by P. O. Dixon
He greeted them with a warm smile and bowed. “Ladies ...”
“Trevor, may I introduce you to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Miss Elizabeth, may I present this handsome creature, my brother, Lord Latham.”
Lord Latham reached for Elizabeth’s hand and bestowed a light kiss. “I am honoured to meet you.”
Elizabeth curtsied. “The pleasure is mine, your lordship.”
Mere moments into pleasant conversation, Lord Latham’s eyes drifted across the room. Both Elizabeth and Lady Gwendolyn immediately discerned the object of his distraction—the breath-taking Juliette, Duchess of Sexton. Lady Susan had pointed her out to Elizabeth soon upon their arrival that evening. No wonder he was distracted. Her striking green eyes were far lovelier than any emerald being worn in the ballroom. Lady Gwendolen looked as though she did not approve of Her Grace, leaving Elizabeth to wonder what in the two young women’s history would engender such a fretful change in demeanour in her ladyship.
“Miss Bennet, again, it has been a pleasure meeting you. I shall look forward to the next time we meet.” Lord Latham placed his hand upon his sister’s arm. “Pardon me, dearest.”
Casting her obvious disapproval of her brother’s abrupt abandonment aside, her ladyship returned her attention to her companion. “Shall we return to the ballroom, Miss Elizabeth? My next set is promised to Lord Montclaire.” She grimaced.
“You make it sound frightful.”
“You have yet to meet Lord Montclaire. However, do not fret. I shall introduce you, and you may judge for yourself. Are you promised for the next set?”
“Indeed ... to a Sir Robert Boxley. Are you acquainted with the gentleman?” Lady Susan had arranged everything.
“Indeed. You are in for similar excitement, I dare say.” The two young ladies shared a knowing laugh and returned arm in arm to the ballroom with the familiarity of old acquaintances.
* * *
The Season thus far had offered one succession of unsatisfying occasions after the other for Lady Gwendolen, as she was given to remind her brother, repining how weeks had passed, yet she had made no inroads with the elusive Mr. Darcy for he rarely attended social functions.
She walked into her brother’s study and sat in one of the handsome leather chairs in front of his desk, lightly tapping her fingers until he gave her his full attention.
He looked up from his papers with concern. “Tell me what worries you now, dearest.”
“Trevor, have you spoken with Mr. Darcy of late? Is he even in town?”
“Of course, he is in town. I see him often enough at my club. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, Trevor, why do you tease me so? You know that I am interested in seeing Mr. Darcy, in spending time in his company. Yet, I have not had the good fortune of doing so.”
“Then we must rectify that situation. I am sure you have something in mind.”
“Yes, I do. I was thinking of having an outing at the country estate in a week or so. That way, I will be sure to have Mr. Darcy’s undivided attention.”
He had hoped she would suggest such a scheme, for reasons he was not apt to divulge. He missed the Duchess’s company. He especially missed the intimacy with her best afforded in the privacy of his country home. She had not made their being together easy of late.
He was not inclined to argue with his sister, even though he had his doubts regarding her notion of having Darcy’s undivided attention. “What makes you think Darcy will attend?”
“Why would he not? You only need to ask.”
Lord Latham reflected on how Darcy had seemed unusually reclusive over the past weeks. He was no stranger to Darcy’s proclivity to avoid social outings. This season, his friend seemed bent upon making it an art form.
“I shall do my best, though I offer no promises in that regard. Of course, the invitations must be extended to our usual guests, and I shall expect you to take care of that.”
By now, his sister understood the unspoken meaning of his edict; the Duchess’s name would grace the guest list. Lady Gwendolen had tried in the past to introduce her brother to eligible women of her acquaintance but it had been all for naught. He had already made his choice. He simply needed to go about the business of winning his ladylove over to his way of thinking. Lord Latham wished his sister would at least try to understand.
