by Meg Osborne
“Miss Elizabeth.” He bowed, recalling to mind his manners almost immediately and covering his surprise with a faint smile.
“Mr Darcy.” Elizabeth smiled back and Darcy was surprised to note how charming she looked that evening, how the deep green of her dress complimented her dark hair and made her features warm in the flickering candlelight. She glanced over her shoulder as if to assure herself that Darcy had observed what she had, before speaking of it. “It seems your cousin and my sister are already well acquainted!”
“Indeed,” Darcy replied.
“I think them a fine pair, for see how my sister Mary blossoms under his attention.”
This Darcy had not seen, for his eyes had been entirely for his cousin. Looking again he had to acknowledge that Elizabeth was right. Mary, who had always seemed pale and dull to him, on the rare occasion he had had cause to notice her at all, positively glowed as Colonel Fitzwilliam quizzed her on some matter of interest to them both. This stumped Darcy entirely. What could his cousin, Colonel of the regiment, possibly find to talk to Miss Mary Bennet about that made them both smile so freely? He shifted his position, awkwardly, envying his cousin his easy manner among strangers. Whilst Darcy might be the wealthier, the more handsome, the better educated and more elegant of the two, Richard Fitzwilliam had always been the more popular in company. He was better able to manage both his temper and his manners, and found it altogether easier to address strangers than Darcy ever had. It was the one thing he envied his cousin for. He thought back over their earlier conversations, recalling that not being considered worthy marriage material for Anne, Richard was free of a large measure of Lady Catherine’s interferences, and his frown darkened. Two things he envied his cousin. But two things, only.
“You do not seem pleased.” It was a statement, not a question, but Darcy felt compelled to answer her anyway.
“I am neither pleased nor displeased. My cousin is a free man, and he may speak to whomever he wishes.”
“Even if that is the middle daughter of a less-than-prestigious country family.” Elizabeth bristled under this implied slight, and Darcy hurried to counter it once more, not wishing to begin the evening with an argument, although unsure if he and Elizabeth Bennet would ever manage half an hour together without descending into disagreement.
“I did not say such a thing, Miss Elizabeth, I merely meant -”
“I know what you meant, Mr Darcy. You wear your opinions quite frankly on your features, so you need not worry yourself with explaining them.” Elizabeth smiled as she spoke, to suggest a joke, but there was a flash of anger in her dark eyes.
“Whereas, Miss Elizabeth, you hide your own behind a smile and good humour, so one can never feel himself entirely certain of your meaning.”
Elizabeth was taken aback, and Darcy felt a flicker of pride at the way her smile faltered for just a moment. He was about to speak again, when Caroline Bingley joined them.
“Well, this is a comfortable corner you have found for yourself, Mr Darcy. Miss Elizabeth, your two youngest sisters are as charming as ever!” She laid an emphasis on the word charming which plainly indicated she thought the exact opposite of Kitty and Lydia, and Darcy detected a flare of irritation in Elizabeth's features that made him actually feel a moment of kindness towards her. She would not choose to speak against her own sisters, feeling that inescapable loyalty one feels towards one’s own family, yet he rather felt that she did not think altogether highly of the giddy and excitable Kitty and Lydia, and so her reaction was tempered with a broad smile.
“They certainly seem fond of you, Miss Bingley. How fortunate that you have managed to win two friends for yourself amongst Hertfordshire society.”
Darcy had to choke back his own amused reaction to this response, which had suggested entirely by implication that Caroline had made nought but these two young friends during her time thus far in Hertfordshire. Caroline did not respond straight away, and Darcy gathered that she was weighing her options, struggling to decide whether to take Elizabeth to task for her insult, and thus be forced to acknowledge it, or to ignore it. At length, she decided on the latter, and merely smiled.
“Your other younger sister, Mary, isn’t it? She certainly seems enchanting this evening. I believe I recognise the dress she is wearing as one I have seen gracing your frame before now.”
