Pride and Proposals

by Victoria Kincaid

  “So you objected to Bingley’s marrying Jane but not Elizabeth’s betrothal to me?” Darcy returned his attention to his cousin. Richard’s tone was jovial, but it held a hint of hardness.

  “I did not believe Miss Bennet held much affection for Bingley and was only attentive to him at her mother’s insistence.” Darcy glanced away, unable to hold his cousin’s eyes during such an uncomfortable discussion. “However,” Darcy swallowed, “I believe Miss Elizabeth’s affection for you to be genuine. She is not the type to be swayed by mercenary considerations.”

  No, she is not, whispered a small voice in the back of Darcy’s mind. And yet I assumed she would accept me for my fortune! It was the not the first time Darcy had castigated himself for his blindness toward Elizabeth’s true feelings.

  Richard smiled. “No, not my Lizzy.” Darcy clenched his jaw to prevent any words from emerging. She should be my Lizzy!

  Concentrating his attention on the merry gathering around Jane and Bingley, Darcy regained his composure. “I may have been wrong about Miss Jane Bennet as well.”

  Richard clapped him on the shoulder. “Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy admitting to a possible error? Perhaps the apocalypse is nigh!” Darcy scowled at his cousin. It was bad enough he had to endure the consequences of his horrendous misjudgment, but to also endure teasing about it seemed particularly unfair.

  Oblivious, Richard merely gave Darcy a sunny smile.

  The butler drew Richard away to discuss dining arrangements. Perhaps Darcy could find some brandy. Suddenly, Elizabeth was standing by his side.

  “Mr. Darcy.” She gave him a polite, reserved smile.

  “Miss Bennet. A pleasure.” He attempted a smile in return but feared it emerged as more of a grimace.

  As he gazed into her fine eyes, the realization struck Darcy that he had not consumed enough brandy. Not nearly enough. Perhaps there was not a sufficient quantity of brandy anywhere to fortify him against this experience.

  Elizabeth was indicating the older couple who had arrived with her. “May I present my aunt and uncle, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner?” The sound of her melodious soprano recalled better days when she had enchanted him with her singing at Rosings. But a challenging light in her eye dared him to object to associating with a merchant from Cheapside. Determined to thwart her worst expectations, Darcy shook Mr. Gardiner’s hand and exchanged pleasantries with the couple, who seemed sensible and well-spoken.

  By now, Miss Bingley had maneuvered herself into position at Darcy’s elbow. He was not surprised when Elizabeth hastily took her relatives in search of Richard. Left alone with Miss Bingley, Darcy sighed, anticipating an evening alternating between fawning compliments and thinly veiled insults. “I suppose your cousin’s engagement was a surprise to you,” she smirked. Darcy understood her insinuation; fortunately, no one else of his acquaintance had guessed of his affection for Elizabeth.

  “Indeed. They had not known each other long. I believe it was a surprise even to Richard,” Darcy said drily.

  Miss Bingley tittered uncertainly. “They seem well-matched,” she said. Miss Bingley apparently labored under a delusion that Elizabeth’s betrothal would bring her closer to achieving Darcy’s regard.

  “Yes.” Darcy employed a familiar strategy; if he said little to Miss Bingley, she would sometimes quit his company due to a dearth of conversation.

  “Such happenings in town since last I saw you!” Miss Bingley continued, apparently not requiring a conversational partner. “I hope we shall be seated near each other at dinner.”

  Darcy was spared the necessity of a reply by another knock at the door. Everyone in the entrance hall turned to view the new arrival. The butler opened the door to admit ... Mrs. Bennet.

  Darcy’s eyebrows rose as Caroline Bingley’s mouth fell open. Jane Bennet hurried forward to take her mother’s hand. “Mama, I thought you were too unwell to join us after the long carriage ride.”

  “I feel a vast deal better after taking a little wine back at my brother’s house. And I just had to see everyone again! Oh! Colonel Fitzwilliam! It is so good to see you. Let me give you a kiss!” Richard smiled and allowed himself to be kissed by his future mother. “And Jane and Lizzy, oh, you girls look just lovely tonight!”

  Bingley, Jane, and the Gardiners gave her their patient attention as Mrs. Bennet exclaimed rapturously about the entrance hall’s marble floor and the wainscoting on the walls.