Chapter 7
What a glaring contrast between the haughty gentleman she had first met at the assembly in Meryton and the agreeable man who graced the ballroom that evening. She watched him dance with more than one young woman, obviously those with whom he was particularly acquainted, if his countenance was any indication. She watched him accept introductions to several others and noted that he spoke regularly to those around him.
Mr. Wickham said he was different amongst those who are his equal in consequence. This proves it.
Their eyes met. He nodded in acknowledgement of her presence. Elizabeth tore her eyes away. She hated being caught staring at him, of all people. Yet her eyes returned to the place wherever he happened to be standing, time and again. Oddly enough, she always found him looking back at her. She attributed her distraction to her present company, Sir Robert Boxley.
Sir Boxley, a plain looking man of six and twenty, had rightly discerned the object of Elizabeth’s distraction to be none other than Fitzwilliam Darcy, as evident when he rolled his eyes. He leaned closer to her. “Miss Elizabeth, I trust you are not one of those women whose greatest ambition in life is to be the next mistress of Pemberley.”
Elizabeth looked at him in puzzlement. “Certainly not! Why would you suggest such a thing?”
“Oh, never mind. I am glad to hear it, because that would be a foolish notion, I assure you. Men like him do not cavort with people like us.”
He attempted to change the subject. “May I get you another drink?”
She looked at her glass, half-empty. “No, sir, I am satisfied with the one I have.” She took a light sip for good measure. “Thank you for offering.”
Elizabeth was often in the company of Sir Robert Boxley of late. This made Lady Susan happy. Elizabeth went along with the scheme, especially since it meant her ladyship did not try as hard to match her with someone else. At least he was amiable, but that was just it—he was just amiable. She had her own notion of what an ideal suitor ought to be. Of course, he must be a good man, respectable and forthright, but he also must challenge her, excite her, and render her unable to stop thinking of him. Elizabeth rarely thought of her current companion at all, unless he was standing next to her. Elizabeth surmised there were more pressing matters to which she must attend during her stay in town.
Perhaps once I have spoken with Mr. Bingley, and done what I might to reunite him with my sister, there will be time enough to fret over my own love life.
Elizabeth observed Mr. Darcy escape the room through the balcony doors. Now is the perfect time to speak with him. “Excuse me, Sir Boxley. I am in need of a breath of fresh air.”
“Certainly, Miss Elizabeth, I shall join you.”
“No—no, it is not necessary. I shall be only a few minutes.”
By the time of her arrival on the balcony, Elizabeth was surprised to find that there were several couples scattered about in intimate conversation. Panic reared its head, causing her heart to miss a beat. What would she do if she found Mr. Darcy similarly engaged? She wondered why she cared.
Luckily, she found him standing alone with his face turned heavenly, as if studying the night’s sky. She quietly approached him from behind. She cleared her throat, garnering his attention. He turned to face her. His charming smile caught her quite off guard.
“Good evening, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth found herself to be unequal to his penetrating stare. This was the first time they found themselves face to face since— She summoned her courage. She smiled, and she remembered to curtsey.
“Good evening, Miss Elizabeth. I noticed you earlier. I am surprised to see you here.”
“I am here as a guest of Lady Susan�
��s—Lady Susan Townes.”
Darcy said nothing, sweeping his gaze over her intently, as if seeing ... every inch of her.
Not sure what to make of his demeanour, Elizabeth blushed, nearly forgetting her purpose in seeking him out in such a questionable manner with no regard for decorum. “Pray tell, Mr. Darcy, is Mr. Bingley coming here this evening, as well?”
“Though it is true that Bingley is one of my closest friends, I am not his keeper.”
Now there was the haughty gentleman of her acquaintance. “Have you seen him recently?”
“Yes. I often see Bingley, a consequence of our being friends.”
Was he taunting her? “Have you spoken to him about my being here in town?”
“Bingley knows that you are here in London, Miss Elizabeth.”
“And have you told him what I asked of you as regards my sister Jane?”
“I said that I would not discuss such matters with Bingley, did I not?”
“Did he ask about my sister, Mr. Darcy?”