There was another thinly veiled insult, and Darcy felt a little affronted on the Bennets' behalf. It was plain to all that the family were not extravagantly wealthy, yet to remark upon their mode of dress was of the utmost bad taste. Darcy saw Elizabeth freeze, and decided to intervene.
“It suits her most admirably,” he said. “And I think it speaks to her excellent character that she seeks to make my cousin feel welcomed here. He has been so rarely in society of late that it is a blessing to see him so at ease, and I am indebted to your family for making him feel so.”
This was perhaps the longest speech Darcy had uttered in Elizabeth's presence for some time, and he was pleased to see its effects lightening her features into a faint, surprised smile.
“Miss Elizabeth, I fear you were only fleetingly introduced to my cousin the other day and I do wish for people to know him. Please permit me to make another introduction.”
Ignoring Caroline entirely, Darcy offered Elizabeth his arm, and was gratified when she took it, feeling a momentary thrill at the comfortable way they fitted together. He risked another glance at Elizabeth, but saw that her gaze was already fixed on Richard and Mary, and he looked away again quickly.
Chapter Seven
“I do hope you will play for us this evening, Miss Mary,” Richard said, grateful that he had managed to hold his own in a conversation dominated by music, despite knowing very little about it himself. He had snatched a glance at the sheet music that laid atop the Netherfield piano and tried to cement a few of the terms in his mind. Andante Cantabile. He had no idea what it meant but the very word sounded like music when he repeated it in his mind. He certainly did not trust himself to use it yet, for he doubted his pronunciation and was certain he would only make a fool of himself if he tried to sound intelligent, but perhaps Mary would use it herself and then he might learn from her.
“I would like to,” she said, shyly. “If I am asked, and if there is the opportunity.”
Jane Bennet, who had been standing nearby with Charles Bingley, seized upon this and joined their conversation.
“I am sure everyone would love to hear you, Mary.” She lifted her gaze to Colonel Fitzwilliam with a warm smile. “My sister is definitely the most musical of all of us, so if anyone is to provide music it must be her!”
“Then you must play, Miss Mary, and the rest of us can dance!” Charles cried, rejoicing at this potential plan. Richard was a fraction less animated at the prospect.
“Do you not like to dance, Miss Mary?”
Mary shook her head, a dark flush staining her cheeks.
“I am not very good at it,” she confessed. “And in any case, I prefer to play the music than dance to it.”
Richard nodded, swallowing his disappointment. He had half-hoped he might be permitted to ask his new friend to dance and then be able to get to know her a little better. Although he was surprised at the speed and depth of his feelings, he was left to guess at Mary Bennet’s. Surely she could not view him in the same way, for they had scarcely even spoken to one another. Yet he felt as if they had known each other far longer, for already her features were familiar to him and he felt that he understood her better than some people he had known his whole life.
“I am sure, Mary, you would do Colonel Fitzwilliam the honour of dancing, if he were to ask you,” Jane prompted, sharing a glance with her sister that Richard did not understand, nor did he try to. There was a moment’s awkward silence, and Charles weighed in with his own opinion, fervently wedded to Jane’s.
“Indeed! For I am sure Mr Darcy has already claimed Miss Elizabeth’s hand for a dance, so you must do his cousin the honour too. Carol
ine will happily play for us at least once, will not you, sister?”
