A Quest for Mr Darcy

by Cassandra Grafton

  With a scowl, Latimer turned to his daughter. ‘Eleanor, you must insist upon Mr Darcy rescinding his commitment.’

  For the first time, Darcy saw emotion cross the lady’s face. ‘Papa, I shall not! As Mr Darcy has told you, he is to open the ball with Miss Elizabeth Bennet.’ She paused. ‘Besides, I too am engaged for the first.’

  Latimer stared at his daughter, speechless for a moment. Then, he spluttered: ‘How so? With whom?’

  ‘Why, with Colonel Fitzwilliam, of course,’ the lady replied with composure, before turning her back upon her father and crossing the room to re-join her mother.

  Darcy looked to his cousin in surprise, but he was making a hasty bow towards Latimer.

  Glaring from one gentleman to the other, Latimer turned on his heel to follow his daughter, and Darcy glanced at his cousin. ‘So—when did you...?’

  The colonel shrugged. ‘Not sure I did, old man.’ Then, he grinned. ‘But if the lady says it is so, then so be it!’

  With Mr Latimer joining them, Elizabeth excused herself from the other ladies and walked a little distance away. She had been surprised to find Eleanor Latimer more receptive than usual and had even been enjoying their tentative conversation, but upon returning from the summons by her father, it was clear the young lady’s spirits were affected, and she retreated to her mother’s side and spoke no further.

  Mr Bingley was coming down the stairs now, and Elizabeth followed his gaze and smiled. Jane had drawn his attention instantly.

  ‘Miss Elizabeth.’

  With a start, she looked around. Mr Darcy had joined her, and trying to ignore the tumbling of her insides as he met her gaze, she smiled, then walked around to stand on his other side.

  ‘You are healing already, sir.’ Elizabeth studied the mark upon his cheek; the skin appeared to be fusing neatly.

  Mr Darcy nodded, his gaze on the people milling around the entrance hall.

  ‘It will be all manner of colours by the morrow, but Mrs Reynolds’ tincture is an excellent method of muting a bruise in its early stages. She has had plenty of practise.’

  Elizabeth raised a brow. ‘It is a habit of yours then, to ride recklessly through overhanging trees?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not at all. But Mrs Reynolds was a master of concealment when I was young, that my mother might not be too alarmed at my escapades. Needless to say, the frequency of damage was oft enhanced during my cousin’s visits.’

  With a laugh, Elizabeth looked over to where the colonel stood; he had quickly engaged Bingley in conversation as soon as he reached the bottom of the stairs. ‘I can well believe it.’ Then, she frowned. Whatever the gentlemen were discussing, it had not brought the habitual smile to either of their faces; indeed, they looked uncharacteristically solemn.

  Before she could mull upon the cause, however, a footman appeared in the open doorway, and there was a general movement towards him, and Elizabeth took the arm offered to her by Mr Darcy, conscious of his strength through the fine fabric of his evening coat. A welcome waft of cool, evening air skimmed her cheeks as they made their way down the steps to the sweep of gravel where two elegant equipages stood.

  Mrs Latimer and her daughter took up a position beside the lowered step to their carriage, and Elizabeth and Darcy, followed by the colonel, walked over to join her sister and Mr Bingley beside the other.

  ‘Darcy! You will at least travel with us. Why crush five into one carriage when we have space in ours?’

  They all looked over to where Latimer stood, gesturing towards his conveyance.

  Because it is better company, Darcy muttered under his breath. ‘I thank you, Latimer, but as with all things, I prefer to follow my own choice.’

  The colonel clapped him on the shoulder. ‘I will take this hit for you, Darce.’ He spoke quietly. ‘But you owe me!’

  Striding over, the colonel took Mrs Latimer’s hand. ‘Allow me, ma’am.’

  He handed her into the carriage before turning to assist her daughter, then stood back so Latimer could step up ahead of him. The gentleman glared at him as he passed, but the colonel merely rolled his eyes, raised a hand to his cousin and entered the Latimers’ carriage, closing the door with a snap.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Froggatt Park, ancestral home of the Seymour family, was located on a steep rise, but a bright moon, lingering from the previous evening, aided the drivers in leading the carriages safely around the rising curves and bends.