  A few moments later, Elizabeth approached Darcy and Caroline Bingley. His treacherous heart gave a leap of excitement, but Elizabeth’s regard was fixed on Caroline. “Miss Bingley,” she said with a smile, “my mother’s unexpected arrival necessitates that Richard must make some adjustments to the seating arrangements, and we thought to put her next to you. Since so few people in London are known to my mother, I thought she would find a familiar face at dinner to be of comfort. My uncle will sit on your other side. I believe you have met him.”

  Miss Bingley’s mouth opened as she sought an acceptable means to decline this “honor.” She gaped for several moments. “Yes, of course,” she said finally. Her expression suggested she would prefer to contract a disfiguring skin disease.

  “You are the soul of generosity.” Elizabeth smiled sweetly at Miss Bingley, who glared back but did not reply.

  Darcy masked his inappropriate laughter with a cough. Elizabeth’s eyes briefly met his, and she smiled conspiratorially. He allowed himself a brief smile in return. Perhaps her good opinion of him was not irretrievably lost. But it hardly mattered. His hopes lay scattered in shards at his feet. Nevertheless, besotted as he was, Darcy still cared what she thought of him.

  Richard’s butler ushered the guests into an elegant drawing room where they could enjoy refreshments before dinner. Seating herself on a loveseat, Elizabeth smiled an invitation for Richard to join her, where, in Darcy’s opinion, they sat far too close for propriety’s sake. However, there was no denying they both appeared very happy.

  Perhaps Elizabeth truly was in love with his cousin.

  Ah, yes, here was a new idea with which he could torture himself. Excellent.

  Although they had not known each other long when they had become engaged, Richard had later confessed to Darcy how he had formed a strong attachment to Elizabeth from almost the first moment of their acquaintance. Did Elizabeth return some measure of his affection? The thought drove the knife a little deeper into Darcy’s heart. Somehow their betrothal was easier to tolerate if he imagined that she primarily sought a secure future, while the thought that she cared for Richard …

  Elizabeth’s heart should have been mine! She has commanded mine for months.

  None of this signifies, he reminded himself. It was done. Richard and Elizabeth would marry. Darcy would see them for holidays and occasional visits—and somehow learn to bear it. What she felt for his cousin and when—these questions were of no consequence.

  She could not be Darcy’s, and that was the end of it.

  Darcy’s thoughts were too agitated to participate in ordinary conversation. Turning away from the room at large, he stared through the nearby window to the street outside, wishing he could simply open the window sash and dive out. Somehow the situation had managed to go from uncomfortable to intolerable in a mere quarter of an hour.

  The darkened window reflected Elizabeth and Richard, in close proximity to each other on the loveseat, laughing and talking with the Gardiners. Darcy hurriedly switched his gaze to Bingley and Jane Bennet, who were having a low-voiced discussion near the doorway. Miss Bennet wore her customary sweet smile, while Bingley grinned widely. They seemed so happy it made his teeth hurt. Damnation! He wanted to gaze upon someone who was as miserable as he was. Where was Lady Catherine when he needed her?

  Although, Darcy considered, Caroline Bingley’s face at dinner might suffice.

  Darcy had anticipated Bingley’s attachment to Jane Bennet would be slight and short-lived. Bingley’s misery had demonstrated how badly Darcy had misjudged. Now he was forced to real
ize he may have been wrong about Miss Bennet’s affections as well.

  And he had been wildly mistaken about Elizabeth’s opinions of him.

  Good God, had he ever really known the people surrounding him? Perhaps Lady Catherine de Bourgh was in reality a sweet gentle soul and Mr. Collins a genius!

  He was no longer amazed that Elizabeth thought he disliked her. Instead, he was amazed that she managed to be at all civil to him at Rosings while believing him to be the person who had ruined Wickham’s life and her sister’s future with Bingley.

  Glancing at the clock on the mantel, Darcy realized he had only been at Richard’s house for half an hour; it seemed an eternity.

  There was a commotion at the drawing room door as the butler announced the Earl and Countess of Matlock and Georgiana, who had been visiting them for the day. Richard and Elizabeth rose to greet the newcomers. Darcy quickly crossed the room to take Georgiana’s hand.