Richard glanced up quickly enough to see Caroline's face fall into a scowl, although she recovered her peace fairly quickly, and agreed that she would play a piece or two, if everybody else was bound and determined to dance. Her voice took on a mournful tone as she said this, and Richard noticed the look she darted towards Darcy, who was standing to one side conversing with Elizabeth Bennet and entirely oblivious to their discussion. This, too, brought Richard to a pause, for he was quite sure he had never yet seen his cousin so content, and in speaking to a young lady! He blinked, sure the apparition was a fabrication and one that would vanish given proper attention. Instead, it solidified into fact, before his very eyes, and a sly smile of recognition crept onto his face. Darcy might have claimed indifference in their conversation, but the glimmer of light he had recognised in his cousin's eyes was anything but indifferent. Tilting his head slightly, he regarded Elizabeth more carefully. She was pretty, although no sister could compete with Jane in terms of beauty. In fact, he recognised far more in common between Elizabeth and Mary than either sister had with Jane, possessing the same dark colouring and determined chin. Elizabeth's features were somewhat sharper, her eyes darting this way and that, her perpetual smile giving her face an animation lacking in Mary's more sanguine features. She will certainly keep Darcy on his toes, Richard thought, acknowledging how well it would suit his cousin to have a clever wife, whose character might force him into improvement, rather than one like dear Anne, who would never think of challenging him. Richard loved both of his cousins equally, but he knew them well enough to acknowledge their utter incompatibility. Their only common characteristic was a desire for quiet and solitude, yet whilst that suited Anne's delicate nature and ailing health, it did little for Darcy but to make him morose. When he had heard his cousin would be staying in Hertfordshire with friends, he rejoiced at the notion of Darcy being among friends, but tempered that with an anxiety that could not be shaken: surely London was a better place for his cousin, where it would be difficult for him to find the isolation that would come far too easily in the country. It was his second excuse for this visit, though he'd never dream of admitting as much to Darcy, that he was concerned for his well-being and determined to check up on him for himself. He had not considered, even after their reunion, that the ideal woman for his cousin might reside here, in Hertfordshire, and that this short visit to the countryside might be the very best thing for either cousin.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam?”
Jane’s direct address startled Richard out of his reverie, and he forced his attention back to the present.
“Forgive me, Miss Bennet, I did not hear your question,” he said, upon noticing the circle viewing him with expectation, waiting for his response.
“I was asking if you would tell us a little of your travels with the regiment. Mr Bingley tells me you have been abroad?”
Richard nodded, risking a glance at Mary. He had various stories chosen, ready for just such an occasion as this, and was well-practiced in tailoring his tales to his audience. Whilst Bingley would no doubt rejoice in heroics and daring, he found himself speaking rather more gently, of the beauty of the mountains, the hospitality of local people and the interesting tastes in food he had experienced while he was away. Jane Bennet was delighted, and peppered his account with questions. Fearing he had already bored Mary, which was the exact opposite of his intent, he risked a glance at her, and was surprised and touched to see the careful attention she paid him, the way her eyes were fixed in his direction. Their eyes met for half a moment, before she dropped her gaze, but Richard was warmed to see the half-smile that played about her lips, and began to hope that maybe, just maybe, he was not so vain in his hopes after all. She cannot possibly care for me yet, but perhaps she might learn to...
ELIZABETH WAS SURPRISED by the way Darcy had rallied to her defence and not only hers but her sister's, when she doubted he had ever spoken or even acknowledged Mary before now other than to group her with the rest of the Bennets as beneath his notice. She was surprised, too, by the enthusiasm he had professed in wishing to introduce her to Colonel Fitzwilliam properly, and his insistence in accompanying her. There was something more than practised politeness behind this, and the way in which he escorted her to the growing party that surrounded his cousin. Elizabeth was pleased to spot not only Mary but also Jane and Mr Bingley, all engaged in conversation with Colonel Fitzwilliam, who appeared to be telling an interesting story from his time with the regiment.
“Were you not afraid?” Jane’s voice carried, as they drew nearer.
“Afraid? My cousin?” Darcy scoffed. “I rather venture he thrives on fear, for he’s hardly had a day’s peace and quiet this past year.”
“That must be difficult,” Mary ventured, and Elizabeth was touched to see the concern etched on her younger sister’s features.
“It is no better or worse than the fate afforded any soldier,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, with a philosophical shrug. “And I am grateful, now, to take a little time to rest before I press on to Kent.”
“Kent!” There was a squawk from elsewhere in the room, and before anybody could speak again, Mr Collins had thrust himself into the centre of the group. “You speak of Kent, Colonel Fitzwilliam?” He laughed. “But of course you do! I do not doubt you are eager to see your aunt again. Are you aware that she is my patroness, and oh, what a fine, elegant, generous...”
