible, do not look so horrified. I mean my m
anners were at fault. You see, I was lucky to have the love and affection of very good parents, but I was always taught by them, from a very young age, that I was Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley and this was something to be very proud of.”
“Is it not?”
“It is. Of course it is, but to be proud and to seem proud are two different things. You would not understand for you have not an ounce of conceitedness about you. I’m afraid I did. I once thought myself so terribly important and considered the feelings of no-one beyond my own small circle of friends and family. I looked down upon people, Georgiana. It pains me to recall it and I hope I have changed, but I was a very flawed man and Miss Bennet met me at a time when I was deeply proud and rather arrogant.” He looked down at her. “I have upset you. I did not mean to. You see nothing but an older brother who has been more like a father to you. You see me as perfect, but I am not. No man is.”
“I do not see you as perfect, but I know your kindness, I know you are a good man.”
He squeezed her hand where it lay on his sleeve. “I am trying to be. Miss Bennet, you see, did me a great favour. I saw myself through her eyes. I did not like what I saw and sought to change.”
Georgiana blinked back tears. “If Miss Bennet, if Elizabeth, really knew you.”
“Now Georgiana, I have explained myself as best I can and I beg you to leave it all well alone. It was a long time ago. You must promise me you will not go on trying to imagine an alliance in that direction, nothing will come of it.”
She nodded. “Of course, I will not speak of it again.”
“Good, now come. We will walk up and take a tour of the Circus to stretch our legs and then later we will go to Mollands and I will buy you a very good coffee and a delicious slice of cake to make us both cheerful.”
Darcy pondered on his own words as they walked. No matter what he said to Georgiana, if he was truly honest with himself, there was a very small, infinitesimal part of him that wanted to believe it might be possible to change Elizabeth Bennet’s opinion of him. He had no confidence in the matter however – the idea that she might one day welcome his addresses seemed ludicrous. Particularly as there were times when he could not even look at her - let alone talk, as just before when they had met so unexpectedly on the street. Sometimes she just looked so becoming that she took all the breath from his body and all thought from his mind.
Thirteen
Bath was a small place and when it rained it became smaller, as its visitors and residents sought shelter and squeezed together in any place which might keep them dry. Later the same day, huddled in Mollands around a table laden with tea things, were Sophy and Harriet Yorke, and Elizabeth. The rain came down in sheets outside and Frederick Yorke had been dispatched to request the use of Mrs Mountford’s carriage to convey them all home.
Mr Yorke had found them at the library and Elizabeth’s mind was occupied with the problem he presented. He had flirted outrageously with her all morning and found any excuse to touch her. Whenever his sisters were distracted momentarily, he would brush his fingers along her forearm, or squeeze her hand. He always stood close, too close, till he was practically leaning on her. Elizabeth felt she was at a crossroads with him but was unable to make up her mind in which direction she wanted to turn. If she allowed him to continue with such attentions then she was entering into a courtship, acknowledging him as a suitor to herself and the world and then she would have to endure all the speculation and presumption about them marrying such a relationship would produce. If only he would take things more gradually. He seemed in so much of a rush and it was spoiling the delicious, playful beginning they had made.
Such was the depth of her thoughts, Mr Darcy standing over them, with Georgiana on one arm and a dripping umbrella in the other, caught her by surprise and she sprang from her seat a little too quickly to say hello to them, brushing the table and causing the tea things to rattle.
“Twice in one day, Miss Bennet, I hope you do not think I am hunting you down,” he said.
She laughed uncomfortably and saw he could have done nothing but address her. The shop was too small for him to have avoided it. Georgiana made a comment about the rain and the weather was discussed for a while until Elizabeth saw Mr Darcy looking around in vain for a table to sit at. There were none spare.
“Won’t you join us? There are no tables available but we have one spare chair and I am sure we could find another.”
Georgiana thanked her and took the empty seat. Elizabeth could not have said what Mr Darcy’s feelings about being forced into her company once again were, or how he might bear sitting with the Yorkes. There was no change of expression on his face to give her even the slightest clue, but he did not make for the door, or state he would rather stand, so she supposed he was not entirely unwilling. Another chair was found and it was squeezed into a small space between Elizabeth and the window. Mr Darcy somehow managed to maneuverer his broad frame onto it without the loss of too much dignity. They were as close as they had been the night of the Fitzwilliam’s dinner and he shot her a look, “bad luck, Miss Bennet.”
