Miss Bingley immediately begged Miss Darcy and Miss Bennet not to sit by her, for her gown was new and the material had cost seventeen shillings a yard. Places were moved and Elizabeth and Georgiana were confined together in a small corner of the carriage like errant schoolchildren. Mrs Mountford placed herself next to them, claiming she was used to Elizabeth’s muck, and spoke of how her niece managed to keep their local milliner in business through new petticoats alone.
As the carriage set off, Elizabeth was overset by the odd thought that this very comfortable and fine equipage might have been hers had she answered Mr Darcy’s offer differently. The sweet girl beside her would have been her sister these four years and what a delightful companion she would have made. Four years married to Mr Darcy! She flushed and laughed to herself. She might have even had a babe or two waiting for her at home.
“What amuses you so?” Asked Mrs Mounford.
“Oh, nothing.” Then the smile fell from her face, for nothing really did amuse her. She had no hope. Her love was to remain unrequited. His look when she had been securing Mrs Mountford’s cloak about her had been intense, and had given her a set of shivers which were nothing to do with the wet and cold of the sudden shower they had endured. It had given her cause to think perhaps he did still admire her, but she could not properly work him out, and a man who had once been refused, and in such offensive language! She would not be so foolish as to expect a renewal of his love. She no longer believed him full of vanity and self-importance. She could see these days his pride took a proper turn. He was full of pride for his name, his sister and his home, as he should be. But while there was no improper pride, he was still a dignified man and she was sure he would not venture a second proposal to the same woman. He might visit at Oakdene, she at Pemberley - for she would like to remain friends with Georgiana. Eventually he would bring home the second Mrs Darcy; a tall, fair handsome woman and Elizabeth would smile and wish him well, while she was secretly eaten alive with jealousy.
If only she had looked more closely in the beginning, she might have seen who he truly was, but she had been blinded by prejudice. His slight on the night of their first acquaintance, his insult and refusal to dance with her at the assembly in Meryton had wounded her to such a degree that she had been determined to exaggerate his faults, to argue with him at every turn, to always think the very worst of him. It was not his pride that had been the problem, it had been hers. He had been so handsome, so imposing, so worldly looking that night. Her initial hatred of him had been borne out of bitter disappointment. Nineteen year old Lizzy Bennet had secretly been longing to dance with him – and Elizabeth Bennet at four and twenty - what might she give for such a dance now?
The issue of Mr Yorke made her heart heavy too. She would have to lay it clear to him she would never accept his proposals. He had left by the time she and Georgiana had returned and Elizabeth wondered at it. Would a man who claimed to be as enamoured of her as he did really leave without waiting to check on her welfare? He had probably been more concerned his waistcoat might get wet. There was a smallness of character about Frederick Yorke she was only now beginning to see. Yes, he would have to be spoken to and she did not relish the prospect.
The two remaining gentlemen shared a curricle on the way home. Colonel Fitzwilliam surrendered the driving to Darcy and assisted by holding the umbrella rather futilely above their heads, for the rain poured in on them anyway. A servant drove the other curricle behind them.
“Whose ridiculous idea was this outing anyway?” Darcy asked curtly.
“I think it might have been mine.” His cousin answered.
“Remind me to beat you later.” Darcy looked askance at him. “May I ask your advice on something?”
The Colonel stared back at him, silently, for a long time until Darcy exclaimed. “What is it?”
“I don’t believe those words have ever left your mouth before. Is the great Fitzwilliam Darcy really asking another for advice?”
“It is a question about military tactics.”
“I see, go on.”
“Say there was something you wished to capture. A port, a field, a village, but there was another army, in a somewhat more advanced position than yours. What manoeuvres would you apply?”
“Well, there are several options. Distraction maybe, or retreat.”
“Retreat is impossible, the prize too valuable. What form might the distraction take?”
“A salvo of gunfire, the planting of a suggestion that there is more valuable treasure elsewhere.”
Darcy grunted. “It sounds complicated. What are my other options?”
“A full on attack. For this, of course you would need to be sure you have a sizeable battalion, a decent armoury. Damn it, Darcy, are we talking about Miss Bennet or not?”
A rueful grin was his answer. “Am I that obvious?”
“I confess I am such a blockhead I had not noticed it until today. You tied her hat on! How long have you been in love with her?”
“Since…I’m damned if I know…it feels like forever.” It felt such a relief to admit it to someone.
“Since Kent?”
Darcy nodded.
“Well why did you not propose to her then?”
Irrational as it was, Darcy had to fight the urge to throw his cousin off the curricle for uttering such a statement.
“Never mind, I will just say there were obstacles in Kent and there are obstacles now.”
“Is Mr Yorke the only obstacle now?”
“There are two. He is the first one.”
“What is the second?”
“That she does not really like me.”
Fitzwilliam began to laugh.
“This is why I do not normally speak of such matters. I bare my soul only to be laughed at.”
“I am sorry, Cousin. I do not laugh at you. There is just a little absurdity in the notion of you proposing to someone who does not like you.”
“Isn’t there, yes. I am absurd and foolish over her. I am well aware.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam slapped him on the back. “I will cheer you up. Did you happen to observe her and Mr Yorke during the conversation about dowries?”
