by P. O. Dixon
I must make more of an effort if I am to stand a chance of earning Elizabeth’s good opinion. Nothing else is more important.
Her soft voice beckoning his attention, Elizabeth said, “Mr. Darcy, you have not touched your tea. Is it not to your liking, sir?”
He had been holding his cup in the same position since Miss Bennet handed it to him. How long ago has it been?
Elizabeth stood and walked over to where Darcy sat. “Here, let me refresh that for you. Shall I add more sugar, perhaps?”
Brandy would be better.
He said nothing as Elizabeth took his cup. She handed it back to him when she was done. “I hope this is more to your liking, sir.”
The accidental touch of her hand against his sent a pulse of excitement through him. Their eyes met for an instant before Elizabeth lowered her eyelids. How he adored her lush lashes. The pleasure Darcy took in having been singled out by Elizabeth faded when she returned to her seat across the room from him and resumed her place in the conversation. Again, Darcy was left to his prior occupation—that of a dutiful observer.
More than an hour had passed. He and Bingley had exceeded the bounds of propriety in having stayed so long. By the sound of things, Mrs. Bennet was nowhere near ready for his friend’s leave taking. His muscles started to tense after sitting in one attitude for so long, and as much as he hated to admit it, the sound of Mrs. Bennet’s excessive fawning over his friend had begun to grate on his nerves.
Darcy counted the sound of the clock chiming on the mantelpiece as a blessing in disguise. Ready to leave, Darcy stood. “Bingley, if we are to keep our promise to Miss Bingley, we must now return to Netherfield.”
Mrs. Bennet placed her hand to her mouth. “Oh, but you cannot leave, Mr. Bingley. Why, I had hoped you would stay for dinner. You promised you would take a family dinner with us when you were last here. You must remember.”
Bingley stood and said, “Indeed, I remember, and I shall honour my promise. However, my friend Darcy is correct. My sister Caroline has invited folks for dinner at Netherfield.”
Mrs. Bennet said, “I insist you come for a family dinner tomorrow.” She peered at Darcy. “You are welcome to come as well, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy nodded whilst Bingley accepted the invitation on their behalf. The gentlemen then bowed and took their leave.
*
As soon as the gentlemen were gone, Mrs. Bennet made such an enormous fuss about Mr. Bingley’s having come and gone without declaring his intentions to poor Jane. Jane bore her mother’s tirade with equanimity. However, her mother’s outburst vexed Elizabeth, for she believed it would be only a matter of time. Mrs. Bennet soon headed off to speak to her husband and the others went on their way. Elizabeth wasted no time in telling her sister what she thought of Mr. Bingley’s intentions.
Jane said, “Oh, Lizzy, I beg you not to speak this way. I am sure Mr. Bingley was acting the part of a good neighbour in calling on our family after his long absence.”
“On the contrary, Jane, I think Mr. Bingley is as much in love with you as ever—hence, the reason for his return to Hertfordshire. Mark my words. A marriage proposal is forthcoming. I just know it.”
“Well, whatever the reason, I am glad he has come, and should he choose to stay in the country for a while, our every encounter will be easier. I suppose you must feel the same about Mr. Darcy’s return.”
“Mr. Bingley was as amiable as ever; therefore, I should always take immense pleasure in his company. However, Mr. Darcy seemed uncomfortable and ill at ease. Did you not notice the way he kept to himself and barely uttered a word to advance the conversation, even when spoken to directly? I begin to wonder why he even came here this afternoon.”
“Mr. Darcy has always been rather reserved,” said Jane. “I did not discern any difference in him. I was delighted he came, but then again, I have always admired Mr. Darcy. I could never think poorly of him, regardless of how taciturn he seems in company. I think he is merely shy and not as proud as you believe him to be.”
I imagine Jane would think differently towards Mr. Darcy if she knew of his hand in separating her from Bingley. She would not hear it from her. If Mr. Bingley did not choose to tell Jane of his friend’s interference, then Elizabeth certainly would not.
“Dearest Lizzy, as you are determined to think Mr. Bingley has returned to pay court to me, then I shall avow that Mr. Darcy has returned to court you. Perhaps there will be a renewal of his declaration.”