  Conversation had been sporadic and though Jane and Mr Bingley had spoken a little, Elizabeth found it difficult to think of anything to say, with Mr Darcy sat opposite, his dark eyes upon her. She was unsure as to his expression, for the lighting within was low, but she was certain his air and countenance were more troubled than at ease.

  Unable to discern the cause, however, Elizabeth spent much of the short journey peering out of the window into the semi-darkness, eventually making out a hilly outcrop established with tall trees, then the glisten of water in the distance and a herd of fallow deer, which turned tail as they passed and raced off into the woods.

  The carriages passed under the arch of a gatehouse, winding their way up a further short hillside to the west front of the house. It was on at least as large a scale as Pemberley, but of Elizabethan style, its tall, turreted circular tower imposing yet beautiful, the ivy clinging to its walls turned all shades of red and gold by the season.

  Soon, they were inside, their outdoor garments handed to a servant, and a footman led them up along a raised hallway to a marble foyer where Sir Charles and Lady Araminta were receiving their guests.

  ‘Darcy! There you are!’ The gentleman beamed widely at them all before turning to look at Mr and Mrs Latimer. ‘Now, present me to these good people.’

  The introductions were swiftly made and everyone was welcomed with a pleasing warmth as they passed along the line. Looking around, Elizabeth’s eyes were assailed by a myriad of colours as gowns, elaborate headdresses and jewels passed to and fro before her.

  ‘We shall have fireworks later, Darcy!’ Sir Charles laughed. ‘We are determined to out-do our last attempt; make sure you and your party do not miss them!’

  Darcy caught his cousin’s eye. Neither of them had forgotten reports of the last time; nor, doubtless, had the hapless footman whose tailcoat had allegedly caught alight, much to everyone’s amusement but his own!

  Following the general crowd, the party from Pemberley eventually arrived in the elegantly appointed ballroom. It had a vast domed ceiling, extravagant plaster carvings on the pillars and floor-to-ceiling windows along one side, which reflected the many shimmering lamps and chandeliers. The iridescent fabrics and jostling feathers made a pretty spectacle as they made their way down the side of the room. The musicians could be heard tuning their instruments in the gallery above, and two jesters, elaborately dressed in appropriate costumes, were entertaining the guests as they waited on the ball’s opening number.

  As their party assembled neatly to one side of the room, Darcy glanced over at Elizabeth. She was in conversation with her sister. He could see Latimer and his wife watching the proceedings, whilst Miss Latimer had assumed her usual bored expression. He did not envy his cousin! Bingley, meanwhile, remained at Darcy’s side.

  His gaze roamed the room but he could not see the colonel, and soon he found himself drawn to watch Elizabeth again. She was adjusting the length of her gloves and laughing at something her sister had said, and he could not help but smile at the sound.

  ‘Well, this is a fine turn up!’ Colonel Fitzwilliam materialised by Darcy’s side, his laughing glance going from his cousin to Bingley, whose eye was avidly fixed upon Jane Bennet.

  ‘What is?’

  ‘I seem to have stumbled into a field of the veriest mooncalves!’ He smirked and clapped Darcy on the shoulder before walking over to speak to the Latimers, and Darcy looked at Bingley, who shrugged before turning his gaze back onto Jane.

  Darcy met his cousin’s amused eye acros
s the room. If it was so obvious to the world, then surely Elizabeth must understand his feelings for her? Looking over to where she stood, he realised she was watching him. He wished for nothing more than to be beside her, yet never had he approached an evening with a more troubled mind.

  Torn over what he concealed from her, the exquisite anticipation of spending the next half hour in her company had assumed vast proportions. It was as though he feared his whole future hinged upon the outcome of this dance, when, in reality, it was grounded in much more mysterious matters.

  A smartly dressed footman appeared before him, offering a silver tray of goblets, and Darcy selected two before stepping over to where Elizabeth stood.

  ‘Would you care for some wine?’

  ‘Thank you; yes.’ She accepted it from him and took a sip, and Darcy did likewise, letting the chilled liquid slide down his throat, easing the habitual constriction, which tended to rise when he struggled for words.

