‘Oh, Jane! You are too good. A little too often? It will be terrible! You must be firm. You must tell Mamma that once a week is enough.’
‘I fear she will not listen. Mamma has a habit of only hearing what she wishes to hear,’ said Jane. ‘Mr Bingley thinks he would like to look for a house further afield after Christmas. I think it will be a good idea but I will only countenance it if you come and stay with us, Lizzy. I cannot bear to be parted from you for long.’
‘You will have new pleasures when you are married, and new responsibilities,’ said Lizzy.
She and Jane hugged each other, for they both knew it to be true. Life was changing, and although Jane was deliriously happy to be marrying Mr Bingley, she was also sad to know that her life with Lizzy could never be the same.
‘I only hope you can be as happy as I am, Lizzy,’ said Jane.
‘Alas, there is no hope of that after Lydia’s escapade,’ said Elizabeth sorrowfully. But then she roused herself. She made a determined attempt to be cheerful and managed a joke, for Jane’s sake. ‘If I am lucky, perhaps another Mr Collins might come along in time and ask me to be his wife.’
‘Do not even joke about such a thing,’ said Jane. ‘I am sure Mr Darcy will not mind about Lydia.’
‘Not mind? Oh, Jane, only you could be so good as to think he will not mind,’ said Elizabeth in a resigned tone of voice. ‘Lydia has disgraced us all.’
‘But Lydia has been sent home,’ said Jane. ‘My uncle Gardiner is accompanying her on the journey and he will make sure she can get up to no more mischief. She can do no more harm.’
‘The harm has already been done,’ said Elizabeth sorrowfully.
‘But Mr Darcy protected Lydia, as he protected our family name,’ Jane pointed out. ‘His quick thinking enabled us to say that Lydia had become lost and that any rumours of her eloping with Mr Wickham were nothing more than idle gossip. He would surely not have protected her – and us – if he were truly disgusted.’
‘Yes, Jane, he would,’ said Elizabeth. ‘He did not do it to protect us especially, he did it because he is a gentleman.’
As she said the words, she had a sudden vivid memory of a bright evening in April, when Mr Darcy had stormed into the parsonage at Hunsford and asked her to marry him. She remembered saying that he was not a gentleman and she bit her lip as she wished she could recall those words, for Mr Darcy had proved himself every inch a gentleman over the last few days; first by rescuing Lydia and then by protecting her reputation.
‘You will see, I am right,’ said Jane. ‘It will not make any difference to him.’
‘It has made a difference,’ said Elizabeth sadly. ‘He has not been to see us since that day.’
‘He has most likely been busy,’ said Jane sweetly. ‘Do not forget, his sister is here and he has to escort her to various activities. There are a number of entertainments being laid on for young people of her age. He has to be polite to his other relatives as well. He is staying with his aunt, Lady Fitzwilliam, and she might have things she wishes him to do. He is also no doubt anxious to spend some time with his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, since he might soon be going into battle.’
‘You are right, there are many calls on his time. But if he did not care about Lydia, then he would have found time to visit, even if only for a quarter of an hour.’
Jane opened her mouth to speak again but Elizabeth silenced her gently.
‘Do not fret, Jane,’ she said. ‘I do not want to spoil your pleasure in the ball, and I do not want to spoil Mary and Kitty’s pleasure either. Especially not Mary’s.’
‘No,’ said Jane. ‘You are right. We must not spoil things for our sisters. Who would have thought that Mary would fall in love? I am glad. I have often worried about Mary. She did not seem to have a special friend in the household. You and I have each other. Kitty and Lydia have each other. But Mary has no one. And yet now, she has met someone. I like him. He is serious enough to please Mary’s serious nature and yet he is light hearted enough to encourage her to enjoy herself as well.’
‘Has she decided what to wear for the ball?’
‘She is still uncertain. I believe we should help her, for she cannot decide between the blue muslin or the white silk.’
Elizabeth and Jane went along the corridor to their sister’s room. Kitty was there with Mary, and they spent the afternoon deciding on all the smallest details of their outfits for the ball.