“No, you are wrong, my dearest Jane. I assure you that ship has long sailed.”
Jane reached out and touched Elizabeth’s hand. With a gentle squeeze, she said, “Are you quite certain?”
*
Later on, the Bennet family happily entertained Lt. Wickham and his friend Mr. Denny at dinner. Through the course of the evening, Elizabeth found herself the unfortunate recipient of the lieutenant’s admiration. Seated beside her, he was perfectly content to fall into conversation with her in the exact manner as when last they talked before she left for Kent. In no mood for dull, threadbare conversation, Elizabeth’s patience quickly faded. Should she be compelled to tolerate his presence, she aimed to render him equally discomforted.
“What a shame Miss King was invited to visit her uncle in Liverpool. This turn of events surely must have upset your prospects, Mr. Wickham.”
“Why, Miss Elizabeth, is this the reason I detect a chill in the air? I hope you did not take rumours of my attentiveness to Miss King to heart and perhaps consider it a sign of my defection. Nothing could be further from the truth.”
What a cool liar he is. Elizabeth clinched her fists so tightly, her nails dug into her hands.
How had she ever been silly enough to have believed a word he said? How on earth had she been so easily persuaded by this man to think meanly of Mr. Darcy? Charlotte had warned her not to appear foolish in the eyes of a man ten times Wickham’s consequence when chiding her for her preference for that scoundrel over Mr. Darcy. Oh, how she wished she had heeded her wise older friend’s words rather than scoffed at them. Then she would not be standing there pretending she did not know all she knew about Mr. Wickham’s shameful behaviour and his loathsome character.
Doing her best to keep up some semblance of civility to the man who was a guest in her father’s home, Elizabeth spoke through clinched teeth.
“What is the truth, sir?”
“The truth is we have always been such intimate friends. You believed in me first. For such kindness and consideration, I shall be forever in your debt.”
“You owe me nothing.”
“But you are wrong. I owe you a great deal and I always insist upon fulfilling my obligations.”
Does he think me a fool?
“I have heard talk your sister is in receipt of an invitation to Brighton by her good friend Mrs. Forster. I have also been given to know you are wary of the scheme.”
Filled with indignation, Elizabeth said, “Did my sister tell you that?”
“Oh, no. Your sister and I are hardly in each other’s confidence.”
“Then who told you, sir? Surely my sentiments on the matter are not generally known.”
“Actually, your father confided in me. He made mention of your reservations. He asked me to keep an eye out for your sister should he decide to accept the Forsters’ invitation on her behalf. I assured him I would be honoured to do so. Now I wish to assure you, as well. Miss Lydia shall suffer no harm should she be allowed to travel to Brighton. I shall look after her. You have my promise.”
Elizabeth turned away in order to temper her seething rage. How dare he mock her? The last thing Lydia needed was exposure to his wont of looking after unsuspecting young women. Better she should escape his notice altogether. Elizabeth kept her composure as she politely escaped Wickham’s presence. Angry, provoked, she determined she would stop at nothing to thwart her sister’s plans to join the Forsters. Nothing except betray her promise to Anne in keeping young Miss Darcy’s secret.
&
nbsp; Surely there is a way of exposing this vile man without exposing his ill-use of Miss Darcy. Her patience tested, her resolve heightened, Elizabeth vowed to find it.
Chapter 12
With her nose pressed against the window pane, Mrs. Bennet looked outside. Seconds later, she spun around, headed across the room and peered out another window.
“Where did Miss Lizzy run off to? She must know Mr. Bingley is here and he is eager to enjoy a leisurely walk with Jane.” Agitated, she turned to her eldest daughter. “Jane, you must walk with Mr. Bingley to Oakham Mount, and Lizzy is to accompany you all. Oh, where on earth is she?”
Mrs. Bennet turned to one of her younger daughters, who, disinterested in any of the goings-on in the room, held her head low whilst giving her needlework a great deal of attention. “Kitty, go outside and fetch your sister. I am sure she is lolling about out back. Tell her Mr. Bingley and his friend Mr. Darcy are here and they are waiting to walk to Oakham Mount with Jane and her.”