“Richard, I wished to introduce Miss Elizabeth Bennet to you.” Mr Darcy spoke as if he was not even aware of Mr Collins, and his voice was so commanding that it forced the simpering curate into deferent silence.
At this close proximity, Elizabeth was forced to acknowledge her sister’s accuracy. Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr Darcy were not entirely unlike each other, although another thought overtook her quite before she was aware she had thought it: Darcy was markedly the more handsome. Very slightly taller, very slightly slimmer, there was something about the combination of features and dark colouring that worked to form a rather more elegant picture in Darcy than it did in Colonel Fitzwilliam. However, when the latter turned to greet Elizabeth with a warm, genuine smile, her surprising affection for Mr Darcy vanished. Oh, if only he would smile as easily as his cousin did! Still, now, he seemed mildly displeased by some state of affairs she could not determine, and his lips settled into a perpetual line.
“I am so pleased to meet you again, Miss Elizabeth,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “I see you have quite captured my cousin. I do hope you were not discussing your evening’s companions?”
Beside her, Darcy straightened, and Elizabeth felt him hurrying to summon a response, but stilling any comment from him, she laughed, taking Colonel Fitzwilliam's observation for what it was: a joke.
“Ah yes, we were deep in discussion over how a Colonel in the regiment could have managed to get himself lost on his arrival in Hertfordshire. If this is a comment on the skills of our military, ought we to fear for our future as a nation?”
Colonel Fitzwilliam roared with laughter, delighted with this comment, and Lizzy was amazed at how different he was from his cousin. Even though she had spoken in a teasing tone and made plain that she did not mean her comment at all seriously, had she made such an observation to Mr Darcy it would surely have been taken with irritation, as a personal criticism. His cousin slapped his knee, and remarked that a man was only as good as the directions he was given.
“I assure you my directions were accurate, had you actually read them,” Darcy muttered. When Elizabeth looked at him, disappointed to see her assessment of him proved accurate, she was instead surprised to note a smile tugging at his usually glum features.
“First my navigation and now my literacy is under attack!” Colonel Fitzwilliam held his hands up in mock surrender. “And yet my cousin invites me here amongst friends!” He shook his head in amused disbelief. “I question your definition of the word.”
“I am surprised to hear Mr Darcy r
efer to any of us as friends,” Elizabeth said, unable to resist the chance to nettle Mr Darcy father, now he appeared to be in a humour to take it. “For he has been anything but welcoming to certain of us. But perhaps you did not mean to include myself or my sisters in your assessment, and saved your compliments for Mr and Miss Bingley alone.”
“I did not mention you at all,” Darcy admitted, then realised that this might be taken as a slight, and hastened to explain further. “That is, I referred only to those in residence at Netherfield, as they alone would have their daily lives interrupted by my cousin's arrival.”
“You did not bargain on my stumbling unintentionally into Longbourn and interrupting your neighbours of my own accord,” Colonel Fitzwilliam countered, with a smile. “And yet, see what a fine party my error has brought together.”
“A fine party that really ought to see about moving into the dining room.” Caroline’s arch voice carried easily over the comfortable chatter, and Elizabeth detected a clear note of annoyance at how fondly her guests seemed to be conversing. “Mr Darcy, perhaps you would be so kind as to escort me into dinner, for I see my brother is already poised to accompany Miss Bennet.”
With all politeness, but an evident reluctance, Mr Darcy fell obediently into place beside Caroline, and Elizabeth found herself free to walk in with Colonel Fitzwilliam, which state of affairs did not entirely displease her.
“You appear to successfully run rings around my cousin, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, in a low, teasing tone. “A fact for which I must applaud you. He is not usually so easily managed.”
“Easily?” Elizabeth shook her head. “If you think I am capable of managing such a gentleman, I must disabuse you of that notion immediately. Alas, our acquaintance did not get off to the best of starts.”