Elizabeth joined in with the discussion. But privately she thought it did not signify what she wore since the one man she wanted to please was the one man who had now gone beyond her reach, for Lydia’s foolishness had surely parted them for ever.
Mr Darcy’s time was spent much as Jane had suggested. He had been about to call on Elizabeth on the afternoon of the ball but he had been delayed by his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had given him grave news. There had been a skirmish at Quatre Bras. The French had been driven off – almost two thousand of them – but they would come again.
‘I know you were intending to stay a while, Darcy, but I think you should leave tomorrow,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam. ‘Events are moving quickly and we could soon be in the middle of a full scale battle. I would feel better if Georgiana was safely back in England, and you too.’
Mr Darcy nodded. His cousin had kept him well informed about military matters and he knew that Napoleon had left Paris some days before. Events were indeed moving quickly but he did not want to alarm Georgiana. She was too young to attend the Duchess of Richmond’s ball and so she was spending the evening with her Fitzwilliam cousins.
Mr Darcy spoke to her maid and her companion, telling them to begin packing her things.
‘Say nothing to Miss Georgiana,’ he instructed them. ‘But I want to be ready to leave tomorrow.’
‘It would be as well to advise the Bennets to leave tomorrow as well. Say nothing tonight. Let them enjoy the ball. But go and see them in the morning and advise them to leave as soon as they reasonably can.’
Mr Darcy agreed. He trusted his cousin and knew that Colonel Fitzwilliam would not give such advice unless it was necessary.
He had one night to enjoy with Elizabeth and then they would be on their way, back to England, where Mr Bingley would not be the only one speaking to Mr Bennet, for Mr Darcy intended to speak to him too, and ask for Elizabeth’s hand in marriage.
At last the time came for Elizabeth to go to the ball. It was the 15th June and almost the longest day, when dark did not fall until after ten o’clock. So it was that the Bennets drove to the Duke's house in the Rue de la Blanchisserie in the daylight. The house was a magnificent sight and Elizabeth felt the stirrings of excitement as she went inside, for who could fail to be excited at such an event? All the most notable people of the age were there, including the Prince of Orange, the Duke of Brunswick and the Duke of Wellington, who was the commander of the British army.
There had been talk of war ever since they had arrived in Brussels but fortunately it had so far come to nothing. Despite this, Elizabeth was glad their time in Brussels was coming to an end, for war now seemed certain.
She had enjoyed her time on the Continent – indeed, there were moments she would never forget – but now she was ready to go home. It would not be on the morrow, since the ball would go on until the early hours of the morning, but on the day after that they would pack their things and then they would start on the journey homeward.
There was a lot to look forward to, she told herself. There was Jane’s wedding and possible Mary’s wedding, too. And in time perhaps she herself would be an aunt. Yes, there was plenty to look forward to and she would not allow herself to be cast down. She had a resilient temperament and she meant to make the most of what she had, instead of pining for what she could never have.
The ballroom was on the ground floor. It was a magnificent apartment decorated with rose trellis wallpaper and lit by marvellous chandeliers, for although it was still light outside, inside the daylight was not strong eno
ugh to forego the light of candles.
Jane’s hand was sought by Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mary danced with Mr Manningham. Kitty was partnered by an elderly general, but there were several young officers on her dance card and so she did not mind being polite in the meantime.
Elizabeth was the only sister not dancing.
All at once she felt conspicuous. Her aunt was talking to Mrs Stacey and Elizabeth felt exposed. To make matters worse, the ladies next to her saw her lone condition and started gossiping about her.
Some of their words reached her ears.
‘. . . sister a flirt . . . allowed to run around unchaperoned . . . only sixteen . . . ran away with one of the officers . . . ’
Just as Elizabeth felt herself blushing a fiery red she heard a cool masculine voice saying, ‘Really, Mrs Summers, you should know better than to listen to gossip.’
It was Mr Darcy.
