by Anne Morris
“Cousin Darcy has no intention of ever falling in love,” declared Lady Emma, but then she leaned over a little to catch her friend’s eye. “Don’t rile him up too much though, for we want him to escort us tomorrow and not invent some excuse not to come.”
They returned to happier topics, mostly due to Lady Emma’s lead, and Elizabeth was returned home.
It was later that night as she thought about her day, that Elizabeth considered her audacity to speak with such forwardness to such an illustrious man as Mr. Darcy.
***
Elizabeth received a note from Lady Emma at breakfast saying they were to shop. That was all it said.
“Aunt!” Elizabeth declared. “I cannot afford to shop with Lady Emma.” Her voice cracked as she passed the note over to Mrs. Gardiner.
“Do not give way to despair, Elizabeth. I am sure that you can shop without purchasing much or anything at all. I am sure Lady Emma only wishes for a companion for her day. And your father has been most kind about your allowance. Besides the one dress which Mrs. Eyers prompted you to purchase, you have not spent much besides getting new gloves and shoe roses.”
“That is true,” conceded Elizabeth, recognizing the practicality of her aunt’s arguments. “But I fear that where the aristocracy shops and where the gentry shops are quite different places.” That was a point on which Mrs. Gardiner agreed.
There was Mr. Darcy again in the Gardiner’s drawing-room. Their discussion had not chased him away; he had not invented an excuse but was to be their dutiful escort once again.
“I am afraid Maurice is still busy with his general,” said her friend.
Elizabeth blushed. She could not help the color on her cheeks as she suddenly thought about shopping with a gentleman of Mr. Darcy’s caliber. “I did not know we needed an escort for shopping,” remarked Elizabeth.
“We need an escort everywhere we go in London,” explained her friend. “Let us get started; we have a long day ahead of us.”
Her aunt’s advice was sound. There was a lot which Lady Emma wished to purchase, but which Elizabeth did not need. Emma was perfectly happy to let Elizabeth express an opinion, yet go without purchase. Gloves did soil quickly, and Elizabeth needed to purchase a new pair.
But she could not help the deep color on her face when Emma exclaimed about stockings, and Mr. Darcy stood looking bored a few feet away as he gazed out of the window at one shop. She wondered if this was what gentlemen did in London, escort ladies everywhere, even to shops where clerks pulled out and displayed such things as underclothes with a gentleman in the same room. Apparently, such a thing did occur. It would never occur in Meryton.
Elizabeth’s friend had two favorite modistes. At the first, Lady Emma tried on a number of gowns, though she insisted that Elizabeth try on a few as well. But there was nothing at Madame d’Amboise’s to temp the earl’s daughter. There was a deep blue silk one which Elizabeth liked, but Lady Emma passed over it.
“No one wears blue, it isn’t fashionable,” insisted her friend which caused Madame d’Amboise to frown. They moved on as there were not even sketches that tempted or inspired Emma either.
They went to Madame de Beaufou’s salon. This lady had a sharper eye for the current fashion and a preference for brighter colors, at least to Elizabeth’s eyes. Empty chairs were aplenty in the main lobby of the shop, and their rather silent escort took one and seemed to be involved in twirling his quizzing glass around his finger as his primary occupation at this stop.
Lady Emma declared she wanted color and stated she thought she looked good in red. A series of gowns were brought out from a deep red all the way to a dark yellow with many shades in between. They were in different styles and with various details. Emma looked through them holding them up one by one in front of her, making little comments, and soliciting Elizabeth’s opinion about the cut, or the style of the sleeve, or the color. Emma never turned to their male escort to ask his opinion.
Emma found three she liked. One red, one orange, and one a deep yellow that she wished to try on. She went into the back and then came back to parade in front of Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy.
“I think the red is not quite the right color for you,” said Mr. Darcy. He had never expressed any opinion the entire morning, so Elizabeth was surprised by his pronouncement.
“I am in agreement with you,” admitted that forthright young woman, an earl’s daughter who never withheld her opinion. “I think Elizabeth needs to try it on.”