Lowering her needlework to rest on her lap, the young lady protested. “Oh, Mamma, must I? Cannot Jane fetch Lizzy instead?”
“Why, you ungrateful child! You know Jane must remain here and entertain her guest!” The perturbed matriarch placed her hands upon her hips and glowered at her daughter. “Is there any wonder the Forsters did not invite you to join them in Brighton?”
Her lower lip quivering, the young lady threw aside her stitching and hastened out of the room. Darcy had seen enough of his own young sister’s temperamental outbursts not to be alarmed, but still, Mrs. Bennet might have exercised a bit more tactfulness. The incident called to mind a similar circumstance when Mr. Bennet had embarrassed one of his daughters, the one named Mary, in front of a room full of diverted spectators at the Netherfield ball last November, owing to her lacklustre skills on the pianoforte. Having professed how she had practised all week for her exhibition at the ball, the poor girl fled the room in tears when her father unfeelingly advised her to give the other girls a chance to exhibit. Darcy had been appalled by Mr. Bennet’s lack of consideration. How Elizabeth had escaped the influence of an inattentive father and a witless mother confounded him. If only he had not made such a mess of his proposal to Elizabeth, she might be well on her way to being free of the unpleasant realities of her mediocre life at Longbourn.
“I will go outside and discover Miss Elizabeth’s whereabouts.”
The sound of Darcy’s voice sent Mrs. Bennet whirling around. Startled, she said, “Oh, Mr. Darcy, I do not wish to be an imposition to you.”
Imposition? Darcy could not wait to escape the room. He wanted nothing more than time alone with Elizabeth. This scheme afforded every possible advantage. Darcy stood. “No, madam, I insist.”
Once outside in the fresh air, Darcy followed the path recommended by Jane. As soon as he rounded the corner of the stable, he espied her perched on a rope tree swing suspended from a thick branch of a mighty oak, twirling around at leisure. How youthful and calm she appeared. For a moment, he watched the love of his life in blissful silence. What a sharp departure from the frenzied pace inside the manor house. He was directly before her when she opened her eyes.
She immediately stood. “Mr. Darcy!”
“Miss Elizabeth.” Darcy bowed. “Your sister said I might find you here.” Darcy held up his hand in apology. “Pray, I am not disturbing you?”
“No, sir, you merely startled me.” Elizabeth released the swing and folded her arms over her chest.
Now closer, he discerned anything but a calm demeanour. Gone was the spark he so adored. Her eyes were drawn and her demeanour listless—so different from the woman he had seen just the day before. She cast her eyes downward and started walking towards the house.
Darcy clasped his hands behind his back and walked along beside her. “Miss Elizabeth, if the purpose in your being out here alone is to avoid my presence, I trust you would tell me.”
“No, that is not the reason for my being here, sir. I often come out here when I want to gather my thoughts. This is my own little sanctuary. I find it such a soothing contrast to the mayhem inside the house.”
Elizabeth’s unwillingness to look at him when she spoke disquieted Darcy. “I cannot help thinking after the misfortune of our last meeting in Kent, you might find my continuing presence awkward.”
Elizabeth shook her head and said, “No, not at all. I understand you likely would not be here at all except you believe you are obliged to Mr. Bingley. I suppose you mean to offer moral support to your friend. I shall not fault you in that regard.”
“I would be disingenuous in allowing you to believe that supporting Bingley is the only reason for my being here.”
Elizabeth’s silence encouraged him to say more. “No—I feel it is my duty to entertain you whilst you are chaperoning the young lovers. Only now I feel I am being derelict in my responsibilities.”
“I am certain my mamma intends for me to be the one entertaining you, sir,” said Elizabeth with the tiniest hint of humour—the first he had recognised all day.
“Then we shall entertain each other.”
Darcy’s failed attempt at levity did nothing to disturb Elizabeth’s distant gaze. “Pray, is anything amiss, Miss Elizabeth?”
She finally looked at him. Something had changed since they last saw each other.