  His aunt and uncle greeted Elizabeth with cold civility. While not as unmannerly as Aunt Catherine, they clearly opposed Richard’s betrothal. Elizabeth chose to ignore their disapproval, returning their indifference with a sly smile and blithely introducing the earl and countess to her uncle in trade. Her lips twitched in amusement while the earl shook Mr. Gardiner’s hand as if the man carried the plague.

  Viewing his aunt and uncle through Elizabeth’s eyes, he could understand her levity. The Gardiners were well informed and of good understanding—the kind of company anyone would desire. Darcy could only pray his relatives did not have the opportunity for a lengthy conversation with Mrs. Bennet.

  When the earl and countess took Richard away for a private conversation, Darcy seized the opportunity and escorted Georgiana over to Elizabeth.

  “Miss Elizabeth, may I present my sister, Georgiana, to you?” The two women curtsied. Elizabeth’s smile was warm and genuine; Richard must have shared the plan to coax Georgiana out of her shell.

  “Richard tells me you like music,” Elizabeth said to Georgiana.

  “Yes.” Although she seemed eager to converse with Elizabeth, Georgiana’s voice was barely louder than a whisper. Darcy silently cursed Wickham again. Ever since the incident at Ramsgate, his sister had retreated into herself. Always shy, she was now particularly anxious in large gatherings. She resisted any attempts to have her attend social outings, and Darcy was at a loss about how he would arrange her coming out. “But please do not ask me to play in front of all these people,” Georgiana murmured.

  “Not if you do not wish it!” Elizabeth seemed appalled at the suggestion.

  Brushing hair from his eyes, Darcy could not help glancing at his aunt. She often insisted that Georgiana needed to exhibit her talent. Darcy had repeatedly asked his aunt to cease, but she listened to him as well as she listened to anyone—which is to say, not at all.

  Elizabeth linked arms with Georgiana. “Why do you not rest here by me and tell me which composers you favor?” Georgiana gave Elizabeth a relieved smile and sank easily onto the loveseat. Soon they were engaged in a quiet, enthusiastic conversation.

  Darcy savored the sight of the two women he loved most in the world enjoying each other’s company. Perhaps something good would come from this fiasco.

  Instinctively, he had known that Elizabeth’s liveliness and sportive good humor were exactly what Georgiana needed to heal the wounds Wickham had inflicted. Darcy had done what he could, but his own social talents were meager at best, and Georgiana needed another woman’s counsel.

  The guests were soon summoned into the dining room for the repast. Darcy was indeed seated with Elizabeth, who took the mistress’s place at the foot of the table, with Darcy’s aunt on her other side. The countess commenced to instruct Georgiana, seated to her right, about the myriad rules governing the hosting of a dinner party—never mind that such a duty would not fall to Georgiana for many years.

  In the middle of the table, Mrs. Bennet was in fine form. Her shrill voice described to Miss Bingley every bump and jolt from the carriage ride from Hertfordshire. “And now I have such tremblings in my hands. Do you see?” She extended a hand, which already contained a half-eaten roll, for Miss Bingley’s edification. “And halfway through the journey, I was seized with such flutterings in my chest. I thought we might be obliged to turn back to Longbourn.” Miss Bingley’s pained expression suggested such an event was devoutly to be wished.

  Elizabeth’s mother took a bite of her roll; however, it did not staunch the flow of words. “But my devotion to my darling girl would not allow me to abandon the journey. I could never leave her to face the wedding plans alone! And perhaps—,” Mrs. Bennet glanced slyly at Bingley and Jane, “there will be two weddings to plan! Now there would be cause for rejoicing!” Caught up in her own contemplation of this felicity, she completely failed to note the horror on her dining companion’s face.

  Naturally, Bingley was seated next to Jane, where they inhabited a world of their own creation. So much so that the footman was compelled to ask Bingley three times if he would like any potatoes. They might as well announce their engagement by the end of the evening. Darcy immediately chastised himself for such ungenerous thoughts, knowing they stemmed from his own dissatisfaction. He must, he resolved, simply avoid dwelling on the sight of their happy faces.

  However, their felicity evidently gave Elizabeth great pleasure. He admired the gentle, genuine smile the sight provoked. How often had he dreamed of her lips curved in just that way when she gazed at him? A smile of welcome to Pemberley … or their bed chamber …

  No, he must cease such musings lest he betray himself. She was not, and never would be, his.