  There was a burst of laughter as the jester nearest to them comically performed a neat somersault, followed by a smattering of applause, and Elizabeth turned a smiling countenance to him.

  ‘Shall we be permitted to dance at any point, Mr Darcy, or will the guests be too inclined towards other entertainments?’

  He looked over to where a large circle had formed around both jesters now as they began a display of acrobatics. ‘I will own to some anxiety.’

  Elizabeth raised a brow. ‘Truly, sir?’ Then, she laughed. ‘I do not think you will be required to perform in such a manner yourself.’

  He shook his head, smiling. ‘No, and for that I am thankful. Performance of any sort is not my preference.’ He drew in a shallow breath, then met Elizabeth’s gaze. ‘Dancing is sufficient challenge.’

  ‘Yet I know you to be proficient.’

  ‘One can be proficient without enjoyment of the art itself.’

  ‘How singular. You are the second person to say as much in the past hour. Miss Latimer has just spoken as such with regard to her instrument and the pressure upon her to exhibit her talent.’ Elizabeth studied him thoughtfully for a moment. ‘Yet this is not the cause of your anxiety, is it, sir? Our one and only dance held no pleasure for you.’

  He half smiled. ‘Let us say my enjoyment of it did not quite match my expectations.’

  She looked contrite, and he wished he had not spoken so. ‘Forgive me, Mr Darcy. You know full well how mistaken my understanding was of your character.’

  Darcy shook his head again. ‘Our acquaintance has been governed by misunderstandings.’

  ‘Aye, that is has.’ She bit her lip, then smiled. ‘Though my mistaking you for a fox was perhaps the most unforeseen.’

  Darcy laughed, then turned around at a commotion behind them.

  ‘Come; come,’ Sir Charles bellowed as he finally led his wife into the ballroom. ‘Let the dancing begin!’ He beamed around at his assembled guests. ‘If you please, Araminta,’ he turned to bow extravagantly to his wife. ‘Will you do us the honour of leading?’

  Darcy looked up at the gallery as the musicians struck a chord, then turned back to Elizabeth. ‘Shall we?’

  He put their goblets on a nearby table and held out his hand. Elizabeth placed her hand in his, and he closed his fingers over it, wishing he would never have to let her go. It was impossible, despite the wearing of evening gloves, not to think of the feel of Elizabeth’s skin against his when he had held her hand earlier.

  The room began to arrange itself into some semblance of order as the jesters performed a final somersault and removed themselves from sight, and Darcy led Elizabeth to a position near the centre of the line.

  ‘Doubtless he feels that is his due.’ The colonel nudged Darcy’s arm as he passed behind him, inclining his head towards Latimer and his wife, who stood close to the head of the line, before leading Miss Latimer to take a place further away. Jane Bennet had joined her sister, and Darcy smiled at Bingley as he came to stand at his side.

  ‘It is a long time since Netherfield, is it not, Darcy?’ Bingley beamed across at the ladies, and Elizabeth threw Darcy a conscious look.

  As the first notes sounded, and their hosts performed a full pattern of the steps, as was their wont before their guests joined in, Bingley and Jane and the couples to Darcy’s other side indulged in conversation, and catching Elizabeth’s eye, her brow raised in question, he cleared his throat.

  ‘I believe we struggled to find topics of mutual approval the last time I had the pleasure of dancing with you, Miss Elizabeth.’

  ‘I am certain we shall find some common ground, even if it centres around Alice or Mrs Reynolds.’

  Darcy smiled, a little more at ease. ‘Yet I think it important to say I never talk of books in a ballroom.’

  To his delight, Elizabeth laughed. ‘Touché, Mr Darcy! Then we must avoid the subject at all costs!’

  Feeling a little awkward, he added, ‘I trust you will be in agreement that we should not speak of a certain mutual former acquaintance either.’

  ‘I have no intention of permitting him any purchase during our set, sir.’

  ‘There,’ he stepped forward to meet her as the guests were finally invited to join in the dance. ‘We have successfully placed our markers and both understand the topics to be avoided.’

  Elizabeth smiled as they moved forward again, this time to take each other’s hands, and he relished the moment as they turned about and returned to their original places.