Elizabeth shrugged half-heartedly. “All is as well as is to be expected, Mr. Darcy—under the circumstances. Shall we go inside and collect Jane and Mr. Bingley?”
*
Elizabeth’s brooding walking companion’s sensibilities hardly concerned her. Even the sight of her dearest sister strolling arm in arm with Mr. Bingley just up ahead did not placate her. Her mind was far too busy grappling with a disturbing and vexing matter that had to do with her youngest sister, Lydia. Her father was giving serious consideration to allowing Lydia to travel to Brighton with the Forsters. What is he thinking? Does he not know what kind of temptations await the foolish young girl, especially given Mr. Wickham will be there? That scoundrel can say what he wants as regards his intentions towards Lydia. I am privy to the fool-hearted manner in which she carries on about him.
Mr. Darcy cleared his throat. “Come now, Miss Elizabeth, we have been walking along for nearly twenty minutes in silence. I insist we must have some conversation.”
How many times had she chastised him for the same thing? Playfulness threatened to pierce her pessimism. Elizabeth smiled apologetically. “Forgive me, Mr. Darcy, for being so taciturn and inattentive.”
“Your mind seems a thousand miles away. I know you well enough to surmise that something is terribly wrong. How can I do anything other than suppose your attitude has to do with my being here?”
“No, Mr. Darcy, I bear you no ill-will. You must believe me.”
“Then perhaps you might tell me what troubles you. You might benefit from talking about it.”
“Mr. Darcy, I am concerned about a matter pertaining to my family. As much as I respect you, I do not think it would be appropriate to discuss such personal affairs with an outsider.”
“I disagree. Talking about your worries with someone outside the family might help. Trust me, you will find me discreet and completely impartial.”
“I do not believe you would be objective in this case, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy stopped and took hold of Elizabeth’s arm. He placed his hand on her chin, lifted her head, and gazed into her eyes.
Elizabeth bit her lower lip. Take care my heart—else I might easily lose myself in his amazing blue eyes. It would not do.
Lowering his hands to his side, he called out to his friend who was several yards ahead of them by now. “Bingley, Miss Elizabeth and I will be along shortly.”
Bingley barely acknowledged his friend’s directive. Darcy took Elizabeth by the hand and led her to a downed tree along the path. He sat and beckoned her to sit beside him.
“You are making this sound very ominous, Miss Elizabeth. What are you trying so hard not to tell me?”<
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Elizabeth blew her breath in resignation. “Actually, Mr. Darcy, my conundrum has nothing to do with you and everything to do with a disagreement with my papa last evening. You see, sir, I have tried to counsel him against allowing my young sister Lydia to travel to Brighton with the Forsters when the militia decamps next week. He refuses to listen to me. I do not need to tell you what perils such a scheme entails for someone as lively as my youngest sister.”
Darcy brushed his hand over his face. Although his countenance was unreadable, his voice was stern. “Is George Wickham’s leaving as well what concerns you?”
Elizabeth was slightly taken aback. Does he think for one instant that Mr. Wickham’s comings and goings concern me?
Darcy softened his expression and said, “Are you afraid of the influence he might exert on Miss Lydia, Miss Elizabeth?”
Relieved he had not mistaken her intentions, Elizabeth gave Darcy an account of the events of the evening before at Longbourn when Mr. Wickham and his friend Mr. Denny had called upon them after he and Mr. Bingley took their leave. She said, “It was the first I had seen of him since my return from Kent. My parents’ regard for Lt. Wickham increased substantially during my time away. They were eager to have him join us. Even my father was disappointed when the gentleman finally took his leave.”
“Wickham has always been blessed with such happy manners. It is no wonder he has made such a favourable impression upon your father and your mother. You must not fault them.”
No—Elizabeth would not dare to be so hypocritical as to fault her parents or anyone else for succumbing to Mr. Wickham’s honeyed charms, but she did fault her father for dismissing her advice about the lack of wisdom in allowing Lydia to go traipsing off behind the militia.
She folded her hands in her lap. “My dismay has more to do with the fact that my papa seems to be yielding to my mamma’s persistent cries that Lydia must go to Brighton.”