“I am in agreement with you,” nodded Mr. Darcy.
“Come Elizabeth…you need to try the dress on,” Lady Emma had this whisper that was so conspiratorial that Elizabeth was sure that Emma, Mr. Darcy, the modiste, and all of London must be in on getting her to wear a red dress which Elizabeth would never have considered.
“I don’t think I look good in red,” protested Elizabeth.
“Nonsense! With your dark hair and eyes, you’d look lovely. Besides, I want to try the orange one on; I think it would look better on me.” Emma had light brown hair and light brown eyes; the red had been too intense with her coloring. “Come into the back,” she called.
Elizabeth was tugged behind a curtain. She gave up protesting as it was a lovely dress. It was the most unusual color, not a deep wine, the sort of shade you imagine or see in your head when considering a red dress, but a scarlet, though even that failed to describe its hue.
Elizabeth dutifully tried on the dress. It would need modification, the bosom was a little big, so it drooped a little where it had fit her friend better, but she looked at herself in the mirror and had to agree that Mr. Darcy and Emma were correct, with her dark hair and eyes, red was an excellent color for her. The orange was a better choice for her friend.
“I wanted something which would catch everyone’s eye in a room filled with white debutante dresses,” explained Emma as they finished dressing behind the curtain. “I wanted color, but I think we look like we’re on fire!”
Elizabeth agreed that they would both certainly stand out.
“Oh! Let’s show Darcy,” continued Lady Emma. After the last pin was in place, Emma pulled aside the curtain and went out to their quiz-glass twirling companion. “Darcy? What do you think? Don’t you think we rather look like fire—flames—red and orange, next to each other? We should wear these dresses on the same night! No one, man or woman, will be able to keep their eyes off of us!” Emma twirled in front of her cousin.
That quizzing-glass faltered in its trajectory as Darcy looked at the pair of them, scarlet and coral. He stood, after all, Darcy was a gentleman, and there were ladies standing in front of him.
“I think the color is exactly right for both Miss Bennet and you.” Darcy looked from Elizabeth to Lady Emma and then back again to Elizabeth. “I think, Emma, that you are correct that red is a magnificent color for Miss Bennet. Particularly that red. It reminds me, somehow, of the intrinsic red in a sunset. It is fleeting and yet beautiful.”
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth to him. “That is a lovely sentiment.”
“My pleasure, Miss Bennet,” he bowed.
“You must get the dress!” exclaimed her friend who clasped her arm rather forcefully. “We shall be such a pair!”
Both dresses were ordered.
Elizabeth thought that their day had been long enough and that she would be returned to Gracechurch Street, but Emma demanded a meal then. Mr. Darcy, still mostly silent, complied. They dined, but then it was time to ride in the park. Elizabeth could not help wondering that people had the energy to shop all day and eat and ride in the park, and yet Lady Emma talked about a party she was to attend that evening. Elizabeth felt in need of exercise, not in need of entertainment.
She could not help but ponder the company she was now keeping as they drove among the other fashionable people out looking to see and be seen in the park. Lady Emma and Mr. Darcy were both well-known and nodded to many and were hailed by a handful. Emma did the majority of the talking when they sto
pped to speak to an acquaintance, but Elizabeth could not help but consider, when she listened to Mr. Darcy, that his manners were equal to his cousin’s. He did not have as much to say as the colonel, but he was an intelligent man. His was a handsome face, but it was even more pleasing when he smiled. But Mr. Darcy does not smile nearly enough, Elizabeth thought as she sat next to him in the carriage.
She was finally returned to Gracechurch Street to discuss her day. It proved to be too late in the afternoon for her to seek exercise, and Elizabeth had to resort to pacing the drawing-room and running after her little cousins in play.
CHAPTER NINE
Captain Hale came to call the following day, and he took Elizabeth for a drive. His conversation was not on a par with those gentlemen cousins who had become her standard of measurement, though he was pleasant enough. It was as Elizabeth was considering that pair that she noticed both gentlemen on horseback. They hailed the captain in order to speak to both him and Miss Bennet.