Elizabeth turned to face the direction of his voice and her heart skipped a beat. He was everything she wanted in a man. He was tall and handsome, with waving dark hair and velvety brown eyes. He looked immaculate in his black tailcoat and cream breeches, and his snowy white cravat showed up against the light tan of his skin. The gold signet ring on his little finger caught the light, as did the diamond in his tie pin. He had an air of command about him and yet there was something softer there, too; an inner warmth that belied his cool exterior. He let very few people see that side of him, but he had allowed Elizabeth to see it.
‘Mr Darcy!’ said Mrs and the three Miss Summers in unison.
‘I can assure you it is not gossip,’ said Mrs Summers.
‘And I can assure you it is,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘I found Miss Lydia myself, when she had become separated from her friends and found that she was lost. She did not elope with anyone, least of all Mr Wickham. On the contrary, she has returned to England with her Uncle, whose business did not allow him to stay in Brussels any longer. Being the youngest of the Bennet sisters, it is natural she would not like being away from home for as long as her older sisters and it was always the plan she would return to England before the rest of her family. As I know you are above malicious gossip I am sure you will contradict the story if you hear it being circulated.’
‘Oh, yes, of course,’ said Mrs Summers, flustered. Then, seizing the moment, she said, ‘Do you intend to dance, Mr Darcy?’
‘Yes. Indeed I do,’ he said.
The three Miss Summers fluttered their fans and looked conscious, but instead of asking one of them to dance he said, ‘I am engaged to dance with Miss Elizabeth Bennet.’
Then he bowed politely and walked away.
Elizabeth could not believe it! Not only had he protected Lydia’s reputation yet again, he had said he intended to dance with her. Did it mean . . .?Could it mean . . . ?
And then he was standing before her.
‘Well, Miss Elizabeth,’ he said, with a warm smile which spread up to his eyes and made them glow, ‘will you dance with me?’
‘Yes,’ she said, overcome with happiness. ‘With the greatest of pleasure. I will.’
He offered her his arm. She placed her hand upon it and felt a sense of connection with him which made her tingle from head to toe. Then she held her head high as he led her out on to the floor.
Elizabeth had eyes only for him. The world disappeared as they danced together, the music and the stately steps mesmerising them and making them feel as if they were in a dream.
When the music stopped, Mr Darcy asked her for the next dance and again they were lost in each other as they danced.
Reality at last intruded. They could not dance more than two dances together, for it would be considered scandalous, and so reluctantly they parted, but not before Mr Darcy had asked if he might take Elizabeth into supper and been told that she would be delighted.
‘I see that Mr Darcy has not been put off by Lydia’s escapade,’ said Mrs Gardiner, coming up to Elizabeth.
‘No,’ said Elizabeth, her eyes shining.
‘I am looking forward to seeing Pemberley again. It is years since I have seen it. I hope you remember to invite me,’ said her aunt with a knowing smile.
Elizabeth was flustered.
‘You are going too fast. Nothing is certain,’ she began.
‘No. I know. And so I will not tease you. But I like your Mr Darcy, Elizabeth. You and Jane will be very happy women – and I rather think Mary will be happy as well.’
Elizabeth looked towards Mary, who was in her own blissful cloud as she danced with Mr Manningham.
It seemed that this night was a perfect night for everyone.
Unless . . . Suddenly she felt a chill. There was something different about the ballroom. The mood of enjoyment had subtly shifted. And surely there were fewer people there than there had been a short while before?
Her aunt returned her glance.
‘Yes. I feel it too,’ she said. ‘Something has changed. I must find Mr Stacey and ask him what has happened.’
Elizabeth nodded.
‘I will wait for you here,’ she said.
Mr Darcy was in the card room with his cousin approached him.
‘Darcy, a word,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Mr Darcy could tell by his tone of voice that something was wrong.
‘Things have moved more quickly than we anticipated,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam in a low voice, as the two men retreated to the corner of the room. ‘The French are advancing. The Prince of Orange has already left the ball and at this minute he is on his way to his field headquarters. Wellington will be leaving shortly and soon the ballroom will be empty as the rest of the officers follow their lead. War is upon us.’