“No, I was too busy cursing the day he was born.”
The Colonel laughed again. “In answer to your earlier question about tactics, I would recommend a period of observation and patience. She will not marry Frederick Yorke. He has been told by his father he must marry for money.”
“His estate is in trouble?”
“No, I don’t believe so, but the old man is greedy. His son is handsome and very eligible. He will settle for nothing but a favourable match.”
“But surely if Yorke loves her, he would defy his father and offer anyway?”
“Not everybody has your means and independence, Darcy. I know you are a man of action rather than reflection, but you must sit this one out. And, you know, I don’t think Miss Bennet really dislikes you.”
“You do not?”
“No. She looks at you only in mild irritation, not true disgust.”
Darcy frowned at him. “I really will beat you later.”
Eighteen
The next five days felt like a hundred to Elizabeth. They moved slowly, as if the hands of time were caked in suet. There was a morning when, kept indoors by the weather, she had watched the parlour maid polish the grate for a full hour. She had envied the girl’s occupation, wishing for something more industrious to do than needlework. She had briefly considered offering her help and getting down on her hands and knees with the blackener and might have actually done so if she did not think Mrs Mountford would heartily disapprove. She had too much energy and nothing to expel it on. She visited frequently at Milsom Street to see Georgiana but had not a sight of Mr Darcy. When she at last gathered up the courage to enquire after him, Georgiana told her he had gone away to visit friends just outside of Bath. Elizabeth wondered whether her face might have betrayed her dismay at this news because Georgiana hastily adde
d that he was expected back within a few days.
A further source of consternation was the silence and absence of Mr Yorke. She was desperate to talk to him and make her decision clear, to settle things. She hoped he would take the news well and his disappointment would not be too great. However, she was beginning to suspect his recent lack of attention meant he might not be as heartbroken as she had formerly expected. She went with Georgiana to the Pump Room, the library and the gardens without a single sight of him.
Then, he produced himself in the drawing room at Milsom Street, while she and Georgiana had been lounging around laughing at a particularly bad volume of poetry. They sprang to their feet and straightened their skirts when his name was announced. He entered, bowed and smiled at Georgiana and then turned to Elizabeth. “Miss Bennet, I had not expected to see you here.”
“I hope the surprise is not an unpleasant one, Mr Yorke?”
“Of course not.” He looked embarrassed, laughed and sat down awkwardly on the corner of a sofa.
There followed a quarter of an hour’s chatter of the most formal and banal variety. Refreshment was offered and refused. Elizabeth was mostly silent and inattentive. She sat hoping some circumstance might spirit Georgiana out of the room and wished she had taken her friend into her confidence to be able to arrange it so.
Mr Yorke asked after Miss Bingley.
“Oh, she has gone to call on an acquaintance on the other side of town.” Georgiana told him.
“Ah, I see.”
When he got up to leave, Elizabeth saw an opportunity. “I am leaving myself, Mr Yorke, might we walk part of the way together?”
“Oh, I fear I am going in quite the opposite direction to Laura Place, Miss Bennet. Good day ladies.” He was gone so quickly as to make them think he was afraid he might catch the pox from them.
“How odd,” Georgiana muttered as he went through the door.
The lack of liveliness in their lives was so pronounced that by Friday Mrs Mountford, in a fit of resolve to invigorate them, declared there really had not been enough dancing of late and so they were bound for the Upper Rooms. The Earl and Lady Fitzwilliam had begged off due to the Countess having a heavy cold. Georgiana and Miss Bingley were called for and the carriage bumped along carrying a great deal of lace, silk and jewellery - and four companions, all in very different spirits. Miss Bingley seemed ebullient but about what no one knew, or cared to ask. Mrs Mountford was thoughtful. Elizabeth was depressed at the thought of dancing with men who were not Mr Darcy and Georgiana was agitated. It was not until they had arrived and were securing their cloaks at the entranceway that the source of Georgiana’s anxiety could be relayed to Elizabeth in private, and she was pulled aside for the purpose.
“Do you remember my odd visit from Mr Yorke?”
“Of course.”
“Well, he came again yesterday, and today. Elizabeth, it pains me to say such a thing but as your friend, I feel I must tell you my fears.”
“Go on.”
“It was almost as if, well, he was paying me some attention. Why come so regularly if not?”
“You think he wishes to engage your affection?”
“Oh, is it wrong of me to say so?” Georgiana was wretched and Elizabeth caught and stroked her hand.
“Not if you think it is the truth.”
“But not a week ago he seemed so sincerely devoted to you. You will not hate me for it?”
“You have done nothing to wound me. The offence, if there is one, is his. Do you like Mr Yorke?”
“Well, that is the confusing thing. You see…”
Before Georgiana could say anything further they were interrupted by a lady of their acquaintance who greeted them, gave Elizabeth’s shoulder a pat and bestowed on her a look of great pity. “Men are such beasts are they not? You bear your disappointment bravely, my dear. If it were me, I would not step out of the house for a month for embarrassment.” With this she walked off leaving Elizabeth bemused – but she resolved to take what enjoyment she could from the evening and think no more of it. However, the further they went into the assembly, the more she heard of her ‘disappointment’. Whispers surrounded her. ‘Yorke has declared he never was attached, but of course it’s a lie’, ‘oh, I know, because we all saw how they were together’, ‘they walked all over town, always in each other’s company, and now he speaks of her as if she is nothing’, ‘she was waiting for his offer, poor thing, and now nothing will come of it’.