“Are you to attend Lady La Foret’s tonight?” Mr. Darcy asked her unexpectedly.
Elizabeth replied that she was not; she had not received an invitation.
Mr. Darcy seemed surprised to hear that. “Surely you are to attend the soiree at Faceby’s?” asked Colonel Fitzwilliam then. Elizabeth had to inform him that she had not received an invitation to that event either.
“My chaperone, Mrs. Eyers, has introduced me to a wide circle of acquaintance. You and I met, Colonel Fitzwilliam, at the Keysham’s ball, did we not? But I fear Mrs. Eyers does not know every person in London,” was her reply.
Elizabeth thought she saw an amused look on Mr. Darcy’s face at her remark.
***
An invitation came for the card party at Lady La Foret’s house. It was delivered by the hostess’ footman. Elizabeth wondered if one of those two cousins had engineered her receiving it. She consulted with her aunt. The invitation included the Gardiners, but Mrs. Gardiner did not feel her husband could get away from work given how early the party began, but Mrs. Gardiner also consulted her friend. Mrs. Eyers had received an invitation, so it was determined that Mrs. Eyers and Elizabeth would go. Elizabeth’s thanks were sent back almost as quickly as the invitation was received.
She had attended card parties before, which were usually small affairs. This was something on the order of magnitude larger. Elizabeth was surprised by the number of people. It had all the earmarks of a crush, though it was a card party and not a ball. There were several dozen people, and many tables were laid out across many rooms. Perhaps she had underestimated how much these Londoners enjoyed playing cards, or perhaps how much they enjoyed the society of others.
Everyone there was a new acquaintance but for one or two familiar faces. The colonel had his mother at his side. Countess Langley was introduced to Mrs. Eyers. The Countess was polite, but Elizabeth noticed that she was a modicum less attentive than she had been when Elizabeth and the Gardiners had dined at Fitzwilliam House the week before. Elizabeth wondered if she had not found approval with the Countess.
There were a multitude of men and women there to whom she received introductions, but Elizabeth could not help but notice that she had a champion in Lady Emma who would not let any one person (man or woman), speak to Elizabeth for very long before Emma would direct the pair of them on to another group of people. Lady Emma only allowed her brother or cousin to remain by their side for any length of time.
Elizabeth strolled around the room with Emma waiting for the card tables to be announced. Her friend often had some comment about a young woman after they had walked on. “That was Lady Thelma, she wanted Maurice but had no money.” Or, “she was quite interested in Maurice but could never hold a conversation, and he demands an intelligent woman.” Or, “that one has been trailing after Cousin Darcy for two Seasons. I do not know why she doesn’t get the hint!”
When card tables were announced, Lady Emma insisted that Elizabeth sit with her brother. She looked around and found Maurice Fitzwilliam with her cousin, Darcy. “Now Miss Bennet was saying how much she is looking forward to playing cards with you, Maurice, so do make room at a table with her!” Emma spied a young man approaching and called over to her cousin. “You need to play too, Darcy. Do make up the fourth at the table!”
It was an enjoyable evening, just the four of them, an island in a larger sea of fashionable people.
***
The next morning, Elizabeth was called downstairs by a maid who said there were visitors. She expected the colonel or Lady Emma, but Elizabeth was surprised that it was Mr. Darcy.
“I thought we might go for a drive,” he suggested.
“I thought it was not a fashionable time to do so,” replied Elizabeth.
“It does not mean we cannot go,” countered Mr. Darcy, who shrugged his shoulders as if indifferent to going for a drive.
“Too true,” she said. “If I agree, do you think we might actually get out of the carriage and walk?”
“You want to get out and walk?” His interest was more focused then.
“Yes. I find there is no appropriate destination to walk to from Gracechurch Street, and I am fond of exercise. I have only been escorted hither and yon in carriages. I should like to walk,” Elizabeth explained.
“I believe we can arrange that,” Mr. Darcy answered. She won a smile from him then, which Elizabeth felt was a victory.