  ‘And do you not feel, sir, that we comprehend each other better than we did when last we stood up for a set?’

  As they exchanged steps with Jane and Bingley, Darcy knew he could not deny it. They crossed behind each other, then turned to take hands again as the pattern of the dance changed direction. ‘I have tried to improve those aspects of my character which were so lacking. I remain a little unsure as to the level of my success.’

  Elizabeth turned her head to look at him as they stepped forward and then back.

  ‘You spoke in the stillroom of the avoidance of doubt, sir, did you not?’

  Turning away, Darcy met Elizabeth’s gaze again as they returned to the original line, then nodded.

  ‘Then let me speak openly.’ They stepped forward again and took hands, and as they turned about, she held his gaze, her colour high.

  ‘I like you, Mr Darcy; you have no need to seek my approbation for you already have it.’

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Darcy almost missed his step as they turned to take their places back in the line. Had he somehow succeeded in redeeming his character in Elizabeth’s eyes? A rush of relief consumed him, swiftly followed by a wish for it to be so much more, which he quickly stifled. This had to be sufficient for now, did it not?

  As though by mutual consent, a silence settled upon them as they continued the dance, but it held no awkwardness, and as the formation of the steps meant they performed a pattern with each neighbouring couple in turn, it was a moment before they were returned to each other’s company.

  A faint smile touched Elizabeth’s mouth as their eyes met, and Darcy returned it. It seemed he understood her correctly. Then, his expression sobered as reality took a firmer grip. If only they did not have the spectre of her younger sister rising between them, the uncertainty of what the morrow might bring.

  ‘You once told me, Mr Darcy, of your abhorrence of disguise.’ Elizabeth raised a brow as they stepped forward to exchange places.

  ‘I have little patience for it.’

  ‘Then in the spirit of openness, will you permit me to ask you a question?’

  Darcy almost laughed. If she only knew that which he most wished to ask her! He met her inquiring gaze, then smiled.

  ‘Is that your consent, sir?’

  He inclined his head.

  ‘Then that will have to be sufficient, and you must heretofore absolve me of any disrespect.’

  They crossed behind each other once more and then turned to take hands as the pattern of the dance changed d
irection.

  ‘I have always admired your ability to speak your mind.’

  Elizabeth laughed as they stepped forward and then back again. ‘You may make a virtue of it if you wish, sir. I shall raise no objection. Yet I know impertinence when I hear it, even from my own lips!’

  Turning away as they returned to the line, Darcy met her gaze again and nodded. ‘Then speak, Miss Elizabeth. Ask me what you will.’

  ‘What troubles you so this evening?’ She spoke firmly but quietly, that only he might hear her. ‘I do not believe it to be solely the person whose name we agreed not to mention. And do not pretend, or say ‘nothing of consequence’, for that will be disguise of the highest sort.’

  What on earth could he say? The ballroom was no place to speak of those rising from the dead!

  ‘Mr Darcy? Is it so difficult?’ Elizabeth bit her lip. ‘Forgive me; I am thoughtless. Your business is your own, and I should not speak so.’

  ‘No – not at all! Please, Miss Elizabeth, do not feel badly. It is only that I am bound to secrecy. I hope very much to be able to shed its veil at the earliest opportunity, but for now, I cannot.’ He sighed. ‘It prevents me from speaking as openly as I would wish on more than one matter.’

  Elizabeth’s eye seemed drawn to Eleanor Latimer, a little further down the line.

  ‘No.’ Darcy spoke quietly, but as they were repeating the opening movement now and crossing the dance, she could surely hear him. ‘I know my sister spoke to you. That I have resolved. I have made it clear to Latimer I have no intentions towards his daughter.’

  Elizabeth raised a brow as she took her position again. ‘Something was said earlier, by Mrs Latimer. It did make me wonder…’

  As they crossed the dance once more, this time their hands clasped, he put some pressure upon hers and her gaze flew to his face. The tendrils of hope, so quick and easy to rise and then fall, were taking a firmer hold as they spun a web about his heart.

  ‘Do I have your trust, Miss Elizabeth?’

  They stepped around the other dancers before coming back together. ‘With my life; with all my family’s life.’