Being the object of so much pity and gossip was mortifying to Elizabeth and then there came the indignity of being faced with the gentleman himself, who saw her, looked through her, blushed and turned away without a word. The Miss Yorkes kept their distance also, but offered her brief apologetic nods. She had been very publicly cast off.
Georgiana and Caroline Bingley were almost immediately asked to dance. Her rejection by Mr Yorke appeared to have tainted her somewhat and she was forced to sit out the first two dances - not a fate she was accustomed to. Mrs Mountford circulated the room with ease, as she always did. Elizabeth might have joined her but she was not in the mood for conversation and was afraid she might be the recipient of yet more unwanted sympathy, so she kept to her chair. Georgiana returned between sets to declare she would not stand up again unless Elizabeth was intending to. Elizabeth encouraged her back to her partner, assuring her all was well. Her new and dear friend was grieved for her which made Elizabeth’s misery even worse.
Mrs Mountford came back to sit beside her. “Would you like me to take you home?”
Elizabeth straightened her back, “certainly not.”
“Quite right, do not give him the satisfaction of having scared you off.”
Elizabeth sighed. “You may now tell me you told me so.”
A chuckle escaped Mrs Mountford. “Remind me of what it was I told you.”
“That I ought to be more careful when encouraging and accepting his attentions, because as you guessed correctly, I had no notion of marrying him. I had not imagined this end, but nothing good was ever to come of my toying with him. You may go off and talk with your friends. I shall remain here and accept my punishment.”
“This is about your supposed poverty, Elizabeth. Maybe I should settle a dowry on you. He has not withdrawn from you because of any lack of admiration. Even now, he secretly looks your way. If you wanted him back, he might be yours still.”
“No, madam, I do not wish for a dowry. You have been far kinder to me than I deserve already. I just so hate that everything is dictated by the question of money.”
“Tis the way of the world, except in those cases where there is plenty of it to go around. Then everyone may fall in love with impunity, just as they please.”
Mrs Mountford did return to her acquaintance after a while, leaving Elizabeth very much the wall decoration and growing increasingly conscious of her solitary state and the curious looks of those who passed her. She was becoming very low as she remained there and was starting to consider changing her mind about Mrs Mountford’s offer to take her home, when her rescue came in the most surprising form; a familiar, and now most beloved, form. He walked towards her with a firm and determined tread and bowed. He took her hand from her lap, brought her to her feet and took her to the set. Not just to the set in fact, but the front of it, without saying a word.
“What on earth are you doing here?”
Darcy’s brow furrowed. “Dancing, it would seem.”
She laughed. “I’m sorry, that was rude. I meant I did not know you were even returned to Bath.”
“I arrived just after you had collected Georgiana. I decided very much on a whim to join you.”
Their hands touched in the dance, a quick clasp. Elizabeth’s heart hammered so loudly in her chest that she was sure he would hear it. They were separated briefly by the movements and then returned. Another quick clasp was required and she wished for a thousand more of them. “You ought to be careful, Mr Darcy, I wouldn’t want to sully your impeccable reputation.
I find myself the subject of gossip tonight.”
“I have heard it. Gossip is a transient, ephemeral thing, Miss Bennet. One subject may be forsaken for another quite easily. I have always tried to avoid being the object of it myself, but tonight I see the benefit of perhaps creating some. I very rarely dance. I intend to dance twice with you. The second being the supper dance. Do you think that might suffice?”
He was a dear, dear man. How had she ever thought badly of him? She cocked her head to the side. “Hmm, I am not sure. If you wanted to keep tongues truly busy, perhaps you ought help me on with my cloak and maybe kiss my hand when you bid me goodnight.”
It was brazen, forward of her and she saw his jaw twitch and feared that while he had meant merely to be gallant, she had positively flirted in return. She cursed herself, she was not good at flirting – teasing, contradicting, provoking people on the other hand she excelled at!
He was silent for a good long while before quietly replying, “gladly”.
She smiled at the floor, embarrassed. “Do you know, Mr Darcy, I once promised never to dance with you, and now I have done so, not once, but twice.”
“Did you really hate me so much?”
Her head shot up again and she gave him a grave look. “I’m afraid I did. I quite delighted in despising you. You were such a great outlet for all my general annoyances. In fact, it is very inconvenient to not be able to hate you anymore. You make yourself far too agreeable these days, Mr Darcy.”
He looked a little relieved to have her tease him again, it felt like safer, more familiar ground. “I beg your pardon, Miss Bennet. Is there a way in which I might make amends? Some way I might offend you? I am your humble servant, willing to outrage you at a moments’ notice. I could perhaps stand around silently in the corner and ignore you for a full half hour? Oh, you see now I regret asking you to dance, you would have much preferred it if I had slighted you.”
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