‘This is grim news,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘Will the city be safe?’
Colonel Fitzwilliam hesitated.
‘Thank you. That tells me all I need to know,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘When are you leaving?’
‘In about a quarter of an hour,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam. ‘Wellington does not want us to leave all at once. It will be too obvious. He is concerned for morale. He does not want a panic. He wants a gradual removal.’
‘Then I will come with you.’
‘No,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam with a firm shake of the head. ‘You are not a soldier.’
‘But I am a gentleman, and as such I was taught to use a sword, fire a pistol and ride a horse,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘I will not put myself in unnecessary danger but I will go where you go and lend my strength if it is needed.’
‘No,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam again. ‘You must survive. Pemberley needs you.’
‘If Napoleon reaches Brussels, then no one will survive and Pemberley will lack a master just the same. I am determined to come with you. I must protect those I love and this is the best way. I must make sure the city remains safe so that the people within its walls are safe. I cannot bear to think of anything happening to them.’
His voice shook with emotion as he spoke. His hands clenched and unclenched by his side.
‘Very well,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam. ‘In truth, we can use every man we can get. Napoleon is a formidable general. He has crushed Europe under the boot of his heel once before and he can do so again. Stay close to me and do not take unnecessary risks.’
Mr Darcy nodded.
‘And now I suggest you make your farewells. It may be your last chance.’
Mr Darcy bowed and went out of the card room and into the ballroom. Already the numbers were thinning. Most people had not noticed what was happening, but as he approached Elizabeth he could see that she had been observant and knew something was wrong.
‘What is it?’ she asked him. ‘Please tell me the truth.’
He told her, and she shivered.
‘You are cold,’ he said solicitously, helping her to pull her shawl around her shoulders, for it had slipped down into the crook of her arm.
‘I am afraid,’ she said.
He lifted his hand and brushed her cheek with the back of it.
S
uch a gesture would be unthinkable in normal circumstances but the normal rules of etiquette were breaking down all around them as sons took leave of their mothers and husbands took leave of their wives.
‘I have to go,’ he said.
‘Where?’ she asked.
And then he saw the dawning of understanding cross her face.
‘You are going to fight,’ she said. ‘No! You cannot!’
‘I must,’ he said. ‘The city must hold and every able bodied man is needed.’
‘But not you!’ she said, her voice catching in her throat.
‘Yes, my love, even me,’ he said gently.
He extricated himself from her grasp and turned away but at the last moment he turned back.
‘Here,’ he said.
He took the signet ring from his little finger. He lifted her right hand, palm upwards, and placed the signet ring in it, then he closed her fingers around it.
‘Something to remember me by, in case . . .’
‘I could never forget you,’ she said in a low throbbing voice. ‘Not if the stars burned cold and the seas ran dry. And there is no “in case”. You must come back to me.’
‘I will,’ he said.
He placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed her on the forehead.
‘God bless you and keep you safe, Lizzy,’ he said.
Then he turned on his heel and followed his cousin out of the ballroom.
Chapter Thirteen
Elizabeth went home and cried herself to sleep. The ball had been the best and the worst night of her life. She had found Mr Darcy again and lost him all in one evening. The remainder of the ball had passed like a nightmare. Everywhere people had been taking leave of their loved ones, wondering if they would ever see them again. The full horror of war was brought home to her, as it had not been in Hertfordshire, where she and her family had been protected from the conflict, safe in England’s green fields and sunny pastures. But now she had to face it and she wished – how she wished – they had all gone home with Lydia. But wishing such a thing was futile and so, once the dark night was over, she wasted no more time on it. She rose and refreshed herself with a cool bath, having not slept the night before and so not being refreshed through sleep. Then she dressed in a plain muslin gown and arranged her hair in a simple chignon. She hung Mr Darcy’s ring on a gold chain and fastened it round her neck, tucking it into her dress so that it did not show. Then she examined herself to make sure she was tidy.
Darcy and Elizabeth What If? Collection 3 Page 27