“Yes, he did ask about her. He wanted to know whether she, too, was in town.”
“And what did you say?”
“I told him that she was not in town. Was I mistaken? Has your sister since ventured to town, as well?”
Elizabeth crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Certainly not!” She lowered her voice and continued, “As I informed you, Jane is quite devastated by Mr. Bingley’s hasty leave taking. She is hardly in any state to travel to town. She is quite broken-hearted.”
Darcy released an exasperated sigh. “I am sure she will accept matters for what they are, soon enough.”
Elizabeth took a deep breath, and then held it a moment. Why is he purposely baiting me?
He must have surmised that she had reached the end of her patience with his teasing by the invisible arrows she shot from her eyes.
“Let us not argue, Miss Elizabeth. Tell me, how are you? Have you enjoyed your stay in town? Are you finding the Season diverting?”
“Yes, Mr. Darcy, I admit I am enjoying everything quite a bit, although you and I both know that is not why I am here. I am hoping for a chance to see Mr. Bingley.”
“You might not expect to find him here tonight. He and I met earlier this evening, at another soirée.”
Elizabeth did not try to hide her disappointment. “That is indeed unfortunate.”
“Indeed.”
Is he taunting me again? Can he not see how much this means to me? Elizabeth decided she had wasted enough of her evening with him. “Well, if you will pardon me, Mr. Darcy. I must return to the ballroom.”
Darcy reached out to her, stopping short of touching her. “Must you return this instant?”
“Mr. Darcy, as you are always eager to point out to me, our being alone like this is hardly proper.”
“That did not stop you from seeking me out.” He raised his brow pointedly.
Elizabeth caught her breath. She fought the urge to protest.
“I meant to say, you are here, and it has been too long since—” His voice trailed off but his eyes spoke their own tale.
Since our last evening together in your home, she thought but did not dare utter aloud as she felt the colour wash over her entire body. Her mind filled with questions, but her heart whispered danger.
The sound of the orchestra getting ready for the next set recalled her to her purpose. “I must return. I will soon be missed.”
“May I have a set with you this evening, Miss Elizabeth?”
“Mr. Darcy, I can honestly say that it does not disappoint me that my dance card is full. Good evening, sir.”
* * *
Lord Latham and Darcy sat at their usual table at White’s, enjoying a round of drinks. The former had completed his agreement to do his sister’s bidding by asking Darcy to join them at their upcoming party.
“What is this about? Why would Lady Gwendolen wish for a country party during this time of the Season?”
“My sister’s motives are clear as regards you. I fear her matchmaking plans now extend to my love life, as well. She is eager to have me get better acquainted with her new friend, though she will not admit it.”
“I hesitate to go along with this scheme. Besides, I am expected at Rosings Park soon to visit Lady Catherine. Your invitation cuts into the time I plan to spend there.”
“And we both know how excited you are over the prospect of going to Kent.”
Darcy’s quandary entailed more than that, a fact Lord Latham well understood. Though Darcy visited his aunt more out of a sense of responsibility than any sort of pleasure, he was proud to do it. Family meant everything to Darcy.
Lord Latham decided to sweeten the pot. “Look, if it makes a difference, I shall invite Lady de Bourgh and your cousin Anne, as well.”
Darcy thought that was carrying things a bit far. “Why is this party necessary?”
“Gwendolen wants this. As you know I would do anything in my power to please her … including putting pressure on my friends.”
“I am inclined to decline your invitation, if for no other reason than that.”
“Ah! Nevertheless, you will not. If for nothing other than my sake, you will agree. Besides, there are advantages, as well, in that you will be excused from spending as much time in the company of yet another prospective bride in waiting.”
“I surmise you are speaking of my cousin Anne. I hope that after all these years, she and Lady Catherine have abandoned that ridiculous notion.”
After taking a huge swallow of his drink, Lord Latham began tapping the side of his glass with his long fingers. “For heaven’s sake, agree already. What is keeping you in town?”