Her laugh was genuine this time. “You have a good memory for the things I say, Mr Darcy.”
“You say many memorable things.”
“I do? I often think the things I say are complete nonsense. I am much cleverer in my own head. There, I am quite the philosopher and comedienne. It is a pity though that my pithy retorts and words of wisdom only occur to me two or three hours after they would have been of any use.”
He smiled broadly and she noticed for the first time a dimple in his right cheek that fascinated her for a few moments.
“Tis the same with me, but you are easy in company in a way I admire. I often wish I had your way with nonsense, if that’s what you insist on calling it.”
She looked down at the table, wondering, not for the first time, if some of his apparent rudeness, his silence, was merely a natural reserve. Did he suffer from shyness? He had spoken before, long ago at Rosings, of his being uneasy in company and she had tartly and unsympathetically told him he ought to take the trouble to practice.
Now she was the one who was reserved and said nothing and silence hung over them. On the other side of the table Harriet, in her bubbly and lively way, had drawn Georgiana out and they were talking with some animation. Sophy was quietly studying the street outside. Elizabeth turned to Mr Darcy, suddenly resolved to make amends for her previous ridiculing of him. “Before you walked in we were talking of Devonshire, where Miss Yorke is from,” she caught Sophy’s eye and smiled at her. “Have you ever visited Devonshire, Mr Darcy?”
“Yes. I went there once.” He replied in his clipped manner.
Elizabeth waited for him to elaborate but he stared at her blankly.
“Oh, I was saying I should like to see it, particularly the coastlines which I believe are quite rugged and wild. The descriptions of it make me think of pirates and tall ships. I have only ever been to Lyme, which is probably quite tame by comparison,” she said, speaking with enthusiasm.
He looked thoughtful and then seemed to realise it was ‘turn’ to say something. “I have not been to Lyme.” He ventured.
“I think, Elizabeth,” said Sophy, after a lengthy pause. “You are imagining Devonshire to be more like its neighbour, Cornwall. Devonshire is a much softer and flatter place and I can’t remember the last time I came across any pirates, smugglers or lost treasure while at home.”
They both looked to Mr Darcy but he seemed baffled as to how to join in this conversation and did not seem to understand the point of it.
Elizabeth persevered. “But the coastline, whether the rugged one of my imagination, or the pretty one of your reality, must be a good subject for an artist, is it not? Miss Yorke is very accomplished, Mr Darcy. In watercolours too, but I particularly admire her line drawings.” There! She had given him a perfect opportunity. He might ask Sophy Yorke about her art.
He opened his mouth, closed it again and said nothing, looking ba
ck to the ladies to continue.
He was indeed, decided Elizabeth, spectacularly bad at small talk, almost endearingly so. It seemed preposterous that a man with such standing in society, a man of his age and education should be so inhibited. Had he not stood in a thousand parlours, taken a hundred dinners and attended dozens upon dozens of balls?
Sophy Yorke seemed to understand that Elizabeth was trying to engage him in conversation and took up the reins. “We were also talking of portraits, Mr Darcy. I should like to sketch Elizabeth. She has such an interesting face, so many expressions.”
Elizabeth was embarrassed and shook her head. “And I was saying, I should not be able to sit still for long enough. Mrs Mountford will attest to my habit of fidgeting.”
The door of Mollands had meanwhile opened once more and admitted Mr Yorke and Mrs Mountford, slightly damp from the rain. “You see I have done my duty well and secured not only the carriage but the lady herself.” He bowed before the assembled party and as there were no vacant chairs, went around the table and perched on the edge of Elizabeth’s. She did well not to gasp at his audaciousness. It was a gesture that seemed to scream not only of his intentions but of his sureness of her – as if he had already claimed her as his own and wanted the world to know it.
As his leg was pressed along her own she shifted a little, but could not move too far across, for this brought her closer to Mr Darcy and she feared it might seem as if she were trying to climb into his lap. She suppressed a slightly hysterical giggle at the thought. Nevertheless, when Mr Yorke shifted further onto the seat, using the space she had created, she instinctively moved away again, till her leg accidentally touched Mr Darcy’s and she felt his start. She tried to make herself as small as possible, so as not to touch either gentleman. Her aunt, when Elizabeth looked up at her, seemed amused.
“What might I attest to, Elizabeth? I overheard something on the way in?”
Ardently Page 8