Mr. Darcy was his usual silent self as they drove, but she wanted to account for his coming to call on her. “Is the colonel unavailable this morning?” asked Elizabeth as she checked that her pelisse was buttoned.
“I do not know what Fitzwilliam is up to today,” was his reply.
“Is Lady Emma indisposed?” Elizabeth then asked.
“I have not heard from Emma this morning,” Darcy professed. Elizabeth could only determine then that he had come calling on her. There was a warmth, a little nestling sensation in her belly that Mr. Darcy had come calling on her without being prompted to by either of his cousins.
Once in the park, Darcy stopped the carriage, and the groom held the horses while he helped her down, before Mr. Darcy chose a pathway which he deemed appropriate.
“There really is no one around,” Elizabeth remarked as he seemed not inclined to speak.
“It is not the time to be at the Park, I suppose,” he said.
“You suppose? Are you not Mr. Darcy of an illustrious estate in Derbyshire?” she observed.
“Pemberley,” Darcy clarified.
“Pemberley,” Elizabeth repeated. “I think one of your cousins mentioned it, but I have forgotten the name.”
He grunted as if this was an extreme fault in her for forgetting the name of his estate.
“But I have been assured that you are a man of worth and consequence. And surely a man of worth and consequence should know when is the appropriate time to be in the Park?” teased Elizabeth.
Mr. Darcy made a noise, and she looked at him and realized that he was suppressing a laugh, but then he gave in to his laughter. “No, it is not now. If I cared about such things as being seen and gossiped about, I should have brought you this afternoon.”
“So you do know!” Elizabeth cried, her eyes lighting up.
“I suppose I do,” replied her companion.
“I appreciate you letting me seek some exercise,” said Elizabeth.
“You are most welcome Miss Bennet.” They strolled awhile without speaking, which was quite interesting. It occurred to her that most everywhere she went anymore was with Lady Emma, who talked so much that Elizabeth’s ears burned. It was a nice change of pace to have a companion who was quiet.
“Your family is from Hertfordshire,” Mr. Darcy finally said.
“Yes. Meryton is a small village. My father’s estate is small. I am sure it has been mentioned before,” she said without much enthusiasm. “Have you been to Hertfordshire? Oh! Well, I suppose you have, because of your cousin and your uncle?”
“Yes,” he replied. There was a little so
mething in his voice, a twist.
“I take it you do not like Hertfordshire?” Elizabeth prompted.
“Well, Miss Bennet, my father died quite suddenly there. Let us say I have mixed feelings about Hertfordshire,” Darcy answered.
“I am sorry to hear that,” she replied sincerely. Elizabeth reached over to place her free hand on top of his arm which she held. “I am. I should hate to think you have bad memories of it.”
Fitzwilliam Darcy looked over at the woman who had placed that hand in comfort on his arm, and he wondered what he was doing. One was supposed to take a lady to the park for a drive to be seen with her, all at the fashionable hours. It was permitted to get out and walk.
But Elizabeth had asked about his father, and somehow they had ventured onto the topic of his father’s passing which was something Darcy usually did not wish to speak about, nor did he think death was something a man discussed when he was wooing a woman. Then Darcy thought about that fact. That he was wooing a woman. He had come to her place of residence with no real purpose in mind other than to seek out her company. He admired Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
She was like no other young woman he had met. Elizabeth Bennet did not seek his attention with false words and flattery. She playfully argued with him. Miss Bennet had been told the name of his estate but had forgotten it; most women asked him endless questions about the size (and income) of his estate. The turning point for Darcy had been seeing just how beautiful her dark hair and eyes were highlighted when she stood before him in that red dress. It had struck him immobile, though it had not made him dumb for once. Normally, Darcy was not one for words and praise, but he had found himself praising her looks.
Darcy came back to the fact that he was discussing death and that it was not an appropriate topic if one was to woo a young lady, and yet she had asked about it.
“Tell me about your father,” Elizabeth Bennet prompted. Darcy began to mention all the business and charitable ventures his father had been involved in.