“If it means that much to you, I will come. And do not invite my aunt. I will explain things to her. Being a few days late should not raise her ire, especially if I extend my stay on the back end.”
“Capital!”
“I have one condition.”
“What is that?”
“You must agree to invite Charles Bingley.”
“Bingley? Why Bingley?”
“I have my reasons.”
“From our days at Cambridge to this day, I have never understood what you see in him? Or are you grooming him to be a suitable prospect for your sister?”
Even if that were the case, Darcy would be hard-pressed to come right out and confess it. He had spoken of the unfortunate events of Ramsgate with no one other than his cousin, a Colonel Fitzwilliam—Georgiana’s other guardian.
In response to Lord Latham’s taunt, Darcy said, “Bingley possesses the one trait in abundance which you, my friend, woefully lack.”
“That being?”
“Subtlety.”
Lord Latham laughed aloud. “That is not subtlety. I say the man is no fool. Why would he try to push his sister off on you? By contrast, Lady Gwendolen, you must admit, would be an excellent mistress of Pemberley.”
“Do not fret, Trevor. Trust me, should my regard for your sister blossom into something more, and should I decide to act upon it, you will be the first to know.”
“Other than the lady herself, I suspect.” He raised an inquisitive brow in expectation of a fitting response.
Darcy smiled and raised his glass in jest. Lord Latham stood from his chair, announcing his intention to leave, but Darcy remained seated. He had much to contemplate. He signalled the waiter for another drink.
His friend was right in several respects. Lady Gwendolyn was everything that a woman ought to be—everything the next mistress of Pemberley ought to be. Charming, intelligent, strikingly elegant. Indeed, she was everything ... except the woman he loved.
His fingers danced along the rim of his glass. It mattered not that he loved Elizabeth. Unbeknownst to her, she had bewitched him. All his unfailing efforts to ignore her presence in town nearly wiped away in one night. He knew she would be at the ball that evening. Her presence had been the single reason for his being there. Who knows what he might have done had that nondescript gen
tleman not attended her like a hawk?
Far better that he had maintained his reserve with her. Their worlds were not meant to coincide. Still, he needed to marry, he needed to beget the heir to Pemberley, and there was not much need in putting it off any longer. And his cousin Anne would never do.
Lady Gwendolen, on the other hand, try as he might to discourage her, seemed as determined as ever that she would have him. True, he was not in love with her, not yet. However, he was attracted to her. He considered it a good start. Perhaps after the upcoming party, it might be more.
Darcy finished his drink and then stood to take his leave with his mind made up. He owed it to himself; he owed it to his family, to try.
* * *
Lady Gwendolen and Elizabeth sat in her ladyship’s private sitting room, waiting to resume their conversation once the footman had gone. The two ladies increasingly spent regular time in each other’s company. Elizabeth had even enquired of Lady Gwendolen’s having an acquaintance with Mr. Bingley, on an earlier occasion.
“My brother says your Mr. Bingley has been invited to our country party, if that is any inducement in your accepting my invitation?”
“I assure you, he is not my Mr. Bingley.” Elizabeth was quick to set the record straight on that point. “Who else is invited?”
“A number of others are expected, though you unlikely know any of them. Other than Mr. Bingley, whom I have yet to meet, the usual friends and acquaintances will be there. Please say you accept my invitation.”
The fact that Elizabeth knew, perhaps, even fancied this Mr. Bingley did not dissuade her ladyship's purposes in inviting her a bit. Mr. Bingley, whoever he might be, was hardly competition for the earl. Besides, my brother could stand a little competition to spur him into action. He is fiercely competitive when it comes to that sort of thing.
In addition, Lady Gwendolen had grown fond of Elizabeth even with their short acquaintance. Whilst others had taken issue with the fact of Elizabeth’s having relatives in trade, Lady Gwendolen had been a staunch defender of her new friend. She was a gentleman’s daughter, as well as connected to her own family by way of Lady Susan, who was connected to her aunt, Lady Langley—close enough in Lady Gwendolen’s opinion.