  Noticing Darcy’s regard, Elizabeth blushed slightly and returned her attention to her meal. “Jane and Mr. Bingley seem happy to have renewed their acquaintance,” she murmured.

  “Yes, perhaps I erred in encouraging him to leave Netherfield last autumn. At the time, I thought it for the best.” Elizabeth’s head swung upward, and she regarded Darcy with such astonishment that he was tempted to laugh. He had nothing to lose by admitting the truth now. “Surely you do not believe me incapable of admitting to mistakes.”

  She gave him the kind of arch look he always found irresistible. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself not to react. “No, indeed, I suppose even you might be wrong once every five years,” she teased.

  Although the rejoinder was a jest, it still rankled. Did she not understand how such words affected him?

  He sipped his wine slowly, then lowered the glass, staring at the dark red liquid. “If only you knew how many mistakes I regret only in the past few months.” He intended his tone to be teasing, but he feared it might have sounded bitter. Elizabeth appeared perplexed. At least she will never guess my greatest error was failing to court her properly.

  Making no comment, Elizabeth returned to cutting her meat. Darcy pushed some potatoes around on his plate with little appetite. Do not be bitter, he chastised himself. Now is your opportunity to improve her opinion of your character. “I will be quite pleased if Bingley’s acquaintance with your sister brings them both joy,” he said. “They deserve every happiness.”

  Elizabeth looked up at him sharply as if expecting some hidden meaning. He returned the look steadily.

  Finally, she glanced away, taking a sip of her wine. “Be careful with your words, sir!” The teasing tone had returned to her voice. “Should they become engaged, you will not be able to escape acquaintance with the Bennet family—with two of your friends married into it.”

  Only Elizabeth could wrap such a blunt truth in a jesting tone!

  He cut a piece of meat while considering his response. “I would consider myself fortunate to socialize with you and your sister,” he said finally. Her eyebrows rose at his words. “But it is doubtful I would see others in your family, except perhaps when visiting Netherfield.”

  She smiled, recognizing how neatly he had avoided voicing his true opinions about the rest of her family. “Indeed.”

  Darcy pin
ched the bridge of his nose, aware he should say more to convince her of his favorable opinion, but he was weary. Weary of the event. Weary of the evening. Generally, he basked in Elizabeth’s presence, but this dinner was fraught with too many difficulties, too many reminders of what he had lost.

  A headache was forming behind his eyes and he wondered how soon he could depart without being impolite. Drinking more of Richard’s fine Burgundy, he longed for the quiet of his study and its bottle of port.

  When he and Elizabeth fell silent, Darcy heard Mrs. Bennet declaiming to Miss Bingley about the price of lace in London, while Mr. Gardiner droned on about tariffs and the quality of various textiles. Caroline Bingley stared at her dinner knife as if contemplating plunging it into her own chest simply to escape her dining partners. Darcy frowned. He had found Mr. Gardiner to be an engaging conversationalist, but then he noticed a smirk on Elizabeth’s lips. Was her uncle being tedious just to annoy Miss Bingley? Darcy suppressed a smile but winced when he was forcibly reminded of his headache.

  “Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth’s voice still sent a thrill of excitement down his spine. “Are you unwell?”

  “Only a slight headache. Perhaps brought about by too little sleep.”

  Elizabeth glanced over at his aunt pedantically lecturing Georgiana, while his uncle vociferously debated politics with Richard. “Or perhaps too many relatives?” she murmured in a low voice.

  His chuckle sent pains shooting through his forehead. “Truthfully, I believe the pain originates in an inability to change the past.”

  Good God! He silently upbraided himself. Am I already foxed? How could I reveal so much to Elizabeth? Perhaps he should depart immediately, claiming the headache as an excuse—cowardice be damned.

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened, but she merely murmured, “I believe many of us suffer from that affliction.”

  “I cannot imagine you experience many regrets.” Darcy wanted to clap his hand over his mouth. Damnation! What will I say next?

  Some of this internal battle must have appeared on his face; Elizabeth tilted her head and regarded him with concern. “Are you quite all right? Your skin is very pale.”